Max slept like a freaking baby. Or at least, he assumed he did. He didn’t remember dreaming, or going to bed in the first place, which he took as evidence that he went down like a redwood.
At one point, the sunlight streaming through his window roused him, but when he glanced at his phone and saw that it was only ten, he grumbled, “Fuck that,” rolled over, and went right back to sleep.
It wasn’t until Aiden barged into his room—nattering on about sleep cycles or circadian rhythms or whatever geek shit was in his arsenal today—that Max finally sat up in bed and made a genuine effort to wake up.
He managed to crack one eye open and keep it that way, though the other remained glued shut. He focused on Aiden. “May I help you?”
“Have you heard a word I’ve said?” Aiden folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. Instead of his usual sweats and a T-shirt, he was wearing new dark-wash jeans and a fitted red flannel with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. If Max didn’t know any better, he’d think Aiden had gotten dressed up.
“Sure I have, but the good news is, I’m too dumb to understand any of it.”
“Max, for the umpteenth time, you’re not dumb. We’re identical, which means you’re every bit as smart as I am. You could achieve all the same grades and accolades if you’d apply yourself.”
“Ah yes. But see, the thing is: I don’t want to.” He yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “In all that nagging, did you happen to mention breakfast? Is Dad cooking?”
“He’s at work, same as Mom. Just because we’re free for the summer doesn’t mean they are.”
“They’re working on a Sunday?”
“It’s Tuesday, brother dear.”
“Oh.” He scratched his neck. “Damn. I guess when you’re on vacation for long enough, you’re bound to lose track of the days.”
“It’s been a week.” Aiden rolled his eyes. “Anyway, if you want to eat, you should hurry up. Oliver’s waiting for us.”
At that, both of Max’s eyes sprang open. “He’s still here?”
“No, he had to go home for breakfast. He wants to hang out, though. I said we’d pick him up, since he doesn’t have a car.”
“Oh, okay.” Max yawned again. “Did I miss anything good last night?”
That question made Aiden’s eyes drop to the floor like stones for some reason. “Um, after you passed out last night—very dignified, by the way; it took both of us to haul you up the stairs—we, uh, went to sleep, and then I drove Oliver home this morning. You didn’t miss anything at all. Anyway, he texted saying he’s finished with his familial obligations.”
Max checked his phone again. “I don’t see anything in our group chat.”
“He sent it to me.”
Something slithered into the pit of Max’s stomach and nested there. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but the idea of Oliver and Aiden making plans without him left a bad taste in his mouth. Which was ridiculous, of course. It didn’t matter which of them Oliver texted. They were always together. Contacting one of them was as good as contacting the other.
“Well, thanks so much for including me,” he said for good measure. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stumbled to his feet. “I’ll throw some clothes on, and we can go.”
“You need some aspirin or water or anything?”
That mollified him. Aiden could be so thoughtful when he wasn’t being a giant nag. “Nah, I had two beers. If I was hungover from that, I’d have to drop out of college to avoid the shame.”
“‘If I were,’” Aiden corrected, smiling the smug smile that told Max he was being annoying on purpose. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” He peeled himself off the doorframe and left, pulling the door closed behind him.
“Know-it-all!” Max shouted through the wall before shuffling over to the overflowing laundry basket by his closet. He sniff-tested several articles of clothing and dressed in a hurry: shorts and a green shirt with the cast of The Goonies print-screened on the front.
He ducked into the bathroom long enough to brush his teeth and peek in the mirror. His curls were even messier than usual, and his eyes were so bloodshot, the irises looked unnaturally blue, like monster eyes. He needed coffee.
When he’d finished, he trundled out to the kitchen. The sunlight pouring through the windows made him wince. Aiden was waiting for him, as promised, and miracle of miracles, he was sipping a mug of coffee. Without a word, he handed a second cup to Max.
“Precious baby brother,” Max cooed, placing his hands over his heart. “For me? I love you so much.” He made a big show of throwing his arms open for a hug.
Aiden tried to scramble away. “You’re only five minutes older!”
