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“Ah, no. That I learned in rehab. And NA meetings. And from my friend yapping in my ear over and over again.” Fucking Huey, all insistent on me being in touch with my feelings and shit.
I forced myself to glance up at Theo. His eyebrows were drawn together in concern, but he didn’t look disgusted by me, which was a welcome change.
“Yeah, I, uh, I kinda figured when I saw you were super successful and then disappeared. I mean, I might have looked you up. Online. On tour. A lot.”
Relief flooded me at Theo’s casual reception of my drug problem, though I hoped that was open-mindedness and familiarity with the business, rather than the impression it wasn’t a big deal. I decided to let it go and focus on the part where he’d apparently been as liberal with YouTube about me as I’d been about him.
“Is that right?”
“Mm-hmm. I watched you play. You’re amazing, Caleb.” He said amazing like it still wasn’t enough and my stomach felt light, like instead of food I’d ingested pure joy. “That song you did in Memphis?” He hummed a few bars of “Down at the Heels.” “That song haunts me, man. For real, I must’ve listened to it ten times trying to figure out how it just…fuck, cuts sideways, I dunno. And your voice is…sexy as hell.”
He was making eyes at me, and fuck could the man make eyes. With his hair drying in messy curves around his face and the remnants of eyeliner still darkening his lashes, I wanted to keep looking at him forever.
“I might have looked you up, too,” I allowed, delighting in the flush that spread over Theo’s cheekbones at that massive understatement. The pleasure in that quirk of his mouth. “You’re like a snake shedding its skin onstage.”
“You mean ’cause I’m less awkward than in real life?”
“Nah, I mean because you move all liquid and prowling, and you eye-fuck the audience. Kinda like you’re doing to me right now.”
“Is that bad?” he murmured, and cut a look at me that made my stomach clench and my balls tighten. “I thought…I thought we were pretty hot together before.” He didn’t sound quite as confident now. “Course then you left, so…” When he shrugged, he seemed to shrug with his whole body. A lost thing wanting to be found.
I leaned forward and caught his shoulders in my hands. His lips parted and his eyes widened at the proximity.
“I didn’t leave because it wasn’t hot between us.” I let my desire for him spill into my voice. “It was definitely hot.” His pupils dilated and his eyelids grew heavy. I could practically feel the lust coming off him, and I definitely wasn’t unaffected. “I left because you make me want things. And it’s easier not to want anything. Safer.”
“You don’t seem like the safe type,” he murmured.
I snorted ruefully. “Yeah, I’m not. Hasn’t served me all that well.”
Theo nodded, then slid forward in his chair, put his hands on my knees. Just a firm pressure, but it felt like more.
“I feel…better around you,” he said softly. “Like, here, with you. I feel like I can actually just be myself instead of that person that everyone sees me as. You…you see me. Just me. And I like you. And, yeah, I kind of want to fuck you constantly.” He shot me a look and I couldn’t help but smile. “But, your call.” When he removed his hands I felt like I might float away.
I swore under my breath. I wanted him, of course I did. But I’d spent the last year learning to mistrust the things I wanted. Learning that chances were if I desired it, it was going to kill me eventually. It was hard to reconcile that lesson with the man in front of me, offering himself with one hand and protecting me with the other.
I just needed to know that I wasn’t powerless in the face of the things I wanted. That they weren’t uncontrollable forces that would suck me under like sand in the surf. I needed to know I could exert some will.
“I…want that, too,” I murmured. “The fucking you constantly part, I mean.” I winked at him. “I think I just…Just not tonight, all right? It kills me to say that, especially with you all…shit, look at you.” I pulled away from him a little, as if the distance had any hope of quelling the combustibility of the air between us. “I just need to think a little bit. Make sure I’m making a choice. You can stay, if you want? Long drive back to the city. But I’ll crash on the couch. God knows I’ve done it often enough before. Okay?”
“Course. I mean, of course it’s okay to not, uh, you know, tonight.” His sudden shyness hit me right in the gut. “But I’m sleeping on the couch. Jesus, I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.” Then he squeezed my hand and cleared the table before I could respond.
