Even his name sounds impossibly lofty. No wonder he doesn’t want to hang with me. I may have money, but I’ve got no education, not really, and my origins are distinctly lower middle class. Brad is smooth and cultured, nothing like my drunk of a father.
I press my lips together. Not going to think about that. I grab my car keys and head out.
Noise streams from the kitchen.
“Coffee, honey?” Mom lifts the coffeepot toward me.
Alec sits beside her, though his gaze is fixed on his plate. Brad and Alec are eating bacon and eggs, Trixie curled around Alec’s feet. I love that meal, but nothing is going to force me to sit opposite Alec now and pretend that last night and this morning never happened.
I shake my head, and my fingers tighten around my car keys. “Gotta go.”
The sound of the door slamming behind me is too loud, and my feet crunch over the gravel as I make my way to my convertible. The waves fail to soothe me this morning, and their steady, unchanging beating seems naive.
I speed along the coast, clutching the steering wheel so hard my knuckles whiten against it.
Last night was the best night of my life. But it all crumbled this morning. And it’s all my fault. Because who starts something with their stepbrother?
I bite my lip hard and pull into Midnight Dreams Studio. The sun gleams onto the glass planes of the studio, and no clouds mar the blueness of the sky. This may be the first time when my heart doesn’t swell with an absurd pride that I’m working at the same place as all my favorite music artists from decades past.
“Hey.” Caleb smiles when I enter the room.
My eyes shift to him. Mateo’s arm is wrapped around him. For somebody so worried about appearances, staying in the closet for years, Caleb is remarkably open now. Mateo never strays too far away from him. I think they still hug every time they see each other. And I don’t mean after a night apart, not that I think they experience that often, I mean after reentering a room.
“Hey.” I stride past them, nodding briefly in their direction. My hands shake, still rattled from this morning’s encounter with Alec.
“I’ve been thinking of a new song idea.” Caleb slides next to me. “Maybe we could try co-writing—”
I suck in a deep breath of air and expel it with a hiss. I grab my workout gear and head for the studio’s gym. I swing my head to Caleb. “Later, dude.”
“Right.” Caleb nods, but the smile on his face has tightened, and Mateo squeezes his shoulder.
A dull feeling moves through my stomach. I’m conscious of isolating everyone around me, and I hate it. This never happened before I met Alec. Then I was just confused, but now the fog has lifted, but I don’t like my life. The glitzy side is awesome, but not that life-changing.
Caleb’s face pales, but I don’t stop to ask what’s wrong. I need to do this. I need to go to the gym, need to slam my fists against the punching bag and run myself to exhaustion. Maybe then, if I’m lucky, Alec’s face will stop appearing in my mind. Maybe I’ll no longer flash to graphic images of last night—Alec’s lips on my cock, my mouth on his. Maybe then I’ll no longer think I feel Alec’s breath against my neck, no longer think that if I lean back, his arms will catch me. Maybe then everything will be okay.
I hope so.
Because right now I don’t know how I’ll get through the next ten minutes, much less return home, where every memory of Alec will be even stronger, and where I can hear his voice speak with our parents and see him lounge around the common area, as if nothing whatsoever happened between us.
I tear off my clothes and scramble into my workout gear. I touch my neck with my finger and scowl into the floor length mirror. A hickey. My hands scrunch into tight fists.
“Everything okay?” Mateo’s voice sounds behind me, and I whirl around.
“Everything’s awesome.” I cross my arms together. I want to work out now, and I shift my legs over the linoleum floor of the locker room. The room is empty; all the execs are working now. Luckily, my schedule is more flexible.
“Gonna explain your problem, then?” Mateo steps toward me, his face darkening. He seems to take pleasure in the extra inch of height he has on me.
“There’s no problem.” I glower back at him. I try to push past to go to the machines, but he grabs hold of me.
“I’m not an idiot, Ezra. I’m not going to let you brush this away.”
