Page 202 of Burn Bright

Tom tilts up his face toward him, so Beckett can inspect the puffy eyelid. “With a microphone.”

“Keep ice on it.” Beckett presses a hand to Tom’s shoulder, then nods to me and Ben. “You two need anything? I’m in for the night.”

We shake our heads. “Thanks, Beck,” Ben says.

“Have you seen this hippo movie?” Tom asks Beckett, angling the laptop.

“Okja? Yeah, it’s really good. It’s one of Ben’s favorites.”

Ben smiles at Tom. “I knew he’d like it.”

“I like parts of it,” Tom defends. “The sci-fi elements are just taking me out. There’s still time for improvement.” The door opens again.

As Charlie enters, he kicks off his loafers and immediately asks Tom, “Have you told Eliot?”

Tom sinks down, his arm sliding against mine. “I’m not interrupting his date with that Gertrude girl. The minute he finds out, he’ll rush over here.”

“You need to tell him,” Beckett says smoothly. “He’ll bring her here just to kick her out when he sees you’re hurt and hears about the band.”

Charlie peels his shirt off his head. “No one wants to spend the night trying to get rid of his grating, clingy date.” He’s unbuttoning his pants. Is anyone seeing this? Is this normal?Charlie just walks down the hallway, mid-stripping to likely take a shower.

Beckett never switches to French in front of me. He lets me hear everything, and I think it’s this exact moment when I realize I might be in the inner circle of the Cobalt Empire.

Ben and I wake as the morning sun streams across the couch, and then his therapist calls. While he slips into Eliot and Tom’s bathroom to do a short session, I head to the smaller half-bath and run into a problem I wished to never meet at the Cobalt brothers’ apartment.

“Really?Really?” I mutter to myself, spinning the empty toilet paper roll in the powder bath. Thankfully, I haven’t peed yet and can easily check the cupboard under the sink…and…no TP.Ben.Ben is obviouslynotthe solution here, even if my brain is trying to will it to be.

I’m not disturbing his therapy session for toilet paper. But the pressure in my bladder demands relief, and holding it for thirty minutes isn’t an option.

I go through the alternatives. Barge into Charlie and Beckett’s bathroom without asking.No way.Clogging the powder bath’s toilet with paper towels.Hell no. I’d rather pee myself than be found standing in a lake of toilet water with a plunger in hand.

Looks like I’ll be waking one of them up to do the adult thing and justaskfor some TP. I wince, picturing this face-to-face interaction. I would be more comfortable looking them in the eyes and asking for a condom—and I don’t even want to know what that says about me.

I could avoid eye contact by sending a message, but Beckett doesn’t eventext. And I’m not going to text Charlie. In fact, I don’t even want to ask Charlie at all because he might not help me. I’ll gladly choose the more intimidating brother if it means a guaranteed successful outcome. So this all leads me on a trek down their hallway to find Beckett.

Brand new territory, yippee.

If only this expedition had a map because I can’t tell which door leads to Beckett’s room or Charlie’s, and before I playWhat’s Behind Door Number One?my ears catch mutterings through the wood.

“…I know, but he’s only hanging around when she’s here, Charlie. He will actively avoid the apartment otherwise.”

Charlie doesn’t want me here? Beckett is trying to convince him to let me stay? These theories sprout from earth that Ben would consider polluted and erosive. There isn’t much that says Charlie dislikes my presence, so why do I instantly think I'm a problem?

All I picture is my mom.

“He trusts her? He loves her? He would do anything for her?” Charlie throws out like potential possibilities. “If he has told anyone anything, it’s been to her.”

“We need to ask Harriet,” Beckett whispers, so I take a teeny step closer, pressing my ear to the door. “…he’s been more himself when he’s with her. I don’t like the look on his face when he’s alone with us, Charlie. I’m telling you, something still isn’t right.”

They fall too hushed.

Then the door whips open. I jerk back the same time Charlie stares me down, then he swings the door wider to show Beckett. As though he knows I find himfarmore intimidating.

“Look, a recreational eavesdropper,” Charlie says like he’s tarnishing my resume.

“One-timeeavesdropper,” I correct. “I just came to ask for some toilet paper.”

“Come in here.” Beckett gestures me forward. He even peeks in the hallway behind me, as if ensuring none of his other brothers are lurking. Then Charlie catches my wrist andpullsme into the room, breaking my threaded arms apart.