Re: The Woods: Pesha/Tandy
Billy had gone to camp. He’d been fully invested, both in giving his parents a break for the summer and in making new, non-Hebrew-school friends. They’d also had a cabin in Vermont where they’d vacationed every winter, and it was more the cabin that he was reminded of by the smell of wood-burning. (Their brownstone had fireplaces, but those had been entirely gas-powered and didn’t smell like anything.)
“Not at the time, but I’ve been working on it,” he offered by way of explanation, and that shoulder came up again in another shrug. “No, she’s not. I killed her. It was an accident, but guilt is guilt, right?” Billy’s voice flattened out into a monotone and his mouth made a straight line, edges crisp and flat. He didn’t like to share this part of his life story, but he was also very much not a liar. Billy was mostly an open book.
“Are you cold? I’d offer you a hoodie or something, but I get this, like, distinct feeling that you’re not looking for a crop-top.” Billy couldn’t help but wink at that; he was only human and only so hard-wired to not flirt with non-clients. And it was also the truth. Any sweatshirt that he loaned the other kid would be lucky to reach lower than his midsection. “If I knew how to drive or even how to hot-wire my landlord’s Camaro, I’d give you a ride home.”