Unwritten Law (Steele Brothers 1)

“I’ll only be your friend if you ask me on a piece of paper with boxes saying yes or no.”

I laugh. “Wow, you really are old. Don’t you know it doesn’t count unless it’s Facebook official?”

“Ah. The Facebook.”

I like how easy it is to laugh with Law—I haven’t had that with someone in a really long time—but I still can’t help thinking about his brother. “Can I ask one thing about the twin thing? I promise I’ll drop it after that.”

“Shoot.”

“Why the beard? I mean, do you two try to look exactly the same on purpose?”

Law’s hand rakes over his facial hair, along his jaw, and down to his chin. Even his mannerisms are like Anders’. “Honestly? One hundred percent truth here? I hate the beard.”

I smile.

“But I can’t bring myself to get rid of it, and neither can Anders. It’s a long story.”

“I teach English for a living. I like stories.”

“You a writer?” Law asks.

“Tried to be. I started a lot of stories but never finished any. I have a lot of unwritten things up here.” I point to my head. “You know what they say, those who can’t do, teach.”

“Not true in my case. I’ve won a ton of martial arts trophies. Was even in contention to represent Australia at the Olympics in judo at one point.” A cocky grin takes over his face, and for a split second I see that same grin as it looked down on me last weekend. Right before he kissed me … err, Anders kissed me.

Okay, this might be too weird for me, but what other choice do I have in the friend department? All the other teachers at Carindale High are ancient.

“What made you want to teach kids?” I ask.

Law shifts in his seat and avoids eye contact. “The plan was to become a high school teacher like you. Got my BA, and then … you know how there’s one event in everyone’s life that they measure everything against? Like, a parent dying or maybe in your case coming out; nine-eleven for most Americans. Lives are split down the middle and referred to as before the incident and after it.”

I nod. “My parents died when I was seventeen. Car crash. I didn’t get the chance to come out to them, but I think they would’ve been cool with it. They were always the type of parents who told my sister and me to be whatever and whoever we wanted.”

“Shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to put that on you just now.” Law seems flustered and uncomfortable.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago, and I’ve dealt with it.”

“Umm, well my thing made me want to do something positive and make a difference, and the only way I know how to do it is by giving kids the opportunity Anders never had. I might not be changing the world, but I’m helping kids protect themselves from it.”

“It must’ve been traumatic—what happened to Anders.” My mind jumps to the worst possible conclusions, and the fact Law isn’t elaborating, I know I shouldn’t push for more.

“There’s a lot of words to describe it. Traumatic would be one of them. It makes me protective of my brother.”

I try to smile. “Oh, so that’s what this is? You agreed to come to dinner to make sure my intentions are honourable.”

“No. Just letting you know I’d do anything for Anders.”

“It must be nice to be close to your family. When Mum and Dad died, my sister took her inheritance to travel the world. A few months turned into a year, and then a year turned into moving to Europe permanently. We’ve become the type of family where we message on birthdays and promise to make the trip to see each other at Christmas, but something always stops us. She’s always broke, and while I’m smart enough to have saved most of my inheritance, trips to Europe are expensive.” I’ve paid for that trip three times—twice for me and once so dipshit fuckface could come with me to meet my sister. You know, back when it was me and him forever and all that other bullshit he said. I swallow hard and push Ben from my mind—he doesn’t belong there anymore.

“I live with Anders. There’s no escaping him,” Law says.

“From the short amount of time I spent with Anders, that doesn’t seem like it’d be a hardship.”

Law smiles but it falls just as fast. He opens his mouth to say something but stops himself. With a sip of beer for courage, he goes to try again but is interrupted by our dinner being served.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” I ask and shove a fry in my mouth. “Did Anders say something about—”

“Nothing like that. Don’t mind me.”

“Oh. O-okay …”

“Fuck,” Law hisses. “I’m debating whether to tell you to stay away from Anders or not. He did talk about you. He had fun. But … the situation is—”