Over the next seven days, Caleb crashed with him in his single bed. He shuttled Caleb to the kitchen and showers when Lloyd wasn’t around. Pretending to say goodbye, he signed him out in the evenings before smuggling him back into his room.

After a week of making up excuses, eyes-in-the-back-of-his-head Lloyd had caught them. Wesley said Caleb had stumbled back for the night because he had a drinking problem and had lost his keys.

That had earned Wesley the death stare—from Lloyd and his brother.

If Wesley violated house regulations one more time, Lloyd would have to write him up.

He and Caleb couldn’t fuck it up again.

They had to be super sneaksters.

They’d managed once, last night. Here was to hitting it out of the park twice in a row . . .

Wesley peered into the hall from the stairwell, Caleb hovering in his shadow. Lloyd was leaving the kitchen after Steve, halfway between them and Wesley’s room.

Lloyd clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder, making the boy jump.

“How about cleaning your dishes?”

“But I have a date.”

“At ten-thirty? On a Wednesday?”

“A study date?”

Lloyd directed him back into the kitchen.

Wesley snuck into the hall, whispering to Caleb, “He’s in full Cap mode tonight. Be twinkle-toed.”

“I’ll be light as a motherfucking fairy,” Caleb said a bit too loud. At Wesley’s glare, he lowered his voice. “I’ll follow you.”

Wesley inched to the kitchen door. “Stay here. I’ll laugh when it’s safe for you to slink past.”

Dishes rattled in the kitchen, and Wesley rounded into the room with a winning smile.

Lloyd was drying Steve’s dishes. He glanced at Wesley, then did a double take.

Wesley hurried to the other end of the kitchen. Let Lloyd’s gaze follow me there. Wesley made a show of grabbing a glass and filling it with ice. He peered around the open freezer door. Lloyd had stopped drying and was eyeing him.

Wesley broadened his smile.

Lloyd set the plate and dishtowel on the counter, and Steve took his opportunity to exit the kitchen. If he noticed Caleb glued to the wall outside, he said nothing.

“What?” Wesley said, senses prickling under Lloyd’s watchful eyes.

“You’re looking like you need more fiber in your diet.”

An aborted snort came from the hall.

Lloyd’s brow shot up. “Wesley?”

Wesley donned big innocent eyes and lifted his cup. “Ice chip?”

“I’m suddenly reminded,” Lloyd said, “last night, I went to the bathroom—”

“Good story!” He glanced over Lloyd’s shoulder and laughed. Ice jiggled against the glass.

Lloyd closed his eyes in exasperation as Caleb slinked past in the background. “I could have sworn I saw your brother stumbling in. But then I distinctly remember telling you that if you got caught sneaking guests in without following protocol, I’d be forced to write you up. He must have been a figment of my sleep-addled mind.”

“The addled mind thing. Definitely.”

Caleb’s head popped into view at the door and he made a swiping motion—

Wesley palmed his pocket. He hadn’t given Caleb the damn room key. “Shit!”

Lloyd dropped his chin to his chest. “I don’t want to turn around, do I?”

“Could you hold this for a moment?” Wesley pressed the cold glass into Lloyd’s hand and slunk past him. “Oh, and wait right here for me?”

Lloyd huffed, but he waited like the patient Capricorn he was.

* * *

Early Saturday, Wesley returned from a shower to his brother stretched out on the bed, reading through sheets of music, a dorky smile plastered on his face.

“It’s visiting hours. It’s safe for you to whip out your flute,” Wesley said. Hearing his words, he shuddered. “MacDonald has ruined everything.”

“You can say that again,” Caleb muttered over a mouthful of cookie.

“You’re putting crumbs in my bed!” There were always crumbs in his bed. Still . . .

“Seriously? I saw you eat a crumb of stale cracker that you picked from between your pillows.”

“It was a chip. Sour cream and onion.” Wesley shut up, glaring in that brotherly way. “How are your other assignments coming along?”

“You know.”

“I don’t. That’s why I asked.”

A pillow hit his face. “It’s fine. Everything except one math assignment. But like, hardly anyone in class did well.”

“You have to.”

In the background, Wesley heard Gemma’s voice—she was in charge this weekend since Lloyd had two days off. What he did on his time off, Wesley wasn’t sure. Something structured, no doubt. Maybe shave his head again.

