23. Shira

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Shira

When we get outside, someone's sitting in an aggressively purple car on the narrow lane by the restaurant. This must be Brayden.

He jumps out of the driver's seat. Whatever I expected—a world-weary version of Blake, maybe—doesn't prepare me. Brayden isn't a world-weary version of Blake: he's almost an exact replica, right down to the perfect placement of his hair and the pasted-on smile. Are you twins? But no, Blake said Brayden was a few years younger. Still, no wonder they're close.

Brayden also moves with a certain freneticism like he's had too much caffeine. Only caffeine? Some of the girls I danced with used—and some of the customers definitely did. Those ones I always approached with a certain wariness: people surprise you, usually not in good ways.

Like how we just surprised Blake.

If I think about that too hard, I might actually cry. I don't want to cry and I definitely don't want to cry in front of Brayden. Especially when he struts over, grunts half a greeting toward Felix and Blake, then holds out the keys to me. "I assume these are for you."

I shake my head. "Blake rented the car, so I guess he's driving." Also, hi, hello, how are you? Blake's armored politeness might bother me sometimes, but Brayden's abruptness is worse.

"Rented?" Brayden scoffs.

Next to me, Blake's shoulders have gone stiff. "Brayden, this is Shira, my—" He stops before he says the word girlfriend . "And Felix Paquette. He's also on the team."

Not a teammate. Not a friend. Just two people Blake happens to be traveling with. I won't let that hurt. Not when Blake is so clearly still angry. Deservedly.

"Well, tell your—" Brayden mimics cutting himself off like he noticed Blake doing the same, "that her new car handles smooth."

I turn to Blake. "My car?"

Blake heaves a shrug, then motions to the purple Volvo in front of us. "Lilac II. Surprise."

Oh no. "You bought me a car?"

"I was gonna when we got back to Boston, but this seemed like a good moment."

My heart catches on the past tense. Blake, all of twenty-four hours ago, buying me a vehicle just in case. "Oh. Um. Thank you." I should hug him, kiss him, if only because Brayden is eying us like he knows something's going on. I settle for winding myself around Blake, tipping his chin down to meet mine. Whispering, "You can return the car, right?" as if it's something romantic.

"Shira…" Blake draws my name out. I'll miss the way he says it, inflected with sweetness. "The car's yours. You should have something safe." Safe. What I was with him. What I'm not any longer. Faint lines of tension radiate around Blake's eyes. Even his imperfections are perfect and mine only make me a disaster.

"You shouldn't—" My voice catches in my throat. "You don't have to."

He brushes a strand of hair back from my face. For a second, I think he's going to press a kiss to my cheek or nose. Instead he just exhales like he's tired. "It's done—the title's in your name. If you want to trade it in or sell it…"

As if I'm just trying to make a fast buck off him. "It's not like that." I probably say it too loud, because Brayden glances over with all the subtlety of a shark smelling blood in water.

"We can talk about this later," Blake says.

That assumes we're still talking at all. "Okay, sure."

Blake steps back. "Let me just take a look through to make sure she's road-ready." And he accepts the keys from Brayden, then climbs into the driver's seat to adjust the mirrors and check various settings. Or possibly to avoid having to speak with me or Felix, who takes his cue and starts loading our bags in the popped trunk.

I get about two seconds of peace before Brayden sidles up to me. "So you're dating my brother, huh?" he asks.

Are we still dating? Nothing I want to say in front of Brayden. So I just say, "Yep," and make sure to pop the p .

"Didn't clock you as his type."

Something that riled me when Felix said it. Now it stings like salt in a cut. Still, I know an asshole when I meet one—Brayden seems like he'll toss a slew of insults until one lands. "Blake's a great guy."

"Sure, if you like being bored."

"He's interesting. The problem is people don't bother to get to know him."

Brayden's lips tick up amusedly. "I'm sure there are any number of things you find interesting about my brother. I could think of about eighty million of them."

"Hey." It comes out full Boston, even more so when I click my nails in Brayden's face. These short fucking nails make it harder, but some skills you don't lose. "Mind your fucking business."

Brayden laughs as if I've managed to surprise him. "Oh, Mom and Dad are absolutely gonna hate her," he says to Blake through the rolled-down window. He glances to where Blake's arm is resting on the doorframe. In the morning sunlight, it's obvious Blake is wearing nail polish. He spent last night looking at those nails when he thought Felix and I weren't paying attention, examining them with a pleased kind of flush.

Now Brayden grins, knowing, and Blake goes a deep red that could be anger, shame, or a mixture of the two. "Though," Brayden says, "I guess Mom and Dad are just happy you're dating a girl—I mean, dating at all." Said like an oops , even if it's very obviously not one.

And that is it . I storm into Brayden's space. "Has anyone ever told you to shut the hell up?"

Brayden laughs hollowly. "You got something to say?"

"Tons."

"So say it."

When I look over his shoulder, Blake is watching us, face pale under his tan. Felix is hovering nearby, looking he might interfere more directly—possibly with his fists.

Blake doesn't need this. Not ever and definitely not this morning.

"The thing about Blake—" I poke my finger against Brayden's sternum for emphasis. "The thing about Blake is that he's not like you or me. He's a good person, not in that bullshit way where people are trying to look good, but he's actually good, deep down. And the thing about a good person like that is sometimes they don't know how to deal with someone who's not."

"Huh," Brayden says, a clipped single syllable. So not what he thought I would say—like he expected me to accept his insults with a smile or have some freakout over his not-so-subtle insinuations about Blake being queer.

