Micheline Hubert's Pentecostal Wine Mixer
The captain obediently docked the yacht at the closest port, allowing for the zombies to disembark and a revolted-looking ground crew to scrub the Pukeasso off the deck. By now even Wyatt's mother had resigned to the fact that those two were in no state to attend the mixer.
"All the effort for nothing, I hope you feel good about yourself."
"Right now, all I feel is an urge to lean over the toilet." Wyatt replied irritably.
This was not the time to poke the dragon.
"How will we even begin to explain this to Micheline? It will seem awfully rude." His mother said in despair, over enunciating every word.
"Why don't you tell her we have food poisoning, it's pretty much the truth."
She seemed underwhelmed by that suggestion.
Then, his father's face lit up.
"I just got an idea. Nobody can tell you two apart, Bryce, you pretend to be your brother."
His mother was quick to agree. "Yes. That could work." She said enthusiastically.
"No way!" both Bryce and Wyatt exclaimed.
"I have worked hard putting together my business pitch. I was going to present it to people and hopefully get some investors on board." Bryce argued.
"And I don't want people to think I'm lame, like him." Wyatt said, earning him a slap from his brother.
"What if people think it's me who eloped?" Bryce added.
"I doubt most of them even know your names. They only see you a handful of times a year. We can just claim Wyatt had a growth spurt. Even Kai kissed the wrong twin this morning."
Wyatt shot Bryce a glare. I remembered his words, that Wyatt had a tendency to be petty, so I jumped in to defend him.
"Not his fault. I was out of it."
Luckily, he did not have the energy to make a scene, his brother however did.
"It's not fair, why do I always have to be the one who gets shafted, and Wyatt gets to go off doing drugs and get hitched."
"Nobody likes a rat, Bryce." His father reprimanded him.
"People will think I'm the one who skipped the wine mixer." Bryce added.
"Nobody will care. It's Wyatt and Kai they want to see."
"Thanks Mom and Dad. Just keep them coming, way to boost my confidence."
"Don't be a brat. We have given you everything, is it too much to ask to make a small sacrifice for your family?" His mother scolded him.
Bryce frowned.
"You can still pitch your ideas and tell them you are both working on it." His father suggested. "That's even better, it will make both of you look more committed."
"But that's not the truth, is it! I'm always putting in all the effort and made to share the credit. I'm the one who invested all those hours into creating a business plan."
His parents had already made their decision, so his protests went unheard. I could not help but feel bad for the guy. It was clear from the amount of preparation he had put into my folder that he had put a great deal of thought into this event and surely even more into whatever his concept was. Nonetheless, he seemed to know that going against his parents was useless as he did not push further. Even his outburst seemed to have been more about letting off steam than accomplishing anything.
We said our goodbyes, I gave Wyatt a platonic hug since kissing him in front of his entire family would have been mortifying, as I was still traumatised by this mornings events.
"Feel better. We will handle this." I assured him.
He pouted.
"I'm not worried about the stupid mixer."
"At least show us some gratitude." Bryce snapped at him as he was the only person, he could let his frustration out on who might remotely give a damn.
But Wyatt just rolled his eyes at him.
"Dude, you're an adult, you can refuse, you know. If you keep doing what they say, then that's on you."
-x-x-x-
A half hour later we approached a small, polished looking island in the middle of the lake. Its gardens were elaborate and well-kept, with tall, trimmed trees and brightly coloured flowers, all accentuated by a proud fortress overlooking the deep glacial lake. The majestic mountains in the back completed the menacing picture. I felt a little like a pig being brought out to slaughter.
"Bryce, take off your sunglasses. They are a dead give-away." His mother instructed him.
"I refuse." Bryce howled.
I wondered if he was starting to take Wyatt's advice to heart.
"If you are worried about your lashes, you can borrow my mascara."
She pulled a small Louis Vuitton make-up pouch out of her matching Louis Vuitton purse (which kinda looked like it was giving birth) and fished around in it for a skinny black cartridge.
