“He’s real happy with you, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know. He’s not here right now, so it’s kind of hard to judge.”
“And you really love him?”
“Yeah, I do. Sometimes I think I love him too much.”
He swallows hard and peels the label off his beer, shredding it to tiny pieces on the floor. “Do you ever think about how you’d cope without him, how your life would be without him?”
“I don’t like to think about it, but I have, of course. I don’t think I’d cope, to be honest.”
“No. I’ve seen the way you are around one another. I don’t think you’d cope, either. First, it’d be hard to breathe, and then you’d feel like your chest was gonna cave in under the weight of the pain, you know?” Kick takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. Rolling his head toward me, he meets my gaze. “Promise me, if anything ever happens to him, if anything ever goes wrong and he’s backed in a corner, don’t try and save him—just run. Just leave, and let him take the hit.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not promising that,” I say, as I shoot back the shot I just poured. “Also, Ryan Gosling just took his shirt off again, so drink up.”
I watch him as he tosses the liquor back. He doesn’t look at me; his eyes are closed. I study him for a moment. He’s gorgeous. The black hair is a little severe for his colouring—in fact it makes him a little emo, with his gauges and his lip ring—but it brings his startling blue eyes into focus. He’s pretty average height, but he’s built, and tattooed, and I’m not going to lie, running your hands down the length of his hard body to his sandy-blonde happy trail wouldn’t exactly be a chore. There’s something in him that’s inexplicably broken. It’s not on display for all the world to see; it’s buried underneath the quick wit and mischievous smile. But it’s still there, and God help me, do I want to know what caused it.
He opens his eyes, and catches me staring. His pretty baby blues flare with heat, and I feel warmth creep up my neck and flood my face. I shake my head to clear it of these crazy thoughts that are bouncing around within. What the hell? I clear my throat and pour us both another shot. Kick takes his, and downs it immediately without speaking. I know he’s wondering what the hell happened between us just now, because he avoids my gaze and settles his own on the movie as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. My heart thrums out a staccato rhythm.
“Daniel,” he says without looking at me, and leans back in the recliner. “My name’s Daniel.”
I study him a bit longer, though now it’s for a different reason. “I like it. It’s honest.”
For a second he baulks, and then he snatches up the empty beer bottle, and takes it to the kitchen. “Where are you going? They haven’t even finished this sex scene yet. There’s more drinking to do, I assure you.”
“You want some ice cream?”
“No. It’s not like I can afford for my arse to get any fatter. Not when my competition is a freaking size two.”
“For a start, your arse could get a lot fatter.”
“Thanks, Daniel .”
He returns from the kitchen with two giant bowls of ice cream. “Secondly, she’s not your competition. She’s hot in that porn-star kinda way. That shit’s not real, and it gets old quickly.”
“I thought you said you never met a girl you liked more than your bike?”
“There was one girl,” he says, staring down into his ice cream.
“What happened? She run off with Elijah?” I kid.
“She died.”
The blood drains from my face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know … How did it happen?”
“You don’t need the details. But she wasn’t sick, and it wasn’t an accident.”
“Oh my God,” I say, and cover my mouth. He pours another shot for us, and tosses his back. I feel terrible.
“Drink up; he just got naked again,” he says, and then he tips his head towards my untouched bowl.
“I don’t know. He’s not here right now, so it’s kind of hard to judge.”
“And you really love him?”
“Yeah, I do. Sometimes I think I love him too much.”
He swallows hard and peels the label off his beer, shredding it to tiny pieces on the floor. “Do you ever think about how you’d cope without him, how your life would be without him?”
“I don’t like to think about it, but I have, of course. I don’t think I’d cope, to be honest.”
“No. I’ve seen the way you are around one another. I don’t think you’d cope, either. First, it’d be hard to breathe, and then you’d feel like your chest was gonna cave in under the weight of the pain, you know?” Kick takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. Rolling his head toward me, he meets my gaze. “Promise me, if anything ever happens to him, if anything ever goes wrong and he’s backed in a corner, don’t try and save him—just run. Just leave, and let him take the hit.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not promising that,” I say, as I shoot back the shot I just poured. “Also, Ryan Gosling just took his shirt off again, so drink up.”
I watch him as he tosses the liquor back. He doesn’t look at me; his eyes are closed. I study him for a moment. He’s gorgeous. The black hair is a little severe for his colouring—in fact it makes him a little emo, with his gauges and his lip ring—but it brings his startling blue eyes into focus. He’s pretty average height, but he’s built, and tattooed, and I’m not going to lie, running your hands down the length of his hard body to his sandy-blonde happy trail wouldn’t exactly be a chore. There’s something in him that’s inexplicably broken. It’s not on display for all the world to see; it’s buried underneath the quick wit and mischievous smile. But it’s still there, and God help me, do I want to know what caused it.
He opens his eyes, and catches me staring. His pretty baby blues flare with heat, and I feel warmth creep up my neck and flood my face. I shake my head to clear it of these crazy thoughts that are bouncing around within. What the hell? I clear my throat and pour us both another shot. Kick takes his, and downs it immediately without speaking. I know he’s wondering what the hell happened between us just now, because he avoids my gaze and settles his own on the movie as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. My heart thrums out a staccato rhythm.
“Daniel,” he says without looking at me, and leans back in the recliner. “My name’s Daniel.”
I study him a bit longer, though now it’s for a different reason. “I like it. It’s honest.”
For a second he baulks, and then he snatches up the empty beer bottle, and takes it to the kitchen. “Where are you going? They haven’t even finished this sex scene yet. There’s more drinking to do, I assure you.”
“You want some ice cream?”
“No. It’s not like I can afford for my arse to get any fatter. Not when my competition is a freaking size two.”
“For a start, your arse could get a lot fatter.”
“Thanks, Daniel .”
He returns from the kitchen with two giant bowls of ice cream. “Secondly, she’s not your competition. She’s hot in that porn-star kinda way. That shit’s not real, and it gets old quickly.”
“I thought you said you never met a girl you liked more than your bike?”
“There was one girl,” he says, staring down into his ice cream.
“What happened? She run off with Elijah?” I kid.
“She died.”
The blood drains from my face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know … How did it happen?”
“You don’t need the details. But she wasn’t sick, and it wasn’t an accident.”
“Oh my God,” I say, and cover my mouth. He pours another shot for us, and tosses his back. I feel terrible.
“Drink up; he just got naked again,” he says, and then he tips his head towards my untouched bowl.
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