Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

door closed behind him.
    The noise reaches him in no time and he scoffs a little, shaking his head.
    So much for thinking it was just a couple of the guys coming over. The music alone has the walls shaking with it and whatever it is, it's more of a party than anything else.
    Phil's going to kill them.
    By the time he walks into the kitchen, there are cheers and claps on the back that are a little harder than necessary and have him grunting to keep from coughing up a lung or something. He can smell the pizza and the beer, all contained despite the fact that someone's left the door into the backyard open.
    Cameron, who has hitched himself up onto the counter, has a beer in his hand and one open box of pizza at his side.
    When he spots Jace trying to get past all the arms half attempting to choke him in greeting, a smile steals over his face, full lips offering a smile that's almost childlike in its glee.
    "Took your time," Cam has to raise his voice over the noise in order to be heard.
    Jace shrugs. "Cleaned up a bit," he says, gesturing to his wet hair and clean T-shirt. "You didn't say it was a party though– you know Phil's gonna have a fit over this."
    At that, Cam looks sheepish and lets out a quiet laugh that's swallowed up by everything else. It makes Jace wish he was on the other side of that island, pressed up close so he could hear the sound of it. They don't have many of these moments anymore.
    The thought puts a good dent on his lighthearted mood and Jace looks away from his brother's face, notices that smile fade out of the corner of his eye. But then Jace remembers that in a month or so, they won't have as many opportunities to hang out and he'll miss this. Even if he doesn't let himself have this, he'll miss it. He already does anyway. Every time he says no, turns his brother away, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and a tight fist in his chest, squeezing around his heart a little too tight and leaving him off kilter.
    But before he can say anything else, a hard arm wraps around his neck and someone else attempts to shout his ear off. "Jace! Man, you playing football with us?" Seth. Little shit's been hanging out with him and Cam since they were in kindergarten, though the bastard's probably bigger than both Cam and Jace put together.
    Straining to keep his chin above the beefy forearm strapped around his neck, Jace grits his teeth. "I can't play if you snap my neck off," he grits out, digging his elbow back and getting a nice jab in. Seth's arm loosens enough that he can duck under it and turn to glare at him.
    Seth's got a broad hand spread over his midriff and is giving him a pained grin that gives his scary face a pathetic puppy look. It makes Jace snort out a laugh. The amusement is short lived because Cam has squeezed through everyone else in the kitchen and wraps an arm around Jace's shoulders, grinning right alongside him.
    "Been a while since you played with us," he says, body heavy against Jace's side.
    Seth's smiling now too. "Yeah— always locked up in that place of yours, when are you gonna show us your stuff anyway? Never seen anything. You trying to hide how shitty you are?"
    Jace tries to ignore the sudden dryness of his mouth. The heat of Cam's body bleeds through the thin T-shirt he'd donned after his shower and warms up his side like nothing else. He has to fight to keep his arm in place, shoves his hand into his pocket when his fingers itch to go around his brother's waist instead, draw him in closer.
    Instead he flips Seth off and huffs out an exaggerated sigh.
    "Yeah, yeah. I'll play. Don't be an ass about it."
    Beside him, Cam drops his head and his hand closes around Jace's shoulder, squeezes as a small smile curls the corner of his lips. He doesn't say anything though, just takes a gulp of the beer in his hand and then lets go to pat Jace on the back.
    ****
    The heat is a sticky thing on his skin, clinging and unshakeable. Whereas the sky had only been cloudy earlier on, now the clouds are a bloated, dense grey, clustered together in a blanket blotting out sunlight. Still, the stifling heat remains and the wind that's picked up is a warm lick against his skin that does nothing to dry the sweat running down Jace's back and arms. His face feels tacky with it and his shirt has long since fallen from the back pocket he'd tucked its edges into. Jace braces his hands on his knees, bent over and panting from that last run. He can smell it— that fresh earth smell staining the