Running Parallel

Part 1 - Luke

He shrugs, lips curving up in a smug grin. "That's why you want the blue shirt. For Caleb."

I glare at him. "I want it because it's mine."

That grin only stretches. "Whatever you say. Maybe Caleb will finally want that dick when he sees you in that shirt. Miracles have happened before, you know."

I give him the finger. "I don't need a miracle."

He laughs, turning back to his computer. "Whatever you say, bro. Hoping your best friend decides he likes you back? You need a miracle."

Effectively dismissed, I shake my head and check the time on my phone. I only have ten minutes to get my ass in gear and get over to Caleb's place, and I still need to swing by the liquor store. I know I told Syd it was just going to be a few friends, but I don't need my parents potentially getting wind of the party. Syd wouldn't snitch, but I can't be too careful. Nineteen years old and I'm still sneaking around behind my parents back to avoid the lectures. Pathetic.

I grab my wallet and phone, stuffing both in my pockets, then double check I have my keys before hightailing it out to my car. Fifteen minutes later, reusable bags in one hand, case of beer in the other, I stand in front of the door faced with a problem. I can't open it.

Glancing between my bounty and the door, I debate my options. Do I kick the door and hope someone hears me? Do I put down the bags or the case and open the door myself?

The door swings open suddenly, saving me from my predicament, and I look up at my saviour with an awkward smile, words of thanks already on my lips when I stop, freezing in place.

Caleb's older brother stands there, green eyes cast somewhere over my shoulder. Connor looks so much like his brother, but while Caleb is loud and confident, Connor is the total opposite. He doesn't talk much, and sometimes it's hard to tell if he likes you or hates your guts. I spent a lot of our childhood avoiding him, if I'm honest. He bit Caleb once, left a nasty impression on his forearm that took weeks to heal, and although Caleb didn't hold it against him, I didn't trust him. If he could hurt his brother, what would he do to me?

"Oh, uh . . . hi?" I stammer, lost for what to say. God, why's he gotta look so much like Caleb?

Connor's eyes flick to mine for the barest of seconds, then to our feet, then to the road, before settling on my ear.

"Hi, Luke," he says, his voice soft like we're at the library and not standing in front of his house.

I shift awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Despite the many times I've been to their house growing up, Connor and I don't talk. We're not friends. We've hardly ever been left alone together, partly by my own doing, but also because we just don't have anything in common. He's two years older than Caleb and me, so we almost never crossed paths in school.

Connor does this odd little swaying motion, forward and back, rocking on his toes back to his heels. It's now that I notice he's only in socks. Scooby-doo socks, to be exact. His eyes flick to mine again and away.

He nods towards the bags I'm holding. "Need help?"

Thank god, an opening. "Nah, I'm alright. Just point me to the drink station and I'll unload there. Caleb in the kitchen?"

There's a beat of silence. Connor sways. I wait, arms starting to cramp.

"Caleb's out back," he finally says, stepping aside. A rich brown lock of hair falls across his forehead, same colour as his brother, if slightly more curl to it. He pushes it back, his expression unchanging.

"Cool." I inwardly cringe at how lame I sound, but Connor either doesn't notice or chooses not to comment on it.

He sways for a moment, and I'm tempted to ask if he's already started drinking, but experience tells me this is just Connor being Connor. He has many mannerisms that I've noticed over the years, like his swaying or tugging at his hair or chewing on just about anything he can put in his mouth. I glance at his neck, but there's no sign of the necklace Caleb gave him for his eighteenth birthday. It was supposed to be some kind of sensory thing Caleb found online, with a grey silicone pendent that looks like a stone with a dragon etched in the middle. Their mother threw a fit over it, and there was a massive argument taking place in the kitchen between her and Caleb while Connor and I sat awkwardly in the living room. Connor had turned red to his ears when he'd first opened it and Caleb explained what it was, but the colour had drained from his face while listening to the fight. He'd carefully rewrapped the necklace, tucked it in his pocket, and walked out. We didn't see him for hours. His mother was minutes from calling the police when in he strolled, at a half hour to midnight, wet from the rain that had started after supper. Around his neck was a cord, and in his mouth, cord dangling, was the silicone pendent.