Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Something else on your mind?” he asks.
“Yeah. I … want to apologize.”
He shrugs. “It’s okay. Didn’t hurt my arm too bad. I’m used to your punches. After all, I am the one who grew up with you, and—”
“Not for that. For before. Weeks ago. When we were on the Quicksilver Strand and I got pissed at you for saying I’ve had it easier my whole life or whatever.”
He sighs. “Nah, don’t apologize. I was out of place. Being cursed with beauty has its own set of pros and cons. Like, how can you ever trust an innocent compliment when everyone’s just trying to jump on your—?”
“Kent,” I cut him off.
“Well, it’s true.”
“I meant that I don’t know what it’s like to be anyone other than myself. Sometimes I forget to wonder. Maybe you had a point.” I gaze at the building across the street. “Quin’s really … made me look at the world with different eyes. I’m not sure what it is about him. He puts me at ease. He makes me feel seen in a way that … isn’t just ogling at my body or manipulating me out of my pants. He treats me like an equal. He shares his soul with me. He’s cute as fuck and makes me clumsy.” I chuckle. “Quin just … makes me feel like a fucking normal-ass human being.”
Kent’s hand is back on my shoulder. He gives it a rub and faces me. “Sounds like you’re doomed.”
“Majorly doomed. What the fuck do I do if he decides to drop out of school and move back home?” I turn to my brother. “Will that be the end of us? Is that …?”
Is that the choice he made?
Kent lets out a breath. “Oh, Adrian, Adrian … You’re gonna make me throw some words back at you that not so long ago were thrown at me. You’re gonna have to let fate decide what’s in store for you. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be, and you and Quin will find a way. It isn’t such a bad look for you: the long-distance boyfriend from the beach, supporting his cute lawyer lover from afar.”
Kent’s been my shoulder these past few nights when I was continuing to be adamant about keeping my word and giving Quin his space. “Cute lawyer lover …” I gaze back at the Rivington. He’ll die without his art. I just know it.
“You ready to go in, bro?”
“No, but I’m going to anyway.” I take the first step, heading across the road. Kent follows behind, hands in his pockets, keeping up.
Honestly, the venue isn’t as amazing inside as I had expected. I think I might’ve come here ages ago with my little brother when there was a science fair or something, and my brother wanted to see something NASA-sponsored about spaceships—I can’t remember. But the first thing I notice is the odd lighting. It’s dim and strange, with just spotlights on each of the pieces that line the walls. From paintings to sculptures, the room is filled with exhibits of all shapes, sizes, and colors.
And if I’m being honest here, none of them look all that amazing or profound to me. Not that I’m some fucking art connoisseur, but shouldn’t I at least like some of the stuff being displayed here? Shouldn’t I be able to walk up to something, feel moved, and make a smart remark to my brother about it?
Speaking of, where did he go?
I stop and look over my shoulder to find Kent gone. I glance to the left, to the right, and spin around again. Like a magician, the guy has flat-out vanished. Was that part of his plan? To lure me into the venue because he knew I was too stuck in my head to enter it alone?
Sometimes that damned Kent knows me too well.
Right then, I spot my mom across the room. It catches me by surprise that she came to this thing—and also that she seems to have put on an actual dress for the event. That in and of itself is a miracle. She even did her hair.
Then she pulls out a cigarette and tries to light it. An attendant quickly rushes up to her. “Really?” I hear her voice ring out through the echoing chatter in the exhibit. “I don’t see a sign anywhere. Do you see a sign? Piss, shit, no one’s fun around here.”
I cut through the room and come to her side. “Mom, c’mon, you know better.”
“Hi, hon. You see these?” she asks, pointing at a row of mushroom paintings. “They’re all penises, apparently.”
I don’t even look. “Yeah, this room’s full of stuff.”
“Penises. All of ‘em. That one’s a penis. That one, too. All penises.” She squints at the one in front of her. “I don’t see a penis here. Must be the imposter. Or an invisi-penis.”