Page 98 of Vicious Little Snakes

They look at each other and laugh before the dude sitting next to me mocks me in a shitty impersonation saying, “Yeah, we’re talking about tagging,” making me sound like I should be on a yacht.

Now I laugh, “Fuck you,” but the brothers stand staring down, Mac shrugging.

“You down, or are you exactly what you look like?”

Matias finishing, “Boring.”

My head shifts between them. Matias doesn’t mean boring. He means the same thing everyone else has said—lost. But it’s about fucking time I figured out what kind of statement I want to make. I push off the couch to stand, accepting their challenge.

“I’m down, but stop standing next to each other and finishing each other’s sentences. It’s too redrum for me.”

They smile, slapping my hand. Matias pulls the hoodie of his black puffer jacket over his head. “Dude, stick with us. You won’t regret it—and maybe you’ll learn a few things. Get less undecided, right?”

I grin, pulling my jacket on, just as my phone buzzes in my hand, but I pocket it, ignoring the text, following the brothers out to get some of that real-life experience I’m lacking.

* * *

I step back from the cement wall in the alley, staring at the colorful picture. Mac looks over at me.

“You sure you never did this shit before?”

My head shifts to Matias as he says, “Yeah, he’s new…look at his boots. Spray off be real.”

I laugh, feeling light. No burdens, no worries, no fucking regret. These two were right. Fuck, even the Columbia chair was right—I’ve been living in a box. My mind may be expanding, but some things will never change because the wall of my father’s building looks like Caroline gave it a kiss.

Mac nudges my shoulder. “Hot lips.”

“Your girl’s?” Matias adds.

I lift my phone, taking a picture of my creation, and smile. “Yeah. My girl’s.”

* * *

My knife slices through the turkey on my plate as my parents politely chew their food. The tension’s thick enough to suffocate us all. The day after my father and I exchanged words, he left on business, but now he’s back for Thanksgiving, and it’s everything I expected it to be.

Tense. Polite. And fucking irritating.

My mom looks up over the table at me and smiles before shifting her gaze to my father. “Tucker, did you hear the boys won their last race? They’re undefeated.”

He grunts as an answer while chewing—his way of saying, “I’m still pissed.” I choose to ignore it, discreetly pulling my phone from my pocket as it vibrates to check the message under the table.

Matias:11 p.m. Same building as last time. Good call on that, btw.

Taking them to my father’s building was immature, ridiculous, and yet I’m not remotely sorry because there’s some kind of poetic justice in it.

I start to close my phone but stop short, scrolling up to Caroline’s message a week ago. I’ve thought about how to respond a hundred different ways from Sunday, but in the end, Caroline and I shouldn’t go there, not after how I felt in that hall. Touching her wasn’t just physical. That girl left a lasting impression that’s impossible as fuck to shake.

Not that I’m trying too hard. But I promised Caroline I’d walk away for the both of us. Pocketing my phone, I go back to eating in silence, this time with a smile on my face. My father dabs the napkin to the sides of his mouth before speaking.

“I understand the Crimson Crew is having open rowing sessions over the Christmas break. You may want to attend to solidify a spot on the team for next year. Especially now that you’re undefeated.”

Is he fucking serious?Of course, he is.I huff a laugh and keep eating, stabbing the tines into the turkey roughly.

He clears his throat. “And why is that funny, Liam?”

That’s it, Tucker. The sound of my fork dropping clangs against the china as I stare at him. I lean back into my chair, crossing my arms, stretching my legs out in front of me.

“Well, it’s funny for two reasons. The first is that you think I’m still attending Harvard. You had to know that I’d get here—to manhood, albeit a tad late, but nonetheless, here. It’s what you’ve been trying to teach me, right, Father? And two, and really the main reason it’s funny, is because you think I’d need to try out for any crew team. I’m second in the country to an Olympian, Tucker. And my second isn’t anyone else’s first.”