| |
West tossed his keys onto the table beside the door and shrugged out of his coat. His muscles ached after that last session. His back, his thighs, muscles he'd forgotten he possessed suddenly ached as the tension drained away. He felt like he could fly.
His fingers crept under his shirt cuff. The rope marks were fading already, barely ghosts on his skin, so he flexed his wrists to remember how it felt to be held in place. Secure. Too bad that the feeling came attached to... him.
Noah.
The name didn't suit him. It should belong to someone else. Someone less. Less what, West didn't know. It was too small of a name for that bundle of nerves and wicked smiles. Nothing about Noah was less. He was more and he made West feel more than he'd ever felt in his whole life. Being with Noah today had set him on fire. He'd known every nerve ending, every muscle, every breath. Every bit of himself stretched to fill the room. God. He didn't have to learn to love that feeling. He already did.
West dropped onto the couch and sat staring at the wall. The late day sun crept across the floor and walls, turning gold. He watched the patterns it made, the faint sparkle as it caught on threads and glass, even the cover of his book sitting on the side table. His breath came slow and even. The sky flamed with orange and pink so bright it looked fake. He couldn't remember the last time he had bothered to watch a sunset. Everything was worn smooth.
When the phone rang, he answered it without looking.
"Hiiiiiii," drawled Charlotte. "You're not busy, are you? You can't be busy. You never go out. Can you come pick me up? Please?" When he didn't answer she added a second please. Her pleading hands were almost audible through the phone.
"It's a school night, isn't it? Where are you going this... late?" He had to check the clock to be sure that it was actually late. Five o'clock could reasonably be considered late. By some people. Today he was one of them.
"West, it's Friday."
"And? You had school earlier."
"I don't think that's what a school night means."
"Isn't it?"
"I don't know. Just stop being an old lady and come get me. I need to go to the grocery store and Reese won't drive," she whined. "He said I should have thought of that earlier."
Reese would say that. West's thumb stroked over the memory of rope against his wrist. "Okay, okay. Fine. I'll be there soon. Just be ready. I'm not coming in."
"Yes! I will. Okay." She hung up in the middle of saying goodbye.
As good as her word, Charlotte stood on the front walk when he pulled up, wallet held in both hands. She bounced into the car. Her mouth started before she'd even buckled her seatbelt. "Thank you thank you thank you. I need my mac and cheese. And pads. I think we're almost out. Can you believe Reese? He said I should walk, but it's miles and miles and already dark. Whatever happened to stranger danger? I could be snatched. And it's cold. The weather said it was below freezing with the windchill."
"Certainly feels like it," West said.
"Right? It's cold. And he's just watching some dumb true crime show. Okay, it's not dumb. I like that show. But you know what I mean."
She paused, huffing something under her breath.
"Hey, how's school going?"
"What? Why're you asking about school again? You never ask about school. Did mom tell you something? Because the law says I'm innocent until proven guilty."
West chuckled. "I don't know. You sound pretty guilty."
"I don't have to incriminate myself." She folded her arms over her chest. "You're in a good mood. It's weird."
"Gee, thanks."
"You're welcome. School is fine. In the sense that it exists and I'm forced to attend when a nice long nap until spring would be so much more spiritually enriching for me than say... reading The Great Gatsby."
West made a face. He had his own not so fond memories. "Oh no."
"That's what I'm saying. So why are you in a good mood?" She stroked a hand over her chin as though she had an imaginary beard. "Please tell me it's a boy or something. I need gossip."
"Can't you get that from your school friends? Ask what's her name. Jo? Was there a Jo?"
She snorted. "There was not a Jo. But there was a Jamie. Back in middle school. There is now a Vivica, Brady, and possibly a wild Chris or two if you time it right."
"Damn. I was close."
"You were in an entirely different neighborhood. Is it That Guy? Are you dating now? Ask him where he got that coat. I want one."
"What coat are you even talking about?" Noah had worn so many different things that it was hard to keep track.
"The one. You know, with the hearts. All over it. They had little frowny faces. And you didn't say it wasn't him so HA! I was right! I knew I was right."
"You're not right."
"But—"
"We're not dating."
"But—" The joy fell out of her face like she was a bucket with a hole in it.
"He asked me to model for him," West said in the spirit of honesty. He hadn't told a single person yet even though the need had been eating its way through him after today. But he had no one to tell that wouldn't ruin it for him. Except Charlotte. That was a little depressing. He needed more friends. The few he'd had fell away once high school ended and making more had never been a priority. They took so much time.
