August chose to ignore the implication that his brother was anywhere near as good quality as he was. He was content in believing that Trent was not as great a boyfriend – mate – as he could be to Venus; even when the evidence was staring him straight in the face, August refused to acknowledge it. “Don’t say that around my mother. She’ll use that as an excuse to have more kids.” Could the world possibly handle more Summers children? Not until the next generation, at least.
“I would say it’s still strong enough a trait that it will take a while to wash out of your genes.” It wasn’t wrong for him to essentially call Venus gorgeous if she was the one that brought it up in the first place, right? At least then it didn’t seem like he was going too far out of his way to compliment her, though he would have gladly done so. “I’m surprised you were even able to peel her off of you. Are you sure she’s not hiding somewhere? In a lamp, or something?”
He took his time working out the kinks in the foot he had a grasp of before leaning down to reach for the other. The questions, the ones that had brought him to the witch’s apartment in the first place, were burning in his mind; so much so that he couldn’t keep himself from remaining quiet. “So… I heard through the grapevine that the wedding’s back on.” Would Venus believe that Trent had told her? Or that he had told someone else, who passed the information on to him? For his sake, he hoped so.