"I've been thinking a lot about Suzette lately,” he was saying, and Luke nodded before holding out his hand for the ratchet Rex was flipping absently in his hand.
"Right. Give me that, will you?" He got back to his work, but, apparently unfazed by Luke's distraction, Rex kept talking.
"It's just that she's not really my type, you know? Rich girl, too pretty for her own good.”
"Right." Luke nodded. He could understand that more than his brother would ever know. A sweet, virginal girl like Tawny was the farthest thing from the type of women he was normally drawn to. She was too soft, too delicate.
Maybe she had sensed that, too. Maybe that was the reason she hadn’t returned his call. As far as he could tell, she didn't exist in the world of social media, either, so that only left her friendship with Suzette as the remaining link between them. In a town this size, it was inevitable that he'd see her again some day, now that he knew who she was, but if he did, should he--
"I mean, we're not from a bad family, but I can't help but think that maybe her parents won't approve. After all, a girl like that--"
He blocked out the snatches of Rex's Suzette speech, which he’d heard a dozen times before, trying to make sense of his own thoughts.
If he did run into her, what was it that he'd say to her? After all, it had already been months since he'd seen her. And, if he was being honest with himself, he half expected to see her everywhere he went. The expectation, the irritating anticipation was driving him insane. It wasn't like him. Maybe if he just went to see her, he could get it all out of his head. Surely she couldn’t be nearly as perfect as his memory of her. Not that it mattered. He was out of here as soon as humanly possible, so what would be the point anyway?
"Do you think it's possible?" Rex asked, and Luke made a noncommittal sound before diving back into his own thoughts.
Maybe he could just ask her why she'd never bothered to call him back, though…
It was possible, he supposed, that the sex hadn't been as good as he remembered. That, somehow, in his bleary, half-concussed state he'd simply remembered it differently than she did. But then, he remembered the way her back had arched, and the way she'd cried out when she came.
Twice.
Then there was no doubt. The sex had most definitely not been the problem.
But then what was it?
A dull, thudding pain began on the side of his head and he raised his hand to the spot only to look up and find his brother standing above him, another bigger wrench in his hand.
"What the hell was that for?" Luke asked, rubbing the spot that Rex had tapped him in.
"Because you're an asshole."
"What the fuck?"
"I just asked if you wanted to join me while I streaked down Main Street and you nodded. What the hell is going on?"
"Jesus, nothing. I’m sick of listening to the same old same old with you. Just fucking ask her out already, would you? You’re worse than Ross and Rachel, for fuck’s sake, and I’m tired of tuning in to see if they will or if they won’t.”
"Nope, don’t blame me. You’re the one with the problem. Get up,” he demanded, setting the ratchet on the floor with a clatter. “Tell me why you've been a surly, killjoy prick for weeks." Rex crossed his arms over his chest and Luke curled his lip in reply.
"Who the hell are you now, Doctor Phil? Mind your own god damned business."
Rex moved to pull Luke up by the scruff of his neck, but Luke shoved him, hard. "Back off."
Rex shoved him back and Luke lost balance as he connected with the floor. For a moment, he considered sweeping out his foot and taking Rex's legs out from under him and making this an old school tussle. But then he glanced up to find genuine concern in his brother's face and he sighed deeply before getting to his feet and making his way toward the garage's little mini fridge. Grabbing two beers, he wiped the sweat from the outside of the can and then popped the top before taking a long pull from one.
He handed the unopened can to Rex who eyed it momentarily before taking it.
"Come on. Let’s go get some fresh air and I'll tell you what's going on.” He paused to hold up a warning finger. “But if you try to get all Oprah on me, I swear to god that I will never tell you anything ever again."
Rex didn't bother to respond, but instead followed Luke as he led him toward the huge oak tree in the middle of the backyard. In the kitchen window, they could see their mother feeding the baby a late lunch, a splatter of strained peas decorating her white blouse like a Jackson Pollock painting.
“So, spill it,” Rex demanded, settling himself on the grass beside Luke.
"You remember the night by the lake, the first race of the summer?”