Why?
Was he in some kind of trouble? Was he in the grips of emotional pain somewhere? Wishing he’d asked Zach along after all?
A phone blasted with music. Zach jerked around, hopeful for a second—
Not his ringtone.
Jack’s.
“Sorry, got to take this.”
Jack vanished, and Zach scrambled to send Brandy another message.
Zach: When will you be home?
If he needed to lift his spirits, he’d totally dance with Brandy again.
The drumming of fingers had Zach turning. Jack stood at the doorframe, fingers making music on the wood, a vacant expression on his face.
“Jack?”
Something wasn’t right. He moved to him, cupped his face. “What’s wrong?”
What was with all this terrible, blood-draining news today?
“Ah, it’s um . . .” Jack cracked into a grin. “Never mind. Some stuff I need to sort out.” He dropped a pebbling kiss on Zach’s bottom lip. “But I’ll be back tomorrow night and we’ll make something of this.” He waved a finger between their two hearts. “Promise.”
Zach stared at the empty bach as Jack slunk out of sight. A cold pull in his stomach nagged at him and suddenly his phone was out and he was calling.
“Brandy?”
“Sorry, Zach. I had . . . some news. I needed to help my friend. Isabella. I mentioned her once.”
Like he needed reminding. Zach never forgot an ex, especially not an ex that treated a brother—or a friend—badly.
“She’ll . . . be okay, eventually.”
Zach didn’t give a flying fig about her. “Will you be okay?”
Breath crackled the line. “I’m fine. Just fine.”
Zach had heard that before. “Are you on your way home?”
Zach sat on the back porch, huddled in an oversized hoodie, and counted the fuckton of stars speckling the sky above. Brandy arrived at three-hundred and sixty-nine.
The sensor light popped on and blue eyes blinked in the harsh light. He looked run down. Tired. But when his gaze dropped to Zach his face radiated, like Zach was a solid hit of guarana and caffeine.
Brandy turned over a rock from under a shrub. “It’s too cold to wait here.” He passed Zach a key. “Let yourself in, next time.”
Zach stared at the shiny metal and a strange current jolted through him, making him laugh, uncontrollably, fog puffing toward Brandy’s thighs.
“Zachary?”
He swiped a stray tear. “I’ve never . . . I have imagined the moment my boyfriend would give me a key to his place, making it our place. It never struck me as one of the romantic moments, you know. Nice, but par the course.” Zach laughed again. Brandy settled himself next to him on the step, a block of heat to warm his chilled side. “I’m beginning to see I’m wrong about a lot of things.”
“Are you?”
Zach nodded. “I know we’re only friends, but . . . that exceeded all expectations.” He polished the key with his thumb. “I feel like I’ve been warmed up from the inside so thoroughly, I don’t care it’s single-digit weather out here.”
Brandy chuckled softly, “You know, you say we’re only friends—”
Zach swivelled toward him. “I’m wrong again. There is nothing only about this. Friendship is a love of its own.”
Brandy beheld him gently, like Noah would before a great big hug.
Zach shuffled closer and rested his head on Brandy’s shoulder. “Thank you for opening your home and heart to me. For trusting me.”
Brandy feathered fingers over his hair. “There are lots of types of love in the world, Zach. I hope you get to experience all of them.”
Zach slipped his hand over Brandy’s knee and pressed. “I hope you do too.” They stared at the stars until their mingled breaths drifted toward the moon. “I worried when you left so abruptly.”
“I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t urgent.”
“I know. Do you . . . want to talk about it?”
“I do. But I promised Isabella I wouldn’t. She has others to talk to first.”
“Were you the first person she called?”
“Isabella is the kind of person who can charm anyone, but ultimately struggles to keep them.”
Like . . . him.
So Brandy was the first person Isabella called.
“D-do you stay our friend because you feel sorry for us?”
It came out a whisper.
Brandy’s response was not. “No. That is . . . God, Zachary. Don’t you feel how much I like you?”
Zach curled closer. “Sorry, Brandy. I’m over-dramatic like that.”
“Just a bit.”
Zach laughed. “Grab us a blanket to huddle in? I’ll get my guitar.”
He had to stop and start over three times, strangely muddled by Brandy’s words. They played on repeat in his mind as the night darkened slowly around them, but eventually, through a veil of fatigue, his music began to flow more naturally.
Catching his shiver, Brandy disappeared inside and returned with marshmallow-topped hot chocolate.
“What was that last song you were playing?”
Zach set aside his guitar and downed a scrumptious sip. “I don’t know yet. Maybe—never mind.”
“Maybe, what?”
“Um . . .”
“Oh, right.” Brandy sipped. “Well, spill. You can share, remember?”
