Page 13 of Sharing Shadow Secrets (High Five Novella #6)

M organ, Gwen, and I clink our cocktail glasses, celebrating this new business owning chapter for me at our local corner dive bar.

It’s less than one hundred steps from our apartment, and we have a rule that we only wear yoga pants to this bar for max comfort.

I also don’t think they’ve updated their pricing in years. It’s hilariously cheap.

While I’m celebrating, I’m also reeling about these last couple of texts from Brandon.

I slide my phone across the wood bar toward my roommates. I know I’m being rude being on my phone, but Brandon and I were flirting hard.

Morgan picks it up, and her eyes go wide. “This escalated quickly. A kiss emoji! He’s in love.”

“What did you wear to the barbecue?” Gwen asks.

“The dress we got at that boutique in Wicker Park.”

“Oh you looked hot at the barbecue. He probably saw your rack and was like goddamn .”

I giggle before Morgan says, “It was her ass. Not her tits. Guys aren’t really into tits anymore.” Her bluntness is an acquired taste that I am very fond of. “Ever since the advent of Instagram, they’re all ass guys now.”

“I will never have an ass, no matter how many squats I do.” Gwen sighs.

“Isn’t your roster like five guys deep?” Morgan challenges. “Your flat ass is doing just fine.”

Gwen playfully shrugs. My roommates and I are the best and worst influences on each other.

“I haven’t heard about your roster in a while,” Gwen says, staring right at me.

“I fired all of them so no roster at the present moment.”

I was just so fucking bored with them.

“Billionaire Brandon bought us dinner. He’s on the roster,” Morgan says, tapping her glass into mine.

“Don’t you have to sleep with the guy before he’s on the roster?”

The girls both tilt their heads.

“Yes,” Gwen says.

“No,” Morgan says.

They start debating, but I’m daydreaming about seeing Brandon Dubois.

Wednesday, July 23rd

Brandon

Here.

I t’s seven thirty. So prompt. I check myself out in the full-length mirror in my room. A sundress is the right idea for tonight. Straightening my hair was a choice I rarely make, but it helped get all of my nervous energy out because I’m really excited to see Brandon.

I have no idea what we’re doing, and honestly, that’s fun. I’ve been cranking away on my business, building my own website, creating my service packages, and establishing a social media presence. I need to practice what I preach, so my socials need to be perfection.

Nearly running down the stairs of our walk-up apartment, I open the door, seeing Brandon on the sidewalk, taking in the neighborhood.

No loafers. Maybe I was a bully? And now he’s self-conscious about it.

He looks so good in an oversized graphic tee, shorts, white tennis shoes, and a backwards hat. Okay, IG boyfriend.

“Hey!” I smile, approaching.

He goes in for a hug, and I hug him back. Brandon’s squeezing me tight, and the seconds are racking up. This is a long hug. He lets go and reaches for my hand. “I think we should have a vibes night,” he says, smiling down at me.

“What does that mean?” I ask, feeling all sorts of ways by him holding my hand.

“Let’s stroll around and then grab dinner at a place that catches our eye.”

I love this idea. It’s nearly eighty degrees and it won't be dark for another hour or so. A perfect summer date.

“Sounds good.” He guides me down the quiet residential street I live on. It’s a mix of freshly built homes and vintage apartment buildings. “How was Zurich and Germany?”

“Zurich was stiff. Berlin was exhausting.”

“Isn’t Berlin, like, known for partying?”

“Yeah.” He shakes his head. “I did a lot of babysitting.”

Hesitating, wondering how appropriate it is to talk about his sobriety, I just ask what I’m thinking. “You can go to bars and stuff?”

“I go to bars here and there. I prefer to stay out of them, but it’s not like my sobriety is that fragile that I can’t be around drugs and alcohol.”

I nod and decide to share, “I drink a couple times a week. I rarely drink on school nights.”

“School nights,” he repeats, squeezing my hand, and I really like holding hands with him. I feel so comfortable with Brandon. “You’re funny.”

“Not cute?” I quip back because he has literally never said anything about my appearance. Like, does he think I’m attractive? Usually guys are like “wow you look great” when they see you. But he just hugged me.

“You’re very cute.”

Why am I so desperate for more than “very cute”?

“You’re not so bad looking yourself.” I smile up at him. Curious about how a sober guy was on a bachelor party in Berlin, I ask, “Your friends couldn’t have picked something more low key for the party?”