I press my lips together. I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I do know that the longer I stand before him, the harder it is for me to maintain my composure and pretend that everything is just okay.
“Look.” Mateo sighs. “I know it was a shock to discover Caleb and me together . . .”
“You want to talk about that?”
Mateo fixes his green eyes on me. “Look, even Caleb has noticed how standoffish you’ve been these past weeks. And his memory is only coming back in bits and pieces. He doesn’t even understand just how different you’re acting.”
My fingers clench harder together. “It’s not what you think.”
Mateo sighs. “I get that it’s strange for you that Caleb’s gay, that I’m gay, but you gotta understand . . .”
Guilt gnaws in my stomach. I need to tell them about me, but I’m still having trouble admitting it to myself. And then I’ll need to tell them about Alec, and how I spent the night with my soon-to-be brother. That’s what I don’t want to talk about. Don’t want to ponder why Alec turned so cold. Don’t want to ponder if this means everything between us is over. Don’t want to ask Mateo just how big of an idiot I really am.
I shake my head in impatience. “I don’t have time for this.”
“You’ve been acting distant ever since—”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I know. But it’s not about you. Honest.”
A vein in Mateo’s temple pulses, and I sigh. “I’m happy for you. And Caleb.”
“Then what is it about, Ezra? Because something is happening to you, and it’s affecting everyone. And don’t think Caleb and I don’t notice that you grimace when you see us. None of the others do. I would have thought Kyle would be the one with the problem, but it’s only you. Why is that?”
I rub my hand through my hair. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“And going out with Celia? What were you thinking?”
The back of my neck tingles with heat. I squirm and shift my legs from side to side. “She’s pretty . . .”
“Well, you seem miserable,” Mateo says. “And you’re making everyone else miserable.”
I open my mouth to tell him I’m totally fine and everything is great, but no words come out. I’ve been lying to people my whole life, before I even knew I was lying, but I can’t continue.
I avoid Mateo’s gaze. I don’t want to talk to anyone about how messed up my life is, how obsessed I’ve become with my brother-to-be. I suck in a deep breath of air and press my arms against my body. “I’ve got no problem with what’s between both of you.”
“Oh my God.” Mateo’s eyes widen. “You’re—”
“I have to work out.” I stride toward the exercise machines. I don’t want to have this conversation, but Mateo stops me once again.
“That’s why you rarely date, right? That’s why you hate seeing Caleb and me together.”
I quicken my pace.
“We can’t not talk about this,” Mateo calls after me, and I stop.
“I—” I halt. Talking about my feelings is nothing that sounds pleasant to me. I’m there to support other people, not stand and converse with one of my friends and admit that this whole time I knew him, everything I said was a lie.
“It’s okay.” Mateo smiles. “It’s me.”
My back is rigid, and every muscle in my body seems to pulse, prepared to run away.
“You’re gay?” Mateo asks, and I blink back at him. And then I shrug because I hate, hate seeming indecisi
ve. But I don’t fail to understand the transition I will take in my next sentence.
“Yeah.” My voice is soft, but he still hears me. His eyebrows still shoot up, and his mouth still drops open.
“You never said anything—”
I shake my head. “I—I wasn’t sure. But ever since Caleb and you—”
“You didn’t . . .” Mateo swallows. “You weren’t sad when Caleb and I got together because—”
He breaks off, and his expression is uncomfortable.
I blink. “God, no. Not that, definitely not that. Caleb is like a brother to me.”
I cringe as I remember my own relationship with Alec. Heat moves from the back of the neck to my cheeks, slinking slowly upward, revealing my discomfort and betraying my inner thoughts.
Mateo’s smile falters, and I sigh. “And not you either. Not that you’re not awesome, dude, but . . .”
“Awkward moment over?” Mateo asks.
I strive to smile and rub my hand through my hair. “I actually sort of wish I had liked one of you before. I should have realized. I’m such an idiot.”
Mateo tilts his head, his dark brown locks sweeping over his brow, and appraises me. “Sure you’re not bi?”
