For Ian?
That’s when my phone moos at me.
I fumble with it, drop the damned thing on the treadmill, pick it back up, sigh with relief it isn’t shattered, then slap it to my ear. “Timothy,” I say after taking a deep, necessary breath.
“Hey there, Not-Little A. Made it back to your hotel safely?”
Just the sound of his voice is sweet, precious relief. I leave the suffocating gym that stinks of old sweat and rubber. “Yeah,” I say the moment I’m outside of it. “Back, safe and sound.”
“Wasn’t sure if it was … too clingy of me to call. Kinda worried about it. I gave it lots of thought. Too much thought.”
I find myself smiling, strolling through the hallway. It’s cute, how neurotic he is. I can literally see the expressions playing over his face without him being here. “You’re sayin’ that to a guy who just made friends inyourtown with a stray cat and a duck.”
He laughs into the phone, which makes my heart explode all over the place. I’ve taken a seat in front of a vending machine, back against the wall. One of the lights by the window is flickering on and off, and the other one’s out completely. Only the calm glow from the machine on my face. Dim lighting: just my vibe.
“Well, okay, making a family out of animals,” he admits, “is a bit weird. But I like that kinda weird. I like your weird. I like you.”
He says it all so fast, the last phrase catches us both off-guard.
“I mean, I didn’t mean to say Ilikeyou. I just …” He takes a breath. He needs it. “But … Idolike you. That isn’t so crazy to say. I enjoy spending time with you. I’d … like to think you enjoyed your time here, too. Nothing weird about that.”
“Nothing at all,” I say, trying not to sound like I’m teasing him too badly.
“Exactly. Glad you agree.” After a moment’s pause, he adds, “Ididfind another song, by the way. I got brave, took a dive, and now I’m a fan of ‘Play Along’, too.”
I make a mental note. “Got it.”
“But I swear, nothing will compare to that first song I heard. I wish he’d release it so I can stream theheckout of it every night. What’d you say it was called? Anyway, I keep humming it, and …”
I hear sheets rustling. He must be in bed.
I’d kill to be in that bed with him right now.
Not in a sexual way. I just want to be close to him. I want him to say these things to me in a way that doesn’t involve checking over my shoulder every five minutes to see if some asshole’s got a camera out. I want to be completely free with him. Zero need for caution. Just us in a room talking music and metaphors.
And I want to know why he’s itching so badly to escape that town. I kept sensing all day today that he’s holding back. Is it to do with his parents? I wonder what they’re really like.
I bet they’re not as bad as he says.
“Y’know what I mean?” he asks.
Shit. I was zoned out the whole time imagining us in the same bed together. Again. “In time, I’ll get you into all the songs,” I say back, hoping I’m in the ballpark. Wily’s words are still tugging on my brain. My focus is all over the damned place. “We can sing ‘em together.”
“Do you sing well?”
I press my lips together to suppress another smile. Not that he can see it, but you can hear smiles, too. “Maybe.”
“Don’t get shy on me now,” he says through a laugh. “C’mon. What other secret talents are you hiding from me?”
I shrug. “I can down a package of Oreos in thirty seconds,” I say after gazing at the vending machine.
“Pfft, big deal. I used to do that every week before an exam.”
I choke back a laugh, reminded yet again that I’m talking to a college student. I keep forgetting his age. There are a handful of years between us, though neither of us bring it up. Maybebecause he seems so much older than he is. Or I seem younger. “I can solve a Rubik’s Cube in thirty seconds,” I try again.
“What’s with you and thirty seconds?”
“Guess I’m just really good with my fingers.” After the words come out, I realize they sound dirty. “That, uh … wasn’t supposed to mean anything. I just meant ‘cause I play guitar.”