How Boys Think

Lesson #6: Mention "Girl Stuff" And Guys Drop The Subject Like A Hot Tamale

I was sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, poking listlessy at a giant chunk of five cheese lasagna that I'd plopped onto a foam plate and microwaved. It had been a while since my mother had cooked my favorite food, and now I wasn't even enjoying it because my mind was so wrapped up in things that shouldn't even be happening. 

Why the hell had Caiden tried to kiss me? 

Because I'm sure that's what had just happened tonight. We were friends. He didn't like me, I didn't like him. Before, I had always been his brother's friend only; our friendship had developed by default, so what the heck? And the million dollar question:

Why had I wanted him to?

"Are you going to eat that or are you just going to stare at it all night?"

I jumped, startled and looked to see Ross headed to the fridge behind me. "Hey, what are you doing up?" I glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. "It's after twelve."

He grabbed the orange juice out of the fridge and got a glass out of the cabinet. "Studying." He came and sat on the stool next to mine and poured himself a rather generous amount of juice. "I just finished, actually."

I grabbed the orange juice and stopped him mid-pour. "Quit it, mom's going to be mad. You drank it all last time." I set the container down and ignored the withering look he sent me. "You have a test tomorrow?"

He shrugged and picked up his glass. "Yeah. Ms. Bate in chemistry." 

He started gulping down the OJ and I looked back at my plate, stabbing at my lasagna with my fork. I heard the glass hit the counter as he set it down and then had the wonderful honor of witnessing the loudest, most gigantic, most disgustingly obnoxious burp in the world, right next to my ear. It was so loud I'm pretty sure there was now an avalanche occuring in the Himalayas. Seriously, I think it blew out my eardrum.

"GAH!" I leaped away from him. "Dude! Seriously?"

He just looked at me with quiet green eyes and said nothing.

Shooting him a glare, I sat back down and resumed poking at my food.

"What's up with you today, Mina?" He asked me finally.

I glanced over at him wryly. "It's night."

He rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored my dry try at humor. "You're not eating your lasagna. Either you're dying or something happened. Considering the fact that you're practically invincible, I take it something happened."

 I raised an eyebrow. "Invincible?"

 He spun his glass on the counter, not exactly looking at me as he spoke. "Well, yeah. You've never gotten hurt. Not once in your life."

"I do get hurt," I protested, frowning.

"Not seriously. You might get a scrape or a bruise or two, but you've never been seriously injured." He replied, and thinking back, I had to agree with him. "I ride my bike down a set of stairs and I end up with a broken collarbone and a sprained ankle. You do it, and yeah, you fall and crash and tumble like a Looney Tunes character, but you just hop right on up and walk off like nothing happened. So yeah. You're invincible." 

I barely had a second to consider the idea that my barely younger than me brother considered me some sort of invincible superhero (okay, so he hadn't called me a superhero, but still) before he was turning the tables on me again. 

"But that's beside the point. You're upset and I want to know why." He had that stubborn note in his voice that I recognized all too well. He wasn't going to let this go.