Page 18 of What You Own
“Well, Ryan and I were tossing something around.”
I startled and shifted my full attention to her. Had we discussed something and I’d forgotten? Probably. My memory was slipperier than a glass doorknob lately.
“Back in high school, we didRenttogether senior year,” Ellie continued. Across from me, Adam squirmed. “I didn’t play Mimi, but I know the part, and I suggested we do ‘Light My Candle.’ It’s a fun, sexy duet, with a little humor in it.”
“And missing drugs,” Adam said, his face perfectly blank, except for his eyes. Angry blue eyes aimed right at me, even though I was pretty damn sure Ellie and I hadn’t talked about this at all.
She’d ambushed me.
“That’s a great show,” Larry said. “Lots of good songs.”
“There are a lot of fantastic songs,” Ellie said, smirking. “I was also thinking that since this is Adam’s first time performing in front of an audience, he might feel better doing it with someone he knows, instead of alone.”
I saw it coming. I think Adam saw it coming too, and neither one of us could fucking duck the bomb getting lobbed at us.
“You guys already know ‘What You Own’ backwards and forward,” she continued. “You should sing that together.”
If Larry and Susan weren’t in the room with us, I’d have laid a sharp tongue into Ellie for that, but we had an audience, and I wasn’t about to drag our personal shit out on parade for them. My insides were jelly, and the half woody I’d been battling all night died a fast death. I was too stunned to say anything—especially when Adam didn’t say hell no right off.
He was staring right at me, a question in his eyes. I dared to meet them. He relaxed a little in the shoulders, like he’d gotten an answer that quick. I hoped he could see that this part wasn’t my idea.
“Who’d you play in high school, Ryan?” Susan asked.
“Roger,” I said.
“Oh good, so you know the parts of those songs. It sounds like a great plan to me.”
“Uh-huh.”
Adam blinked hard, then looked down the table at Ellie. “I think it’s a good song choice,” he said.
You could have knocked me over with a fucking feather. For a guy who’d avoided all contact with me for three and a half years, he was sure doing everything possible to stay inside my perimeter fence.
“Excellent, so that’s three songs from the adults so far,” Ellie said. She made a note on one of the legal pads. “Lou wants to do one, and a few of the other volunteers are on board.” She nattered on about one of the theater classes she was teaching on Saturday and getting those kids to perform.
I stared at the table until the meeting broke up, stuck on a Saturday afternoon years ago.
“I’MGOINGto suck, and the show will be bad, and everyone is going to blame me,” Adam says, a familiar lament from the last few weeks.
It’s only a month since he got cast as Mark Cohen, and no matter how much I say he’s awesome, he doesn’t believe it. I think it’s because he’s hiding the show from his dad because he thinks his dad will tell him acting is stupid or something. Adam’s been doing stage crew since freshman year, so staying after school is no biggie. Singing and dancing instead of hammering and painting is a pretty big biggie.
We’re at my house, in my room, because my parents are in the living room watching TV. They have it turned up to block out the music I told them we’d be playing, so we could practice. Instead of practicing, though, we’re sprawled on my bed. Adam’s head is on my pillows, and I’m sitting with my back to the wall, perpendicular, so his feet are on my knees. We do this more lately, little things like sitting closer, touching for no reason. I like it. A lot. Best when Adam touches first.
“You’re gonna nail it, because you can do anything,” I say, and it’s all true. “And if you suck, then I guess I suck, and we’ll just have to suck together.” And holy hell, I don’t get the innuendo dripping off that sentence until it’s out of my mouth.
Adam doesn’t seem to notice, and I’m glad. I’m hyperaware of saying or doing stuff that’s too gay because I only came out to him a year ago, and it’s still pretty new. Not being gay, because I’ve always been gay, so I don’t feel too different now that Adam and my parents know. The awareness of it is new, and sometimes I think people can see it written on my forehead in neon marker, and it scares me.
“You know you don’t suck,” Adam says.
“Well, that’s not technically true,” I reply with waggling eyebrows before I can stop myself. I have sucked a few guys off, mostly at college parties a friend gets me into, so I can meet gay guys someplace besides Internet chat rooms, but Adam and I don’t talk about that stuff. It’s the one thing of mine that’s totally private.
Adam laughs at my joke. His leg jerks like he’s gonna kick me in the balls, so I grab his ankle and yank. He slides down the bed with a supercute yell, arms flailing. I’d hit a growth spurt, and I work out sometimes, so I’m bigger than him now. My dick’s bigger too, and I know this because I sneaked a peek at him in the locker room last month—not my best moment, but whatever.
He surprises me by lunging up and hooking my arm. We end up wrestling around on my big bed, all arms and legs and elbows, and it’s lots of fun. We used to wrestle more, for fun, before I got taller and before the gay thing. This is the first time since then, and I love it. The headboard hits the wall hard, and I’m so alarmed—parents nearby!—I don’t see Adam move. He flips me around and pins me on my back, him sitting on my belly, holding my wrists down next to my head. We’re panting and laughing, and for one brief, beautiful second, I’m positive he’s getting hard.
He breaks the spell, though, and jumps off me, pumping his fist in the air. “I pinned you! Fucking finally!”
“Took you long enough, hoss.” I roll to sit on the edge of the bed, my belly full of strange wiggles and warmth.
