Cruiser (3 page)

Cruiser

Music plays from inside the house. Bach, is it? Mozart? Who gives a damn. I park my bike in the garage. Rey stands in the middle of the living room, violin in tow. It’s pressed so hard into his neck I wouldn’t be surprised if his skin starts to swell.

The parents sit around him like they have front row orchestra seats. Eyes shining with pride, love, respect.
They’re so into it they don’t hear the floor creak beneath my feet. Rey does, though, maybe because he needs a break. I’ve seen how hard the parents are on him, how they tell him to play the piece over and over until he gets it right. I remember how my arms would kill after practice. Glad I gave that shit up years ago.

“Sup, Cruise?” Rey says, resting his violin and bow on the coffee table. He looks so glad for the break—stretches his arms and wipes the sweat off his forehead.
He’s not a quitter like me.

“That was beautiful, Reagan.” Mom scurries over and kisses his cheek, his other cheek, his forehead.
I bet he’s the only sixteen year old guy to let his mom do that. “Dad and I are so proud of you. I noticed a few small mistakes at the beginning of the piece. Keep practicing and you’ll be perfect.”

“Elvis,” Dad says. “Where have you been all evening?”

Geez. Does he even remember I got a job? Even when I’m doing something right, I’m doing something wrong. “You checking up on me, Dad?”

“We had a meeting scheduled for this evening.
You’re late.”

Yeah, talk to me like I’m your client
. And about the meeting? Screw that. “The name’s Cruiser.”

“We put up with this Cruiser nonsense when you were a little boy, but you’re not a child anymore
,” Mom says, her eyes not hiding the frustration and disappointment that have gathered over the years. “It’s a new year, a new start. We will call you by the name we gave you.”

Hm
m, did they take into consideration that maybe their kids wouldn’t like to be named after the king of rock and the former president? Wait, guess I can only speak for myself. Rey’s never had a problem with his name.

“Let’s
sit down,” Dad says, gesturing to the sofa.

I
sit down on the recliner. Rey stands awkwardly at the door, probably debating whether he should stick around. I’d rather he did—I don’t like the parents ganging up on me.

“
Now that you’re back, let’s discus your future,” Dad says, clasping his hands together like this really
is
a meeting.

“I told you guys
last night,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “I’m joining the Navy after I graduate.”

“
No,” Mom says. “The Navy is not the right choice for you. I won’t say it again.”

I grit my teeth. She’s taking on that tone
again, that I-control-what-you-do-so-you-better-listen-to-what-I-say tone that made me her little puppet when I was a kid. I’ve had enough of it then and I’ve had enough of it now. “I’m out,” I say, getting to me feet.

“
You sit right there, Elvis. The Navy is out of the question. Period.” Mom pulls a stack of papers off the coffee table. “I spoke to the guidance counselor this afternoon and we came up with some options…”

I can’t believe this.
“I’m going to join the Navy. Do something brave and honorable.”

“Joining the Navy requires
commitment and responsibility,” Dad says. “Are you sure you can handle that?”

“Yes,” I mutter. “I can handle
it.”

“We’re not discussing that because he’s
not
joining,” Mom says, crumpling the papers.

“Most parents would be proud of their son who wants to serve his country. But you won’t back down until you have the final say, ain’t that right?”

“Proud, Elvis?” She almost spits the words out. “Reagan’s someone to be proud of. He’s studying for the SATs and his FCAT. He’s involved in extracurricular activities. Where have you been spending your time since you came back? Off gallivanting with girls!”

My fists clench
.

I stomp up to my bedroom and slam the door, grab a pillow and fling it at the wall. Just when I
think they might listen to reason, they tell me what to do, shoot down my dreams and hopes. Just like they’ve always done. When are they finally going to let me be my own person? Rey and I are twins, but that doesn’t mean we have to be the same. I kick my desk’s leg. One. Two. Three. The damn thing caves and my desk tips to the side. My school crap slides off and splatters to the floor.

“Ge
ez, Cruise.” Rey’s at the door.

“Shit.”

“Easy, bro.” Rey lowers himself onto my swivel chair and props his elbows on the armrests. Leans back. “Never seen you this angry.”

“Your parents! I hate them.
”

“You never cared what they thought before.” He drums his fingers on the armrests.

