He let Kyle pull him into the bedroom, the neatly made bed and fluffy pillows calling to him like a siren. Like a muse.Come to me. Kyle gave him another quick smooch, then started puttering around the room undressing and turning down the sheets.
“We’ll get a little rest, and then tomorrow we’ll work for a while at the theater. Tomorrow will be a better day. Do your hands hurt, baby? Do you want me to rub them some more?”
He didn’t even have the words to answer. His fingertips had blisters so deep under his calluses that he didn’t think they could be fixed. It was okay. He got it. He stripped himself down and went to the bathroom to wash up real quick.
Kyle was sitting on the bed when he got back from the bathroom, and he felt his lover’s eyes on him. “Hey. Are you okay?”
“Just tired, you know?” He’d been working on no sleep. He just needed to lay his burdens down for a second.
“Come on, baby.” Kyle’s arms opened, calling to him. “Come rest.”
For a weird, awful second he thought he was going to cry, but he didn’t, and that was okay.
Kyle hunkered down with him in soft pillows and under that fat, fluffy comforter and pulled him close. “Oh, you are just what I needed tonight. Thank you.”
“Merci, cher.” He knew all about need. All about. He laid his head down, the blackness sucking him in.
14
Friday. Howdid it get to be Friday already?
Taking last Sunday off hadn’t been the end of the world. Colt had been so damned tired, Kyle hadn’t had the heart to wake his lover to rehearse and had let Colt sleep in instead. It hadn’t set them back much. He had plenty of rehearsing of his own to do, so he’d just canceled the theater space and spent the morning in his studio, working on the numbers that Colt wasn’t playing for.
But Colt had promised him two original recorded tracks that he didn’t have in hand yet, and that definitely was holding him back. Despite having some great ideas, he couldn’t choreograph to music he didn’t have.
The last they’d talked, which had been Tuesday night while Colt was on a break, they’d agreed to meet at the theater this morning. They hadn’t spoken much since then because their schedules just weren’t matching up at all. Colt had even been sleeping at his own apartment because his hours were so scattered around. Mostly they’d been sending text messages back and forth full of hearts and apologies.
Truthfully, he wondered whether Colt would even remember they’d planned to meet this morning. His lover was already twenty minutes late.
It wasn’t wasted time. It was never wasted time if Kyle had somewhere to dance, so he marked out a couple of pieces while he was waiting. He texted, waited, checked his phone, and texted again, but if Colt was in the studio, he wouldn’t get the texts until he was out. If Colt was writing with Norv and Ryder, he might not get them at all. Norv and Ryder brought out amazing creativity in Colt, but they were as much of a problem for Colt as anything else.
He looked at his phone and wondered if he should worry. Maybe he should call again. Maybe he should call Timmy. Or maybe he shouldn’t treat Colt like he was twelve, let him be an adult and take responsibility for not showing up.
He didn’t call.
Colt came squealing in finally, pale as a ghost, eyes like holes burned in the snow. “Lawd, I’m late. I know. I been late all day.”
Kyle stared at Colt from where he’d been working out some choreography and didn’t move a step closer. “Hello to you too.”
“I’m sorry. I misjudged traffic stuff. I ain’t used to thinking about cities being busy in the morning. I worked to six, and I wanted a nap, so I slept in the studio. I got your tracks laid down for you.”
He wanted to be angry. He wanted to be indignant and raise his voice and say something like “What were you thinking?” or “How could you keep me waiting?” But looking into Colt’s eyes, all he could think wasWhat are you doing to yourself?
He relented and went over, took that pale face in his hands. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry, cher. I know your time is important.” Colt pushed into his hands, cheeks burning up.
“It is. So are you.” Colt’s eyes were just big, dark pupils. “You shouldn’t be laying down tracks for me until six in the morning. You should be getting some sleep. You’re overcommitted.”
It wasn’t rocket science. Colt was high. He’d seen it way too often as a dancer not to know. He let it go for now, though. If he could make Colt cope, maybe nothing would ever have to be said.
“I keep waiting for Ryder to take Norv away or for there to be some time where someone don’t need my happy ass in the studio.”
He kissed Colt lightly and smiled, then started asking leading questions. “You’re in demand, huh? People want to work with you? You need to start telling them no.”
“Seems like everyone does, don’t it?” Colt stroked his fingers, the touch blisteringly hot.
Kyle took one of Colt’s hands in his and kissed the palm, closing his eyes against that heat and steeling himself. He’d missed it; he wanted it. But he needed to do this, first. He’d given it a lot of thought, caught between his love for his man and his love for his work.