To say that the rest of the night was awkward was quite possibly the understatement of the century. I had assumed Brady would revert back to being a child. Storming out to go see the boys or barricading himself in his room.
Just my luck, he had matured in under an hour. As soon as I managed to reign in my rapid breathing, he was right next to me. A brush in his hand, making slow strokes up and down the wall in front of us.
I tried to focus on the music and inwardly cringed. The music had taken note of our change of mood and gone were the happy go lucky songs about boating and first love. Now we were serenaded by mellow heart wrenching songs about rotten cheating boyfriends and long-lost lovers. I blamed Spotify and its damned artificial intelligence.
I pretended to be unaffected and obl