"No, mother, I'm not putting on mascara."
"Suit yourself." She said disinterested and stretched out a hand. He reluctantly placed his tinted glasses in her open palm.
I saw now why he had been so opposed to it. His picking habit was not restricted to his head hair, he had also been plucking at his lashes. It wasn't particularly noticeable and would have gone entirely over my head if they had not called attention to it.
Realising they might come up with other overreaching ideas, Bryce did the logical thing and walked away from the adults, instead slouching down on the cushioned bench at the back of the ship, burying his face in his hands. He had the right idea, as his mother now focused her attention on me, desperate to warrant unpacking her styling kit.
"Now let's see what we can do about that black eye. You don't mind, do you?" She asked me, side eyeing Bryce who was ignoring her.
Appearing in front of my new team with poorly matched foundation splattered across my face was the last thing I wanted to do, but I could hardly argue against it, especially since I already had a habit of painting my cheeks.
"I don't care."
If I was not afraid that it would add to the masterpiece, I would have slapped myself for getting into a fight last night. To make matters worse, I had given her golden boy Enrique a beating. She probably believed it was me who had started it. That I was a no-good brute.
Once she was done, dabbing my eye with a powder pillow, and ordeal that took a good ten minutes and hurt like a bitch, I snuck off to join Bryce him before she could come up with any more ideas to change my own look last minute.
"If it helps, I could not tell." I told him. "Even this morning."
"You can now." He said bluntly.
I could not argue with that.
Bryce raised his head, he looked sad and a little ashamed. "How bad is it? Do you think I should ask for the mascara?"
"I think that would only call attention to it." I said, pointing to my powdered face as a cautionary tale.
"I told her Ricky started it. She was nagging about it this morning."
He really was a snitch.
"I appreciate it."
What did he tell her, though? That we were fighting for her son's affection?
"I changed the story a bit. Said it was about you taking his spot on the team."
Oh yeah, of course.
Bryce sighed in despair. "You must think I am a nutjob, doing this to myself. Mom and Dad certainly believe so."
He seemed afraid to say the words, but I concluded he was talking about his hair plucking.
"No. That thought never occurred to me. I assumed you are the overthinking type who puts a lot of pressure on himself. I can relate."
"I doubt it. You went off and eloped with my brother. I could never."
"Not legally. That would be incest."
He laughed.
"I meant I could never marry someone I barely know. It would drive me up the wall thinking of all the scenarios. How it could go wrong."
"That is exactly what I have been doing the past few weeks." I confessed.
"You know, when I first heard about you and saw your picture in the papers, I assumed you were just like him. Another Ricky, only wilder. But the more I got to know you, the more you surprised me. And it made me wonder, what on Earth you see in him?"
"The same you see in Enrique."
"Touché."
For some reason I still felt compelled to explain myself. It was more for my own sake than his.
"I admire how carefree he is. He knows what he wants, and he goes for it, without worrying what other people will think or how it will affect his future. Sure, he is short sighted, but I need someone to remind me to live in the moment."
Bryce was obsessively picking at the loose threads of the wicker furniture.
"Wishful thinking. You want him to rub off on you." He said in a monotone voice.
"Pretty much. What about you, will you make a move on Enrique?"
He shook his head. "Never. Besides, I know what the answer would be. He already calls me as his nagging housewife. I worry that he has been getting annoyed with me lately. I've been trying to be less judgemental and uptight, but it's difficult. It's just who I am."
I could relate to that. But this was not about me, I reminded myself. My brother-in-law was opening up to me so I should be there for him.
"Wyatt says you are his best friend. You must be doing something right or he would not want to hang out with you."
"He is mine but I'm definitely not his. He has plenty of buddies to chose from, all of which are more fun than I am. I don't really have any other friends. I'm not very agreeable." He said with sorrow.
"I enjoy your company."
"You seem to be the only one."
