My Brother's Band

chapter twelve: cardiac arrest

"I need coffee," I blurt, tugging at the hem of the oversized piece of cozy, snuggly fabric I was using to –apparently- hide distracting imagery from three of the four guys a few feet away.

Pretty sure Rob would just call it disgusting. Actually, I hope he would.

Four sets of eyes snapped to my face, a smile tugging at my big brothers lips.

Because he knew what was going on.

He knew why I was about to run away like a frightened kitten.

He knew, he knew, he knew.

Okay, maybe I was being a tad paranoid. After all, Robert is a man. Cue shocked and astounded gasping from the audience.

I know, I know folks, not exactly the surprise of the century, but not exactly the point I was trying to make either. Robert is a man, and therefore, for all intents and purposes, is about as clueless as one too. If everyone else had not yet realized I was suffering from a midlife –okay, quarter life'ish- crisis, then I highly doubt Rob had yet to either.

Because that is what this had to be. A life crisis. Temporary, and fixable, albeit with some time and dedication.

Maybe some alcohol.

There was no way my brain had flicked any switch in my head, with one silly dream, from totally cool, to totally boy crazy. Not that I wasn't slightly interested in boys before; I might not swear, but we all have our vices. Now, though, it seemed that my favourite vice was tall, dark haired, and sang like a flippin' sexy god.

Set phasors to self-destruct.

"I need some too."

Grey.

Self-destruct, self-destruct, self-destruct!

Apparently squeezing one's eyes tight did not, in fact, equate to self-explosion. And I had tried so hard. Darn.

"Do you have somethin' in your eye sweetheart?" Grey chuckles, and it's husky from singing and it's sexy and it's everything I should not be focusing on right now at all. He sets the guitar in his hands in a weird looking wire stand to his left. It took a moment before the pet-name sunk in past the great wall of china that was me trying to figure out a way to escape upstairs without dragging the reason with me. I was lucky, though. Rob jumped on it before I had a chance to embarrass the poop out of myself.

"I know we've just established that you've got a thing for getting head," Rob begins, setting his four stringed mystery contraption down on a similarly strange metal stand. A bass. That's what it's called! And this is why I require coffee. "But my sister isn't there for you to spread her legs, sweetheart." Of all the embarrassing-

"Rob?" I ask, sliding a sickeningly sweet tone into my voice like butter slides over bread. My dumb as a stump brother stands, legs shoulder width apart, arms crossed, narrowed eyes focused on Grey like lasers will shoot out of his eyes any minute now. When his gaze swings to me, I match his look. One thing mama always told me about boys, even at six years old, was 'don't you dare back down. Be scarier.' It isn't hard to be scarier when you basically inherited the lady glare from birth. "Would care to give me back the key?"

"The key for what?" he asks, mouth twisting into a puzzled frown, head tilting in confusion. Good, be confused you embarrassing arsehole.

"For that padlock you've laced around my legs when I wasn't looking. How else would you possibly prevent me from spreading my legs for Grey?"