Wesley had a light-bulb moment. “I think I can help!”

“You sound so surprised.”

Wesley sent his brother a withering look. “Are you staying here again tonight?”

“You’re not the only one with plans. Though mine involve rehearsals, not getting busy.”

Actually, Wesley wanted one night of decent sleep. His back was killing him. “Yep, real busy. This mattress is going to get broken in real good.”

Caleb hooked his ankles and linked his fingers under his head. “I’ll head to a friend’s. Though I don’t know why you don’t get busy in Lloyd’s room.”

Wesley grabbed Caleb’s feet and yanked him over the edge of the bed. “Out.”

“But you said I could practice my flute—”

“Gah. Stop talking about your flute!”

“Hey, I held back from saying I wanted to put on a show for you. Give me some credit.”

“Out, out, out!”

Caleb sank into his cowboy boots, grabbed his bag and music, and trudged to the door. “Are you sure?”

Wesley narrowed his eyes.

Caleb trotted out.

* * *

Wesley baked triple chocolate cookies with a hint of cinnamon.

He grabbed a plateful and made for Lloyd’s room. He waited out of sight while Diana complained about being written up for having alcohol on premises.

“Not saying you can’t have fun. Just don’t do it in your room where it becomes my responsibility. Also, it’s Monday.”

“Sure, but can’t you let it slide? Just this once?”

“I can’t. It’ll set a precedent.”

“Other RAs are way more lax.”

“Other RAs get fired.”

Gripping the plate, he cursed his stowaway-brother situation, which was nearing two weeks.

Two weeks of little sleep, of monitoring Caleb’s homework progress, of shadowing him to school.

He did not want another call from Principal Bontempo.

“Wesley?”

Wesley blinked. Diana was sulking down the hall to the common area.

Wesley popped around the corner and into Lloyd’s room. “How’d you know I was waiting?”

“Sixth sense.”

Wesley inhaled the baked aromas. “You smelled the cookies, didn’t you?”

“You’re the only one who bakes.”

“I brought you some.”

Lloyd leaned back in his chair, pen pinched at the corner of his mouth. He withdrew it. “What do you want?”

“Why would you assume I want something?”

“Please.”

Wesley set the cookies on the wedge of free space on his desk. “Triple chocolate cookies.”

“With a hint of cinnamon?”

“Of course.”

Lloyd stood and shut the door.

Wesley stared at Lloyd’s swiveling chair, catching his breath at the sudden block of warmth that shifted at his side. His neck prickled.

“How long have we known each other?”

Wesley flicked at a random page of scribbled statistics that drooped over the side of his desk. “I don’t know. Two years, three months, and about seven days?”

Lloyd sunk back into his chair with exasperation. “Forget thirty. If I had kept my hair, it’d have fallen out from these conversations.”

Wesley’s lips twitched. “That’s because Capricorns can’t stand us Geminis.”

Lloyd leaned forward, resting his forearms on parted knees. “How long have we been friends?”

“What does that matter? We’re fiancés now.”

“Yeah, well, before that. How long were we friends?”

“Would we call it being friends?” Wesley asked.

“That’s up for debate.”

Wesley made a quick calculation. “Two years, three months, and five days—you yelled at me the first day.”

Lloyd huffed. “You dropped a box of law books on my foot.”

“You should have worn shoes.”

“I came from the shower.”

Wesley remembered all that wet flexing muscle like it was yesterday. “Then blame all that smooth skin and muscle and the clefts in your marble stomach.”

Lloyd whispered conspiratorially, “you get that with exercise.”

Wesley whispered back, “or are born blessed, like me.”

Lloyd squinted at him. “In all the time we’ve been friends, you’ve never baked my favorite cookies.”

“We’re fiancés now. Besides, they’re just cookies.”

“You hate cinnamon.”

Wesley shifted. “If you’re gonna get all Sherlock on me . . .”

Lloyd swooped the cookies off the desk and held them away from Wesley’s reach. “Tell me what you want. I’m feeling generous.” He picked up a cookie.

“Wait.” Wesley gasped. “Did you just smile?”

It had disappeared too quickly.

“When have you ever seen me smile?”

Strike him with a defibrillator, because his heart might have stopped.

Lloyd raised a brow and took another bite of cookie. Crumbs trickled over his jaw and landed on his lap. Lloyd brushed them off, and Wesley cleared his throat. “I want you to tutor Caleb through a gruesome math assignment.”

