“Do you think I have a better body than Tate McRae?” Mack asks anxiously, hand on his hip while he stares pleadingly at Aiden for an answer.
Aiden moans and slumps down onto the kitchen counter, crossing his arms and burying his face in them. “We’ve been over this, Mack,” he mumbles into the granite. He lifts his head and looks at Mack in exasperation. “You know he has to drop bread crumbs here and there so you guys can stay on the DL. That’s the only reason he’s doing all the stuff on Instagram. He doesn’t want her.”
Mack is mollified for all of three seconds. Then he bites his lip and stares at the wall behind Aiden, like that particular patch of plaster might hold the secrets of the universe.
“But what if he decides that being with her would be easier?”
Aiden props his head up on one hand and resigns himself to the fact his quiet breakfast alone is over. He loves Mack, he does. But the kid’s really gotta work on his insecurity issues.
“What are you even talking about?”
“Like…what if he realizes being with a girl would be easier?” Mack whispers. “What if being with me is too much? He could have it so much easier. What if she likes him back and hits him up and he decides this isn’t worth it? That I’m not worth it?”
Mack’s gaze drops to the tile at his feet, and Aiden’s stomach sinks when he realizes Mack’s eyes are wet. Just barely, but enough.
And just like that, Aiden gets it. It’s not really about Tate at all.
Aiden slides off his barstool and walks around the kitchen island to put an arm around Mack’s shoulder and pull him close. Mack is tense, too stressed to relax into the touch.
“He knows what he’s getting himself into. What you’re both getting yourselves into. I know it sucks—well, no, actually, I don’t. I know I’ll never truly get how hard it is. I’m sorry you guys have to hide. But if anyone can make it work, it’s you two.”
“You think so?” Mack asks in a small voice.
“Yeah, I do,” Aiden responds easily. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s totally in love with you, man. Like, to a sickening degree.”
“‘Kay,” Mack says, pulling away slowly. “Thanks. Sorry I’m a little crazy about it.”
“It’s okay.” Aiden claps Mack on the back lightly. “And for the record, I guarantee you Will thinks your body is a million times better than Tate’s.”
That gets a small smile out of Mack.
Then his brow furrows and he says, “Do you think he thinks she’s prettier, though?”
Aiden drops his hand, glares at his brother, and declares, “Therapy. You need therapy.”
(Inspired by the fact that Mack whined and whined about something as meaningless as team superlatives…therefore, in my head, there is no way he wouldn’t be absolutely spiraling about the WillTate Instagram happenings)