I
sink down on the bed. “Hell, I don’t care what they say.”

“Then why trash your room?”

Because all my life I’ve wanted them to just
listen
. I got a brain and I sure as hell know how to use it. “Joining the Navy is an honorable thing to do,” I say.

“Yeah
, but you know how Mom gets. Her growing up with a Navy captain dad and all the crap she had to deal with.” He shrugs. “She’s just looking out for you, y’know.”

I don’t want her
looking out for me. I just want her to accept my damn decisions and not make me feel stupid for thinking them. And I just wish Dad would say something instead of sitting in the passenger seat. “Forget this. Got time for a few rounds of
All For One
?”

“Sure.”

My anger seeps out of me as I hunt down soldiers. I don’t think about the parents or the future, or even Lex.

I’ve missed spending time with Rey. We kept in touch
throughout the year, but it wasn’t the same. He and I have always been tight. Never hated one another like some other twins. He’s one of the reasons I decided to come back. Now that I’m here, it’s like I never left. We’ve fallen back into how things used to be. Like we were never separated. I worried things would be strained, but we’re cool. Maybe it’s a twin thing.

Rey’s
phone sings the melody of Pachelbel’s
Canon
. From the little time I’ve been here, I know it’s Lex’s ring. I scan the screen, see her name. Like I’m seeing her. Being close to her. Damn, I
need
to stop thinking about her. She’s not mine.

Rey
ignores it.

“Lex?” I ask
, keeping my voice neutral.

He shrugs. “Yeah.”

My thumb slips off the button of my controller. “Something not right on Planet Love?”

He shrugs again. “
She keeps blowing me off. It’s always one excuse after another, so I’m ignoring her tonight.”

I want to tell him to get his butt over to her house, gather her into his arms, and kiss her
until her lips go numb. Man, if only…

“Call her back, Rey.”

He doesn’t say anything.

Sweat gathers under my arms and the back of my neck. I pull off my shirt and hurl it across the room. “Come on, man,” I say. “Call her back. She probably needs you right now. You got something good going on with Lex. Don’t screw it up.”

He gets to his feet. “Yeah, you’re right. Catch you later.”

“Later.”

He can’t screw things up with her because she loves him. And he loves her. Only a dick would try to break them up. And as much as I want Lex, I’m no dick. He’s got to be the perfect boyfriend to her, make up for all that I’ve done.

Lex

Rey and I are making out on his living room couch while a romance movie plays in the background. No awkward silences, no worrying what’s wrong with us and desperately trying to fix it. Making out is also the best way to take my mind off the problems going on at home. Before I escaped here, Mom and Dad argued again. No, not argued. Arguments are exchanged between two civilized people. My parents were at war when I left the house. Instead of talking things through calmly like caring, devoted parents, they yelled so loud they could have cracked the walls or shattered the glass cups drying on the kitchen counter.

What’s worse is that Rosie’s home. I
offered to take her for ice cream, but she insisted on finishing her computer game and watching her next TV show. All excuses. Rosie likes to torture herself by listening to how she causes such a rift in the family. Which is not true, but that’s the lesson my parents teach her with their bickering. I can’t stand being there.

With Rey’s arms around me, I feel protected and loved, something I never want to lose. Even though we haven’t communicated properly in what feels like forever
, I know we’ll get back on track soon—we
need
to. Maybe when he’s no longer tied down to his extracurricular activities, or when he’s no longer stressing over his recital.

I kiss his lips, then run my finger across his cheek. I have this fantasy of combing my fingers through my boyfriend’s hair, but Rey has a buzz cut and refuses to grow it long like his brother.
 I wonder what it’d feel like to…no! I
can’t
think about that.

“Why do you always have to pick these movies?”
 Rey mumbles. For a second I forget where I am, and for even a slighter second, I think I’m with Cruiser. I hit the side of my head like that’ll help get his face out of my mind. Rey cocks an eyebrow.

Oh
, he just asked me a question. What was it again…? “We watch these movies because documentaries put me to sleep.” All of the sudden, I feel suffocated by Rey’s proximity.

