Page 38 of Second Story

Somewhere in a practice room, that drummer finishes their solo with a wild and frenzied flourish.

My heart takes way longer to settle. Then it skips beat after beat when Joe’s lips nuzzle my neck, my jaw, my mouth to kiss me goodbye.

That’s what this is—a final farewell that I can’t voice once we dress in the almost dark, then stand in more light when I slide open the van door. The last of tonight’s sunset streaks Joe once we get out, alone in the car park.

He rumbles, “Come here.”

He has my tie in his hand, only he doesn’t loop it around my neck this time, or knot it for me. Joe folds it to tuck away in the breast pocket of my suit jacket, so I don’t get to feel a last brush of his knuckles.

My throat tightens out of nowhere.

He sounds choked too, hoarser now than I’ve ever heard him. “Say yes when you give Luke your answer about staying. Say yes to whatever job he gives you. Just…” He finishes tucking away my tie. His fingers still hook into my pocket although he doesn’t need to pull me closer. I’m already in his space, chest-to-chest all over again as if he’s my magnet. “Kinda think they all want to look after you for a bit, yeah? Both of you.” He snorts. “Take it from me, they want you to let them.” His eyes drop to my mouth, his voice even lower. “Say yes, Isaac.”

I want to kiss him then, only that drummer starts up again, bang, bang, banging, and I have to check my phone to believe my brother isn’t awake and worried. By the time I’m done, Joe has backed off.

I missed my chance again.

Maybe I haven’t—Joe surges back into my space, taking exactly what I wanted to give him.

This final kiss is soft. Rough. Far too brief before he strides across the car park, walking away.

From me.

“Wait!”

Joe stops, but he doesn’t turn.

I have no clue why this comes out sounding desperate. “There’s a time capsule celebration tomorrow for friends and families.”

He still doesn’t turn my way, and I still don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. All I do know is that this feels vital.

“I don’t have any family to invite for Lenny, so I was thinking about…” Asking this feels risky. I know I stand in a school car park. Mentally I’m in front of a librarian’s mirror, faking bravery for a first time.

Chin up.

Eyes narrowed.

“I was thinking about inviting a friend.”

Joe faces me then, stones crunching under his heel. He’s equally as gravelly. “For Lenny?”

I get honest in a hurry when I catch a glimpse of wariness that doesn’t suit him. “And for me.”

He drifts back, smiling, and that’s so much better. “You got a friend in mind?”

“I do, only you said you needed to get back to?—”

The sun is almost gone. It doesn’t matter. Joe’s smile couldn’t get any brighter.

“London, to deliver a car to my brother?”

He’s in my space all over again, and I can’t blame a drummer for what kicks off in my chest when he cups my chin and tilts it up again, then leans in.

“He can wait.”

11

JOE

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