Max was faster. He lifted Aiden up and squeezed him, singing a tuneless song he made up on the spot about fraternal love while Aiden squirmed like a puppy in his grip. Despite his protests, Aiden laughed so hard he wheezed.
When Max was satisfied he’d conveyed his gratefulness, he released Aiden and gulped down some coffee. Aiden straightened his clothes—seriously, since when was he so fussy about his appearance?—and complained about Max “manhandling” him. There was no acid behind his words, though.
“Did Oliver say what he wanted to do today?” Max finished his coffee and left the mug in the sink.
Aiden picked it up, rinsed it out, and loaded it into the dishwasher. “Remember that old arcade we used to love? Dr. Quirky’s Good Time Emporium? Turns out, it’s still in business.”
“Oh, yeah! Man, I haven’t thought about that place in years. How’d you come up with that?”
Aiden shifted his weight. “Oliver mentioned it. It was one of the last places we all went to together before he moved. We thought it might be fun to go back and see what’s changed.”
Something about that niggled at Max, but he brushed it off. Already, his head was filling with memories of the arcade: the smell of popcorn, the giant old-school video games, and the tacky blue carpeting that was somehow always sticky.
He bounced on his heels like a little kid. “Are you ready to go?”
Aiden extracted car keys from the pocket of his jeans. “Lead the way.”
They locked up behind them, got into the car they shared, and drove to the address Oliver had provided. Once there, they pulled up to a small, dingy house that could have been a demonstration of the word beige. The lawn was green and freshly mowed, but the flowerbeds were in desperate need of weeding. The gravel driveway was so packed with cars, they couldn’t pull in.
“Oliver’s family must still be hanging around,” Aiden muttered. He took out his phone. “I’ll call him.”
Before he could, Oliver’s dark head appeared over the top of a minivan. Max reached across Aiden and honked the horn to get his attention.
Aiden smacked his hand away. “Don’t.”
It was too late. Oliver’s head halted between two cars, mostly out of view.
At first, Max thought he’d startled Oliver into stopping, but then another head joined Oliver’s. This one had lighter hair with noticeable gray. The two stood together for a prolonged moment before Oliver skirted around the car and jogged toward them. He opened the back door and dove in as if they were bank robbers making a getaway.
“Hey, guys.” He was breathless, and his eyes were wild. “Let’s get going.”
“Oliver, what—” Max started to ask, but then Aiden gunned it.
They pulled away, but not before Max saw the other brown head break free of the cluster of cars. It belonged to a familiar-looking older man. It took Max a moment to place him, thanks to the sour expression on his face. Mr. Jones.
Max twisted around in the passenger seat to stare at Oliver. “Was that your dad?”
“No.” Oliver’s nonchalance fell short of convincing. “Well, yeah.”
“Did you guys have a fight or something?”
“Something. Don’t worry about it. He’ll get over it.”
Max wanted to ask more questions—especially about why Aiden didn’t seem at all surprised by any of this—but for once, he shut his mouth. He turned back around in his seat and fiddled with the radio. “How ’bout some tunes? Oliver, what do you listen to?”
“Mostly pop, to be honest.”
“Dude, you are breaking my heart.”
The conversation veered into small-talk territory, punctuated by music and the occasional joke. Max noted some tension in the air, and it wasn’t from the odd encounter with Oliver’s dad. Aiden and Oliver managed to go the whole ride without addressing each other directly. When they spoke, it was to Max, as if he were a switchboard operator directing their calls.
Max didn’t have long to think about it. They drove up to the arcade and vied for one of the few remaining parking spots.
As soon as the car stopped moving, Max jumped out and surveyed the area. “Damn, it’s packed.”
“I thought that might be the case.” Aiden locked the car and pocketed the keys. “School’s out for everyone, not just us college kids. And with the heat wave, families must be searching for things to do indoors.”
Oliver sauntered up to stand next to Aiden, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Well, I’m willing to battle some crowds if you guys are.”