“I’ve known the guy my whole life, but we’ve been drifting apart. It felt like an obligation to go.”

I hum, completely understanding. Half of the weddings I’ve attended felt like an obligation. “I get that. Most of my high school friends are married with kids already.”

“All my core friends are in such different places in life. Three of us are sober. A couple are sober curious, and there are the guys who are still raging. Berlin was obviously with one of the ragers.”

“Isn’t that a little insensitive to invite you all out there then?” I ask as we keep walking down the city sidewalk.

“The things we do for the people we love.” He shrugs.

I giggle, then ask, “Make out with anyone?”

“No. You?”

“No. Just licked some envelopes. I can’t believe some of the old school shit that exists in the world today. I had to mail a physical check this week.”

“I had to fly to Switzerland to sign some documents—painfully aware.”

He’s funny . I like it.

“Did you ever watch Succession ?”

Because if he has three siblings, then it could have been written about him.

“No.”

“Because your life is the show?” I press.

“Basically … My dad refuses to retire. He attempts it. The longest he’s gone without working is three months. He’s in his seventies and can’t quit.”

I nod and consider how he’s never mentioned his mom. “What’s your mom like?”

“Dead.”

My jaw drops at how blasé he said that.

“I don’t have any memories of her. She died when I was three.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, squeezing his hand, feeling awkward about bringing up such a sensitive topic.

“One of the many reasons why I’m fucked up.”

I squeeze his hand again, disagreeing, although I’m just getting to know him. We silently walk east toward Lake Michigan for a few paces, the buildings transitioning from residential to commercial.

“I don’t get bad vibes from you. So I don’t think you’re that fucked up.”

He smiles down at me, then asks, “When did you start trusting the vibes?”

“Pretty much always. I don’t know. I feel like I have always been able to read people.”

“Did you have a normal childhood?” he asks, squeezing my hand as he does.

“On paper, yes. But the internet has been showing me how fucked some of it was. Like I guess not everyone’s parents scream at each other regularly.”

“Are they still together?” he asks, his brow knitting.

“Yeah. Helps them feel superior to their divorced friends more than anything,” I quip.

“Talk to them much?”

“Eh,” I say with a shrug, trying to remember the last time we spoke on the phone.

He chuckles. “Well, I won’t be talking to Kent Dubois until January, which was worth flying to Switzerland for. Gotta protect my peace.”

I laugh lightly. “Sometimes I think I’m too good at that when I haven’t seen any family in months, but then I start to feel guilty about it.”

And now I feel guilty that I haven’t called my mom and told her I quit my job yet. Tomorrow. I’ll call her tomorrow.

“I feel that.” He nods. “Do you have siblings?”

“A younger sister. She is so Gen Z. Lives in a van with a cellphone without internet. Like full on Luddite. So needless to say, we couldn’t be more different. Do you have siblings?”

“Sort of. My dad’s been married a few times. I have some former step siblings, but I’m my dad’s only kid.”

“What’s a few times?” I ask as we turn down Wells St., the busiest street in Old Town. The sounds of restaurants’ and bars’ competing playlists spill over.

“Four. He will never be satisfied in life …” Brandon trails off, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been assuming we’re about the same age. I’m thirty. How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“You’re pretty young for me.” He chuckles.

“Oh?” I ask, raising my voice.

“My ex is thirty-seven.”

“Older woman. Look at you.”

Another surprising fun fact about Brandon.

“Maturity wise …” He trails off, then shakes his head.

“Why didn’t it work out?”

“Every reason. Mainly, she struggles with sobriety and that’s … a lot. The weight of her calling one day and being messed up and me dropping what I’m doing to get her or take care of her and talk her into getting help. It was an emotionally taxing relationship.”

Sounds like it. Brandon’s a better person than me, being there for her through all of that.

“That’s tough,” I say.

“Yeah.”

“Well … I’ve never had a real boyfriend. I’m a pro at situationships and fuck buddies.” I shrug, and he furrows his brows, looking down at me. “What?” I ask, not understanding his expression.

“Who called off these situationships? You or them? Because I bet it’s you.”

I tilt my head. “Why do you bet it’s me?”

“Sometimes you seem a little guarded.”

“That’s fair.”

And not a lie.

He pauses in front of a white and blue painted brick building. “Want to eat here?”

The logo is reminiscent of an evil eye, and the name looks Greek. I’ve never eaten here before and now want to.