Page 24 of Pick One
Teagan didn’t dodull.
He was sometimes sad, and occasionally outraged, especially over injustices. He spoke with conviction about everything. His energy was inspiring and soothing at the same time. But right then, it was like the light inside him had gone out.
Had he been into that bossy, overbearing Knox guy? Had things not worked out with Other-John and their date for tonight? Was he pissed that I’d left the apartment earlier without hearing his news? Once again, I wanted to ask, but for the first time since we’d met, I couldn’t sense his mood, and Teagan wasn’t sharing.
I hated it.
He stayed quiet the whole ride home, and my worry increased with every minute. Was he more badly injured than he’d let on? Was he depressed? Had Other-John hurt him? Had Knox?
“I wish you really had me,” Teagan had whispered outside the bar, so softly the wind had chased the words away. The idea that Teagan felt like I wasn’t there for him, that there wasanythingI wouldn’t do for him, made my chest go tight.
“Sounds like Monica and Fern are playingHamilton,” I said as I unlocked our apartment door while someone across the hall sang a very off-key rendition of “Satisfied.” Seemed at least someone was enjoying Mischief and Margarita Night. “Did you want to go over there and be the third Schuyler sister?”
Teagan rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Not tonight.”
This was more serious than I’d thought.
I wanted to cuddle him against me and kiss the life back into his eyes. I wanted to protect him and fight back anything that might dare to steal his spark. But I wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong with him at that moment, so I didn’t know how to make it better.
But I kept trying.
“Okay, here we go.” I opened our door and steered him inside. “Get in the bath. I’ll be back in twenty minutes with medicinal dessert, okay? Please don’t leave or… or… make any other plans in the meantime. Yeah?”
The real Teagan would have gone on a short-lived but very outraged rant about how “hehad not been the one who’d made a habit of walking out on people this night,John,” but this imposter-Teagan nodded meekly, walked into the bathroom, and shut the door behind him with aclick.
Fuck.
It took me only fifteen minutes to jog to the expensive little bakery cafe two blocks over, beg them for their last cheesecake even though they’d just closed up for the night (“Please, Pauline? It’s for Teagan.”), make a quick stop at the liquor store on the corner for a bottle of Teagan’s favorite sweet wine, and jog back.
When I got home, Teagan was still in his bathroom. The apartment was dark, chilly, and silent, with no scent of bread or fall candles in the air. A blanket my mom had crocheted lay in a haphazard puddle on the floor by the sofa. Everything was dull and empty, just like my life before Teagan had been.
I put the food and wine in the refrigerator and knocked cautiously on the bathroom door. “T?”
He didn’t reply, so I knocked louder.
“Teagan? I got cheesecake from PJ’s.”
He sighed softly.
“You coming out of there at any point?” I asked gently. “I got wine, too. We can still have our Netflix Night.”
“No.” Teagan’s small, quiet sniffle made me want to beat down the door to get at him, but I refrained, and after a moment, he added, “I’m not coming out. I’m going to stay in the tub until I die of exposure. They shall find my corpse here in the water, like Tennyson’s Lady of Shalott.”
As usual, I had no fucking clue what he was talking about. And also as usual, Teagan knew it. But the very fact that he was saying anything at all was a relief. I forced myself to sound casual.
“Was the Lady of Shalott kinda pruny and wrinkled, like grapes that have been sitting in the fridge for a week? Because that’s kind of how I’m imagining you.”
An outraged noise was followed by a loud splash and then the sound of water gurgling down the drain. The door opened so quickly I nearly fell forward into the bathroom, and my roommate, my best friend, my… myTeagan… emerged in a billowing cloud of steam, with one enormous towel wrapped around his hair and another, much smaller towel wrapped around his waist.
“You make a compelling point,” he said in a dignified way.
I nodded.
To be perfectly honest, I’d forgotten the point I’d been making the second I’d laid eyes on him. The smooth, creamy perfection of his skin where it flared over his hip bones, his high, sharp cheeks and pouty lips, the long, lean muscles of his body that I’d been salivating over while he was dancing with another man, were way too distracting. I wanted my hands on him. I wanted to know what the precise texture of his nipples was if I sucked on them. I wanted…
I am not going to have sex with my roommate.
I swallowed hard, praying for my cock to deflate, and the two of us stood in the hallway staring at each other in our first-ever awkward silence.
