“Yeah. Thanks.” His words were almost a grunt as he took the mug. When he gulped back a mouthful of caffeine, I wondered if it was enough to drown the resentment at that which irked him. “Bunch of disobedient bastards.”
Obviously not.
We’d already discussed his recalcitrant characters and the chasm between what they were meant to do and what they actually did.
“I’m supposed to be the god of this fucking universe.” He shook his head slowly. Groaned.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He slumped back in the chair, and the leather protested. “It’s like word dentistry at the moment.”
I studied him over the rim of my mug as I took a sip.
“Pulling teeth.”
“Ah,” I said, lowering the mug. “I see.”
“I know what needs to be written, but every time I type a paragraph, it comes out completely
shit
and I think ‘come on, man, you’re Daniel Fucking Cross; you can do better than that,’ but no, it’s like my damn brain’s gone on strike.” He drained the mug and slammed it down in front of him.
“What did that desk ever do to you?”
He shot me a sideways glance, and I wondered what thoughts ran through his mind. Nothing in his heavy-lidded eyes told me. When Daniel didn’t want to be read, I couldn’t read him.
“Fuck this; I’ve had enough.” He hit the Off button, and the screen went black.
My eyebrows shot up, and I gave myself a few seconds to absorb the shock and decide what to say. “Haven’t you just lost everything?”
“Autosave,” he said, sitting back again, running a hand through his hair. “And anyway,” he added with a shrug, “even if it doesn’t work, it was all shit anyway. I just can’t…” Daniel rolled his shoulders, twisted his neck to work out any muscular stiffness, and leaned against the headrest, facing me, and I realized those heavy-lidded eyes, drowning in frustration and anger…weren’t. They were thick with something else, which either he didn’t want me to see yet or I refused to translate. “Can’t be bothered.” Elbow on the chair arm, he beckoned me with one hand, fingers curved back to the palm.
I drained my coffee mug and set it beside his, gentler than he had, having no reason to hate the laptop or the desk on which it sat.
This is so domestic
. I took his hand and stood behind his chair, and our entwined fingers rested on his left shoulder, my other hand on his right.
Falling into these gestures like we’re meant to be together
. I stiffened then, momentarily startled by this easy slide into domesticity, a comforting partnership where all Daniel needed to relax after a hard day at work was my hand on him.
“This isn’t working,” he muttered, and my heart leaped, sending a pulse of iced water through my veins.
“What?”
“I can’t get that fucking chapter finished, not with my head refusing to cooperate. I’ll see to it tomorrow.”
“Oh.” The iced water warmed slightly, though I still shivered. “Right.”
“You sound disappointed.” He tilted his head for a moment, trying to catch my eye, but I hung back, not wanting him to see the relief that must have been evident on my face.
“Looking forward to reading it. That was all,” I lied. “I’m your number one fan, remember?”
“Christ, don’t go all Annie Wilkes on me.” When he relaxed again, I had to fight the temptation to run my fingers through his hair.
A fight I only believed I stood a chance of winning for a moment.
He groaned when I dragged my free hand through his hair, disturbing what was already a carefully arranged bed-head style. “You’ll send me to sleep if you keep doing that. It’s like an Indian head massage.”
“Just me trying to stop you from getting a headache.”
“Well it’s working, whatever it is.”
“You can’t fall asleep here. Cinema, remember? It’s Friday night,” I reminded him. “You usually go. I thought we…” I cleared my throat. An easy approach, a hand in his, stroking his hair, and I began speaking for both of us.
“I dunno if I can be bothered.”
“It’s a sacred ritual. Friday. Cinema.”
“I’m not sure if I like you telling me what to do.”
“You love it.”
He chuckled and held my fingers to his mouth, touching them to his lips but not kissing, warming my skin with his breath and the promise of deeper contact. “Why don’t we stay in tonight?” he murmured, and I barely heard him. Only just.
“Get your coat on; it’ll blow the cobwebs away. Help you think straight.”
“I was hoping for something else to make me feel better.”