The wild glee on Charlotte's face was worth it though. She squealed so loud his ears were still ringing when he parked at the grocery store. She yanked him out of the car. "Tell me everything."
"Not everything," he amended. There were some things he needed to keep for himself. "But some. You're just making me come so I can carry the basket, aren't you?"
Another snort. "Please. We're getting a cart and I'm pushing."
"You're too old to ride on it. It'll tip."
"Thanks, mom."
He flicked her in the back of the head and hurried through the automatic doors before she could catch him.
*****
"SHIT, IT WAS SO HOT. He was so hot," Noah said, pausing in his spackling with a look of bliss that the chore didn't usually elicit. "That ass. I just want to bite it. And it kills me that I can't, but it almost makes it hotter that I can't, you know?"
At his side, Margot nodded. "Forbidden fruit." Built like the pinup model version of a librarian, all soft curves and glorious dark brown waves, right down to the cat's eye glasses, she was also one of Noah's most enduring, if not oldest, friends. If they were keeping score he probably owed her the world by now, for all the late night drama calls he'd put her through. Or at least a very nice card. He made a mental note to swing by the store and see if they had any leftover Christmas candy. It was the thought that counted and clearance candy always tasted the best anyway.
"Maybe not forbidden," he said. His putty knife scraped against the wall before he moved on to the next nail hole to be filled.
It was reset day at the gallery which meant taking down all the old art, patching holes and repainting any scuffs, before hanging the new work for the quarter. It worked mostly through the power of cooperation and normally it was a mind numbingly boring task, but today Noah felt energized. Like he'd been well fucked and slept for a week before waking up to a sky full of rainbows.
"Is he into you?"
He considered. "Maybe? Sometimes he gets this look like he's down to fuck and then bam, he locks down tighter than"—he fumbled for an analogy before giving up—"a really tight thing. I don't know. But after that it's back to ice queen and I'm getting frostbite."
"Oh God." Margot rolled her eyes and nudged his shoulder. "You're getting off on this, aren't you?"
"Who's to say?" He grinned.
"You are."
"A little, yeah. But come on. Something is finally going right for a change. And I was still the very picture of professionalism I'll have you know. Perfect gentleman. I need this. I need him not to freak out and dart into the underbrush. This could be real and I haven't felt this good about a shoot in forever. I don't want to lose this." He straightened, putty knife raised like a torch. "He's like my muse."
"You hate when people talk about their muses." Her air quotes dripped with sarcasm.
"I know. It's pretentious as fuck. But shit, Margot, the earth was moving for me. I could barely sleep last night just thinking about the next shoot with him. I got ideas. Plans. Themes. Dare I say, maybe even a touch of motivation."
"You sure that's not just your dick talking?"
He leered at her.
"Uh huh. That's what I thought. I'm happy for you though. Have fun with your new toy, just watch yourself, okay? You're all fire and no brain sometimes and I don't want to see you hurt again."
Goodbye, serotonin. It's not like he was using that or anything.
"Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"Yeah, but you're not wrong. That shit with Becca was brutal and I should've known better. She told me. She fucking told me it was just temporary."
"She was a bitch anyway."
"You just say that because you're my friend."
"Pssh. I say it because she treated you like a servant."
She had. But at the time he hadn't hated it. When he cared for someone he really cared and part of that caring was trying to make them happy. He liked being the one to do that for them. Noah, defender of love. Purveyor of happiness. It was the closest he was ever going to get to being a Sailor Scout.
Noah returned to spackling with a vengeance, moving down the wall away from Margot. "This time will be different. Look but don't touch. I'm a changed man. And then you'll fucking see in a couple months. This shit is gonna be fire." It was quiet for a long time except for the scrape of their putty knives on drywall. "I'm still gonna enjoy the fuck out of the view while I can though, let's be real. Build a monument to that boy's ass. And those lips. Got a sneer on him that makes me weak in the knees. I love it. It's beautiful."
"You're hopeless." Margot laughed.
"And yet you keep hoping."
"I do."
He filled another hole and looked around. They'd finished most of the spackle work in the main gallery area, all the old art leaned against the walls in the back, the new art waiting to take its place. "Where the hell is everyone else? They're supposed to be helping with this. Fucking slackers."
