Broken, Flawed & Living (Discontinued)

Chapter Twenty-Three

But anyways, was I right or was I wrong on my earlier statement?

"I don't know... were superhuman, maybe?" I wouldn't totally write off the theory. What the journal depicted... it could very well be true we were not what we seem. And I wasn't going crazy thinking it true as I read on... "But you could say its athleticism. Dad was a wrestler back in his days," he added as he crossed over next to me and prepped a bowl of milk. As he poured the milk, his eyes met mine briefly with a smile as charming as Chance's, if I was honest. "Just imagine a big burly-ish wrestler."

I hadn't ever been this close to Shane, nor had I been this close to take in what a fine specimen he was with a smile complimenting his eyes so well like it did with Chance and all other guys I had like – an adorable laugh to match, too.

There was a certain aesthetic appeal I hadn't admitted to myself a while back where each and every guy I had fallen for were a bit on the rugged side. No pretty boys, no model faces, per say. Just sporting a rough beard, or a small breakout on the face. Something where I could see the flaws, the ugliness, but understand how well it complements the person. Something I took a very long while understanding for myself, even with the love my parents, Tori, Leone and all my friends had given me back in the beginning of high school. I mean, I will admit, part of that could be thanks to Leone.

This sort of appeal worked for me. That was my kind of type, to be fair. And the McClain men wore it best with Chance taking the cake, and the frosting, and the filling for that matter... just saying, here. Okay.

But a big burly-ish wrestler? Oh, God. Bentley's dream. "A certain someone would love a man like that." He'd fall in love with a man like that. Tori probably would've barfed in the bathroom instead of hearing him out on his wild fantasies and I would be all ears in. That boy told some good stories and his fantasies were always the best. He'd have everyone on the floor stitching their stomachs if he could just experience another Christmas with family. "But what about you? What sport do you do?"

Alerting me, the microwave dinged and I took out my mug letting him use it next. He pressed two and then carried his eyes over on mine again with a toothy smile. "Eh, I dabbled in everything. Don't really have a favourite sport." He shrugged, but his face fell in thought – eyes in the air briefly. "I did better in boxing than anything else, really."

As I gave my mug a stir, I crossed over to the dinner table with my plate of bread. There was time left on the microwave for his bowl and he turned his body, letting his back rest against the counter edge. "So you're a boxer?" I asked and he nodded with a closed smile. "I guess that explained why Chance knows how to fight. Kind of." Like an above amateur fighter but quite not there with the accuracy.

"Yeah. All three of us – dad, him and I – used to have practices at an old gym dad used to frequent. It was fun for a while till Chance gave up, then Dad. And I was the only one going because I was good at it. I loved it," he explained just as the ding alerted him. He took out his bowl, placed a spoon inside and after grabbing a cereal box from atop the fridge, he took a seat across from me. "I taught Chance a few basic skills."

Frankly, I couldn't quite pinpoint Chance's distain, or more accurately, hatred for Shane. His smile, the small tidbits he laid out as we ate, the adorable laugh Chance had, what was the so inconceivable act he had done? What broke their relationship so suddenly? It wasn't there. I couldn't see it. Unless I had Chance's eyes, this hid behind another one of Chance's walls. He's turn into such a damn mystery and not even the luring kind.

"Does that taste any good?" he asked. Like usual, I'd answer with a what? I was so lost on what he was talking about, I was like, what taste good? I know I do, but come on here, you can have me.