That was a headspace I had frequently found myself in. It was not exactly easy to tell him he was wrong since I knew nothing about his life outside of the few things Wyatt had told me. Only thing I could do was give him some advise on how to cope, though I hardly remembered how I had done so, prior to meeting my team. Friendship was addictive, now I was hooked on it, but how would anyone who had never experienced it even miss it?
While everything with my grandfather was going down, I had frequently curled myself up in a corner, wishing I could reach out to Takao, but it had felt wrong somehow. Relying on him for emotional support when I had done him so dirty in Russia. It felt as through our companionship was restricted to our shared purpose, I could not just go call him to talk about my baggage. Or could I? Is that what he would have wanted?
The more I thought about it, Takao, despite being a friendly guy, did not have many friends himself. He was awkward and likely a bit autistic. He could chat up people easily but found himself being labelled as annoying and was quickly dismissed. Even I had found him grating at first. The guy could not read a room if his life depended on it. Him and I were polar opposites in that way. Most people considered me boring and a grump. My father had once told me that having a conversation with me was like pulling teeth.
Nonetheless, Takao had a pure heart and that did not go unnoticed. Sure, he could be a little tiring to be around, but as I had come to realise, nobody was flawless, it was a question of what flaws we were willing to tolerate, and which crossed an arbitrary line. It was something that had not clicked with me until last year. I had thought you were supposed to like everything about our friends. Realising such a person does not exist took a lot of pressure off it.
It wasn't until I met Wyatt that I realised I could both love someone yet hate how they behaved.
"Friendship is hard." I concluded. "It requires a lot of sacrifices, most of which I'm not willing to make. I'm not very good at distinguishing which are necessary, and which do not matter."
"I think my problem is I make them and then resent people for it, rather than just telling them off right away. It does not work out well for me. I hold grudges and then flip on the people I tried so hard to appease." He admitted.
I nodded, despite his complaining, I had noticed he was a people pleaser.
"Have your parents always been that way?" I asked.
"You mean making me fix Wyatt's mistakes? Yes. They scold me for being whiny yet let him get away with murder."
"Ironically, he believes you are their favourite."
"I think they disrespect us both equally." He sighed dramatically. "Maybe Wyatt has a point about not bothering. It seems to make him happier."
"It allows him to live his own life." I agreed, feeling a hint of envy.
-x-x-x-
Upon disembarking we were greeted by a row of identically dressed servants, taking bows, and offering us champagne flutes on a platter. Everyone seemed to have forgotten that I was underage, though Bryce claimed that "Switzerland doesn't really have a drinking age". I declined, as I was still hungover, instead asking if they had a non-alcoholic option, which unfortunately prompted the staff to scuffle to get me a mineral water in the proper type of glass.
Less than thirty seconds later I held an iced San Pelegrino in my hand.
Bryce, surprisingly, asked for a whiskey on the rocks, earning him a glare of disapproval from both his parents.
"What? It helps me look in character." He told them upon which they nodded reluctantly. He then leaned in closer to me and muttered "No offense but I'm going to need this."
Understandable. Marching up the overly long entry way even I considered taking Wyatt's advise of continuing to drink to delay my hangover.
"Please don't tell me you're the type of couple that holds hands everywhere they go."
"We are not."
He breathed a sigh of relief. "Any nicknames I should know of? You call him baby, right?"
"I literally never have. Only you, and that's because I was still deluded coming off the Mystery Molly and the DJ Ötzi concert."
"Let's not let Wyatt know that you have a special name only for me." He said flirtatiously.
Was he really that jealous?
"Last summer, he would not shut up about you. That was the reason Enrique talked the others into competing against your team. He believed that if he beat you, Wyatt would be all over him. But then he could not come up with a decent reason to fight you, since Johnny already declared you his personal nemesis."
"I declared him mine. He threw a glove at me."
That had hurt.
Speaking off the devil, he appeared in front of us the moment we turned a corner, sitting on an ornate bench and smoking a fancy looking pipe. Not sure why he had come all the way out here to do it since it seemed an acceptable vice amongst rich people. It was possible he was trying to hide his habit from his parents.
