Because You're Different ✔

75. Fix

Sam

In the second week of college, I'd caught Brandon calling his mother and telling her he missed her — initially, I'd given him shit for it, asking if he still slept with a teddy bear. The panicky "no, I sleep with your sister, ass," I'd gotten thrown my way was as good as a confession to me. I hadn't told anyone, and when he realized that, we'd started to hang out more. He was kind of nerdy, I'd thought, a mommy's boy.

It was only later that I discovered I was the weird one.

Chí's sister lived nearby and brought him containers full of home-cooked food every once in a while. His dad showed up randomly to take him to a movie in town, bringing new clothes his mother had bought for him. Ezra's parents video chatted with him every week, and he'd goof off with his kid brother until people came to see what was so funny. Brandon's mother sometimes texted him to wish him goodnight, and even though he pretended to be irritated, I knew he responded to her as soon as he thought we were all distracted.

Normal kids had parents who cared. I had two dipshit donors who visited when they were bored. They probably forgot I existed most of the time.

More than ever, I had respect for Nathan — he was only seventeen when he'd started to take responsibility for me, acting less like a brother and more like an adult in charge. When I'd reached that age myself, I'd finally seen how hard that must've been. He'd practically sacrificed his college life for me, and then I'd had the arrogance to be angry with him for moving to London. He didn't owe me anything. It was me who owed him everything.

Ever since, I'd been making sure he knew how much I appreciated that.

So today, after a five-hour drive to Palo Alto, I kicked open the kitchen door and, with a bellowing roar, charged in, right at him, not sparing any energy. He was standing by the coffee machine, placing a mug under the espresso spout, his shoulders pulled up in shock. Another rumbling cry, and I jumped on his back. He almost collapsed under my weight, groaning as I ruffled his hair. Ah, this was a good way to come home!

"Sam, what the...?"

"Aren't you happy to see me, bro?" I yelled in his ear. He tried to shake me off, and I snickered, leaping down again.

"Would've been happier if you hadn't attacked me." Although he winced, massaging his shoulder, the grin on his face said otherwise. Matching it, I wrapped my arms around him, trying to squeeze him to a pulp — it wasn't a hug, after all, it was a crush match.

Nice. If that wasn't a warm welcome, I didn't know what was. I took a step back, inspecting him from up close. Every time I returned for a holiday, I was scared of what I'd find — he might seem like a tough dude but he was far from, and he'd never lived entirely on his own before. My worries had been for nothing, though. He looked fine. In fact, he looked fantastic. Shaved, check. Haircut, check. Clean shirt, check. Bulging muscles, check. Happy smile, check. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought he was getting some action again. "You've been swimming too much, man," I said, turning away from him to inspect the house, seeing if anything changed. But nah, it was the same as always: long wooden table, family pictures, June... "I swear, I don't get how you don't have a girl yet. You're better than ever. Oh, hi, June — June?"

It was such a normal sight to have her sit there with an empty plate in front of her, I hadn't even realized the fact she was here was kind of bizarre. She was laughing, a mischievous glint in her eyes, just like the first time we met. "Hi Sam," she said then. "I see you got over your hug phobia for good."

I didn't say a word. How could she be here? How could I not have known she would be here? When we spoke on the phone two weeks ago, she'd said she was only going to call Nathan, nothing more. And now I found her in the kitchen?