We come down together, and I stay inside him as long as I can, even less interested in separating us when he’s the one to drag a couple of fingertips over his chest this time. He feeds them to me, an offer more than a challenge, and I suck from them without hesitation, my tongue in his mouth a moment after that. It’s fierce, that kiss, and I feel Darren moan before I hear him.
“We have to stop, or I’m gonna keep you here ‘til your dick’s hard enough for round two,” he mumbles against me. “And I might fall asleep under you in the meantime.”
“You say that as if I’d mind.”
Darren smiles, and I feel that, too. “You might. What if Isnore?”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“Good to know,” I say, smiling back as I ease away from him. “Shower, though?”
It’s an imperative—I’m going to church soon and doubt Darren is eager for a sticky car ride home—and something of a habit that satisfies us both. Those minutes in the water provide a buffer between worlds that are close together and far apart, and sharing that space under the pretense of something wholly practical means we don’t have to decide whether leaving each other afterward requires a tiptoe or a leap.
We’re quiet through it all, but once we’ve dried off and Darren goes in search of his clothes, I lean against the bathroom doorframe and bring him back to the night before.
“So, the band was really that good?”
“They were, yeah. Exactly the vibe I’d hoped for—more rock than trendy pop.” Darren zips his jeans and looks up at me, rolling his eyes before I can point out the obvious. “Yes, I know it’s not what Ilistento, but it’s what’s good for thebar. And as busy as we were, Riley seemed captivated by the set and whatever charm Supine brought to the bar afterward, so I figured that was a good sign. Riley loves music and despises bullshit, so if I’m going to trust anyone’s gut response to people we’re bringing in, it’s theirs.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue something about Ethan, but I don’t know enough about how all that started for me tothink it’s a good idea. And I actually think Darren is exactly right about Riley. That admission stings, even while I’ll keep that to myself too, mostly because it's one of the reasons I think I’ve been too hard on Adrian for the past year. Beau had been distracted by his bittersweet attraction, and Darren is rarely guarded about welcoming a new regular, but Riley and Adrian had quickly slipped into quiet conversations that suited them well. My history with grief made it easy to judge Adrian’s mishandling of his own, but Riley’s opinions felt clouded by almost nothing but an intuition I admired.
Smart money was on Riley being correct about Adrian then, and maybe just as right about Supine now.
“How many more bands are you auditioning?”
“Two more on Friday, and then I think I’m gonna invite our favorites back to play Saturday night,” Darren says. “I’ve already told all of them to keep the night free just in case.”
I nod, finally grabbing some boxers from my drawer while Darren pulls his jacket on. “Do you want me there?”
“I always want you there.”
“I’d only be drinking beer and listening to the bands while you work.”
“My answer stands,” he shrugs. “And I’ll tell Noah, Beau, and Adrian to come too, just so you don’t feel so lonely while I work.”
“Ah, yes, because loneliness is something I’ve complained about often.”
It’s supposed to be a lighthearted thing—not quite a joke, but certainly something we should be able to chuckle about onDarren’s way out the door—but it falls onto the carpet between us, silent when it lands. My denial is a reminder of why I didn’t need to do this thing with him, everything about my life fine before I bled in his arms and let him look too closely at the past ten years. He knows it too, but he’s smart and kind and probably too tired to excavate anything I buried long ago.
“Complaints or not, I’m happy to help where I can.”
“Mmmm, but it’s not charity,” I murmur. “Inviting the rest of the group to hang out with me, I mean.”
Darren’s eyes flicker with something wise and wounded. “No, it’s never been that.”
He’s quiet when he says it—still part of the smart and kind and tired, I assume—but I step forward so we can leave this conversation behind when I walk him out. A goodbye kiss would’ve been a given when we first left the shower, but I don’t even try now.
Neither does he.
“I’m gonna get some sleep, but we’ll talk before Saturday?” he asks.
“I’m sure we will. And I’ll see you then.”
I’m unusually late getting to Trailhead on Saturday night, and I’d be stuck standing against a wall somewhere if it weren’t for the friends who have saved me a seat at the bar. Beau’s the first tospot me, and the first to greet me when I reach our little group, wrapping me up in a hug I needed more than I knew.
“Glad you made it.”