I squirm as images from last night flash across my mind, and I know what I experienced with Alec was a thousand times better than anything I could ever experience with a woman.
“I’m sure. Completely sure.”
“You met somebody.” Mateo’s voice manages to sound both authoritative and surprised. “Who the hell did you meet? Another rock star? Giorgio?”
I chuckle when he mentions the name of the only rock star besides Caleb who is out.
“The man isn’t on tour now, and you have been working late often . . .” Mateo’s thoughts are visibly churning in his mind.
“I am not sleeping with Giorgio.” I shake my head. Firmly. The man epitomizes campiness and is the closest thing the studio has to a gay icon. I haven’t spoken much with him, perhaps subconsciously staying away from gay men, but he’s nothing like Alec. “That’s not why I’ve been staying late here.”
“Someone else?” Mateo’s eyes widen. The man’s the publicity manager and knows everyone here. This is just the sort of puzzle he likes. “Apart from accompanying Celia to that event, you’re just here and home . . .”
I squirm, and the heat that threatened to spill onto my cheeks is now doing it in full force.
“Not—” Mateo pauses, and I know he’s realized it’s Alec who causes my heart to lurch in my chest and my palms to dampen.
I avert my eyes.
“Oh, Ezra.” Mateo presses his lips together, and his eyes fill with sympathy. “Your stepbrother?”
I nod.
“And given your bad mood, things aren’t going well?”
I sigh. “You got it.”
“That sucks.” Mateo settles down on a wooden bench and stretches his legs out over the tiled floor. The smell of chlorine sweeps in from the pool, mixing with the scent of sweaty clothes and men.
I sit beside him and press my hands together, trying to stop the tremor that goes through them whenever I think about Alec.
“And he’s gay?”
I nod. “Absolutely.”
“You . . .” Mateo’s voice trails off.
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Mateo leans his head against the locker room wall. We’re left with the faint whirring sound of the electricity racing through the gym. The air is humid, and I shift uncomfortably through the thick, heavy air that presses against me. “What happened, Ezra?”
Mateo’s voice is soft and concerned. I consider storming off. He won’t follow me this time, satisfied I’m not dissing Caleb or him, and respecting my choice for privacy.
I clutch my hands together. I can still feel Alec beside me, know just what his warm breath should be like against my cheek, know just how his long fingers should feel when clasping my hand, his thigh touching mine.
Maybe yesterday was all a mirage. Maybe I conjured up all Alec’s sweetness because it sure as hell didn’t exist before and didn’t exist after. I lean forward and cradle my head in my hands. Nausea threatens to rise in my throat, and I’m glad I’m sitting and can’t embarrass myself too much.
“We slept together,” I say. “We didn’t do everything, but yeah, he was there when I woke up and—” My cheeks heat again. I don’t want to look at Mateo, don’t want to see his eyes when he realizes just how bad I messed up.
“And then you freaked out,” Mateo says.
I turn toward him. “No. He did. He was great last night, and then I talked about traveling, and he sort of vanished. Only he didn’t because we live in the same house, and he was there at breakfast, acting so normal, and I—” I rub my hand over my chest. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to deal with this.
“You gotta talk with him, Ezra.” Mateo’s voice is serious, but then his eyes glint. “And then let me beat him up if he continues to be a dick.”
I punch Mateo’s arm. “One inch. You’re just one inch taller than me. I can do my own beating up. Don’t worry about that. Not that I would, of course, but . . .”
“But you still have to speak with him.” Mateo leans his legs forward. “Caleb and I didn’t do that often enough ourselves. We kissed way before he got amnesia, the tension between us became too much, even for him, but then he freaked out. Told me he wasn’t gay. And I let him distance himself from me. And when he got amnesia, I still remained distant from him, which he didn’t understand.”
I nod, but I don’t think the situation applies much. Because Alec is not closeted and does know himself. This should be difficult for me, and my fingers clench together. Alec pursued me, and I hate, absolutely hate, that he gets to avoid me now. Yeah, we need to talk.