“Oh, I’m willing.” Max was already striding toward the entrance: a giant clown’s mouth worthy of a Stephen King novel. “I’m not going to let a bunch of kids ruin this place for me.”
Aiden snorted. “You know this place is intended for children, right?”
“What? Says who?” Max waved him off. “Whatever. Whoever said that is wrong. You can’t put an age limit on fun.”
As they approached the main building, Max swept his eyes over it, thinking to himself that it looked the same, yet so much smaller. And much, much more run-down. Dr. Quirky needed a facelift. The bright-yellow paint was peeling off the cinder block walls, and half of the light bulbs were out in the arch above the entrance. The creepy clown—Dr. Quirky himself—was the same, though: his giant red lips stretched into a smile for them to pass through.
Freud would have something to say about this, Max thought as he entered the clown’s mouth. Talk about nightmare fuel.
Stepping through the front doors was like stepping ten years into the past. The interior of the arcade hadn’t changed a lick. Same hulking arcade-style games lined up in the center of the room, same snack bar off to the right, and the same sticky carpet. Even the endless line for the bathroom that never seemed to get shorter was still there.
Max clapped his hands to his cheeks. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s something all right,” Oliver said. “What should we hit first?”
“The snack bar,” Max said at the same time that Aiden said, “Let’s play Asteroids.”
They glanced at each other.
Max faked a sniffle. “You want me to starve.”
“It’s not my fault you slept through breakfast.”
“You could have woken me up sooner.”
“You have an alarm on your phone, Max. Use it.”
“If I may act as tie-breaker,” Oliver piped up. “Breakfast was a couple of hours ago for me, and I ate light. The curly fries are calling my name.”
Aiden went from unmovable boulder to pliant kitten in a blink. “Oh, okay. In that case, I guess I could go for a Coke.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” Max joked. “Oliver says he wants to go, so suddenly you do too?”
To his surprise, Oliver and Aiden both tensed.
Aiden’s eyes dropped to the floor yet again, like they had a new summer home there. “It’s not like that.”
“He was . . . Um.” Oliver bit his lip.
Max glanced between them. “Am I missing something here?”
“Yeah,” Aiden said. “You’re missing your chance to be first in line.” He took off toward the snack bar at a dead sprint.
“Oh, you bastard!” Max raced after him, ignoring the affronted stares from nearby parents. Aiden’s head start was too great, though, and he beat him to the end of the line by three seconds. Max skidded to a stop an inch shy of crashing into his brother and put his hands on his knees, panting. Aiden hadn’t even broken a sweat, the jerk.
Oliver jogged up behind them, looking as unfazed by the exertion as Aiden did. “I’m not gonna lie, I could watch you two all day. Max, I especially liked when you stepped in that wad of gum and didn’t slow down at all.”
“What?” Max checked the bottom of one shoe and then the other. “Fuck.”
“Stop cursing.” Aiden peeked at their surroundings. “There are little kids everywhere.”
“Sorry.” Max had discovered in recent years that being a legal adult didn’t mean he was too old for a scolding. He’d rather avoid that.
The line shuffled forward, and they shuffled with it. Aiden and Oliver started talking about something boring, like the weather or politics. Max half listened as he scoped out the crowd, searching for anyone their age that they might hang out with. Specifically, any ladies. Much as he loved his brother—and Oliver, to an extent—he didn’t intend to spend the whole break glued to their sides. A little summer romance sounded right up his alley.
He spotted a group of college-age kids over by a row of claw machines. It was mixed-gender, and two of the guys were making a show of trying to win prizes for the girls. Max disregarded them. Too much competition.
Another nearby cluster was all girls, and as Max sized them up, a pretty brunette caught his eye and smiled.
Jackpot.
Max turned back to his companions at the same time they reached the front of the line. A bored-looking teenager with oily skin greeted them in a monotone. “Would you like to try an order of Quirky Fries?” His glassy eyes moved between Max and Aiden. “Hey, are you two, like, twins?”
“Either that or the grease has gotten to you.” Max squinted at his name tag. “What are Quirky Fries . . . Dave?”
“Curly fries but dyed blue.”