"'Ello Gov'nor." He welcomed Bryce, his voice dripping with sarcasm at the idea of showing him any respect. He then nodded in my direction. Seems I was not even worthy of an audible greeting. "Where's the love of your life?"
"I brought his understudy today." I replied.
A sly grimace formed on Johnny's lips. "Ye pretendin'? Now this I must see."
I tore the pipe out of his hand and took a few puffs before tossing it in the bush. My dramatic move backfired on me, literally, as the leaves caught fire and I had to empty my entire glass of San Pelegrino over it to put it out.
Unbothered, Johnny leaned down to pick up his unscathed pipe.
"Smooth." He said unimpressed. "Can't wait to see you pull off such well thought out moves in the tournament."
"Kai, stop playing the hard boy." Wyatt's mother reprimanded me.
Shit, I had forgotten they were right behind us when I had entered this cock measuring contest.
"Team meeting. We will catch up with you later." Bryce said diplomatically.
Not sure if they were convinced at all or simply did not care enough to fight, but Wyatt's father put his arm around his ex-wife and led her up towards the chateau.
What even was the nature of their relationship? They were more wishy washy than Maxie's parents.
"Can you tell the others not to call me by my name?" Bryce begged Johnny.
"Why bother keeping up the ruse? I take it this wasn't your idea."
"If our classmates figure out it's me, I will spend my senior year being roasted."
That caught my attention. Senior year? Were him and Wyatt not in the same grade? If Wyatt had been forced to redo the year after he was expelled that would explain how he achieved straight A's without ever putting in any effort.
Johnny snickered.
"Not sure if you are just oblivious but they already say that about you and Ricky."
"Not to my face and I would like to keep it that way."
Johnny, with a casual coolness, blew some failed smoke rings at him.
"Sure, I can pass on the information, but I can't guarantee what Rob and Oli will use it for. You did not exactly make yourself popular when you bought our team and declared yourself our manager."
Seems even rich kids did not take kindly to nepotism.
"You let yourself be bought." I said defensively.
Bryce might have inserted himself in the situation, but he was family. I had to have his back. I wanted to. I had never had a large family and always dreamt of having siblings. Now that I did, I wanted to make the most out of it.
Johnny finally noticed someone was missing.
"Where's Ricky? I thought he was he staying with you guys? Is he off chasing some poon again?" Then he dismissively flicked his wrist. "I don't know why I am asking. I don't actually care."
His inquisitional tone betrayed his intentions.
"Detoxing." Bryce countered, sourly.
"Together with your hubby?" Johnny asked me. "Not that he will remain your husband for long while that guy is around."
"Johnny, if you would like to clear your name, don't go playing Jane Eyre with me. Face me like a man. In a beybattle." I barked at him.
"Says the guy wearing make up."
"It's to cover up a bruise. That I got from a fight!" I said, trying to defend my male pride.
I could only hope he did not pick up on my desperation. Either I was in luck, or he did not care.
"I did not bring my Beyblade. Unlike you I'm not looking for a fight everywhere I go." He replied apathetically.
"Says the guy who threw his glove me."
Some deep lines formed on his forehead. He stood there brooding, exhaling pipe smoke through his nose, making him look much like a dragon, then did a complete 180 and snapped at us.
"Bugger off. I did not retreat here to have company."
Not sure what had made him so cross, but it likely had nothing to do with me. It was possible that Wyatt and Bryce were not the only ones suffering under the watchful and contemptuous eyes of their parents today.
As we continued marching up the hill, we could hear a plethora of sounds. They started off quietly with a string orchestra, then voices and chatter, getting increasingly louder and leaving me wondering whether this was an old lady's garden party or a full blown rager. This thought was further solidified into my brain when we turned a corner and a circus tent came into view, together with exotic animal handlers that were walking tiger cubs on a leach, trapeze artists swinging from the tree tops, and acrobats that were mingling with the crowd, yet keeping a cautious distance away from the stuffy rich people. Artsy looking French clowns in mime makeup were wordlessly serving expensive looking appetizers on golden plates that had tacky rhinestone tassels hanging off them. The pompous looking marble fountain had a seal splash around in it, tossing about a beach ball with its nose. At the centre of it all, two awfully young-looking street performers in venetian carnival masks were balancing beyblades on sticks as they themselves were walking on equally long stilts.
