Page 100 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions
That’s what June had dubbed me. Man-of-honor, instead of maid-of-honor. She thought it was funny, and it was her wedding, so I hadn’t argued. Truthfully, when she’d asked me, I’d been honored even if I had been unsurprised. It was only right that I support her on her wedding day. I knew she’d do the same for me one day if I ever decided to trust again.
I offered George my hand. He was so distracted by his thoughts that he simply accepted without complaint. Tugging him toward the fire, I tried to figure out how best to keep his mind off any of his many,manyannoying exes.
Fine.
There were two that I knew of.
Two.
But two was two too many.
Christ, what a mouthful.
“June and I have a lot of varying tastes,” I said. “We’re twins. Which meant that growing up we often got lumped together. People pretty much assumed we were the same person. And that we liked the same things simply because we shared a womb.” George listened intently as I hunted the log benches for a spot close enough to the flame that we could make some marshmallows of our own. “They were right in some ways—we can be frighteningly similar. Especially when we were kids and our dad dressed us in matching outfits. He stopped doing that when we hit…ten, maybe? And that was when our differences became more apparent.”
“Huh.”
“June always liked country music, and Ihatedcountry. I loved football, June hated football. June started playing piano, I refused to learn an instrument. When I picked hockey, June picked figure skating.” There. Perfect. I tugged George to a seat on the free bench I’d found. The scratchy wood clung to my joggers as I sat down, spreading wide so that I could press our legs together. I liked the feel of him. Slightly chilly, his thigh only a fraction of the width of mine, but still comforting when it was pressed close.
He had nice quads. I was tempted to smooth my hands up them from knee to hip to see if they felt as firm as they looked, but I didn’t. With him in the same dark jeans he’d worn yesterday, it was difficult to control myself.
“We’re less contrary now,” I shrugged. “Neither of us care like we did when we were younger. Especially now that we look as different as we do. But still. Some habits are hard to stop when they’re so ingrained into who you are.”
“I understand that,” George admitted. “I still refuse to watch the secondLion Kingjust because Lacey bugged me about it so many times. Siblings make things complicated.” He didn’t move away, in fact, if I didn’t know any better his leg was pushing harder against mine. Like he wanted to feel me as much as I wanted to feel him.
Wishful thinking, maybe.
But maybe not.
Because his eyes were swirling pools of blue-black ink, and the way he was looking at me made me feel like I could climb a mountain. Or maybe the Empire State Building? Put him in a pretty dress, hold him in my hand, and pound my chest like Kong.
“There are exceptions to my blind hate for country,” George added guiltily—as though he expected the genre of country music would be offended by his blind, blatant hatred. “Like…um.” His brow knit as he mulled over his own thoughts, trying to remember the exceptions he’d just claimed existed.
I didn’t mind. I just liked looking at him.
Loved the little dimple on his chin, not grumpy presently—but thoughtful.
For an entire minute, I was mesmerized by the way the crackle pop of the fire illuminated the play of emotion on George’s face. And then the silence broke, and with triumph, George began listing off an entire list of songs he liked that fit within the country genre. Even better was the fact that George actually took the time to explainwhyhe liked them. It was usually for a sentimental reason, like a “good storyline” or because “he thought it was romantic.”
More curiously, Georgelovedsad songs.
A fact that I found incredibly charming.
“I just like tofeelsomething, you know?” George told me. I wasn’t sure how long we’d been roasting our asses by the fire, but my knees felt hot from its proximity, and sweat had built at my temple. I barely noticed. I did, however, notice a damp lock of George’s blond hair when it slipped free and stuck to his pale forehead. He pushed it back with an angry motion. My hands twitched when it simply fell again.
I wanted to fix it for him.
But I was having so much fun talking to him, I didn’t dare move. We were caught in a spell I didn’t want to break. Hell, I hadn’t even gone hunting for the skewers and marshmallows like I’d wanted, as absorbed as I’d been in his rant.
“I know what you mean,” I echoed. “That's why I like anime.” George blinked. I elaborated. “Some of the plots can be super devastating. They make you feel things. Especially the more long-winded series. It feels like you grow with the characters. They become your friends.”
What an embarrassing thing to say, Alex.
George nodded along like he didn’t think it was embarrassing at all.
When I checked my phone nearly an hour had passed. I’d been so captivated by him, chatting back and forth as though we were old friends, I hadn’t realized. It was peaceful and companionable in a way I’d never expected, especially after how we’d met. George poked fun at me whenever he could and I was just as merciless in return. We enjoyed each other. And at somepoint, I’d slung my arm around his back, and he hadn’t pushed me off.
It was an effortless sort of friendship.
