Unwritten Law (Steele Brothers 1)

“He’s fifteen! Anders is ol—”

“Watch it with the old shit,” he warns. “And I’m not saying Anders would go for it—duh. He likes them young but at least legal.”

My face falls. “Anders likes young guys? How young?” Why does that thought irritate me?

Law looks away. “I told you that you weren’t his usual type. His normal hook-ups are eighteen and pretty.”

“Are you saying I’m not pretty?”

He laughs. “No. You’re all man.” He lowers his voice and I swear I hear him mumble “And hot,” but I don’t know any straight guys who call other men hot. “So what do you want to do about the kid?”

“I was hoping you had answers.”

“Well, then we’re fucked. I guess I could ask Anders to come talk to him …” If Law’s tight expression is anything to go by, I’d say that’s the last thing he wants.

“Can I ask you something about Anders? I know we said we wouldn’t talk about him, and I don’t want you to think I’m friends with you to get to him. We’re just hooking up, and he swears it won’t happen again … but he said that the first time, and—”

“Spit it out, Reed.”

“Is he okay? Like … this whole cryptic something happened to him and he has a shitty story, and when he’s with me, he seems jittery afterwards like what we did was wrong …”

“He’s fine. He won’t gut you in your sleep if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s not psychotic.”

“That’s not actually what I was worried about. I’m worried about him in general. If it’s something like an attack or bashing, it definitely explains his anxiety around intimacy.”

“You think Anders’ issues are from a hate crime?”

“Well you’re both so fucking vague. What else am I supposed to think?”

“His problems are a lot closer to home,” he murmurs. “Look, it’s not my thing to tell, and you don’t have to worry about it. Just know that it’s nothing too serious and I handle it for him.”

“Do you two have that weird twin voodoo where you can sense the other at all times and know if something’s wrong?”

“That’s not a real thing. If it was, Anders wouldn’t have issues.”

I have no idea what he means by that, but I can’t keep pushing. He’s like a vault, and if I ever want to find out what happened to Anders, I’m going to have to earn his trust and hear it from Anders himself. If he ever contacts me again, which I doubt he will.

“Let’s go get dinner,” I say. “I’m hungry.”

“Is this going to become a thing now? Monday night dinners with your only friend?”

I give him the finger. “As long as you keep giving me insider secrets on how to be a good teacher, I’ll keep buying you dinner.”

Law’s hand lands on my shoulder. “You are a good teacher. I’ve seen it.”

“Maybe with the union kids, but at school? Honestly, I don’t know how much more I can take. I have this one class who keeps trying to dissect my sexuality. The union kids know but not the other students.”

“What do you do in response?”

“At first, I told them to cut it out, but now I’m ignoring them, hoping they get over it.”

“Ah, there’s where you’re going wrong. Like I said, treat them as adults. The school knows you’re gay, right? They no doubt have an anti-discrimination protocol in place for when that gets out to the kids. If parents have an issue with a gay man teaching their children, you’re protected by the fact everyone knows and administration is prepared. So, own up to it. Tell the kids you’re gay and ask them if they have a problem with it.”

“And when one of the smartasses says yes? I can’t tell them to fuck off, can I?”

“No, but how would you handle that situation with an adult?”

“Tell them to fuck off.”

Law laughs. “Okay, you’re right. That won’t work. In that case, tell them your sexuality has nothing to do with your ability to teach English. And if all else fails, do a monologue from Dead Poets Society. The kids will be all ‘O Captain! My Captain!’ before you know it.”

“I have a confession to make. I know as an English teacher I should love Dead Poets Society, but …”

“It was the most boringest piece of shit in the history of movies?”

I nod. “And boringest is not a word.”

“Sorry, teach.”

I tense and whip ’round to stare at Law.

“Why are you staring at me weird?”

Other than the fact he sounded exactly like Anders when he called me that last week in bed, nothing at all. “Sometimes it’s freaky how much you and Anders are alike.”

“Identical twin, dude.”

It doesn’t feel that way though, and I don’t know why. “Maybe it’s a Clark Kent and Superman thing. I haven’t seen you two together, so it’s hard to believe you’re two different people.”