"Wow." I said, impressed. "I take it Micheline likes being extra."
"That is an understatement, last year she rented out the Nürburgring to host a formula one race in her own honour. She even had a roller coaster built that was supposed to break the speed record, which it successfully did before blowing up in everyone's face." Bryce said in a dismissive tone, as though he was already bored by this gluttonous excess.
I realised then how different our upbringing had been. My grandfather had insisted on stripping me off everything but my bare essentials to prepare me for a tough world, ready to survive anything. I shivered as the memory of countless survival camps in the Siberian tundra crept up on me. The cold had been so biting that even the thought of it made my hairs stand up. In his usual fashion, he had overdone it, but I could not help but feel grateful for the values he had instilled in me.
Never thought I would come that that conclusion. Growing up was weird.
I barely had time to take it all in when Bryce's parents flagged us down. They had already gathered a swarm of people to introduce us to. Impeccably dressed ladies and gentlemen circled around us, as though we were part of the circus display.
I shook a few hands and did my best to politely answer the questions about my race and pedigree, ignoring the more intrusive ones about mine and Wyatt's gender roles.
"Who is the girl in the relationship?"
"I don't understand, how does it even work with two men?"
"What will you do when one of you falls in love with a girl? No really! What if one of you runs off with a lady?"
"But how are you going to have children?"
I concluded that I was rather lucky to have Bryce by my side, as he was the master of diplomacy. He was able to sweettalk these disrespectful geezers, rather than vent at them in a heated rage that I know Wyatt would not have been able to supress.
"Like all couples we are still figuring it out. We are at the precipice of our love story and that is makes it, exciting, don't you think?" He replied smartly.
"I went to go see that Elton John in concert at the Westminster." One of the old hags shot in randomly.
"He is a very talented singer." Bryce replied eloquently.
He constantly kept checking in with his mother who was nodding at him approvingly, making his cheeks light up.
"I heard rumours you were infatuated with Flavio Tornatore's son?"
It took me a few seconds to realise that was likely Enrique's last name.
"Nah, that's my brother." He said sheepishly, keeping his eyes locked on his parents.
His father inauspiciously placed his hands on Bryce's shoulders, giving him a cautionary squeeze that only us two picked up on.
"Wyatt is a jokester. Bryce sure likes the ladies. Sometimes a little too much. We have to keep him away from them." He claimed, laughing woodenly.
"Yes, that is the reason him and Enrique are home alone together. To keep them away from the ladies." Bryce said bluntly.
I was bemused by his small acts of rebellion. I knew now that I could not expect him to make an explosive scene, but I had a lot of fun watching him gracefully undermine his controlling parents, leaving them increasingly rattled.
"Kai is the heir to Hiwatari Enterprises." His mother cut in, forcing the crowd to pretend to care about this new nugget of information.
Lucky for her, my scandalous heritage was deemed intriguing enough to entertain the vultures for a short while. It was comical to see them fret to obtain insights into my grandfather's jail sentence without asking directly.
And lucky for me, I only had to keep it up for a few minutes before all heads turned. An elegant elderly lady had stepped out of the mansion onto the imposing marble staircase. She was clad head to toe in brightly mismatched fabrics and oversized glitzy jewellery, looking more like a carnival psychic than the host to this party. Her hair was styled in a beehive and heavily decorated with gems, not unlike a wedding cake. On her arm, she had a handsome young man who almost looked like he was part of her attire. A human accessory. As though he was only present to compliment her, he was dressed rather subtly, wearing tight black leather pants that would have looked flashy had he been standing next to anyone else. His most striking attribute, flowing golden locks that came down to his shoulders, were tied back in a ponytail. The woman exuded confidence and grace. Her presence had the authority to bring all the chatter to a stifling halt. I did not need to be told, there was no doubt in my mind that she was the famous Micheline Hubert.