But I'm not done yet. Anger boils just beneath my skin—at Brayden, sure, but mostly at myself. Everything tells me I should calm down, shut up. Be appropriate or at least polite. Fuck that. I gesture between Brayden and myself. "It's easy for people like us take people like him for granted. That's the thing about good people. You can push and push and push and they don't give up on you. Until one day, you go too far and push them away. Then you don't realize how much you've lost until they're gone."

My voice goes hoarse at the end of it, tears gathering in my throat. I will not cry. Not here. Not in front of anyone, even if my eyes are suspiciously wet.

Brayden looks down at me, amusement in the tilt of his mouth, though his eyes are flat. Wary , with something else hovering under that. How I thought he and Blake looked alike, I don't know. "Fine," he says.

"Fine what?"

"Fine, you can date my brother."

Like this was a test that, somehow, I passed.

Brayden turns to Blake. "You got a real live one here."

Blake rolls his eyes, but he's almost smiling. "So happy you approve." Then he goes back to flipping various switches in Lilac II's interior.

"You done making sure I didn't break your precious car?" Brayden asks.

That makes Blake narrow his eyes. "What'd you do?"

"Always gotta be suspicious. They make it so hard to stash shit in vehicle doors nowadays."

Blake squawks. Actually squawks.

"Relax, bro," Brayden laughs, "I'm fucking with you."

Blake slides out of the car, then motions for him. "C'mere."

For a second, it looks like Brayden might refuse, but he goes. Standing together, they're about the same height, Blake only a half-inch or so taller, Brayden's hair combed up like he's trying to make up for the difference.

Blake wraps a hand around Brayden's neck like gripping a puppy by its nape, tilting Brayden until their foreheads practically touch. He says something too low to make out.

I should stop eavesdropping, even if I can't help overhearing Blake's emphatic whisper. "Anytime you want to go, just say the word." As if they're about to fight right here.

Felix, meanwhile, has finished putting our bags in the trunk. He's standing at the rear of the car, not quite leaning against Lilac II's bumper. I walk over to him. Roll my eyes at Brayden with the air of Get a load of this jerk.

And Felix steps away from me. "Maybe we shouldn't…" he mumbles. "Forsyth and I might have to work together."

Fuck, everything hurts all over again. That we lied to Blake. That we have to live with the consequences. Or I do—that I'm getting to Florida with no boyfriend and no friend. Without my real car, just this clean, functional version of her that throws into sharper relief how screwed up the rest of my life is.

"Where do you need a ride to, Bray?" Blake asks, overly loud, as if he's alerting me and Felix to the end of their conversation.

Brayden shrugs. "My car'll be here in like twenty minutes."

"We'll wait with you."

"You don't trust me unsupervised?" Brayden's laugh doesn't contain much actual laughter.

"No," Blake says, "not really."

"I'm gonna be alone once I get to Florida."

"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about." Blake says it low, like he doesn't want us to hear, then adds, "I got a spare bedroom if you want one."

So it's like that—Blake making sure Felix and I know where we stand. I should probably start looking for tickets for the auto train now. The sooner I get the hell off this trip and back to my real life, the better.

"That's kinda shitty," I whisper to Felix.

"Can you really blame him?" As if it's clear who Felix feels is responsible for all this— me .

The worst part is he isn't wrong. He wanted to tell Blake. I refused. Blake found out. Sometimes you have to live with the consequences of your actions, if that's busting your ankle walking across a parking lot in the dark or lying to someone you love.

"I'll head back to Boston tomorrow morning," I say, "Make things easier on you both."

Felix opens his mouth like he might argue. Like he might tell me I should stay. Then he closes his mouth with a click. He needs the money—he's been clear about that from the start. Which means getting along with Blake if the team decides to keep him. Which means he and I aren't anything to each other than two people about to share an awkward ten-hour ride in a purple Volvo.

So we wait. Brayden and Blake spend half the time bickering, half the time trading gossip about their relatives. Felix leans against the car and says nothing.

I stare at my phone, pretending to scroll through Instagram but mostly just watching my own reflection in the darkened screen and wishing I could call someone. I could text a friend, but this feels like too much to put in writing. Some part of me wants to get back to Boston and go home: not to the crappy apartment I'm renting but to the house where I grew up, with portraits of me my parents put on the wall. Back to when my life was easy. Another thing I ruined with my stubbornness.

Finally, Brayden's car arrives, driven by some friend who Blake must know because he sucks his teeth when he sees her but doesn't say anything other than, "Good morning." Just hugs Brayden and says, "Let me know when you get in to Florida, okay?" then aims him at his car like he's worried Brayden'll get in trouble between the curb and pavement.

They speed off—a screech of tires, Brayden's laugh from the window underpinned by a thump of bass—leaving Felix, Blake, and me to look at each other on the sidewalk.

"We should get driving," Blake says. "I can take the first shift."

It's my car . Even if I've had my fill of driving for a long time. "Sure. Felix, you want the front seat or the back?"

"Doesn't matter to me."

Sitting next to Blake will only make how things have changed more obvious—he won't pause mid-sentence to kiss me or ask about my calculus homework or grin and make me feel like I'm lucky to be his. Stuff I don't deserve. Stuff I never really deserved.

So I situate myself in Lilac II's backseat, wait for Blake and Felix to settle in the front. Lilac II is smaller on the inside than her predecessor. When I close the door, it doesn't squeak.

And I thought this trip would mean too much time together, but crammed in this car with both of them, I've never felt more alone.