Brody rubs his chin. “I never really thought about it. Reed and I were friends first, so it feels like I’m with a friend not an ex. We can leave after their climb if you’re uncomfortable.”
“No, no. I’m interested to see if the panic will happen. It’s weird right now, but I’m not as edgy as I thought I’d be.”
I’ve always been cautious of my triggers, trying to get home before anything bad happens. If I’m outside the house and I have a panic attack, my head immediately starts telling me this is why I shouldn’t go out. So when I have a good day and I come across something that challenges me, I always want to go home before it can get bad.
I’ve never pushed or tested my boundaries, but Brody makes me want to.
Perhaps it’s because he gives me a sliver of the kind of future I want.
“Let me know if it gets too much and we’ll go home,” Brody says. “We can use Lucky—”
“Meatball,” I sing.
He rolls his eyes. “If you want to get out of here, just say we have to get home to feed the cat.”
“I knew I should’ve gotten a pet sooner. I could have used it as an excuse to get out of stuff.”
“It’s a known fact it’s the main reason people reproduce.”
I can’t help laughing. “Right. Because I’m sure love and parental instincts have nothing to do with it.”
“None at all. Kids are like your very own little minions who can fetch you the TV remote and you get to blame them for shit. Oh, sorry I didn’t make your lame-ass party. My kidlet was vomiting everywhere.” Brody’s eyes light up as he talks about kids, which scares me.
“You sound like you can’t wait.” And that doesn’t work for me. At all. Kids are not in my future.
Brody looks horrified. “God no. The negatives completely outweigh the benefits. Like, you have to feed them and stuff, and as you’re aware, Videre and you are pretty much solely responsible for feeding me lately. Plus, tantrums, neediness, no sleep—”
“Agreed. I couldn’t handle that. I’m just gonna wait for Law to have kids so I can spoil them, play with them, and then hand them back when they whine.”
“I’m the same with my siblings. Once they start popping out kids, I’m gonna give you a run for your money at the best-uncle-ever award.”
The doubt about the validity of that scenario tries to flit through my head, but I’m not gonna let it. I want to hold on to the perfect image where Brody and I try to out-uncle each other in the future.
Chris and Rhett eventually come down off the wall, and then Brody and I get our turn.
“Race you to the top?” Brody taunts.
“Oh, sure, because you won’t kick my ass or anything.”
Brody covers his hands in the chalk stuff and grins. “I’ll give you a head start.”
Even with the head start, he beats me to the top. At one point, he gets close enough to slap my ass as he passes me.
“I better not have a chalk handprint on my shorts,” I grumble.
He looks down at me and winks.
God, he can be a cocky son of a bitch. But silently, I’m loving it in this environment. Surrounded by other people, I’m not overthinking it. I’m not questioning his motives or thinking there’s something sinister behind it.
We spend nearly the whole afternoon and evening climbing, and by the time we’re finished, my legs and arms ache.
“There’s a bar next door that serves food,” Chris says after we hand in our equipment. “You guys up for some dinner and drinks?”
Brody and I glance at each other.
“I don’t know,” Brody says. “Did you remember to feed the cat before we left?”
He’s putting the decision in my hands, and damn if it doesn’t make me like him more.
“I’m pretty sure I fed her.”
Brody turns to Chris. “Then we’re in.”
The climbing centre is in the middle of an industrial area in the West End, and right next door is a storage shed that’s been converted into the hipster capital of Brisbane.
Rustic furniture, low lighting, fake grass, a vibe that says they’re too cool to care but really spent a fortune to appear that way.
“You fit right in,” Brody says, pulling on my man bun. Damn him.
I think I’ve kept it this long to prove some kind of point that it’s a purposefully grown hairstyle instead of it being a sign of my laziness, but maybe I’ve forgotten who the joke’s really on, because it gives Law, Reed, and Brody endless mocking fodder.
I shove him, and he laughs.
We find a picnic table to sit at, because picnic tables indoors are totally normal, and Rhett and Brody offer to go get us drinks.
His hand brushes my lower back, and I’m surprised by how easy it is for me to enjoy the sensation. “What do you want?”