But Adam insisted on sitting down, so Nick dropped into one of the metal chairs out front, the one closest to the shadows of the next storefront.
The man who’d gotten in front of Gabriel turned out to be the café owner. He brought them each a cup of coffee and a bag of ice for Nick.
Nick was shocked this guy wasn’t calling the cops anyway.
Nick had been the one to shove Gabriel into the wall.
“I’m sorry for disrupting your night,” Adam said to him.
“You didn’t do anything,” the man said. “The girls inside said that other boy started it.” He tsked. “Shame there are still such closed-minded people picking fights about this kind of thing. You’re lucky your . . . friend was here to stop him.”
“I know I am,” said Adam.
“You sure you boys won’t come inside? I’m worried he’ll come back.”
Had the man not noticed they were twins? That this wasn’t some random hate crime? Maybe it was too dark. Maybe it had happened too fast.
Nick cleared his throat. “He’s my brother. He won’t come back.”
Those words hung in the air for a moment.
“We’ll be all right,” said Adam.
And then they were alone.
Nick hadn’t touched the ice, but Adam sat in the opposite metal chair and reached for it. Then he put the bag against Nick’s face.
And Nick was struck with an entirely different sort of déjà vu. A different night, a different fight, but Adam’s hand holding an ice bag just like this.
Back then, Nick had leapt out of his chair to kiss him. Now, he wasn’t sure what to do. About any of it.
“Would you rather put this on your hand?” Adam said.
Nick tried to categorize his injuries and came up with nothing. He couldn’t think past his brother’s angry eyes and the fight and the way he’d walked off.
And what he’d said.
It hurt. It hurt more than anything physical.
Nick swallowed and shook his head.
They sat there for the longest time in the darkness, breathing the same air. The pain began to fade from Nick’s hand as his element worked its magic.
Nick almost wished it wouldn’t. This he wanted to remember for a while.
When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.” Adam looked chagrined. “And I shouldn’t have shoved him. But he kept pushing me, and there’s only so much of that big-dumb-straight-boy crap that I can put up with. Especially since . . . you know.”
Nick did know. And if Gabriel had hurt Adam . . . Nick wasn’t sure what he would have done.
But he’d felt a glimmer of it when he was slamming Gabriel into that wall.
He pulled the ice bag away from his face and set it on the table. “I’m sorry that he—that he—”
“It’s not your fault.” Adam touched his cheek, and his hand was warm. Nick shut his eyes and leaned into the contact. He felt the pain, but it was worth it.
He opened his eyes. “Then I’m sorry for what I did. Last night.”
Adam nodded and withdrew his hand, reaching for the ice pack again. “I am, too.” He glanced up, and the slightest bit of rueful humor slid into his voice. “In fact, I was trying to apologize to you fifteen minutes ago. I didn’t realize that when you said identical twin, you weren’t kidding about the identical part.”
Nick frowned. “Only on the outside.” Then he remembered the whole reason for the apology, and he looked away, ashamed.
“Usually.”
“No, what you did was nothing like what he did.” Adam caught his eye and held it. “Don’t get me wrong. What you did was not okay.”
“I know.”
“I know you know. That’s why I’m sitting here.”
“How did you know I’d be here?”
Adam picked up Nick’s hand and held the ice against his knuckles. He looked sheepish. “I didn’t. I came here to avoid you. I figured you usually go to the Starbucks down the road.”
He paused, then rubbed at the back of his neck. “I needed to grab a cup of coffee on the way to my parents’, because I told them I’d stop by tonight. Then I saw you—well, your brother—
sitting there, and I . . . ah, well, I couldn’t go another minute without talking to you.”
Nick studied him. The lighting was dim, but . . . “You’re blushing!”
Adam looked away. “Yeah, yeah.”
“But you wouldn’t respond to my texts!”
“Well, I couldn’t let you think you got off that easy.”
“Oh, I get it. So you’ve been torturing me.” But Nick smiled.
“Absolutely. And torturing myself at the same time.” Adam slid his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture.
“Oh, good,” said Nick. “This is a moment I want a record of.”
“You don’t smile enough. That makes them meaningful.” He paused, then turned the phone around so Nick could see. His voice lost any humor. “I should send this to your brother.”
Nick glanced at it. A bruise was already forming on his cheek, more obvious because of the flash in the darkness.
He reached out and pushed the button to make the phone go dark. Gabriel’s mocking voice was a never-ending echo in his head; he didn’t need to see the evidence of physical aggression on top of it. Such a contrast to that moment in the car, when Nick had realized how badly he wanted to share this with his brother.