I stand up and smile. “Thanks, Mateo.”
“Anytime, dude. Caleb will be relieved to know—”
My smile tightens. “I’ll tell Caleb later.”
“Right.” Mateo’s expression is once again worried, but I move toward the gym.
I need to sort things out with Alec, at least give him a piece of my mind before I admit to my best friend that when he was struggling with coming out, I never told him I was struggling with the same thing.
Chapter Fourteen
Alec
“Doing well, Alec.” My boss, Ronald, breaks into a smile that contrasts with his normally dour demeanor, emphasized by his typical attire of khakis and brown corduroy blazers, as if he’s emulating his bosses in the seventies.
I give him a curt nod and return my attention to the screen. It’s too feasy for my mind to dissolve into images of Ezra, and it takes all the effort I can summon to concentrate on my work.
Because Ezra . . . that’s in the past.
It doesn’t matter how absolutely fantastic last night was, or how much my heart seems to writhe within my ribs whenever I think about the fact that I hurt Ezra, just like Dad always hurts his women, and how I’m no better than he is.
Because truth is, the sooner Dad and I leave Ezra and his Mom, the better they will be.
The whole point of trying to seduce him was to push him away. Only I didn’t think I would be doing this Dad-style, breaking his heart on the way out. My lips curl into a bitter smile. I guess that way is effective. It’s not like Margaret is contacting Dad anymore.
I shift my mind to programming, focusing on the abstract numbers and graphs.
“It’s time to go now.” My boss’s voice startles me, and I swing my head toward him. He smiles. “It’s six thirty.”
“Right.” I flick my eyes to the screen. “But I’m still working—”
“On projects we didn’t think we would be able to get to until three weeks from now. It’s Friday night. Go home. You deserve it.”
I rub my hand through my hair. How the hell did itget to be so late?
“Got weekend plans?” my boss asks.
“Um—” Not unless avoiding my hot stepbrother co
unts.
“Work-life balance is important, Alec. I learned that too late. Don’t make my mistake.”
I tilt my head at him. “So what are your weekend plans?”
Mr. Dumphie beams at me, and his normally pale skin grows more vivid as blood rushes toward his face. His features are regular, and for the first time I consider he may have once, in his youth, been considered handsome. “I’m going to see my ex-wife.”
My eyebrows shoot up, and Dumphie chuckles at me. “Don’t worry, we’re getting back together. It won’t be too awkward.”
Dumphie’s gaze glistens, and I have the distinct sensation tonight’s date won’t be the least bit awkward for him.
“Cool.” My smile is too tight because, God, I hate talking about relationships all the time, but right now all I can think about is Ezra.
And I should not think about Ezra and relationships in the same sentence.
I just shouldn’t.
There’s no one more forbidden than him. My eyes must be sort of misting too as I consider just how awesome Ezra is.
Dumphie grins at me, and I didn’t know the man knew how to grin. “You got it bad.”
“Sir?” My heart thumps inside my chest, and I instantly curse that I asked Dumphie for an explanation.
He smiles at me. “Any idiot can see you’re fawning over somebody. Clear as day. Who’s your girlfriend?”
“No girlfriend.” I swallow hard because I’ve made it a policy to be honest with others, and Dumphie and I work closely together. “But if there was somebody, er, it would be a boy.”
Dumphie tilts his head, but his smile doesn’t lessen. “Full of surprises, Alec. But I think there’s going to be somebody soon.”
He saunters out the door, and I blink in surprise.
He’s crazy. Engineers aren’t known for their relationship expertise. Anybody knows that. And Dumphie told me himself he got divorced from a woman he’s now going out with, which doesn’t exactly seem to qualify him as an exception.
And yet . . . despite all that, I let Dumphie’s words echo through me with something like hope. Like Ezra and I could be in relationship.
My Stepbrother the Rock Star (Men of Midnight Dreams Book 2) Page 9