“Knew these cookies were too good to be true.”

“I’ll make you another batch when finals hit.”

Lloyd eyed him, then cocked his head. A pondering hum seeped out of him. Didn’t that kick Wesley’s heart back into gear?

“Why do you care so much? What does it mean to you if your brother doesn’t get into Treble?”

Wesley picked at his wristband. “He’s wanted to go since he was a kid.”

“You’re not telling me everything.”

Wesley glared at the damn plate of cookies and spoke like an auctioneer. “If he doesn’t get in, Principal Bontempo is right: he’s not good enough. If he doesn’t get in, it means Mom’s right: he’ll have to be someone else.”

“Be someone else?” Lloyd asked.

“Do something else. He’ll have to do something else.” Wesley snapped his wristband hard enough to bruise. “Will you help Caleb with math in return for more cookies?”

* * *

“I have to plan the January Open Week party with him,” Wesley told Suzy at his next shift at Me Gusta Robusta.

“Sounds fair to me. His element for your element.”

A snort came from MacDonald working the till. “Anything with Lloyd is his element.”

Suzy lifted the vegetable she was peeling and pointed at him in amusement. “Yes, when are you going to radish him?”

“Ravish.”

Her brow quirked, and she stared at the radish in her hand. “I’m pretty sure it’s radish.”

MacDonald and Wesley exchanged a mortified glance, then she said bluntly, “It’s good you’re not here on a humanities scholarship.”

“It’s ravish,” Wesley said, a tiny smirk pulling at his lips. “When am I finally going to ravish him?”

“Asking yourself these questions is a step in the right direction, Wes.” Caleb slapped a hand on his back, then winked at MacDonald. “Did you like what you walked into last night?”

Wesley shook his head at Suzy. “Avocado Ciabatta. The quicker he eats, the faster he shuts up about his instrument.”

He escorted Caleb to a table and served him a hazelnut latte.

“What was the answer? About the radishing of Lloyd?”

“Is it not enough he’s a Capricorn?” Wesley slid into the booth and stole a sip of Caleb’s sweet coffee. “The Child of the zodiac and the Elder? That’s just fucked up right there.”

Caleb’s face contorted.

Exactly.

Wesley continued, “We make the worst pairing. He’s a stickler for rules—you know how much I hate rules. And Capricorns want a relationship of substance.”

“I see your conundrum.” Caleb took back his coffee. “Surely there are Cap-Gem exceptions?”

“Since when have I ever been anything exceptional?”

“Again. Good point.”

Wesley kicked him under the table. “But let’s say I hit my head, wake up from a coma, and don’t remember how grumpy he is, and then decide I want him to be my boyfriend. He’s plainly said he won’t go there with me.”

“You haven’t trained those flirty muscles for nothing.”

“As you’ve seen, I use them all the time around Lloyd, though they don’t do much. I might as well be talking to a rock.”

Caleb snorted. “Yeah, a rock hard—”

“Your avocado toast!” Suzy chirped, planting it on the table.

“Perfect timing,” Wesley said. “Remind me to give you my share of the tips.”

Caleb dug into his food and said over a mouthful, “Everyone wonders why you haven’t jumped him yet.”

“Were you not listening to the Cap-Gem thing?”

“I don’t mean marry him,” Caleb said with a pointed glance. “I mean hanky-panky. I know you’ve at least drunkenly imagined doing the dirty with him.”

“We were drugged!”

“Whatever. Admit you find him hot.”

“He’s hot. So is Bluebeard from Fables, but would I ever go there with him? Probably not.”

Caleb twirled his fork at Wesley. “Who are you fooling?”

“Fine. I’d go there. But only because I have no principles, and Bluebeard is hot.”

“Why haven’t you jumped Lloyd yet?”

“When we first met he had a boyfriend. Then when he was single again, I had a boyfriend. Then he had a boyfriend. Then I had a fling. Then he had another boyfriend. Then—”

“I get the picture. You both being single at the same time is unfamiliar territory. What other excuse do you have?”

“Our sex is destined to be bad.”

“You might have some legit reasons after all. What else?”

“He’s my RA. He’d say it’s against the rules. And . . .”

“And?”

“I haven’t caught him full-on smiling at me yet.”