The Sinclair Shift/ John Logan and Dean Di Laurentis

Something Isn't Right

Blaine

The smell of coffee and burnt toast filled the apartment as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, attempting to tame my curls into something presentable.

Keyword: attempting.

I groaned and dropped my brush onto the counter.

"Why do you hate me?" I asked my reflection.

My reflection offered no answers. Rude.

The sound of my phone vibrating against the sink made me jump.

I didn't need to look at the screen to know who it was.

Austin.

Again.

My stomach twisted.

Slowly, I picked up the phone.

Austin: Good morning.

Austin: You awake?

Austin: Blaine?

Austin: Why aren't you answering?

I glanced at the time.

7:12 a.m.

He'd started texting at 7:03.

Nine minutes.

Nine minutes without a response.

And somehow that was already a problem.

Taking a deep breath, I typed back.

Me: Sorry. Getting ready for class.

Three dots appeared instantly.

Like he'd been staring at the screen waiting.

Austin: Took you long enough.

I swallowed.

A year ago I would've laughed that message off.

Now it made my chest tighten.

Because I already knew how the conversation would go.

If I argued, he'd get annoyed.

If I apologized, he'd tell me I was overreacting.

If I ignored him, he'd call.

And call.

And call.

Until I answered.

The front door opened.

A familiar voice drifted through the apartment.

"Blaine? You alive in there?"

I immediately smiled.

Garrett.

"Depends who's asking."

"It's your favourite brother."

"My only brother."

"Details."

I laughed despite myself.

A few moments later Garrett appeared in the doorway, dressed in athletic shorts and a Briar hockey shirt.

He looked annoyingly awake for someone who had early morning practice.

"You're staring at your phone again."

My smile disappeared.

Great.

Observant Garrett.

My least favourite Garrett.

"It's nothing."