Page 76 of All In
“Cancel it. This is super comfy, I promise. Save your money.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. The back of my neck reddened. God, I wanted to take her to bed. Screw this small-talk and justshowher how I felt.
Her phone chimed a text.
“Oh damn, it’s Grant,” she said. “The music video is done.” She dumped her phone and picked up her laptop from the coffee table. “He just sent me the file. I think I’m going to throw up.” She sat beside me on the couch and dumped the Mac onto my lap. “You click it. I can’t.”
“Chicken.”
“The Drowned Chicken.”
“Shh.”
I leaned into her a little, pressing against her shoulder and hip as the opening riff of “The Lighthouse” began to play against a watery background. A hand emerged. A tattooed arm. The curve of a shoulder into a long, white throat. Long strands of brass-colored hair undulating across pale lips. Closed eyes that slowly opened with a flash of blue.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
Like a mermaid, Kacey moved underwater. Her blond hair and billowing white dress became a screen, superimposed with scenes: a club, a street, an apartment. Discovering her man in bed with another woman.
Beside me, Kacey made little cringes and flinches, occasionally hiding her face against my arm. I hardly moved. I was rapt. Enthralled. I could feel cool air moving in and out of my open mouth. I breathed in her voice, her luminous, amber-lit face. The pain and loss in her eyes shimmered through the water and found me. The Drowned Girl.
The video ended and we both exhaled.
“What do you think?” she asked against my shoulder.
“I think…” I stared at the black screen. “I think you’re so fucking beautiful.”
She raised her head and I turned mine. To look at me as I realized I’d spoken my thoughts out loud. They’d fallen out of my slack-jawed mouth before I could catch them back.
“Oh,” she said softly, her face inches away; I could feel the whisper of her breath on my lips. “Thank you, Teddy.”
Our eyes met. She glanced at my mouth, then back at my eyes. Light-headed, I looked at her lips, wondering if it was time. Now. I could kiss her. Kiss her and see what happened.
Would her lips part for me, take my kiss deep inside her mouth and give it back?
Or would she recoil because I wasn’t the brother she wanted?
My fucking hesitation cost me. Kacey pulled back and tucked her hair behind her ear self-consciously. “So, it’s pretty good, isn’t it?”
I handed her laptop back to her. “It’s a great video. People are going to go crazy for it.”
“I guess I’d better tell Grant I’ve watched it and feel it’s suitable for public consumption.”
You do that while I go dunk my head in the fucking sink.
Kacey made lunch for us—crabmeat po’boys with potato chips and soda. We ate and talked and later, we watched one of her damned 80’s movies. She curled up close to me, but not close enough, laughing easily, smiling and talking, but I was tired of playing the part of the best friend. I wanted to ask her what those smiles meant, and if they were for me. But I couldn’t ask, couldn’t push it. It was such a fragile energy, simmering in the heat between us. Too much pressure and it would dissolve away.
But goddammit, I want this life,I thought.This is what I want.
To live in her space, my razor sharing the same shelf as her toothbrush. Our clothes tangling in the bedroom. Making breakfast together, then letting the food burn as I took her on the kitchen floor…
Tell me what you want,I thought, glancing at her from the corner of my eye.Because I want everything.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
The next day, I took Theo to Magazine Street, where we wandered in and out of antique stores, pastry shops and vintage clothing stores. We hit a few art galleries, where Theo pointed out works by artists I’d never heard of—Katherine Bradford and Ted Gahl. The depth of his knowledge surprised me, stirred up fresh anger at Henry for not appreciating his son’s talents. A fierce conviction swept through me. More than ever, I wanted to see Theo achieve his dream of owning his own place. I vowed to help him, support him however I could.
