Jace~
 
“Hey Jace, whatcha doin tonight?” Jordan’s voice called from his room across the hall. He dragged out the words in a slow, irritating manner.

“Have date,” I shouted back, busily cramming my history book under the bed—wouldn’t need that again until the frantic rush of Monday morning.

“Mmm,” I could hear my younger brother thumping something that sounded like a pen against his bedframe. “With Kinsey?”

“Yes, with McKinsey.” I rolled my eyes. “We’re still dating.” He let out a snort. “What’s your problem with her?” I don’t know why I asked; I didn’t care.

“I don’t have a problem with Kinsey.” Happily, he stopped dragging his words out.

“Then why do you always fuss about her?” I jumped. He had silently moved from his room to my doorway. Seeing him there made me slightly claustrophobic; he was just so big, he dwarfed everything. At sixteen he was almost 6’5"; add broad shoulders and long arms and it felt like a giant was stalking its prey.

I knew he was self-conscious about his height so I only brought it up when he was really aggravating me. Most people didn’t know he cared—the average person sees someone tall and assumes they are happy about it. Well, not when they’re sixteen and a foot taller than everyone else. He carried himself as if he didn’t care, but I knew he did. A couple of his close friends knew, but for the most part he smiled and laughed at all the jokes; sometimes he even made them himself.

“Why would you think I didn’t like Kinsey?” he frowned.

I paused while looking for the pants I wanted. He was gay, but still, there was something weird about him when it came to McKinsey. The way he called her ‘Kinsey’, always running his fingers through her hair, Sometimes he would pull her onto his lap, and one time I swear he had a boner when she got up.

“You need a boyfriend,” I glanced back. “And stop calling her Kinsey. I hate it when do you that.”

Jordan grinned, he always thought it was funny when I was angry. “Does she hate it?” he whispered.

I glared at him. “Get outta my room and stop acting straight,” I shouted. “I’m beginning to have serious doubts you’re gay.”

“Oh, I’m gay,” he sighed, pushing himself off the door jam. “I am so gay.”

“Jordan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” I jogged across the hall. “I know you’re not hitting on McKinsey. I don’t know what got into me.” He sat on his bed, picking at a thumbnail. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just got claustrophobic and all… I mean… there was a giant in my room.” I hoped a feeble attempt at humor would bring him around.

He smiled, “So weird, I was just across the hall and this little shrimp kept sayin' I was hittin' on his woman…” He stood up and his arms snaked around my back so fast I didn’t register it had happened.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he whispered, his forehead pressed against mine. I closed my eyes—it was weird looking at someone so close. He must have just been chewing gum because I could smell the mint on his breath.

I couldn’t stand it and opened my eyes again. His lips were so close, I could reach out and kiss them if I wanted. What? Why did I just think of that? His hand moved to the back of my head, pushing me closer; shivers ran down my spine. “I would rather fuck my own brother than make out with the sexiest....” for a half second his hot lips melted into mine.

My heart pounded. Instinctively, I leaned into him and my arms started to reach for his neck. I felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath. My eyes flew open and I gasped, backing up. What the hell? His hands dropped away and he stood still, watching me, then laughed and shook his head. “You’re too much, Jace. Get goin' or you’ll be late.”

I slowly made my way back to my room, my lips burned where he’d kissed them. The sound of his door slamming made me jump, I turned and stared at it. Did that really just happen? What was wrong with him? What was wrong with me?

My phone vibrated—it was McKinsey, wanting to know if I was still coming to get her. Shit, I was late. I started to say goodbye to Jordan, but thought better of it. Running down the stairs I yelled that I was leaving to our moms instead.

“Bye, sweetie,” they called out in unison.

Yes, we have two moms, they’ve been together since before I was born. I know they say there isn’t a gay gene, but I think they have it wrong. There are my moms, then Jordan’s gay, and both moms have several cousins who aren’t straight, then of course Mother’s brother is gay. Yes, I’m sure that was fun. Jordan’s grandparents only had two kids—one’s a lesbian and one’s gay.

Jordan and I aren’t actually related, our mom’s both had sperm donors, but we’ve been raised as brothers and frankly, I can’t imagine anything else.

Kids used to give us shit about our moms but as Mother (we call Jordan’s mom Mother) always says, “Who gives a flying fuck in hell? We’re awesome!” Mom gets on to her all the time for swearing, but I think she’s fun. If people don’t realize something bothers you, they tend to leave you alone about it. It’s been a little harder for Jordan than it has for the moms. They don’t care that they’re lesbians; he wishes he were straight.

I feel bad for him, but there’s nothing I can do—that’s just the way he was born. Maybe Mom and Mother felt that way when they were his age, I don’t know. I think his main problem is being alone so much. He’s only dated a couple of guys and neither lasted very long. He just doesn’t know many gay people, at least I don’t think he does. Shockingly, I have terrible gaydar, but I’m pretty sure he’s one of very few around here.