Somewhere Only We Know

X - New York, New People

11:32 p.m., Sunday

Jesse and Edward were half asleep on the couch across from me. I was drinking my fourth can of Pepsi while Kairo was sipping another cup of whatever stinky liquor was in that bottle.

"So," He moved Edward's head from his lap and sat next to me. "How come I never heard about you or your sisters from Jesse? I mean, we've been friends for a while now."

I refused to look at him—not because I disliked him, but because I hated making eye contact.

I sighed, "Maybe he's embarrassed to be related to commoners," I joked.

"I don't know. It's a long story. I'd have to take you back to when we were living in North Carolina if you really want to know," I said.

He looked at me like he didn't care how long the story was.

"I don't know, dude. I just met you. Maybe some other time." I paused, tugging at the bottom of my lip. I was never big on telling stories, but I was also sort of a people pleaser. "Maybe you could just tell me what you know about Jesse, since you guys seem pretty joined at the hip."

"I'm ready to be interviewed. I'll bet you I know him better than you," he said, nibbling on a slice of lime.

I turned in his direction to find a more comfortable position. "Where did he grow up?" I asked.

"Easy, the big Brighton," he answered with a smirk. "We actually have a show there sometime next year."

I needed a harder question. Something to really test how much he knew Jesse: "What's his dream career?"

"The best runway model in town."

"Wrong," I said loudly.

"Bullshit, what? Okay, fine. I'll ask you stuff then."

"Okay," I replied, finishing the rest of my Pepsi.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked.

I laughed. "Seriously? My favorite color? Come on, Kairo. You can do better than that."

"Oh my God, Max. Just answer the question. You're so stubborn."

"Alright," I said, adjusting the way I sat to face him. "Grey."

"Pshh, boring! Why grey?" he asked.

"Because grey is cool and modern. It doesn't say much about me, and I like it." I paused to put down the empty can of soda. "Grey is a color nobody over-analyzes."

"It actually says you're a boring, stale, dry person," he teased, chuckling like a kid. "Are you into modeling by any chance?"

"Hell nah, man. I mean, no offense. I know walking in a straight line sums up what people call art these days. But modeling is so—" I stopped, trying to think of a word to describe the so-called walking game.

"Does modeling make me seem like a boring, stale, dry person then?" he asked.

"Okay, dude. Your words, not mine. But no. I mean, modeling is cool and all, but it can cause a lot of long-term problems," I said. "You know?"

"Long-term problems? What do you mean? Like back pain or something?" He looked at me, confused.

"No, you idiot. That stuff brings out the worst in people most of the time, with all those high standards about physical image. It sets such a weird expectation and makes people think something's wrong with them just because they didn't get accepted into the walking program."