4. Fletcher

The drive didn't really help. As much as I love messing with Professor Barlowe, I hate when he rattles me. And him dismissing me like he did today, for some reason, got to me.

But I nearly die of a heart attack when I unlock my apartment door and am instantly greeted by not my mom this time—no, this time it's Rhett doing the breaking and entering.

"Seriously?" I ask, tossing my keys on the table next to the door and trying to calm my racing pulse. "Do we need to establish some boundaries?" I ask as I make my way to the couch and sit next to him on the sofa, where he's made himself at home.

He gives a quick laugh. "Let's just call it payback. I believe you broke into my apartment a few times."

I grin because yes, yes I did. Our whole little makeshift family is totally free of boundaries.

"Where have you been?" he asks, and I sigh, tired from the day.

"Driving around."

"What's wrong?" He immediately becomes serious, and damn it, if there's anyone on this planet who knows me better than myself, it's Rhett. Blair, Rhys, and Bree know me well, but Rhett knows me the best.

"I have a professor who hates my guts."

Rhett is quiet for a moment. I know he doesn't miss when I go for a drive to nowhere, it's because I'm dealing with stuff. It's my little ritual. He sketches, but I drive with the music turned up loud on a path to nowhere. Just drive until I start to feel calm, or I give up and head home.

"And? That bothers you?" He sounds genuinely confused, and I laugh because yeah, people not liking me doesn't usually get to me. I couldn't give a flying fuck.

Usually.

I shrug. "He goes out of his way to remind me that he's better than me. That I'm just a kid he looks down on," I say, my voice thick with emotion I hate. "It's reminiscent of every motherfucker I ever met before Rhys and Blair."

He nods slowly because he gets it. We were told we weren't good enough for most of our lives. Passed around to different homes over and over again. "So he's a stuffy professor type. Fuck him."

I tense a little at that because yes, please.

I'd love to. And that's really damn confusing because he's not my type. I don't like rich, entitled people. I really don't. No matter how much I try to fit in with them, I want nothing to do with them.

I put on the show.

And no, Rhys and Blair don't count. Rhys was a foster kid, just like us. And Blair—well Blair is just cool as hell.

Rhett nudges my shoulder. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you have a crush."

I know he's trying to lighten the mood, and it works because I can't fight the grin that plays over my mouth. "And if I told you that I've been with a dude, would you still know better?"

Shit. That just came out. But I don't try to laugh it off or pull it back. I'm glad I said it.

I should have told him right away. "Are you fucking with me?" he asks carefully.

"So being with a guy is a joke?" I ask, keeping a totally straight face—and that shit is hard to do.

He sees right through it, though, and shoves my shoulder. "Quit being an asshole. You know it's not. So, you were with a guy?"

I nod, feeling pretty damn good to get it out. It shouldn't be a secret. I haven't held back in the past about hooking up with a chick, so I really shouldn't hold back now. "Just one."

"When?"

"Last summer. And over Christmas break."

Rhett seems to take in that information and then nods. "Okay. So you're..."

Ah, the label. Rhett took a long time to figure out his own. The poor guy struggled with it for a long time—even thought there was something wrong with him—until Grayson came along, breaking through those walls like an even more hyped-up version of the Kool Aid man and showing him he didn't need a label.

That there was nothing wrong with him and he was most certainly capable of love.

But we aren't the same. I'm not demisexual. I don't need a strong connection to feel sexual desire, and I'm pretty sure I'm as equally attracted to men as I am to women and have been for a while. "I think I'm bi."

He nods, not shocked at all. Not surprised. And he's not going to ask me a bunch of questions. Nope. Rhett just accepts it like I knew he would. "Cool."

"I think," I say because I've never said it out loud before.

He grasps the back of my neck with his hand, and I see the slight smile. "You like who you like when you like them. Nothing else matters."

I nod and smile too.

"Even if it's a prick professor, who's actually not nearly good enough for you and not the other way around."

I chuckle, and he releases me. "He's not so bad."

"Oh God, you have it bad, huh?" He laughs now, the tension leaving my body too.

"No. I just totally want to see him naked and find out what it's like to make him moan my name."

Rhett grimaces. "Too far. Way too far. You've been hanging out with Blair too much."

I laugh. "I even offered to be his TA."

"What?" Rhett sounds amused now.

"Yeah, but he told me hell no."

He studies me carefully for a moment, probably wondering what the hell is going on. I don't donate my time. I'm not like Rhett. He loves to volunteer. I've been to the city mission where he volunteers a few times with him before, but it's not a big thing for me.

I tutor for cash. I never sign up for extra work though. But I was dead serious about being a TA for him. I don't even know how the process works or if it's a paid or credit position. I just loved the idea of assisting the grumpy bastard.

"So why are you here?" I ask, pulling out my phone to order something for dinner.

"Eh, Grayson had an evening class, and I knew Bree was coming up here. Thought I might come hang out."

"You worried about Bree?" I ask, amused because she can take care of herself, but that doesn't mean we aren't protective of her.

"She took it hard when we left last year."

I stiffen at that. "Hard how?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. I think she felt like we were abandoning her. And I've tried to be more present since, you know? But she's got something going on."

"You think Shana and she are . . . ?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. I don't think she likes her that way, but something seems off."

Maybe I need to do better at checking in too. I always thought of Bree as untouchable, nothing ever scared her. She was braver than Rhett and me combined, but if Rhett thinks something is off, it probably is.

"Should we call her and guilt her into coming over here?"

Rhett holds up his phone. "Already sent a text about a fucked-up-adopted-siblings get-together."

I laugh at that, and when Bree shows up a couple of hours later to eat pizza and watch trash horror movies that are edited for television with us, everything feels right with the world.

It's always been that way with these two.