Black Velvet - 27 (Patreon)

(OG readers know what’s coming after this chapter  😛 no spoilers pls)

"Dude, why didn't you answer my call?"

I startle at the familiarity, at the absolute loudness.  Nic is on me instantly, his ego assaulted, and he deals with this like he usually does...

By tackling me against the front lawn.

"Or my five-million texts?  Too busy with Charlie-Anne Petchey?"

"What?" It comes out gut-punched, since the dive took most of my air with it, "Nic, you ass!" I sputter, messenger back tangled in his left arm, "What if I was carrying something breakable?  My body is breakable!"

"I haven't been home in over two weeks, and you're not even excited to see me," My brother snips. I squawk against the grass, pushing at Nic's chest with an adrenaline-induced fervor. Sometimes, no — all the time, Nic reminds me of a yappy dog. "young, in love, and left me in the dust. I'm insulted."

"It's not like that."

"Oh?  I checked your planner, and you didn't even notate my impending arrival," Nic sighs dramatically, hand tossed against his forehead in mock sadness, then he grins, "well fuck you too, little brother."

I'm more than excited to see him, although I could really do without the impromptu dives into my bodily form — but the excitement is overpowered by the desire to run and hide inside my room. I can see Tobias in the yard over, where they were talking just moments before, and fuck if I've ever wanted to get away from him, it's right now.

How much does Nic know now?

How much has he heard?

... How much did he already know?

If Nic hadn't left, it would've never happened;  

I think of him as a buffer... As someone who had somehow managed to make mine and Tobias' relationship a casual acquaintanceship, and ordered that with someone who's seen me as nothing but a nuisance for the past forever.

— but now, I can't get Tobias out of my head, out of my dreams, and avoiding him does no good because then I'm still thinking about him. Charlie-Anne can't help because there's no helping it.

We've crossed a line. I've crossed a line.

Nic, though a dick, has some sort of brotherly semblance, the uncanny ability to recognize that something is off near instantly.  I feel his weight lessen against me, and my face yanks away from the dew-covered grass.

"Oli, you alright?"  His voice is quieter, hand coming down on my shoulder to pull me upwards from the ground. Tobias' eyes track the movement, steady on my face, and I can't tell if it's a trick of the eye or if I see irritation flash across his features.

"Yeah, just,"  I pause, sparing a glance in Tobias' direction before I dust the front of my shirt off. If I could stand not to embarrass myself for one day in front of the man, it'd be too much to ask. "I'm really glad to see you. It was just, ah... A busy day at work."

Lie.  I keep my tone low.  Why did I lie?

Nic looks dejected at that, but there's also a glint in his eyes when they travel to his friend and back to me that says he doesn't feel like he's getting the full story.  I avert my gaze.

"You didn't have work."  Tobias has one hand wrapped around a baseball, and the other fist curled around the first. I wonder briefly if I interrupted them. "I was just there." His tone is past skeptical, prying like he wants to put me in the spotlight in front of someone who will pick me open for him.

Like he's been waiting for a chance for it.

This asshole.

"Well?" I clear my throat, one finger playing with my belt loop, "I had to stop by Ms. Martin's office and..."

"Strange,"  Tobias quirks a dark brow, hands tightening over the worn ball. I watch the veins in his forearms, the flex of his upper arms, "I was just there, didn't see you. Thought you were with your girlfriend again; wasn't that her car?"

Is he teasing me?

Can spazzes not have girlfriends?

Frustration builds,

"Well, she's not my girlfriend. Shows how much you know."

"Yeah?" Tobias' voice is gravel, eyes catching mine.  His tone is of disbelief. "Then, what is she?"

I can feel a flush on my face, can feel his gaze track the coloring. I fume, nose wrinkling in agitation, remembering his edge when he accused me of prying, of being too nosy.

What does he call this?

"You know what? It's not your business."

"Oh, that's hysterical."

"I — you," I cross my arms, I uncross them — don't really know what the hell to do with them, but my heart is beating a mile a minute,  "Fuck off, Tobias."

Tobias' eyes widen the slightest bit, a smirk rising across his features as he chuckles. I feel ready to run at him; I wish I were as under his skin as he was under mine.

"Woah!" Nic's hands are suddenly on my shoulders, cutting in with a false smile, and he steps between us like some sort of barricade, like he hasn't noticed Tobias at all.  My intentions must have been more noticeable than I thought.  "Guys. We can talk about it later."

I'm suddenly embarrassed at my outburst, eyes on the ground, averted from the Amadeus man completely.

"Nic, I didn't."  I glance up, and his hands on my shoulders tighten, "He's just.  He's..."

"I have the next two weeks off,"  Nic's voice is gentle,  "we'll talk about it later."  He sends me a wink, twisting his lanky form towards his friend. "Go cool off."

—

The science portion of the fair is at seven in the morning, and I've never been quite so ashamed of an academic project in my life.   Plantlife is essential, I tell myself, glaring down at the different potted plants.   Also, very dull.  I've stationed them on a cardboard backdrop, each of the flowers and sections of moss peeking out from additional colored mulch.

There's no way I'm winning this year.

I'd written down comparisons of filtered water versus rainwater, the difference between sunlight and artificial light, different types of soil and insect introduction, the exposure to pesticides and oxygen — oh,

basically, it's boring and all over the place — and I've barely put the effort in at all.

It's almost four am.

My body's natural alarm never lets me sleep in like a normal human being. The more I sit and stare at my work, the more I second guess myself — adding a few notecards here and there, patching up a few places where the adhesive isn't strong enough.

Finally, I decide if I don't get it out of my sight that I'll probably talk myself out of entering it at all.

I spent 20 dollars on post-its and potting soil, I grumble internally, I'm entering it, even if Charlie-Anne beats me.

I grab my keys and shove them into my pocket, slip on my house shoes.  I wrap an arm around the cardboard, settling my hand underneath.  Maybe if I put it in the car, I'd stop thinking long enough to get a nap in before the fair — perhaps it'll help settle my nerves before the presentation.

Presentation, I sigh.  How do you present something this bad?

The only bright side is that it isn't particularly large, just heavy with the soil.  Yesterday I grabbed a couple of massive rocks from beside the lake, depositing them in my back seat.

Hopefully, they'll hold the project up on the way into mid-town because the dirt roads have a habit of shaking my tiny car from side to side the further I got out of the neighborhood. Well. I can't tell if I care too much about the project's demise.

I balance it on my hip as I prop open the front door, Nic's penchant for grizzly bear snores startling me; We bought him nose strips once, but they failed to do anything but make him look like a celebrity recovering from a bad nose job.

I snort at the memory and turn to the side if only to make it out the smaller entrance without toppling my project onto the front porch. It's semi-successful, and I feel a little bit prouder of myself once I'm on the balcony, a silent chant of this isn't the shittiest project in the world — yeah, yeah, you could totally get third place.

My silent cheer-leading fails when I see Tobias under his porch lamp, sorting out the sewn potholders and aprons his mom sells at the fair side. Any other time I'd probably stare and think it was sweet how invested he is in her happiness.

He doesn't give me the chance to think he's sweet.

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