It seems like he feels the opposite because
when I try to slide away from him, he pushes me deeper into the couch, leans down and presses his lips to mine. “Documentaries make you smarter. Open your eyes to things you’ve never seen or thought about before. Romance movies are all fake.” He kisses me harder, like he hasn’t kissed me in weeks, and rests his nose on mine.

“Rey?”

“Yeah?”

I want to ask
what’s going on with us. But instead I say, “Is everything okay?”

He picks a strand of my hair off my shoulder and sniffs it. “Strawberry-flavored this time?”
he asks and I laugh lightly. Trust Rey to remember the scents of all my shampoos. He twirls the strand around his finger. “I’m just nervous, I guess. My violin instructor told me some scouts are going to show up at my recital. No pressure there.”

“Scouts from Juilliard?” I ask, sitting up
and forcing him to roll off me.

“Yeah, I think so.”

It’s been both our dreams to get into Juilliard after high school and live in New York. But with my doubts about dancing, I don’t know what to think anymore.

“Let’s not talk about this,” I say, pulling him to me and wra
pping my arms around his neck. I press my lips to his.

He kisses my neck, and when he reaches a sensitive spot, I feel like I’ve been transported into another world, where it rains chocolate and smells like flowers. I’m floating up and up and n
ever will come down until—

Until he jerks back
. Footsteps come down the hall.

“It’s just Cruiser,” Rey mutters before leaning in for another kiss. The Dalton twins have
always had an uncanny ability to sense when the other one is near.

I turn my face and Rey’s lips brush my cheek. “What’s wrong?”
 

“Not in front of…” I rasp, my heart beating so fast I’m scared the b
lood may burst out of my veins.

“Who?
Cruiser?”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Cruiser says, checking himself in the hall mirror. “I’m g
oing out tonight.”

He’s wearing black jeans and a tight blue shirt.

“New girl?” Rey leans toward my lips again. I shove at his chest, but my hands are like rubber bands.

“You bet.” Cruiser shuffles his hair until it falls over his eyes to get his perfect “bad boy” look. “Goes by the name
Erica.” His reflection winks at me, then stares at me, and I can’t take my eyes off the mirror.

My ears pound.

“Oh, the chick you picked up at work. Where’re you taking her?” Rey locks his fingers though mine and squeezes. I look at him and try to muster a smile, but my eyes flick back to Cruiser’s reflection. His eyes are still on me.

“Her house,” Cru
iser says. My stomach clenches.

Cruiser gives the mirror a thumbs-up. “I’ll be home late
. What you kids doing tonight?”

“Just hanging out,” Rey says.

Cruiser turns around. His brother can’t see him because he’s facing me, so he can’t see how Cruiser is looking at me. I pry my eyes away.

“I’ll catch ya later,”
he throws over his shoulder as he heads out the door.

Once
it slams after him, Rey’s lips seek mine. As I press myself closer to him, an uninvited thought enters my head. Cruiser kissing me. Exploring my body. He was the first guy I kissed at fourteen. We’re older now—would Cruiser touch more? Rey holds back because I’m his first girlfriend and he’s very hesitant about major touching. Would Cruiser trail his fingers up my shirt? Would he fling me down on the couch, yank at my hair, kiss me deeper?

I blink a few times and my stomach swirls when I realize what’s actually going on in my mind. How could I even think this? I love Rey. I want to be with him, want to spend all my time with him. Why’s Cruiser invading my thoughts—my heart? I
haven’t stopped thinking about him since he arrived from New York. I stay up all night and see him before me. His sincere, dark brown eyes, his wild, wavy hair. The soft, gentle hands that held mine a year ago and filled me with hope and promises.

I pull away from Rey.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Tears fill my eyes. I wish Cruiser would return to his grandparents.

“Are you okay?” Rey cups my cheek.

I swallow the tears and the guilt, and force a smile. “Yeah, thanks.”

He returns the smile. “Okay. Want to focus on the movie?”

Sometimes he looks so similar to Cruiser. If the twins would dress the same and if Cruiser would chop off all his hair and lose his six pack, they could look almost identical. And the way Rey’s smirking, it looks just like one of Cruiser’s cocky grins.

I shove those thoughts away and promise myself to ignore all Cruiser-related thoughts. Let him live his life with all his girls, and I’ll live mine with Rey, who’s the right guy for me. “I’ll make popcorn,” I say.