“Later, Cross.” I, too, laughed then, but it was nervous laughter, uncomfortable, and the area between my shoulder blades tingled, like the threat of a shiver. There wasn’t much else we could do that we hadn’t already done, but while physical contact, easy banter, feeling at home here, were all dangerously close to
normal
, the physical side of our relationship took some getting used to. As if the more we jumped into bed with each other, the harder it would be to deny that not only was I—
Christ, Hutton, say the word: bisexual
. Not only was I bisexual, but I couldn’t restrict my emotional attachment to Daniel
or
Georgia either. My body wanted them both and so did my heart.
I gasped, and Daniel twisted round in his seat to look at me. “Something wrong?”
“No.” Shaking my head, I wondered how long I’d try to deny the truth and cover it over by lying to myself. The main thing causing me discomfort was the knowledge that however strong my physical feelings for Daniel, there were emotional ones to be dealt with too. “Daniel?”
“Yeah?”
“How do you…?”
How do you stop yourself going mad sometimes
? “I know…”
I know being bisexual means you have the
potential
to fancy someone of either sex
. “But…”
But what the hell am I supposed to do when I’m attracted to two people at the same time and it’s something more than mere attraction?
“Reece?” Kicking off the floor for leverage, he turned the chair so he could get a better look at me, shifting forward as he sat so he didn’t have to let go of my hand. “Now it’s your turn to tell me what’s wrong.”
Against my will, my jaw clenched. I
wanted
to speak, but my subconscious said, Nuh-huh. Shut it, Hutton. Being bisexual didn’t have anything to do with desiring two people at the same time. Being a greedy, mixed-up bastard did though. And I knew I’d still be that person if I was straight and wanting two different women.
But I wasn’t, and I didn’t. Sarah had done it for me, but beyond that night with her and Georgia? No. Same went for the other women we’d brought in.
Though the potential was there, this dormant, greedy part of me hadn’t awakened until I’d gotten into bed with Daniel.
I was in trouble, whichever way I looked at it. It really didn’t matter that he was a man. No one cared about that sort of thing these days. All that mattered was Daniel existed and he’d strolled into my life with a pile of books under one arm, a laptop bag slung over the other, wings inked on his back, and a devilish smile on his lips.
“Reece?”
I came back down to Earth, remembered where I was and
when
I was. “Nothing. Really. Nothing. Forget it.”
“Hmm.” His lips twisted in something related to, but not exactly like, a smirk.
If you say so
, the gesture said, and I translated it to
Okay, not now, but we’ll discuss it later.
“Come on.” I stepped back, nearing the door, and our hands drew apart. “Coats. We’re going out. Fresh air. A movie. Chewing gum for the eyes. Then you’ll come back and blast a hole right through the middle of that manuscript.”
“Ha. Glad
someone’s
got such faith in me.” Daniel hauled himself to his feet and followed me out of the room, not saying anything further about the conversation we’d nearly had.
And it was obvious to me he wasn’t the one who needed to get out of the house.
* * *
Sitting in the dark, as always hyperaware of Daniel’s presence, I couldn’t help but think of the first of our cinema visits, when the air between us had crackled like electricity.
Now there was an atmosphere again but of a different sort. He seemed distracted, no doubt because of his work. Not something I could help him with beyond being there. Or keeping out of his way, depending on his mood.
But he needed me to remind him to take his jacket off, as if he’d forgotten where he was. And he leaned on the armrest, chewing his thumbnail. When light from the screen flashed up, illuminating his face, and I caught his eye, he stopped, as if a glance from me had told him
stop acting so jittery
. But immediately after his arm was still, his knee jigged up and down in time with whatever internal rhythm prevented his nerves from coming to rest.
“Hey.” I laid my hand on his leg, partly to still his restlessness and partly because I wanted an excuse to touch him and calming his nerves seemed as good a one as any. He immediately turned to me, his head moving sharply, robotically, and I jumped, though not enough to lift my hand off his thigh. “What’s up?”
He waved his hand in what should have been a nonchalant gesture. “Nothing. Just stuff.”
“Stuff?” I bit my lip when his brows knit together. “The book?”
Daniel inclined his head just a touch. A yes without saying yes. But that wasn’t all that bothered him. It was a surface excuse, one used to mask his deeper concerns, whatever they were. He was transparent now, too disturbed to cover over his turmoil.
