Page 31 of My Brother’s Best Friend

I jumped at the sound of Nana’s voice. I hadn’t heard her come back into the kitchen. Before I could say anything, she was pushing past me out onto the patio. Grandpa and Jordan turned around to look at her, and Jordan’s eyes went wide.

“Cam!” He jumped out of his seat. “What are you doing here?”

He looked me up and down as he walked over, and I flushed. Why had Nana insisted on taking my shirt? I wanted to cover myself again, especially when I noticed his gaze linger on my chest. I looked like an ogre.

“My fault!” my grandmother trilled. “I forgot to cancel our lunch. But it’s lovely that you two know each other. Why don’t you catch up while Arthur and I chat for a moment.”

She walked past a second easel covered in gaudy, asymmetrical flowers and sat down in the chair Jordan had just vacated. He looked at me in confusion.

“Lunch?”

“We do it weekly,” I said. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was the one intruding, even though Jordan was the non-family member here. “They’re my grandparents.”

“Oh!” His eyes widened again. Then he grinned. “So you’re the grandson Doris has been talking about all morning, who’s so handsome, and talented, and brilliant, and capable, and quiet, and strong, and—”

“Oh God.” I ran a hand through my hair. “You can’t listen to anything she says. She’s not a reliable source. She loves me too much.”

“I think grandparents are supposed to love you too much.”

“Yeah, but she loves everyone, so she’s even less reliable.”

Jordan snickered. “Are you saying I shouldn’t believe all the compliments she gave me, then? That I don’t deserve a MoMA retrospective at age twenty-four?”

“No, no,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. You really are talented. But I’m just…me.”

He cocked his head to the side, but didn’t say anything. Behind him, Nana was rubbing Grandpa’s shoulder and laughing quietly at something he’d said. A bird chirped from the branches of the live oak on the far side of the patio, and despite the heat of the afternoon, a shiver passed over me.

Silence stretched out between us. I wanted to crawl out of my skin, and not just because Jordan’s gaze kept sweeping my body. I’d decided I wouldn’t say anything, but now that he was right here in front of me, it felt more awkward to ignore it all.

“Listen, about last night—” I began.

“I’m sorry,” Jordan interrupted. “I really shouldn’t have kissed you. You seemed so nervous about that girl you liked, and I was just trying to make you laugh. Lighten you up a little. But obviously that was dumb, and I only made you more uncomfortable, and I just want you to know I absolutely didn’t mean anything by it, and I won’t do it again. I mean, obviously. That probably goes without saying, but just in case, I didn’t want you walking around wondering if I was going to randomly accost you a second time.”

I felt like I’d been kicked in the chest.

“Yeah,” I said faintly. “Yeah, that’s—I figured.”

“So we’re cool?”

“Totally.” I smiled. “All cool.”

Jordan had said exactly what I thought he would, but it felt so much worse than I expected.

Of course it had been a joke. Of course it had. Even if he knew I was gay, he wouldn’t be interested, but he didn’t know, so what the hell did I think he was going to say?

Only now, he was staring at me again, that same inscrutable expression haunting his features, and I felt even more awkward.

“So what made you decide to give my grandparents art lessons?” I asked, relieved that, for once, I’d managed to think of something normal to say, and not launched into a five-minute essay on the evils of kudzu or the ecological effects of deer overpopulation. “Sick of making lattes already?”

“I’ve been sick of making lattes for years,” Jordan said with a laugh. “But I didn’t decide to give your grandparents a lesson so much as your grandmother bullied me into it. I don’t think I really had a choice.”

“Yeah, she’s not great at taking no for an answer.”

“I’m realizing that now.” He grinned. “It was just supposed to be a one-hour lesson, but she keeps feeding me and bringing me coffee, and just ten minutes ago she went inside to see if she could find a pair of your grandfather’s old cuff links, because I mentioned I liked owls, and I guess he has a pair shaped like them?”

I laughed in spite of myself. “She’s kind of a force of nature.”

“She won’t sit still for more than three minutes at a time.” He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. Grandpa had set his previous painting aside and was now working on what appeared to be a portrait of Nana, only she was sticking her tongue out, her hands protruding from her head like antlers. “But the way your grandfather looks at her—it’s really sweet.”