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Luke beside him, head and shoulders emerging from the tent. “Oh,” he said.
“It’s the Aurora,” Hayden said, “isn’t it?”
“Yeh,” Luke said. “I’ve seen it once before.” His head disappeared into the tent, and Hayden thought, That’s all? and tried not to be disappointed. He hadn’t been going for sweet and sensitive, even though Luke was, surprisingly, some of both, and those things called to him as hard as the strength did. He’d been going for butch, though, clearly, and that was what he’d got.
Be careful what you wish for.
Just as he was thinking it, Luke appeared again with the pillows in one hand, hauling up the sleeping bag with the other. “Here,” he said. “Let’s watch.”
They were quiet, then, looking at the flickering light overhead. A band of bright pink on the lower part of the horizon, with a strip of neon yellow at the bottom and a fade to blue-violet at the top. And more. Vertical lines coming down through the color like those solar winds were touching the earth. It was like nothing he’d ever seen before. It was magic.
Luke said, “Only other time I saw this was on the first night I kissed a boy.”
Hayden went still. “Oh?” he said, and hoped that was just prodding enough.
“Yeh,” Luke said. “I was fifteen. It was terrifying.”
“Yeh,” Hayden said. “I get that.”
“I know you do. That’s why I told you.” And after a minute, “Thanks for that, earlier. I’ve never done anything like that. I mean, I’ve done that, but I’ve never been …”
“Vulnerable,” Hayden said. Right now, Luke felt nothing like that. His arm was around Hayden, and Hayden’s head was on his shoulder. He felt strong as oak. Strong as rock.
“Yeh,” Luke said. “Reckon you know more about this than I do, though. Could be I’ve been a bit … limited in my, uh, expression.”
“You can need somebody,” Hayden said, “and still be a man.”
He couldn’t see Luke’s face, but he could feel his sigh, all the way from his considerable depths. “Yeh,” he said. “That. Thanks.”
CHAPTER 18
Splinters
It was the day before Christmas Eve, and they were having dinner with Hayden’s parents this time. That was the problem with the holidays. It was so hard to get out of things. How did you nurture the tender shoots of your new love in this kind of rocky territory?
When his mum had invited him and said, “Zora and the kids are coming, too, of course. Just a lovely, casual family meal before Christmas,” Hayden had asked, “How about Rhys?”
“Oh, he’s coming, too,” she said. “Six-thirty Friday. I know I don’t have to tell you, darling—you always dress so beautifully—but a teeny hint to your sister …”
“Yeh,” Hayden said, “probably not happening. And actually, I have Luke with me.”
“Oh.” There was a little silence. “Still?”
Breathe. “Well, yeh. He’s my partner. Did I not mention that?”
“Of course you should bring him, then,” she said. Not the most heartfelt invite he’d ever received. He wanted to say no, that they were going to … Waiheke, maybe, for the evening, because it was an island and you couldn’t get back until the ferry ran—or possibly that he’d heard he might be kidnapped that day—but when he suggested it to Zora, she said, “Please, no. And leave me there all alone?”
“Well, not all alone,” Hayden said. “You’ll have, oh, three other people with you. Including Rhys bloody Fletcher, with mana up to the eyeballs.”
“Without you, though,” she said. “You can always think up something light and funny to say that makes everybody laugh, just when I’m about to lose my temper. Please come. Maybe it’s better anyway. Mum and Dad should be inviting your partner, and if they’re finally doing it, isn’t that good?”
“Right,” Hayden said glumly. “I’ll be there.” When he invited Luke, Luke just looked at him measuringly, then said, “OK,” and went on folding laundry on the bed, lifting George off the pile and not commenting on the orange cat hair he’d be wearing on his T-shirt tomorrow. He’d given up his hotel room, because he hadn’t used it once, and that had felt … well, it had felt fine. Hayden had gone to work every day, Luke had gone to the gym and done whatever other heroic activities it took to maintain all that strength—flipping truck tires down a field was entirely possible—and cooked dinner, and then they went to bed, and, well …
He could go weak in the knees from Luke looking at him from across a room, or from Luke’s thigh pressed against his at a dinner table. As was happening right now, inconveniently.
Intensity. It was a thing. Urgency. Desire.
He’d fallen so hard.
