Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

with my Zen." And it does.
    The comment helps, building tension deflating a little before it could get a good grip. But it stays. It's there in how close Cam is and it spikes when Cam plants a hand on his shoulder, gripping tightly, fingers digging in before Cam shoves him away with a snort.
    "So?" Jace prompts, when he resettles.
    "Guys are coming over later, couple of beers; game's on— play a little ball. You gonna be there?" He looks around, frowning, hand rubbing through his hair and leaving it sticking up. The habit always leaves him looking like a disgruntled hedgehog or something. "You've been holed up here all day. You still stuck or something?"
    Jace shakes his head. "Nah," he eyes the canvas again, "not gonna get much else done on it today. I'll come up. Need to clean up first."
    "Need help?"
    Jace takes his iPod back out, pulls the ear buds from around his neck and hands the rest of the Coke back to his brother. "No. I'm good."
    Cam nods, eyes dropping down to the can now in his hand. He stays there for a moment as Jace walks back to his scattered tools. Then he looks up, arching a brow at him in a message for Jace to get a move on and takes a mouthful of the drink.
    Jace rolls his eyes at him and starts cleaning up. He ignores the sharp twist in his stomach at the thought of Cam's mouth resting over the spot where Jace's had been, aluminum still warm and slick from Jace's lips on it.
    He turns the music back on and by the time he's done, the place where Cam had been standing is empty.
    Jace sighs, plants himself down and tilts his head side to side, rolling his shoulders, trying to release the tension that had settled there. It doesn't quite work.
    He wants something stronger than a Coke.
    ****
    They used to be close, tighter than anything. But things change— and no one can say that things hadn't changed for the worse when he and Cameron had been called to the principal's office and found their stepdad sitting there, eyes a little wide and glazed, fingers bone white and clasped around each other.
    A car accident. Not uncommon. Their mother had veered off the road to miss a drunken driver who swept into her lane. She'd been on her way back from a conference. She hit a tree and by the time the ambulance had gotten there, all there had been was a car wrapped around the thick trunk and their mother had been gone.
    It should've made them closer. It did. For Jace though, things shifted, his emotions becoming a little skewed and distorted. He's still not sure when he realized, that every time Cam took a step away the feelings of anxiety changed to possessiveness, at times, jealousy even. The weight of it heavy on his chest, threatening to collapse muscle and bone under its crushing weight. Then Cameron smiled at him one day, nothing out of the ordinary. But Jace looked .
    It'd sent him into a panic and even now he can't get rid of the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever Cameron gets too close. Because it hadn't gone away, it'd just gotten worse.
    Jace wipes his hand down the mirror, hand coming away damp and leaving little rivulets of water running down its surface. The steam in the bathroom filled the gap of clear mirror again, giving him a fuzzy reflection of his face. His eyes are an eerie copy of Cameron's. Just as sharp, the color made a honeyed green from the harsh light of the bathroom. He brushes his hair back from his face, tugging the wet strands back and tying it up, the strands falling to brush against the skin of his nape.
    They have the same strong bones, face angular. His mouth, though, that's a bit different. He lifts his hand, rubs his index finger along the line of his bottom lip. It's wider, lips not as full as Cameron's. His top lip though, like Cameron's, almost looks like it's been delineated. He remembers a boyfriend tracing it with his finger over and over one time, saying that it looked like it'd been drawn on. Jace thinks it's a good way to put it every time he looks at Cam.
    He drops his hand and looks away from the mirror, shaking his head.
    The bathroom is warm, too warm. Doesn't matter how hot it is already, he likes it hot enough that he's still feeling it when he steps out of the shower. He grabs up the T-shirt he's left on the towel rack, pulling it over his head and heading for the door, still barefoot.
    When he opens the door the air is a touch cooler against his face and the back of his neck and he ducks his head into it, turning the light off and pulling the