Page 37 of Loverboy

Water dripped onto my glasses, snapping me out of my thoughts. I lifted my wrist to rub at my cheek, and as I turned my head, Milo slapped me with a handful of suds.

“You little shit,” I growled, scooping up a handful of my own and smacking him upside the head.

He wiped his face, laughing so hard that his eyes turned glossy with unshed tears. The way the light hit those usually dull blues made them sparkle with life, and it made my insides lurch like I’d taken a nose-dive off the edge of a cliff.

I grabbed him from behind, one arm around his waist, the other reaching to scoop up more bubbles. His laughter vibrated through my chest, and he fought me like hell to stop the next blow. I managed to slap him with a handful of bubbles anyway.

By the time we stopped, we were soaked and struggling to catch our breath. It filled me with a deep, aching longing for the simpler times, the ones where home was defined as the space we shared.

The times when I had him all to myself.

I wanted to hoard every drop of joy like a dragon guarding treasure. There was a time when we’d laugh and antagonize each other like this every day, when the green paint on the walls was blindingly bright instead of dull and peeling.

A time when my brother was a little less broken.

17

Milo

WHEN JASPER SAID he would make sure I started eating more, he meant it. This was our third night in a row ordering in. The coffee table in the dimly lit living room was covered in takeout boxes, and by the smell, it was definitely Indian food. The hunger pangs hit me hard. If there wasn’t food in front of me, hunger often eluded me, like eating was as easy to forget as an errand you meant to run.

“Sit down already.” Jasper nodded toward the cushion beside him.

“You know, forcing people to eat is probably someone’s kink,” I said as I settled in next to him.

“I really hope it’s not yours.” Jasper raised his eyebrows. “I might have to kink-shame you.”

“Never. Just the usual stuff like choking for me.” I shrugged and reached over him for the butter chicken.

“Oh yeah?” He didn’t miss a beat. “Are you choking your girlfriends, or are they choking you?”

I shot him a glare from the corner of my eye and shoved a forkful of food into my mouth instead of dignifying him with a response. He already knew the answer. It wasn’t a secret what kind of shit I was into, especially not after years of living under the same roof. Noise always travelled crystal clear from the basement to the second floor at Mom’s place, so I never bothered being discreet.

It didn’t help that I enjoyed talking about my sexual adventures afterward. He didn’t seem bothered by it, always telling me things like nice or that’s pretty hot, which scratched that itch for his approval.

I swallowed a bite of food. “Clearly, it’s me choking them.” I aimed for nonchalance and missed by a mile.

“Funny, I could have sworn you texted me the first time you found a girl dominant enough to—”

“Yeah, yeah, shut your face,” I interrupted and bumped my shoulder against his.

I couldn’t stop oversharing no matter how hard I tried. Thankfully, Jasper talked about sex sometimes too—never in as many words or as frequently, but that made the times he did all the more… special. Was that weird?

Like when he told me about the first time he made a girl finish. It was cute, honestly. He’d asked me how he would know if it ‘happened for real’ and it wasn’t just her faking it. But as we got older, he shared less. I wasn’t sure he’d had any girlfriends or boyfriends at all over the last couple of years, let alone any flings.

I liked that, not having to share him.

To my relief, Jasper didn’t tease me any further. We continued to eat, my insides pricking with a needle-like pain, too used to neglect and unused to food. I tried my best to get through the meal so he would see I was making a real effort, but soon enough I was merely picking at it with my fork.

“Full already?” Jasper asked, perceptive as ever.

“No, I’m just taking a break,” I lied.

“I won’t force you to eat it all. Food is food. As long as you’re getting something in your body other than alcohol and cigarettes, I don’t really give a shit.”

“I know.”

Though he tried his best to make me feel at ease, none of it stuck. I was laser-focused on my task, determined to show him that I could do something right. I kept going until one bite made me gag, a shiver rolling through my body.