The gallery looked different with all the walls bare and the spotlights off. It just looked like a room. A boring room, half white walls and the rest bare brick. Large windows letting in cold winter sunlight. The floor creaked like a horror movie. Scuffs and ancient paint splatters were the only indicator of where they were. With the walls empty, the gallery was a box waiting to be filled. The end of a dream.
"Got me. They got the schedule. Carter said he'd be late to help with hanging so he's excused. He's still got some kind of family thing going on."
"Good or bad?"
"Good this time. I think."
Noah nodded.
"I haven't heard from Sophie in like three weeks though. Not sure what's up there."
"Sophie's always been a flake."
"Also true."
"Ames is out of town until next week."
"So they're also excused. Sophie'll probably show up for the meeting looking wasted like always or something. Everyone else though, you got me."
As if in answer there was a knock on the glass door. Outside, two familiar faces pressed against the locked door. "Let us in." That was from Carter, big, blond, and built like a linebacker. Sophie stood at his side looking like a goth swamp plant. Her green hair was windblown into long weedy tendrils that hung over her face.
Noah took his time going over, pausing to smile and wave at them standing outside in the cold from within the (only marginally) warmer gallery. It wasn't much warmer with so much glass and a heating system that was older than God, but the walls blocked the wind. That was already a vast improvement on a day like today. The wind had almost knocked Noah flat on his ass earlier.
"You're late," he called through the door to be sure they heard him.
Sophie thumped on the window, her splayed fingers leaving a foggy mark like a snowflake. "Open up, you ass."
"You didn't say please."
Sophie held up a middle finger. "There's your please."
Margot shouldered Noah out of the way and unlocked the door. "Don't get high and mighty just because you were on time for once."
"I can and I will." He stepped aside to let Sophie and Carter in, folding his arms over his chest. "You know I hate spackling. Even the word is terrible. Spackle. It sounds like something caught in your throat." He pointed the metal blade at Sophie. "And you forced me to do it."
"You're such a fussy bitch. I got here as early as I could." Sophie slapped a paperback against his chest. "I'm glad you're here though. I finished this one so you can have it."
He turned the book over to inspect the cover. On it, two women embraced, mouths open as though they'd been caught in the middle of laughing at a particularly delicious joke. Promising. He raised an eyebrow. "Good?"
"And queer. Obviously. It's part of that same series I've been loaning you. The sex was hot."
"Perfect." He tucked it under his arm.
"Maybe that'll keep you occupied so you don't get into any trouble," Margot whispered from behind him.
Noah waved her away.
"Trouble?" Sophie perked up.
Behind her, Carter froze like a rabbit sensing danger. Despite being built like a football player, right down to his All American white boy jawline, he was basically a marshmallow with legs. The single time Noah had tried flirting with him, Carter had turned bright red and had fled the scene. Poor thing was out of his depth.
"Noah has a new hobby," Margot said.
"Uh oh."
"Hey. I can hear you. I'm standing right here." Noah smacked Margot in the side with the book since it was the only weapon he had. "And I already told you. I'm not laying a finger on him. I plan to be perfectly professional."
"Who what now?" Sophie looked between them. "What's happening? Do we need to duct tape you to a chair again?"
"I mean, I wouldn't say no to that, but at least buy me dinner first. My safeword is cerulean."
She rolled her eyes and turned to Margot who filled her in. Once Margot was done, Sophie turned back to him. One bright painted nail jabbed towards his face. "No."
"Is no one listening to me? I already said I wasn't going to try anything. Twice. This is thrice. He hates me anyway. It's not gonna work. And I can see you making the talking hands behind my back, Margot. The windows reflect, remember. I'm serious. I just..." He fell silent. He didn't know how to finish that sentence. How did he explain the feeling of rightness he got whenever he aimed a camera at West? Surly, beautiful, prickly West.
"I hope it works out," Carter said in his quiet voice.
"Thank you, Carter. I appreciate that," said Noah. "See? He supports me."
"He's new." Sophie smirked. "Give him time."
"That's it. You're off the guest list for my reception." Noah slung an arm around Carter's neck who stiffened and let out a startled squeak as if he didn't outweigh Noah by over fifty pounds, most of it muscle. He waited until Carter had relaxed before leaning his head on his shoulder. It felt good to be so close to someone again, to share in the chill coming off of Carter's clothes. He'd always been tactile and he'd been suffering without someone to lean on. Literally and figuratively. Too bad West wasn't up for the position.