brother
Chapter 11: Penny
The studio door swings shut behind me with a soft clatter that echoes down the empty sidewalk, the heavy keys slipping from my hand late the pocket of my sweatshirt as I step out into the night, the cool air washing over my flushed skin like a wave I didn’t know I was
It’s late.
Later thus it should be, if I’m being honest.
1 pull my bag higher onto my shoulder, rolling my neck to shake off the last of the adrenaline, the faint hum of music still ochning in my ears even though the speaker’s been dead for half an hour.
Practice went… well..
Better than expected.
Better than it had any right to go after the week I’ve had.
The choreography had flowed out of me tonight like water, my body finding every count, every breath, every pivot and turn without the unal stuttering, stalling fight. It felt good, standing there in the middle of the battered little community studio, sweating and smiling and knowing that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow won’t be a disaster after all..
I needed that win.
I needed to feel like I could still trust myself, still count on my own two feet,
I breathe in deep, letting the cool air settle something tight inside my chest, and start walking, my sneakers scuffing softly against the
sidewalk.
I debate calling a taxi for half a second, thumb hovering over the rideshare app on my phone, but the streets are lively enough, buzzing with college kids and late–night diners and the soft roar of a band spilling music out of a pub two blocks down.
It doesn’t feel creepy.
It doesn’t feel dangerous.
It feels almost normal.
And after the way this week’s gone, normal sounds like the best thing I could ask for.
So I tuck my phone back into my pocket and set off, the chill brushing against my legs through my leggings, the weight of the day starting to settle heavy and familiar in my muscles.
I’m rounding a corner near the old library, my head down, lost in thought about the first few counts of my solo, when I slam hard into something solid and unyielding.
My bag slips from my shoulder, crashing to the sidewalk, and I stumble back a step, muttering a breathless apology before I even manage to look up.
“I’m sorry—I wasn’t watching where [—*
And then I see him.
Asher.
Standing there in running shoes and a dark sweatshirt, sweat darkening the fabric over his chest, his hair pushed back from his forehead, his
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Penny
face shadowed and unreadable under the flickering glow of the streetlamp
His breathing is a little fast, like he’s just finished a sprint, but his body is still, anchored, like nothing short of a hurrie una va
Ho looks as surprised to see me as 1 feel, for one fractured second.
And then his mouth tightens into something enliler, and he steps berk just enough to give me space, but not enough to feel polite
He doesn’t help me with my bag.
He doesn’t say ‘s okay.
He just watches me, expressionless, waiting for me to gather myself like he’s some immovable wall and I’m an inconvenience he’s willing to tolerate for exactly thirty seconds.
I huff out a breath, grabbing my bag off the ground, and brush past him with a muttered, “Sorry,” even though every nerve in my body is still jangling from the collision
But of course he doesn’t just let me go.
He has to say something
“Where’s Tyler?” he asks, his voice low and rough like he’s scraping it up from the bottom of the ocean, no cutting question.
emotion in it. Just a quiet
I stiffen.
I don’t know why that question burns the way it does, but it does.
I don’t know where Tyler is.
I haven’t known all night.
it to him.
And I don’t want to explain that
“I don’t know,” I say, trying to keep my voice even, my hands tightening around the strap of my bag
He raises an eyebrow, slow and unimpressed, like I’ve just confirmed something he already assumed.
“You shouldn’t be out alone this late,” he says, the judgment threaded through the words so thick it feels like a weight thrown at my
Before I can think about it, before I can talk myself down, the words are out of my mouth, sharp and fast and furious.
“Yeah? Well, maybe you shouldn’t be either,” I fing back, my voice too loud in the quiet street, my heart pounding against my ribs.
He tilts his head slightly, that same maddeningly calm look on his face, like he’s studying a mildly interesting problem he can’t quite be bothered to solve.
And something about that–the way he stands there, the way he looks at me like I’m something small and breakable- patience inside me snap clean in two.
the last thread of
“You don’t even know me,” I burst out, my voice shaking slightly with the force of it, “so maybe you could stop being such an asshole all the time. I mean seriously, what is your problem? With your stupid–your stupid big body—and your–and your stupid judgmental face and-”
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Chapter 11: Penny
1 stutter to a stop, the heat burning up my neck, the words tripping over each other in a clumsy, mortifying mess
I hate this.
I hate that he can drag this mut of me without even trying.
I hate that I came enough to be this angry.
He doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t smirk.
Doesn’t even blink.
Just watches me, silent and unreadable, like a wall I could hurl myself against a hundred times and never even leave a scratch
I breathe out hard through my nose, squeezing the strap of my bag until my knuckles ache, and finally, finally turn away.
I stomp down the sidewalk, my whole body buzzing with leftover anger and humiliation, not looking back, not giving him the satisfaction.
the fight ha
has drained out of me, leaving something hollow and shaky in
By the time I reach my house, my legs ache and my throat is tight and the its place.
I push the door open and step into the dark, the house silent and empty around me, the kind of silence that doesn’t feel peaceful, just big and lonely.
I lean back against the door, dropping my bag at my feet, and close my eyes, breathing in the faint scent of laundry detergent and cold air.
I shouldn’t have snapped at him.
I know that.
He’s been an asshole since the second we met–cold and sharp and impossible–but he didn’t deserve that
Not really.
I’m not mad at him.
Not really.
I’m mad at Tyler, for leaving.
At myself, for caring.
At the auditions, for being tomorrow.
At the whole stupid, tangled mess.
of it.
I shove off the door, kick my shoes into a comper, and head upstairs, too tired to shower, too tired to think.
Tomorrow is a big day.
Tomorrow is the only thing that matters,
I crawl into bed, pulling the blankets up over my head, and promise myself that I’ll leave it all behind when I wake up.
Chapter 11: Penny
That none of this will matter once the monke
Chapter Comments
Barbra Starr
I really like this book and I can’t wait to read more
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