Wade peered at the pretty garden. “Nice.”
“Not ours, just staying here until Zach and I find somewhere. Hopefully sooner than later. I hate to trespass on my friends so long.”
“I get it. Not sure how long I’ll manage with Mum and sis, either.” He laughed.
Noah absorbed the rich sound of it. The way it reached into him—
“Yeah.” Zach murmured. “Four doors and a quick escape would be good about now.”
Noah cracked his door.
“Hold up.” A warm palm wrapped Noah’s wrist, making him jump. Meeting his startled gaze, Wade pushed up his sleeve and with a biro from the glovebox, scratched a string of numbers onto Noah’s bare forearm.
His eyes fixed on Zach. “Just one thing. Maybe my taste in music’s a mark against me in your eyes. But I like your brother, a lot. And I intend to be friends with him.”
“Friends?”
“Friends.” Noah’s breath caught as those brown eyes landed earnestly on him again. “If he wants that.”
“Damn, Noah. Spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill. I caught him in our house last night, accused him of thievery, threw a vase at him, and ended up having to patch his foot when he stepped on the shards.” He waved it off, moving around the growing mountain of boxes in their friend’s living room. “I think we packed the candle holders? They’re on the chattel list. They’ll have to go back.”
Zach grabbed him by the arm and turned him around, eyes glittering. “That’s not nothing, Noah. That’s a meet cute. His taste in music, though. Shame.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Your Body is a Wonderland?”
They shared a grimace.
“I meant about it being a meet cute,” Noah said. “I’m not even convinced Wade’s gay.”
“Oh, he’s gay.”
“You can’t know that after twenty minutes.”
“Dude, he kept looking at you. He gave you his number.”
Noah found the box he was looking for and pulled it down with a jangling crash to his feet. “He wants to be friends. He was only looking at me because I look—”
“Fucking hot?”
“I’m not quite sure how to respond to that, brother.”
Zach shrugged. “I’d do you if we weren’t related.”
“Zach.”
“What? I’m being honest. I hate how social conventions mean we have to think everyone we’re related to is gross. It’s just not true. Like, you’re my brother, I get it. I’m not actually going to go there. I’m just saying, if you weren’t . . .”
Noah snorted. “Thank you, I suppose.”
“You’re welcome.”
Noah pulled three silver candelabras from the box. There was a fourth, somewhere. “Could you grab that box for me?”
“This one?”
“No, not the one I can reach myself.”
“Oh. Right. This one.”
Zach plonked it atop the opened one and it sagged into it on one side.
Noah shook his head. “Anyway, probably he was only looking at me because I’ve changed so much, since then.”
“Is there a whole best-friend’s-brother backstory I don’t know about?”
“Ah, no. Just a general teenage . . . appreciation. Of him.”
“General appreciation? Pull the other one. You texted him, right?”
Noah gave him a dry look and rolled his eyes, trying—without much success—not to blush. He found the fourth candelabra and set them all in an empty crate for returning.
Zach fondled the tip of a brass candlestick and smirked. A far cry from the wretched response Noah had been expecting. “What’s that look about?”
A shrug. “Nothing. I reckon they deserve those candelabras though.”
“Why do I have the sudden, intense desire to wash my hands?”
Zach gazed innocently around the room.
Noah closed his eyes.
“Anyway, back to your love muffin. Pretty sure his eyes were darkened with desire.”
Noah picked up the box of candleholders and trucked them and his brother to the laundry sink.
But as he left Zach scrubbing up, his pocket buzzed again.
And privately, he smiled.
Noah stared at the silhouettes of nesting penguins in the evening light and clutched the grasses either side of him, pulling the silky lengths through loose fists. The last four days had made it clear: Wade enjoyed chatting with him. The smiling and laughing emojis they shared felt hopeful. There was no mistake. Only sensible for Noah to make the effort at reaching out, too.
His stomach swished, like waves against the rocks below.
Noah: Evening.
* * *
Wade: Was just thinking about you.
Noah rubbed his finger over the edge of the phone, his confidence suddenly deserting him in favour of a strangely disproportionate sense of panic. Wade saved him.
Wade: How did the penguin release go?
* * *
Noah: It was touching. I’m still at the colony, visiting my favourite couple.
* * *
Wade: Penguin couple?
* * *
Noah: These two male penguins, they’re playing family.
* * *
Wade: Wait. Gay penguins?
Noah reread that several times. He was sure the question was a curious one. Nevertheless, a tiny tendril in him stiffened.
Noah: It’s not uncommon.
* * *
Wade: I assume the penguins aren’t cast out because of it?
* * *
Noah: No.
* * *
Wade: Lucky.
Noah whooshed out the breath he held. He’d thought he’d be grateful for another hint at Wade’s orientation, but . . .
