Page 38 of Fire
The man pushed past Tobias to head for the exit, muttering under his breath. Tobias followed him outside to watch him go, but the woman was out of sight.
Re-entering the shop, Tobias smiled apologetically at the employee, who was staring open-mouthed, phone to his ear.
“Did you call the cops?” Tobias asked, voice even as the blood and adrenaline starting to pound in his veins.
“No, I didn’t—dude, that was so cool. You just...” The teenager made a gesture that seemed to encompass the confrontation, the retreat, and everything in the last five minutes.
“Some people do that, try to bully people,” Tobias said. “Can’t let them get away with it.”
It had taken a long time for him to believe that normal people didn’t shout, hurt, or size up and target the weakest people in a room. Even more difficult had been recognizing his own ability to stop it, to fight the monsters in the world who were not supernatural.
Five years out of Freak Camp. Some days Tobias thought about how far he had come, how terror had once been his daily paralysis, and he couldn’t wrap his head around it. Who in the camp would have ever bet a single bite of food that he’d make twenty-one?
There was a reason to celebrate every breath, every moment he made eye contact without quailing inside, every sweet spring day. He just wasn’t sure he was on board with how Jake wanted to celebrate.
Feeling the employee’s eyes on the back of his head, Tobias returned to his seat by the window. He left his book shut, watching the street for the Eldorado.
* * *
On Friday,the Boulder art museum was nearly deserted, which provided Toby and Jake a welcome measure of privacy as they wandered the exhibits, keeping their voices low only so their discussion wouldn’t echo in the cavernous rooms.
“I’m just saying, if we do go out for my birthday, there’s going to be some rules.”
Jake grinned. He didn’t usually love to be reminded of their first days in Boulder, but hell yes to this rule-based role reversal. “Lay it on me.”
Toby gave Jake a mock-exasperated look, though the corner of his mouth hinting at a smile gave him away. He turned away from the abstract blue vase that looked halfway between a woman and a threshing machine. “One, I get to choose the place.”
“Fair enough.”
“And I want to go to that trendy new place downtown. The Velvet Vine.”
Jake choked a little. He’d made fun of that swanky, upscale place for pencil-pushing suits since it had its big grand opening a few day after they returned to Boulder. The food looked fancy, sure, but he was positive that the portions were abysmal and there’d probably be a dress code. Dammit, he’d do it, but his neck already itched from the dress-shirt collar.
“Like you said, I only turn twenty-one once,” Toby pointed out, and Jake managed a nod. “Two, no making fun of whatever I order.”
Jake groaned. He’d been looking forward to that. “You’re no fun.”
Toby smirked, leading him through the rest of the weird-ass pottery display. The next room was all about landscapes and paintings of fruit. While Jake didn’t necessarily like them better, he felt like he at least got their deal.
“Three,” Toby continued, “you’re the DD for the night.”
“Well, yeah. I figured.”
Toby gave him a long, narrow look, then went on. “Four, we’re going to the opera afterwards. In tuxedos. I’ve already rented them.”
“Dude.”
Toby’s face broke into a delighted grin, blindingly beautiful to Jake. “Fine. I couldn’t get tickets. You lucked out. Last rule—” He sobered, his smile dwindling. “You take me home the minute anything weird starts happening.”
Jake cocked an eyebrow at him. “What’re you talking about?”
Toby shrugged. “I don’t know what I’ll be like intoxicated. I don’t want to take any chances. I’m only going to do this if you promise, Jake.” He turned to face a painting of a gloomy naked dude sitting on a rock, staring out over a stormy sea.
Jake took a second to follow Toby's gaze, wondering what the guy did to get that ripped and why he was so damned unhappy. “Sure thing, tiger, but you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
They stopped next before a life-sized painting of some well-formed naked dudes having what looked like a rollicking good time, swinging some kind of jugs—the jar-type jugs—around.
“Now those dudes know how to party. Maybe it’s that dude’s twenty-first.” Jake pointed at the scrawniest of the naked dudes, and Toby snorted under his breath.
