Page 85 of Silver Sweet

Gage nods. “Best thing that happened to him.”

I remember Tom flinching when I tried to comfort him, to hold him, and my stomach churns. I’m not so sure him being assaulted by his childhood friend wasthe bestthing for him. But what the fuck do I know—I have enough baggage that’d weigh down a Boeing 767.

If anyone is going to ground this plane, it’ll be me. I’ll be the reason we never take flight.

20

TOM COBALT

If I could clone myself, I would. Just so I don’t have to choose between working on the album and watching a movie with Ben. I’m supposed to be meeting Phoenix at a rehearsal studio in Midtown so we can smooth out the kinks to a new song we’ve been arranging.

It’s not like there’s a drum kit at my apartment. So inviting Phoenix over isn’t even an option.

What’s worse is Ben asked me—literallyasked—if I wanted to watchDante’s Peakwith him. The skies parted. A rainbow shot over a cloud. The sun bathed me in its golden light. Because this is one of those rare times where I’m not wedging myself into his life like an overbearing older brother. I am beinginvitedto spend time with him. With Ben, who’s been panicked about being an inconvenience tomylife—to the point of removing himself from it completely.

Progress.

I’m about to light it on fire.

“I’m gonna have to take a raincheck, dude.” I shut my guitar in a case and watch him clean out his cockatoo’s cage. The birdhasn’t left his shoulder in the past hour. He head-butts Ben’s cheek every so often, and Ben gives him a gentle pet.

I hate thinking that a cockatoo is a better companion than I am. When really, I should be thinking,at least he has Mister Feathers.

Harriet named the bird MFer.

Laughter bubbled out of me when she said it, but I tried to steel my face to say, “Lame.”

She said, “You would know. It’s what you are.”

“That explains why you’re as obsessed with me as you are your lame bird.”

She smacked me with a pillow so I would roll off Ben’s bed. His bright laugh set me on a high for literal days.

So did the night Ben and I recorded a thirty-second lip-sync video to a viral song. All while Harriet littered his quilt with popcorn and made quippy commentary that I volleyed back between each take.

I posted the clip on my social media and didn’t tag him since he’s not trying to gain too much notoriety to where it’d affect his girlfriend. The video has over a million views. I’d love to take credit, but most of the comments revolved around his hockey abs.

Speaking ofhockey, I attended his first game where his skates touched the ice. Only a tad bit distracted since Phoenix couldn’t go after I took a risk and invited him. He landed some orchestra thing after an audition, and the performance was that night—Star Wars, he said. But I was physically (and mostly) mentally present at Ben’s game. Enough that I witnessed my brother scoring the game-winning point for MVU. No one was louder than Eliot and me in the stands.

Then there was the night Ben couldn’t sleep. “Tom?” he whispered after I let out a frustrated groan over a text from Phoenix. “You all right, man?”

“Oh good, you’re awake.” I flung myself out of my black silk sheets, my humidifier humming softly, and I slipped through the privacy curtain to find Ben wide awake. His bent knees tented his checkered quilt, a phone loose in his hand like he’d been texting or scrolling.

I collapsed at the foot of his bed and complained about how Phoenix was practically edging me at this point. “LikeIshould be edginghim. I am the one who fucks with people. This is just…” I huffed at my phone, then dug it into my forehead with another agonized groan.

Ben had the biggest grin on his face.

“Don’t say it, dude.”

He raised his hands. “I’m not saying you like him.”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. We shared a smile, and I rolled onto my elbow, facing him more as I asked, “What are you doing awake? Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Honestly?” His baby blue eyes seemed to laugh before a smile appeared. “I’m so fucking hungry. Coach Haddock had us doing suicides for an hour today.” So then we raided the fridge at 3 a.m. and ate oven-baked vegan pizza bites around the kitchen counter.

I burned the roof of my mouth with the hot, stringy fake cheese. “Dammit.Traitor.” I spit it onto a napkin.

“You have to blow on it.” He ripped the pizza bite with his teeth, then blew on the inside before popping it into his mouth. “Don’t you eat Hot Pockets with Luna?” Growing up, the Hales’ freezer was stuffed with ham Hot Pockets, strawberry Toaster Strudels, Eggo waffles.