The vultures flocked to her feet, begging her to bestow them with her attention. She casually walked past most of them, eyes locked on a target, some stuffy looking fat nobleman who frantically straightened his overcoat. Like the rest of the minions, I watched in awe, as she softly put a hand on his back and lead him out of the gawkers sight.
"What did I just watch?" I asked, stifled.
"A display of power."
Suddenly the ever so cool Bryce got all frazzled and extatically waved over at a tall figure appearing a few steps behind Micheline. Curiously enough, the chap looked as though he was purposely avoiding eye contact with him.
"Oh my God, it's Michèle Hubert. Micheline Hubert's eldest grandson from her first marriage and, as of recently, youngest board member of the FIFA Committee." He announced.
To my horror I realised it was the guy from the club bathroom.
"He must not have seen me. Let's walk up to him." He said enthusiastically.
"We better don't." I warned.
"Don't be silly, he is my sole reason for being at this event. Minus seeking my parents' approval of course. He is the man I've been preparing my pitch for."
Poor Bryce. I did not have the heart to tell him that Wyatt had already burned this bridge for him. He might be my husband and I was pretty sure I was supposed love him regardless, but he did have a bad habit of fucking his brother's life up.
Bryce had successfully stalked his pray and cornered him behind a hedge.
"Michèle. Hi, I'm Wyatt Smithwright." He stretched his hand out, Michèle looked down at it with disgust, so Bryce took his by force and gave it a firm squeeze.
"I manage the Majestics Beyblade team. Alongside my brother Bryce." He added hastily. "And I am an entrepreneur myself. I think you will find we have a lot in common." He winked.
"I doubt it."
Michèle kept looking around in panic, as though he was hoping someone else would identify the situation as threatening and save him from the overly eager homosexual that seemed so keen on chatting him up.
Bryce took no note of that, rambling on like a kid about to snitch on his classmate.
"I had this concept idea. I wish to completely revamp they Beyblading sport. Introduce a Pro league. Think FIFA but a Beyblade version. BEGA. It's right up your alley, isn't it? We must get together sometime! I would love to swing some ideas past you, do a bit of a think tank. Maybe milk you for an investment."
"I'm not interested in being milked by you."
Bryce forced a laugh, sounding a little like his father a few moments earlier.
"Figure of speech. Of course, I would be showing you my pitch before asking you to give me a hand."
Michèle crunched his nose. His gears were turning.
"Look, whatever it is you're implying. I want none of it."
"Excuse me, that was a little forward of me. We should take the time to get to know each other first." He slung his arm across my waist, maybe needing the comfort of someone who did not act repulsed by his presence to boost his confidence. "As you know, I am Wyatt, and this is Kai Hiwatari, World Champion beyblader and my husband, as of recently."
"I know. I have seen him in the papers."
That made my own heart sink. Fuck, if he had recognised me that meant other people at the club could have as well.
"Are you married, Michèle?" Bryce inquired politely, even though he most certainly knew the answer.
I would not be surprised if he knew what this guy's favourite brand of toilet paper was. Probably something obtusely expensive.
"No." Michèle responded briskly.
"Excellent choice. Sometimes I miss the bachelor life, though we make our own fun, don't we Kai?"
I did not know what to say, as affirming it would only make it worse, but saying no would come across equally as strange. I must have gawked at him for a little too long because Bryce clumsily picked up an appetizer trey that was lying on the nearby table, waving it under my nose.
"Honey, would you like some oysters? You love oysters." He turned to Michèle and forced a giggle. "You should see him, he slurps them up."
"I don't want to." Michèle said firmly.
"Don't offer me oysters right now." I advised Bryce, unfortunately he did not seem to catch the drift.
"Michèle, how about you? Do you enjoy oysters? I adore them. I could swallow an entire trey in one go."