The man who’d gotten in front of Gabriel turned out to be the café owner. He brought them each a cup of coffee and a bag of ice for Nick.
Nick was shocked this guy wasn’t calling the cops anyway.
Nick had been the one to shove Gabriel into the wall.
“I’m sorry for disrupting your night,” Adam said to him.
“You didn’t do anything,” the man said. “The girls inside said that other boy started it.” He tsked. “Shame there are still such closed-minded people picking fights about this kind of thing. You’re lucky your . . . friend was here to stop him.”
“I know I am,” said Adam.
“You sure you boys won’t come inside? I’m worried he’ll come back.”
Had the man not noticed they were twins? That this wasn’t some random hate crime? Maybe it was too dark. Maybe it had happened too fast.
Nick cleared his throat. “He’s my brother. He won’t come back.”
Those words hung in the air for a moment.
“We’ll be all right,” said Adam.
And then they were alone.
Nick hadn’t touched the ice, but Adam sat in the opposite metal chair and reached for it. Then he put the bag against Nick’s face.
And Nick was struck with an entirely different sort of déjà vu. A different night, a different fight, but Adam’s hand holding an ice bag just like this.
Back then, Nick had leapt out of his chair to kiss him. Now, he wasn’t sure what to do. About any of it.
“Would you rather put this on your hand?” Adam said.
Nick tried to categorize his injuries and came up with nothing. He couldn’t think past his brother’s angry eyes and the fight and the way he’d walked off.
And what he’d said.
It hurt. It hurt more than anything physical.
Nick swallowed and shook his head.
They sat there for the longest time in the darkness, breathing the same air. The pain began to fade from Nick’s hand as his element worked its magic.
Nick almost wished it wouldn’t. This he wanted to remember for a while.
When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.” Adam looked chagrined. “And I shouldn’t have shoved him. But he kept pushing me, and there’s only so much of that big-dumb-straight-boy crap that I can put up with. Especially since . . . you know.”
Nick did know. And if Gabriel had hurt Adam . . . Nick wasn’t sure what he would have done.
But he’d felt a glimmer of it when he was slamming Gabriel into that wall.
He pulled the ice bag away from his face and set it on the table. “I’m sorry that he—that he—”
“It’s not your fault.” Adam touched his cheek, and his hand was warm. Nick shut his eyes and leaned into the contact. He felt the pain, but it was worth it.
He opened his eyes. “Then I’m sorry for what I did. Last night.”
Adam nodded and withdrew his hand, reaching for the ice pack again. “I am, too.” He glanced up, and the slightest bit of rueful humor slid into his voice. “In fact, I was trying to apologize to you fifteen minutes ago. I didn’t realize that when you said identical twin, you weren’t kidding about the identical part.”
Nick frowned. “Only on the outside.” Then he remembered the whole reason for the apology, and he looked away, ashamed.
“Usually.”
“No, what you did was nothing like what he did.” Adam caught his eye and held it. “Don’t get me wrong. What you did was not okay.”
“I know.”
“I know you know. That’s why I’m sitting here.”
“How did you know I’d be here?”
Adam picked up Nick’s hand and held the ice against his knuckles. He looked sheepish. “I didn’t. I came here to avoid you. I figured you usually go to the Starbucks down the road.”
He paused, then rubbed at the back of his neck. “I needed to grab a cup of coffee on the way to my parents’, because I told them I’d stop by tonight. Then I saw you—well, your brother—
sitting there, and I . . . ah, well, I couldn’t go another minute without talking to you.”
Nick studied him. The lighting was dim, but . . . “You’re blushing!”
Adam looked away. “Yeah, yeah.”
“But you wouldn’t respond to my texts!”
“Well, I couldn’t let you think you got off that easy.”
“Oh, I get it. So you’ve been torturing me.” But Nick smiled.
“Absolutely. And torturing myself at the same time.” Adam slid his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture.
“Oh, good,” said Nick. “This is a moment I want a record of.”
“You don’t smile enough. That makes them meaningful.” He paused, then turned the phone around so Nick could see. His voice lost any humor. “I should send this to your brother.”
Nick glanced at it. A bruise was already forming on his cheek, more obvious because of the flash in the darkness.
He reached out and pushed the button to make the phone go dark. Gabriel’s mocking voice was a never-ending echo in his head; he didn’t need to see the evidence of physical aggression on top of it. Such a contrast to that moment in the car, when Nick had realized how badly he wanted to share this with his brother.
