How to Repair a Mechanical Heart - By J. C. Lillis Page 0,6
be in my house this month, Brandon.”
“Why not?”
“My mother and sister are hosting a book club. Eight choir ladies plus wine spritzers plus a stack of Amish romance novels.”
“Ugh.”
“What’s the problem?”
I slide her the tickets to the Castaway Ball and fill her in, the whole terrifying find-me-a-guy plan. Between the lines, I appeal to her time-honored status as my best friend. The one who knew I was gay a year before Nat talked me into coming out, the one who buoyed me up with sensitive grace and good humor through the parent talk and the Father Mike meeting and the dark nights of the soul when I lay awake at 1 a.m. pondering the existence of God and praying for a sign that he was real and sympathetic and still pretty much okay with me.
She cracks up laughing.
“You have to help!” I smack her arm.
“How?”
“Tell him I won’t be over Zander for another year. At least.”
“Oh, Fake Zander? I don’t—”
“Shhh!”
“Whatever.” She grabs a pear from the fruit bowl and takes a big messy bite. “You can’t stay fucked up forever, can you? You need to start putting yourself out there and getting humiliated like the rest of us. Only then will you be a Real Boy.”
I glower at her. “What kind of friend are you?”
“A heartless one.” She drops a sticky kiss on my cheek. “I love you, though.”
“Aww! Ken and Skipper.”
Abel’s grinning in the doorway. Two tanned hands knead his shoulders and he pulls in Greenshorts, who isn’t Greenshorts anymore because he’s got on frayed army pants and a white V-neck that’s a little damp and clingy. His light brown eyes and skin are fanfic-flawless and he’s all lean muscle. I imagine a conversation with him, a one-sided ode to 12-minute workouts and wheatgrass shakes.
“So Kade, this is Bec, our lovely and amazing cameraperson—she’s only a moderate Castaway Planet fangirl but she’s putting up with us anyway. And, uh, you’ve seen Brandon online.”
“Uh-huh.” Kade squints at me, stifling a yawn. “You hook up with this one?”
“Noooo. No no no. Tell him, Brandon.”
“Not my type,” I say.
“Obsessed with his ex,” Abel whispers to Kade.
“Right, right,” Kade grins. “You don’t do guys with baggage.”
“I merely assist them. He’s my summer project.”
Kade looks me over again and elbows Abel. “Babe,” he stage-whispers.
“Hm.”
“He looks like that dude from the movie.”
“Which one?”
“The one we watched at the party. That hit man with amnesia—”
“The main guy?”
“No no no…the little dude.” He drops his voice low. “With the…ears?”
“Oh my God,” Abel snorts, raining cute smacks on his shoulder. “Brandon, don’t listen. He’s awful!”
My ears burn like Kade’s thrown a hot spotlight on them, but he’s already jumped to the next thing: kissing Abel in a place I never thought about, the spot where the strong line of his jaw curves up to meet his earlobe. Abel kisses him back like no one else is in the room. When Kade turns his back, his thin t-shirt gives me glimpses of more tattoos I suspect are inversely proportional to intelligence, including a chicken with wings of fire and NO REGRETS spelled out in barbed wire. Bec traps me in this tractor beam of pity that’s deeply unnecessary since I couldn’t care less who Abel’s playing Perfect Boyfriends with, so I cross my eyes at her and grab the laptop again.
Abel’s got the Cadsim fanjournal bookmarked. I hop on to see if Miss Maxima and the rest of them are smacktalking us yet. Abel loves it when they do; he thinks it makes us famous. I still remember when Jimmy Gilver called me a dillhole in third grade, so I’m pretty weirded out when I read: cavegrrl94: DEATH TO BRANDON & ABEL!!!
murklurk: They will lose this bet. SO HARD.
mrs.j.cadmus: B & A are pathetic, srsly. love is alien to them.
murklurk: Yeah, really. Even Sim knows more about it than they do.
Miss Maxima: Don’t worry, girls. Pride goeth before a fall. In six short weeks their smug jaded mugs will be onscreen, acting out one of our very best Cadsim fics in exquisite detail. I can’t wait to see their stupid lips moving closer…closer…closer…
“I want a picture!” says Bec.
I fold down the screen. For a second I think she wants to snap one of Abel and his guy the way you’d photograph a pair of zoo otters who won’t stop doing adorable things, but then she tosses her camera to Kade and they’re pulling me in front of the huge silver fridge, nudging me between Bec and Abel. Kade directs