Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
About the double identity thing? Had he admitted it last night? Given himself away for real?
Grayson waited, eyes less judgy than usual which . . . didn’t quite make sense. He was too earnest right now; it was making Carl’s breath thicken and come out uneven. Grayson must have pieced the clues together and figured it out.
Carl set his smoothie aside; his turn to grab Grayson’s forearm, but his wasn’t a soft pat. His was a pleading squeeze. “Please don’t tell anyone?”
Grayson rested a warm hand atop his and drummed his fingers over Carl’s goose-bumping skin. Was that meant to be calming?
How could he be calm?
There were goosebumps. And Grayson knew. He did. He had to. “How’d you know?”
Grayson took back his hand with a skate of a nail across Carl’s knuckles. “It was pretty obvious. And good thing I caught you.”
Being caught impersonating his brother was a good thing? “Why?”
“Why?” Grayson’s voice rose. “It’s not only about you. Others will be hurt.”
Carl bowed his head. If others found out he wasn’t Jason, of course they’d feel stink. But . . . but they were already feeling stink, and . . . Jason would be back soon. He’d carry on with the charade. Pretend it was him at the Street Greet, at Leo’s school assembly. That way . . . “I may not hurt anyone.”
“That’s how you might feel. But”—Grayson touched Carl’s chin, lifting it until they were eye to eye—“I promise, someone cares. Someone’s heart will break.”
They were quiet for a few unsteady, fidgety beats.
Grayson cleared his throat. “Should I not have mentioned it?”
“I mean, since it’s obvious, I get why you would. I’ll consider what you said. In the meantime, don’t tell anyone?”
“I won’t gossip. But I have a request.”
“What’s that?”
“When you have these urges to . . . I mean, since I know . . . please find me first? I’ll help you.”
“You’ll . . . help?”
“Always. I’ll make sure no one gets hurt.”
“How?”
“I have ears and know how to use them.”
Was that some kind of musical reference? Could he help Carl sound like an authentic musician?
Grayson asked, “What’s that frown for?”
“I’m surprised you’d want to help with this.”
“There are others who would also help. I can give you a few numbers—”
“No! No, no. It’s enough that you know.”
Grayson grimaced, and nodded.
And Carl couldn’t stop staring at him. The rush of dark hair, the darker eyes. The sharp line of his nose, the firm lips. The flannel—Carl’s flannel—on that impeccable body. And . . . and the lean. The way Grayson angled himself towards Carl, all sincerity, like he was solely concentrated on this moment with him. The air between them felt positively weighted.
All that intensity on the heels of kindness . . . Carl fanned himself. “Starting to see why you have groupies.”
Grayson smiled, and Carl quickly raised a halting hand. “I meant I understand how other people might fall for all . . .” Carl swept a hand in Grayson’s general direction “that. Not that I’m one of them.”
Grayson’s sweet smile turned into a grin. “If you say so.”
Carl shook his head, narrowing his eyes, but he pulled out another glass and poured Grayson some smoothie too. “Actually, I feel better unloading the truth. Having someone who’ll have my back.”
“That’s the point.”
Carl slid the glass over the counter. “Drink up, Scorpio.” Three sips in, Carl murmured, “Do you think I should avoid people?”
“No, I think that’d make things worse.”
“You think I have to tell them?”
“That’s up to you. It’s an extremely personal matter.”
“Yeah . . . Do you really think they’d be hurt if—”
“Yes.”
Ah, shit. “You have to help me then. So they won’t get hurt.”
“So you won’t get hurt, either.”
So Carl wouldn’t get hurt either. Wow. It was like Grayson knew how much pretending to be his accomplished twin brother affected him. He nodded quietly and observed Grayson while he finished his smoothie. Something about the way he took this seriously . . . The sheen to his gaze. Like a shield. Like protectiveness.
He cared for his community, the people in it. Old acquaintances and new.
“I’ve got another shift at the pub soon. Thanks for the smoothie. Let me know if you need any help.”
Did this mean Grayson would help him come up with a plan for the school assembly? Carl nodded and dazedly escorted him to the front door. He gazed after Grayson jostling past leggy lavender, and then snapped out of it. Not a groupie. Never a groupie. “Hey. Don’t get too fond of my flannel.”
Carl took Toto—and a bike lock—and raced around the bays for some fresh air. He stopped for a swim and had almost finished a circuit of the city when he got swarmed by pre-teens in their uniforms again. This time he sought Leo out and scared off a couple of goofing guys who thought giving wedgies was “just having fun.”