“Ugh. Gross. Why would anyone do that to perfectly good food?”
Aiden eyed him. “You’re calling fries ‘perfectly good’?”
“Hey, potatoes have kept the Irish alive for hundreds of years. That’s good enough for me.”
“Whatever. I’ll take a small drink, and he”—Aiden jabbed his thumb at Oliver—“wants curly fries. Regular, non-blue ones.”
“What size?”
Oliver popped his head over Aiden’s shoulder. “Medium. That way we can share.” He shifted his mouth toward Aiden’s ear. “You’ll eat some, right?”
Aiden turned as red as the ketchup dispenser. “Um, s-sure.” He paid for them both.
“What, not gonna buy me anything?” Max asked.
Aiden’s color stabilized, and he shot Max a wry look. “You owe me a fortune.”
“I do not! What have you ever—”
“The limo we took to prom. The security deposit on our apartment. A countless number of tacos from the food truck by campus.”
Max rubbed his chin. “Hm, I guess you got me there.”
“If anything, you should be paying for all of us today.”
That gave Max an idea. “Good point. Let me order, and I’ll buy us some tokens.” He turned back to Dave. “I’ll take two corn dogs and a large soda.”
“You don’t have to buy us anything,” Oliver said. “I have money.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re gonna pay me back in other ways.”
Dave handed him his food, and Max inhaled one of his corn dogs before he even made it to the soda fountain.
“Disgusting,” Aiden observed.
Max swallowed, choked a little bit, and washed his corn dog down with a healthy gulp of Mountain Dew. When his air passages were unclogged, he said, “Okay, so here’s the plan. You see those girls over there?”
Oliver revolved in place, scanning the whole crowd. “You mean the ones hanging out by the tables?”
“Yeah. Have they noticed us?”
“Yup,” Aiden confirmed. “They’re watching you masticate that deep-fried carcass with what I can only call burgeoning horror.”
“They’re what?” Max jerked his head over, the other corn dog poised by his mouth like a lollipop. Sure enough, the girls were staring at him with expressions ranging from disgust to morbid curiosity. He whipped around, hiding his face. “Quick, do something charming! Smile! Or wave!”
“What?” Oliver asked.
“Just do it!”
Oliver waved, stiff as the Tin Man. “Why am I doing this?”
“Because we’re going to flirt with those girls.”
Aiden pursed his lips. “Brother dear, I know I promised I’d never tell you any gory details about being gay, but you do realize flirting with girls isn’t my forte, right?”
“Or mine,” Oliver said.
“No shit, guys. Give me some credit. You’re not going to flirt with them for real. I need you to be my wingmen. You can help me charm them, and since you’re no competition, I can take my time figuring out which one I like. Plus, straight girls love gay guys. You two are gonna be like catnip.”
“That’s stereotypical and offensive,” Oliver said. “But since I don’t think you have a chance in hell, if you buy us some tokens, I’ll gladly watch you crash and burn.”
“I dunno about this.” Aiden shuffled his feet and glanced at Oliver. “I was kinda hoping we’d get to spend some time together.”
Max sighed. “Bro, come on. We spend all day together. If we spent any more time bonding, we’d be conjoined twins.”
“Actually, when I said ‘we,’ I meant—”
“We gotta move. We’re losing daylight.” Max finished his corn dog, downed his soda, and tossed the remains in the nearest trash can. “There’s twenty bucks in it for you guys. I’ll make it twenty bucks each if that pretty brunette gives me her phone number.”
To broke college kids, that was a small fortune. Just as Max had predicted, Aiden and Oliver cracked like old sidewalks.
“Okay, we’ll do it,” Aiden said. “But we want the cash up front.”
Max pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, removed a twenty, and handed it over. “Perfect. Now go talk to them.”
Aiden nearly dropped the bill. “What? Me?”
“Yes, you. Walk over there, hold up the money, and ask where you can get some game tokens.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“I can’t pull off a line like that. It has to be you, little bro. You have an honest face.”
“We have the same face.”
