Tealsville Seas

road trip

Valen Smith

"So what's his deal?" We'd only been on the road for ten minutes and my girl was already asking questions.

I didn't mind though, that's what I told her to do.

And honestly..I loved hearing her voice.

"When she talks or when she moans?"

"Who's deal?" I kept my eyes on the road, used to his inappropriate comments by now.

"Nevermind, I know it's both." He laughed, retreating back into the dark crevices of my mind.

I couldn't deny that he was one hundred percent correct.

Smug bastard.

"Your brother. He doesn't talk much around everyone. And he barely ate anything during breakfast." She hummed, awaiting my answer and wiggling her toes that were settled on the dashboard.

I felt my hand slightly clench around the bottom part of the steering wheel.

"I didn't know you paid him so much attention." I mumbled, still keeping my eyes on the road and avoiding her stare.

Cyril had a mate of his own. Sure he acted indifferent towards her- but he still had one nonetheless.

Naomi was mine. Logically, I knew that.

But the weird burning feeling in my chest didn't die down at all whenever I thought about how attentive she'd been towards his actions.

I mean what about me? I didn't eat much either.

"Are you jealous?" She said in a surprised tone.

That was it, of course it was.

But admitting that to her would shoot an arrow through my pride.

I cleared my throat, glancing to my right and committing her teasing smirk to memory.

She was so beautiful.

"Of course not. He didn't have you trembling and moaning in his office chair without underwear." I smirked back, enjoying the gasp of embarrassment she let out.

"You're impossible. You know that right?" She scoffed.

From my peripheral, I saw her cross her arms.

I chuckled In response and began answering her question.

"Cyril is autistic. He was diagnosed at fourteen. He has difficulty expressing and explaining his emotions as well.. alexithymia I believe is the term for it." I nodded, letting my thoughts wander to my older brother. "I made his breakfast the only way he likes it. He doesn't take well to change in his routine."

When we were kids, people never said anything about him in front of me. They never bullied him directly either, too fearful of the consequences.

But kids are cruel and unusual. Someone always had something to whisper or mutter about him behind his back.

After a few beatings - gifted from myself to the pieces of shit that spoke ill of Cyril- any idiot knew not to talk poorly of him. At least not in my presence.