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I watched Brian lose himself in it. He didn’t look at me, but I sure as shit didn’t take my eyes off him. Eventually, he closed his, breathed and played, like it was too much to see while he lost himself to all the sensations. My fingers twitched. I wanted to touch him again, wanted to feel that connection to him with an intensity I couldn’t explain. I wanted Brian’s fingers to play me like they did every chord he strummed.

His heart was in this song, and whatever it was that had made him write it, he felt down to the marrow of his bones, was maybe why he was sad and lonely, and this was the only way he could express it.

And he was sharing it with me. I didn’t understand that, what made him choose to let me in. Brian gave me pieces of himself he didn’t give to others, and damn, was it a precious gift.

When the song ended, I couldn’t speak right away, my gaze still ensnared by Brian. He didn’t turn to me when he said, “It ain’t that good, could use some work, but…”

“Play it again,” I found myself telling him.

Our eyes met, held on to each other, and Brian nodded slowly before starting over.

The keys drew my attention, fingers pulled to them like iron to a magnet. I started to play, trying to blend my music with his, wanting his notes less lonely, and to try and create something new together.

Brian’s fingers stumbled on the strings, like he hadn’t expected it. At first I worried it was too much, that he didn’t want to share this with me, but the curiosity in his gaze said otherwise.

He kept going, so I did too. It wasn’t perfect, but that made it even better. More real.

He stopped before I did. For the first time since I was young, I felt bashful about something I’d done. “I didn’t want to take away from—”

“You didn’t,” he countered before I could finish my sentence.

“Must be because I’m so good,” I teased.

“You gonna sing for me now?” Brian asked.

I fake-yawned. “Welp, it’s time for me to go home.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Brian put his hand on my thigh, and I couldn’t lie, I liked it there. He pulled back quickly. “You don’t really gotta.”

“No, a deal is a deal.”

I chose “Dosed” by the Chili Peppers. I loved how it sounded on the piano and remembered the words, which made it an easy choice. I played, the lyrics falling from my mouth as I did so. Brian smiled, his grin happy and interested. It made me want to sing some more. I was almost done when he started to hum along with me, and I said, “You can sing! I can tell!”

“I don’t sing.”

“But you can, you little shit. You lied to me.” I playfully pushed him, earning a chuckle from Brian.

“I didn’t lie. I don’t sing.”

“You’re going to sing for me, Brian Manning.”

“No I’m not.”

“We’ll see.”

Our gazes caught, his eyes with a few more wrinkles around them, he was studying me so hard. “I like playing with you—and don’t even say it.”

“I wasn’t going to. Whose mind’s in the gutter this time?” I was absolutely going to, and we both knew it. “I like playing with you too. We should go out sometime, hit up some open-mic nights or something.”

“Hell no.”

“Come on. Live a little.” I nudged him.

“I live plenty.” He sighed, then leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment. “Want me to make a fire in the pit again? Unless you gotta go. You probably gotta go.”

“You’re tired.”

“I’m always tired, Charles.” He wasn’t talking about lack of sleep anymore.

I was exhausted too, knew I should go home, but he wanted me to stay, and I didn’t want to let him down. The truth was, I didn’t want to go either.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. Can I use your bathroom first?”

He nodded, and we went inside. I took a quick piss, washed my hands, then splashed some water on my face. I had no business being up all night again, but I had a feeling that was exactly what we were going to do.

When I got back outside, Brian was in the chair by the firepit, new red flames just beginning to dance there.

I passed him, walking over to the grass not far from him, and sat down.

“Wha’cha doing?”

“Lying down.”

“Let me get you a blanket.”

“It’s okay. The grass isn’t going to hurt me.”

“You get fire ants in your pants and it’s gonna hurt.” He chuckled.

A blanket wouldn’t stop that, but still I said, “Okay, fine,” because I thought it was something he wanted to do for me. Brian liked to take care of people. I wondered if he knew that.

It only took him a minute inside. He laid a large comforter out. I sat down, then patted next to me. He hesitated for a moment, but then joined me.

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