Oliver cut in. “What if I go with you? Safety in numbers.”
Aiden’s hackles lowered. “Okay.”
Max frowned. Damn, Oliver has some sort of magic touch. Maybe I can get him to ask Aiden if I can have his old iPad.
Aiden and Oliver took off toward the girls. Max watched them go while pretending he wasn’t watching at all. Easy as pie, they walked up to the group and started chatting. The girls enveloped them into their ranks like an amoeba.
“Gay guys have all the luck,” Max muttered.
Before he could start talking to himself in earnest, Aiden waved him over. Max strolled over to his side, struggling to look casual while inside he was doing a little victory dance. He had the good sense to address Aiden first. “Did you find the tokens?”
“Oh my God,” said one of the girls. “Are you guys twins?”
Having been a twin his whole life, Max would never understand people’s fascination with it, but he was happy to reap the benefits.
He flashed his most debonair smile. “How astute of you to notice. I’m Max, and I assume you’ve already met my brother and our friend.”
“Hey,” the aforementioned pretty brunette greeted him. “I’m Danielle.”
Max stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you.”
She made a serious face and shook his hand before dropping it with a giggle. She waved to her three friends. “This is Fabi, Evelyn, and Danesha.”
The other girls said hi in unison.
“Hey there,” Max said without taking his eyes off Danielle. “Are you ladies from around here?”
“We are.” Fabi indicated herself and Danielle. “But Ev and Danesha are from Jersey.”
“No wisecracks, please,” Danesha said. “The whole state-rivalry thing is so played.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. So, how are you liking the arcade?”
“We’re kinda bored, honestly,” Danielle said. “Or we were, until Aiden and Oliver walked up. Aiden mentioned he had a brother, but he didn’t say you guys are twins.”
Max nudged his brother with an elbow. “Did he tell you I’m the handsome one?”
Aiden made a pained noise, but he didn’t speak.
Danielle laughed. “He didn’t need to. I can see that for myself.”
Max almost fell over. Holy shit, I’m in love.
Danesha said, “We were thinking about leaving, but now that you’re here, maybe we’ll stay.” She eyed Oliver in a suggestive way.
Uh-oh. I guess they didn’t lead with the whole gay thing. Makes sense.
While he debated what to do, Oliver came to his own rescue. “I hate to disappoint, but I’m actually gay.”
“Same here,” Aiden said.
The girls made interested oohing sounds.
Fabi asked, “Are you guys dating?”
Max snorted and was about to deny it when Oliver glanced at Aiden. “Sadly, no.”
“Oliver.” Aiden’s face grew tense. His eyes darted toward Max as if gauging his reaction. “Don’t joke around.”
“Who’s joking?” Oliver leaned toward the girls in a conspiratorial way. “We were reunited yesterday after ten years apart, so we’re taking things slow.”
“Oliver.” Aiden was a radioactive shade of red.
Max didn’t get what Aiden was so upset about. It was a brilliant plan on Oliver’s part: pretending there was something going on between them. It made it clear they weren’t viable romantic partners while keeping the girls intrigued. Max was so going to write him a thank-you card.
He was about to crack a joke when he felt a tug on his sleeve. Danielle was standing next to him.
She brushed her hair aware from her big brown eyes. “I don’t suppose you’re gay too, are you? Because that’s totally fine, of course, but I was kinda hoping . . .” She bit her lip, and Max wanted to cheer.
“No, I’m straight. Aiden and I are only identical on the surface.”
“Oh, okay. Good. Well, not good. You know what I mean.” She crinkled her nose. “Do you get asked that a lot, since you two have the same genes and all?”
“I wouldn’t say a lot.” Max did his absolute best Aiden impersonation. “Genetics are a complicated subject, after all, and Aiden and I have plenty of differences: our personalities, our hobbies, and our fingerprints.”
“That’s so interesting,” Danielle said. “I’m studying biology at Columbia. I read an article once about the role that copy number variants play in twins with differing sexual orientations. Maybe we can grab a soda from the snack bar and talk about it?”