He stared back at him, speechless.
"Just put the oysters away." I directed Bryce.
Michèle had finally gathered his guts, ready to confront him.
"Is this some twisted sex game where you are pretending not to remember what happened last night, or are you just deranged?" He asked.
"Last night? Did we meet?"
"In the bathroom."
It slowly clicked for poor Bryce.
He jerkishly pulled me into a side bar.
"Did you have some perverted three-way with this guy?" he hissed.
"Not really, he was just dumping out in a urinal, but Wyatt kinda got off on that." I whispered back.
"What the actual fuck? Nothing you just said made any sense." He uttered in despair.
That was a fair reaction.
Bryce turned his attention back to Michèle, both were sweating nervously.
"This is going to sound far fetched. Will you believe me if I tell you I have a twin brother?"
"No."
"Yes, that is what I expected." He said defeatedly.
"You're a fucking weirdo." Michèle told him, shaking his head.
"Yes. I, Wyatt Smithwright am a deviant." Bryce announced spitefully.
"Now stay away from me. Both of you. If I can make out the outlines of your tattoo, you're too close. Got it?"
Michèle backed away slowly and somewhat intimidated, not leaving us out of his sight until he had built up a safe distance and could find safety by blending into a crowd.
Bryce buried his face in his hands and howled in despair.
"And there goes my only guaranteed sponsor. Are there any similar encounters I should know about?"
I shook my head.
"Please don't tell me you have a tattoo."
"It's on my back. Nobody can see it."
"He sure did."
"Only because I was on my knees, and he was looking at me from behind and..."
"You don't have to paint me a picture."
I shrugged.
"That's fair."
Yet it did not take long for Bryce's inquisitive spirit to return.
"It's a skull, isn't it? You seem the type who would think that's cool."
I felt a bit called out since that actually was my second choice.
"Do you want to see it?" I offered.
"I don't, but I should. Being team manager and all." He claimed.
He was chewing his lip, clearly interested. I should not jump to conclusions, I reminded myself. Maybe he just welcomed the distraction after having made a complete fool of himself in front of the guy whose ass he wanted to kiss.
I led him into to the maze behind the pavilion and made sure nobody was following us. Then, a safe distance away from the entrance, I unbuttoned my shirt so I could show him my tramp stamp in all its glory.
"Oh my. You are really toned." He observed, as I was still in the process of undressing.
The area around his nose turned pink and he had a real hard time looking me in the eyes. It must have come as a relief when I turned my back to him.
"I'm not a fan of tattoos, at all." He added defensively.
I shrugged. Not my problem.
"But you look good. I mean, it looks good on you. It uh, goes with the curve of your body." He was fishing for words. It was fun to see him get this flustered.
"Save your compliments for Enrique." I teased.
His entire face turned the colour of a radish.
"Put your clothes back on, I can't find myself falling for my brother's boyfriend again." He said, surprisingly honestly. "Actually, you are the first person I have ever told." Dragging out the sentence so it had a melancholic quality to it.
"I pushed it out of you." I corrected him.
"Nonetheless, today has been freeing. Telling people I'm gay. Even if it's not actually me. It was not nearly as scary as I expected. Now that I saw how people react, I think I can do it. And I think I should start by telling Wyatt." He declared eagerly.
I nodded. It was a good idea.
"He won't judge you for it, though he might not like sharing the spotlight."
"Part of why I hope your relationship works out, is so that he won't hate me for making a move on Ricky."
I could relate. Getting them together would eliminate Enrique as a rival.
"I don't know if I will ever work up the guts. Though, it's nice to think that some people already mistake Ricky and I for a couple. I know he would hate me for it, but I like the sound of it."
"Don't feel guilty for liking him. Even if he does not reciprocate, you haven't done anything to harm him. Believe it or not, your thoughts of appreciation are not hurting him." I consoled him.
He was beaming.
"Thank you, Kai. You are the best mistake my idiot brother has ever made."