Filed to story: Kissing the Wrong Brother
T
WO WEEKS LATER
“You have to come to our Fourth of July party.”
Miles moves around to the other side of the bench and switches out the weight.
“Okay, let’s try this,” he says, moving into spotting position. “I think you’re ready to press a bit more weight.”
I make no movement to grab the bar. Instead I stare up at him.
“Aria.”
“Beefcake.”
“Get on it, Aria. We only have twenty minutes before my next client gets here.”
“Ugh, Mrs. Rubio?” I ask, reluctantly wrapping my fingers around the metal bar. “She’s totally looking for a fling, you know.”
“Aria, most of my clients are looking for a fling.”
“I’m not.”
“Thank God for that. Okay, you ready?”
I glance dubiously at the weights, which are way bigger than anything I’ve tried so far. “If this falls on my chest, can it, like, smash my heart?”
He moves his hands under the bar, legs braced. “Well, don’t drop it, then. But I’m here if you do.”
“You know, if you wanted to kill me, this would be a brilliant way to do it,” I say as I move the bar off the rests.
I’m already sweating, and I haven’t even lowered it yet.
“If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it the second you started calling me Beefcake,” he says. “No more talking. Focus.”
So I do. I get through only seven reps, but Beefcake looks pleased.
“What now?” I ask, wiping the sweat from my face with the towel he hands me and readjusting my ponytail.
But Miles’s not looking to me. All of his attention’s on the other side of the gym, and I know before turning my head who he’s looking at. There’s only one person that makes Miles go all soft and quiet like that.
I glance over my shoulder, and immediately I’m on my feet. I figured Kylie had come to flirt and make sure everyone noticed her new honey highlights that she’s been claiming are from the sun, cough cough, bullshit, but one look at her tearstained face tells me that something major is up.
Kylie would never be so gauche as to be an ugly crier, but she doesn’t exactly look her best with tearstained cheeks.
She’d show her blotchy face in public only if she was really, really upset.
My heart is in my stomach as I dash over to her, my mind already sorting through the worst possibilities.
Car accident.
Melanoma.
Rabies.
“Kyly?”
She sniffs. “I hate when you call me that.”
I drag her into the hallway. “What’s going on?”
Her chin wobbles just a little and my heart breaks, but then her face freezes for a second, and she looks me up and down. “Have you lost weight?”
Okay, so we’re probably not talking about a cancer diagnosis of a family member then if she’s worrying about my weight.
“Um, I don’t know,” I say in response.
“What do you mean you don’t know? What does the scale say?”
“Miles made me get rid of the scale.”
Kylie’s head pulls back in horror. “Get rid of the scale?”
“Is this why you’re all blotchy?” I snap. “Because I may or may not have lost weight?”
Although I’m pretty sure I have. Lost weight, I mean. I’m not lying about Miles forbidding me to pay attention to the scale, but my clothes are looser and everything feels less wobbly. I’m not a size two or anything, and I still feel like a jumbo loaf of Wonder Bread next to my sister, but …
“Seriously, why are you crying?” I ask, feeling atypically impatient with her.
Kylie presses her lips together and looks around before nodding toward an out-of-the-way corner.
I follow, crossing my arms and looking at her.
She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again and blurts out, “Ben wants to go to law school.”
I stare at her. “And?”
Her lips do an ugly floundering thing. Sissy dearest is really not at her best today. “On the East Coast,” she emphasizes.
I reach up to tighten my ponytail. “Which I know means more long distance for you guys, which sucks, but it’s not exactly a surprise.”
Kylie’s eyes focus on me. “What do you mean it’s not a surprise? He was supposed to come back here and work for his dad’s company in Dallas. That’s always been the plan.”
Your plan, I want to say.
I gentle my voice. “Well, yeah, I know that’s been a likely option, but law school’s always been a dream. Good for him for chasing it, you know?”
For a split second, Kylie looks like I’ve slapped her. “It hasn’t always been his dream.”
Oh my God, I’m so over this conversation already. “Okay, not always, but since, like, sixth grade, at least.”
“He just came up with this stupid law school idea just now!” Her voice is shrill.
Realization slides over me like ice water.
Ben’s never told Kylie he wanted to go to law school.
I’m both shocked and … not shocked.
Anyone who knows Kylie well knows she’s a terror when her boat is rocked.
And learning that the guy she planned to marry was even considering doing anything other than putting a two-carat diamond on her finger and settling down in Texas would definitely rock this princess’s boat.
And yet they’ve been together for years. I can’t believe, in all that time, they’ve never talked about what they wanted for the future.
Because Ben has told me. Bunches of times.
From the horrified look on Kylie’s face, I think she knows it.
“So what’s next?” I ask. “Is he going to apply?”
She gives a harsh laugh. “Yeah, he already did that. Claims he did it on a whim. Like, how can you take the LSAT and apply to Harvard Law on a whim?”
“He got in?”
She looks at me closely. “Why the hell are you so happy about this? I’m trying to tell you that my boyfriend wants to move to Boston, and you’re acting like he won the lotto.”
He did! I want to cry. This is his jackpot.
She sighs. “He was on the waiting list and just got the call this morning that a spot opened up. He has until the end of next week to decide.”
“That’s awesome-for him,” I correct quickly, seeing her death glare.
“I knew I shouldn’t have talked to you about it,” she snaps. “You’re all holier-than-thou and think there’s nothing as important as school, so of course you’d take his side.”
I cup my elbows, a little stung by her sharpness. “Hey, that’s not fair. But I’m friends with Ben, too, and he’s wanted this for a long time. I’m happy for him. And you don’t have to break up-“
“Who said anything about breaking up?” Her voice is quick and maybe just a little shrill.
“That’s what I mean,” I soothe. “It’s just a few more years of doing the long-distance thing, right? And then you’ll be dating a lawyer.”
