Page 23 of Bone to Pick
“You should know, you have a lot of friends in the English department,” I told him. “Jean Chenault thinks you’re the second coming of Alan Ginsburg, and Sally Diaz basically forced me to read that sonnet of yours that was published in the student magazine. It was… incredible, honestly.”
His cheeks flushed. “That’s nice to hear. But creativefictionhasn’t really been my problem.” He winked at me, which made my stomach tighten. “I have a very good imagination.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Seems like creative non-fiction isn’t really a problem for you anymore either,” I admitted wryly. “You were, ah… extremely convincing a minute ago.”
“Really?” His eyes sparkled, and it made my pulse speed. “No notes, Professor? No in-depth critique of my performance?”
I licked my lips, chasing the lingering taste of Porter. “Nope.” I forced myself to eat another bite of stew before getting us back on a comfortable track. “So… does your family know you like to write?”
“They know I write. I wouldn’t say Iliketo write necessarily. I love to read, and I share that passion with my brother Hawk—he’s an even bigger reader than I am—but for some reason, I find it hard to sit still long enough to spend much time writing. I prefer being outside or being active.Doinglife, instead of writing about it. You know?”
“Oh yeah. I’m the same. It’s one of the reasons I moved here. Living in the city made me feel… unmoored, a bit. Removed from the outdoors. Walking in a park or along the river is so structured. It’s not the same as hiking in the woods. And I like being able to work on projects with plenty of room to spread out. I have plans to replace the tool shed with a big workshop so I can work on some DIY projects easily in winter. Eventually, I want to add on to the cabin and build it out a bit.”
“You definitely need a dedicated bedroom,” Porter decided. “And what if…”
His eyes got dreamy as he started brainstorming renovations, and we even pulled out a notebook to sketch various layouts. Porter had insightful ideas and explained several of the building projects he’d helped with on his family’s orchard over the years.
“I do miss that kind of work,” he said, pushing his bowl away and leaning back in his chair. It was the first time I’d missed having a comfortable sofa or seating area for us to move to for the evening. He’d been right earlier when he’d commented about my place not being ideal for having company over. Hopefully, the expansion I planned would allow me to turn this central room into a living room instead of my bedroom.
“You’re welcome to come up here and help out anytime,” I said without thinking. “There’s always plenty of work to do. Clearing scrub, chopping and hauling wood, fixing things that seem to break every time I turn around.”
“I’d like that. But I, uh… I don’t know where I’ll be after the semester is done.”
“Oh, right.” I stood to bring our bowls to the sink. “Have you started looking for a job?”
“Sort of? I got to the second round of interviews at a couple places last spring, but then I didn’t graduate. I’m planning to follow up with some of them, but I don’t know if that’ll work. I had to tell Parabola Media down in New York that I failed a class and they needed to remove my name from contention…”
I turned and crossed my arms. “You’re welcome.”
Porter’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Excuse you? They were going to pay me eighty-five grand a year!”
“Parabola Media are a bunch of vampires who’d work you into the ground and steal away every shred of joy you possess,” I corrected. “I’ve known people who worked there, and it never ended well. Seriously, Porter, name one person you know who went to work for a big-city media or marketing company who’s happy right now. Go on, I’ll wait.”
His nostrils flared, and his mouth opened, but then he shut it again. “I don’t happen to know any personally, but…”
“Uh-huh. And how much was your rent going to be?” I added. “For a lifeless box you’d only see in the dark of night.”
“We already talked about this, Theo. I want to make money so I can do good with it. The best place to make money is the city. And the passion will come, if I…”
“Damn it, Porter, for a guy who’s so incredibly smart, you’re being so incredibly dumb. You’ve alreadyfoundyour passion. You want to work with the kids at the Hub.”
“And you want me to write grants for that? Great. And assuming I write the most compelling proposals ever and donors start flinging money at me left and right, how long will it take for me to see that money? And what will I live off in the meantime? No trust fund, remember? And nobody left me aninheritance-cabineither.” He threw his arms out to encompass my little house. “My plan is the best one I can think of.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to offer for him to stay. To live with me. But I bit it back. This place was barely big enough for one person, let alone two. And I wouldn’t be able to have him in my space like this if we were simply going to be… friends.
“I’m sorry, Porter,” I said. He glanced at me in surprise. “Not for failing you, because I stand by that decision. But I’m sorry for interfering in your future plans. I just…”
He raised both eyebrows. “Just…?”
“I just want you to be happy,” I admitted. “I want you to live your dream.”
A teasing twinkle appeared in those green eyes I knew I’d be fantasizing about for a long, long time. “Really? Then sleep with me, Professor Hot-Cock. That’s one dream you can make come true easily. And I promise you, it will for damned sure make me happy.”
His words made my heart take off running in my chest like a scared rabbit being chased by a pack of rabid wolves. It was terrifying and exciting in equal measure.
“I told you,” I said, trying one last time to do the right thing. “It would be incredibly risky for both of us if anyone found out—”
“Theo. We’re stuck in your house in a freaking blizzard, because a tree fell down after I came out here to rage-recite poetry at you, because you failed me last semester, because I was too fucking attracted to you to actually have a conversation and figure out what I was supposed to be doing for my assignments. It’s already the most ridiculous of circumstances, so why not add one last wild and crazy thing to the mix? When the road is clear and I leave here, we’ll forget this ever happened.”