I’d never seen him like this before—not angry, not upset, not
whatever
. All the things he was
not
did nothing to help me define what he
was.
No popcorn this time as an aid to flirtation. I had a bag of candy in one pocket but wasn’t sure he needed me lifting a “feed me, flirt with me” move straight from the Daniel Cross Handbook of Seduction.
I leaned in, lifting my hand off his leg, and hoped my sharp intake of breath would tell him I was about to say something even though I had no idea of
what
I’d say. “You’re not…” I frowned, but in confusion. The furrows across
his
brow told of something as yet unspecified. Anger? No, not that. Frustration?
“What?” A single word and I didn’t know if it was to urge me to finish my question, or an annoyed demand for me to just get on with it so he could continue watching a movie he wasn’t that bothered about anyway.
Daniel Cross, a man notorious for being comfortable in his own skin, suddenly jumpy no matter what his surroundings.
“Something’s…” I drew back, bit my lip. Somewhere in the midst of all this, Daniel’s confusion had infected me and I’d forgotten the one or two words my befuddled brain had come up with. “Listen, I…” I neared him at the exact moment he turned his head in the opposite direction, but, I hoped, not to snub me, just to make it easier for him to hear me.
Ask him what’s wrong, Hutton. Just two words; that’s all.
But the nearness, the sheer bloody
smell
of him, nervousness dusting his skin like perspiration, drew me in. And breathing him in wasn’t enough; I had to taste his skin.
Daniel shuddered when I flicked the tip of my tongue along the side of his neck, and I swore I heard a moan when I sucked his earlobe between my lips. It could have been my imagination fooling me; the noise of the film masked most sounds in the auditorium, and the way Daniel jumped back all but convinced me he couldn’t have liked what I’d done.
Slumping back in my chair, I shot him a sideways glance, caught the way he leaned over to his right, resting his elbow on
that
armrest now, as if contact with me was abhorrent. He rubbed his jaw, massaging it as if I’d hit him rather than kissed his neck, then shifted his weight as if he wanted to jump out of the seat and walk out.
No.
Run.
Fine
. I shrugged mentally; physically it was impossible, the weight of disappointment too great on my shoulders for such a casual gesture.
Screw you if you won’t tell me what’s up.
“We …” Daniel spoke just loud enough to be heard above the movie soundtrack but didn’t look at me. Sideways glances were all we exchanged. “We have to go.”
“What?”
“We have to go.” He pulled his jacket on in one fluid movement as if he’d been rehearsing the move in his mind since we got here. “Now.” He sprang out of his seat and only turned back to look at me when he reached the top step. “Well?”
It took a moment for me to process what was happening. Only a moment and I pulled on my jacket and followed him out of the auditorium, blinking against the fluorescent lights when I made it through the exit door he hadn’t even bothered to hold open for me.
It took a further moment for me to orient myself, but Daniel sped ahead and stepped onto the escalator for the ground floor. Mystified as to what the hell was going on, I zipped up my jacket as I tripped after him, wondering when he was going to stop or at least slow down enough for me to have a chance of catching up.
“Daniel.” I panted, coughing sharply against the cold air of outdoors. He’d stopped just outside the exit as if that same bracing night air had halted him in his tracks.
But still he didn’t look at me.
“What the fuck was all that about?” The ticket price could go hang; it didn’t bother me in the slightest. What I couldn’t understand was his mercurial behavior. From flirtatious in his flat to this standoffishness here. Now.
“We shouldn’t have come out tonight.”
Staring at him mutely, I waited for enlightenment. So now what? He regretted leaving the house, or he regretted leaving the house
with me
? As he’d left the screening room, he’d summoned me with that pause, that single word. If my company repelled him so much, so suddenly, why pull me along in his wake?
“It was a mistake, I…” He pulled the zip of his close-fitting leather jacket right up to his chin, and though it was a cool evening, I couldn’t help feeling shut out, as if it was contact with Reece Hutton he shied away from.
“It was a mistake and you
what
?”
“Nothing.”
“No, not nothing.” I looked around but we were alone. Leaving the screening early meant everyone else was still upstairs enjoying the movie. I’d barely taken any of it in, Daniel’s mood hanging over us both like a thick gauze through which my perception of the world was filtered.