Jesus, she’s a genius. Definitely smarter than me. I hit the jackpot!
Max offered his arm to her. “Allow me to escort you.”
They spent the next hour or so talking, playing games, and talking some more. Their respective friends joined them for some of the team games, but otherwise they were left alone. It was like they were already having their first date.
Danielle was amazing. Smart and funny and playful. Max was starting to think she was made of stronger stuff than summer-fling material, like maybe girlfriend material. Columbia wasn’t that far away, right?
After an epic round of whack-a-mole—which Danielle totally kicked his ass at—Fabi approached and said the others wanted to go somewhere else.
Danielle shot him an apologetic look. “I’m their ride, so if they want to leave, I gotta go.”
“That’s okay. I totally understand.” Max was plucking up the nerve to ask for her phone number when she cupped his chin, stood up on her tiptoes, and kissed him.
Max was too surprised to kiss back. He barely registered her pushing a napkin into his hand and saying, “Call me.” She strode off with a giggling Fabi by her side.
Slack-jawed, Max stared after them until they disappeared from view. Shit like that didn’t happen to him in real life. Was he dreaming? He’d think so, if it weren’t for the fact that he could taste her minty ChapStick on his lips.
What he’d said to Aiden the other day was so true: this was going to be the best summer vacation ever. He couldn’t wait to share the good news. But first, he had to find his entourage.
He checked the tables where he’d last seen them, but they weren’t there. What had Aiden said he wanted to do? Play Asteroids? Max glanced toward the rows of arcade games and spotted them standing at the far end. He made his way over, dodging squealing children and spilled popcorn as he went.
They didn’t notice his approach. In fact, they seemed to be arguing, or at least having an intense discussion. Max frowned. What could they have to fight about? He slowed his approach and strained to hear what they were saying.
Aiden’s face was tense. “I don’t know what you were thinking, acting like that in front of—” Noise from the arcade games blotted out the end of his sentence.
Oliver shrugged. “It was a joke.”
“Well, it wasn’t funny. Especially not after . . .” Aiden trailed off, lips pressed hard together.
Max was only ten feet away now. They’d spot him any second. He almost called out to them, but then Oliver stepped closer to Aiden. Way closer. Closer than two bros should stand, in Max’s humble opinion.
“Aiden, I already made my move. You’re the one who—”
A pair of screaming kids whipped past Max. Goddamn it. He glanced back toward Aiden and Oliver, expecting them to have glanced over at the noise. But they were still focused on each other. It was like nothing else existed to them. Not the arcade. Not Max.
Aiden wrung his hands as if trying to pull them off. “My brother was right there, Oliver. And . . . I didn’t know . . . I wasn’t sure if you . . .”
Oliver took another step closer, obliterating the concept of personal space. Neither of them spoke, but their eyes said volumes. It was like they were memorizing each other’s face.
Max had seen that before. It was how his parents looked at each other when they thought no one was watching. He made fun of them when they did it, but nothing about this struck him as funny.
It occurred to him, as if for the first time, that Aiden and Oliver were both gay. That fact, which had meant nothing to him before, filled his head like an expanding balloon, pushing all other thoughts out. Except for one.
Are they going to kiss?
Max’s first instinct was to interrupt them before anything could happen, but that was ridiculous. They were friends. Their sexual orientation didn’t mean anything. He had to be imagining things.
Before he could make a decision, Aiden glanced his way. When he spotted Max, he jumped away from Oliver as if he’d been shocked.
Well, that was subtle.
“Max!” Aiden turned a shade of white so pure, artists would fight over it. “I didn’t see you there.”
A dozen questions raced through Max’s mind, each more awkward than the last. There was no way he was going to acknowledge what he’d seen. Or what he thought he’d seen. If he did, he’d have to acknowledge the changes he could already feel in the works.
He swallowed his questions down and asked a different one instead. “You guys ready to go?”
“Already?” Oliver grinned. “You don’t want to go trolling for more girls with your gay entourage?”
“Nah.” Max swallowed. “All of a sudden, I’m not in the mood for romance.”