Page 152 of Lovers Like Us

My brows scrunch. “What the fuck are youdrinking?”

He takes a sip. “Can you not read?” He angles the green and blue can at the camera. The label insight.

“I see a Sprite. A Coca-Cola product,” I remind him, “our family’scompetitor.”

Xander chugs, then burps. “I’ve got a whole case under my bed. I keep telling Uncle Stokes to make a clear-colored Fizz drink. But he’s not having it…so…” Xander hoists his can to thecamera.

All four Calloway sisters have shares and stock in Fizzle. The soda empire ties the Cobalts, Hales, Meadows, and Stokes together. But after my grandpa stepped down as CEO, he handed the reigns to SamStokes.

You know nothing about the Stokes family. Poppy Calloway, the oldest sister, and her husband Sam Stokes managed to steer clear of the media. Their only daughter is an actress, filming a movie in Canada right now, and I keep in touch through text. But we’re all in different stages of ourlives.

Xander pops open a second Spritecan.

“Traitor,” I say into asmile.

His lips almost lift, but honestly, I’m not sure the last time my little brother had a full-blown smile on his face. Maybe when we went LARPing a few yearsback.

He pries the tab off his can, his mouth down-turning, and his amber eyes drop again. “You deserve being called a traitor more than me rightnow.”

What? I see myself in a tiny box on the FaceTime screen. My brows pull together, face sharpened. I shift uncomfortably on my bunk. The space suddenly feels cramped andsmall.

“Why is that?” I ask, my voicetight.

“You’re not attending Mom and Dad’s vow renewal,” he says with a shrug, like it doesn’t really matter, but he looks sad. “Just like you missed mybirthday.”

My muscles bind. I try to sit up a bitmore.

I should’ve fucking known he’d surface this. Our parents just announced a second wedding in April to renew their vows. The media published the story like American royalty just declared the biggest ceremony of theyear.

It made so many headlines that paparazzi raced back to Philly. Like ants returning to their mud hill. And about five hours ago, we lost the last van that’d been trailing our tourbus.

My mom and dad—they did that for Security Force Omega. Knowing a wedding announcement would reroute the media’s attention. And seeing the look on the bodyguards’ faces when the roads cleared…it made me immeasurablyproudto call them myparents.

Maybe in Xander’s eyes, if I really loved Mom and Dad, I’d be at their vow renewal. But it’s not thateasy.

The FanCon ends the same day as the wedding. It ensures that paparazzi will stay in Philly during the rest of the tour and not bombard us. Our parents chose that wedding date, knowing I wouldn’t be able toattend.

“I made a commitment to this tour,” I tell my brother. “If I could be there, I would. You know I miss you a fuckington.”

He squeezes the soda can, the aluminum crushing a bit. “Yeah, me too, and I get it. I guess.” He sighs heavily, his hair hanging in his face as he slumps. “Hey, so I’ve been meaning to ask you…” He glances to his right, checking for any eavesdroppers where his door used tobe.

“Yeah?”

He chugs his soda and wipes his mouth on his arm. “I know Mom was addicted to masturbating or whatever. That means we could be addicted to that kind of stuff, too. So what’s liketoomuch?”

“Too much jerking off?” Iask.

“Yeah. Is there…like a number or something?” He tucks his hair behind his ear again. I see myself at fifteen, questioning every damnthing.

“Are you having sex?” I ask, realizing we haven’t talked about this stuff in awhile.

“With my hand,” hereplies.

“That doesn’tcount.”

“Then no.” He tosses his crushed can somewhere. It sounds like it lands on hardwood. “If you don’t give me a number, I’ll just ask Luna, and she gives shitty advice, so I know you don’t want that. Take pity on me.” Hebelches.

I smile, about to tell him there’s not a number, but the bus comes to a rocky, abrupt halt. A mechanical screech pitches theair.