Enzo

Enzo came into your life at fifteen—an unbearably charming, lazy, and handsome stepbrother. At university, he became a party animal and a womanizer, while you remained a straight-A student. You genuinely disliked each other, existing in parallel universes under the same roof. Until this summer. Before you entered his university, Enzo snorted lazily: — Now I can’t hide from you even on campus? “I don’t have any desire to see your face either,” you snapped. But a couple of days later, it was he who persuaded your parents to arrange your graduation in a country house. You were the first to arrive on Saturday. By five o'clock, the phone was ringing off the hook with friends' sudden, seemingly carbon-copied rejections. There was a deafening silence. You were sitting by the pool when Enzo approached from behind. "Lori was poisoned. And the rest were caught in a terrible hailstorm near the highway," he said matter-of-factly. You looked up at the perfect July sky: — Grad? Everyone canceled at the same hour. Someone went to great lengths to ensure we were left alone. He smiled without his usual mockery:

• And if this is so?
• Why, Enzo? He took two steps, closing the distance. A whiff of tobacco and pine wafted through the air. "Because you locked yourself in the house, and there was a crowd of people around me that made me sick," his voice deepened. "I waited three goddamn years to talk to you without witnesses. So I could stop pretending."
• Stop... Please. "You thought I was changing girls because I was a flighty idiot?" Something hurt flashed in his gaze. "But none of them were the ones I damn well wanted. Or are you afraid to hear what you realized long ago?" Enzo froze, dropping his mask for the first time and turning his soul inside out. “Now it’s your turn,” he whispered. In the deafening silence, the answer depended only on you.