“I do. It sets the tone and has a better story than just endless killing.”

He nods, finally letting his hand slip from mine.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Blake shakes his head. “Not at all, I promise.” He pauses. “Dave loved the first one too. We would argue about it all the time. He used the same logic too. You’re more like him than you think.”

“Or is this some transference thing,” I say under my breath.

“Sorry?”

I gesture blindly, as if that would help him understand. I’m a hand-talker, after all. “I read about it. Stories of people who get transplants and suddenly have new skills. A woman who gets a kidney and suddenly can play the piano. A guy who gets a lung and can speak Spanish. The body carries with it more than we let on.”

“And you’re thinking that maybe, because Dave had the same opinion as you about Kill Bill, it’s him talking and not you?”

I nod. “Could be.”

Blake nods too. “Could be. But let me ask you something. Would you have answered that question the same way if we had met six months ago?”

I pause and think before nodding. “Yeah, I think so.”

Blake nods, and his eyes turn a shade darker as he retreats into himself. The same weightless fear fills my stomach again. I know Dave is a sensitive subject. Maybe even bringing him up tangentially is too much.

“Then there’s your answer.” He thinks for a moment. “But I will say this,” he says. “I think you are your own person. Not my brother. Not a Frankenstein fusion of him. You’re Andre Cobb. And you’re a pretty cool guy how you are right now.

“And besides, my brother isn’t the type of person to encroach on someone’s freedom like that. That doesn’t sound like him at all. But, more importantly…” He clears his throat. “If you were some Frankenstein fusion of my brother, it would make me asking you out even creepier.”

“Oh, I fully agree. That would be weird.” I chuckle, the weight of the whole conversation off my shoulders.

“Agreed.” A beat passes. “So can I take you out sometime?”

Twenty-Two

I don’t answer Blake. In fact, I make up some excuse and bolt from the house. Then three days later, I get a text.

Hey, you.

Hey yourself.

Hark! He answers! Sound the alarm! Blow Gabriel’s horn!

Don’t be glib.

Glib? That’s a new one to describe me.

Do you even know what it means?

Glib, adjective: fluent and voluble but insincere and shallow.

Did you look that up right now?

No! I’ll have you know, I’m not just a handsome face with a nice body. I am decently smart too. You know I’m going to go to Harvard, right?

Is that supposed to be some major selling point?

Not major, but still something to consider.