Page 141 of Bobby Green
Building
“I’M GOINGto get some water,” Bobby whispered, waiting for Reg to mumble “Okay.” He didn’t want Reg to wake up alone, but he was too excited to sleep.
He slid on his briefs and padded across the house in the long shadows of a late-summer afternoon. He felt hot in the barely functioning AC, but he also felt revitalized—reborn. A cool shower, some Gatorade, and he and Reg would be able to keep going all night.
He longed for it—every cell in his body sang that once wasn’t enough. Not now.
Maybe not ever.
He’d gulped his second glass of ice water when the smell reached his brain. New paint. Huh.
He followed his nose up the stairs, making more notes about fixing them, carpeting them, carpeting the landing, fixing the banister, and hey, maybe getting a dog.
Reg could have a dog now. God, he’d be good with a dog—something big and steady, unshakable.
He got to the top landing and ventured into the lion’s den—and paused.
Reg had cleaned it out.
The bed, the dresser, the computer. The place was bare, right down to the floorboards, which only needed some sanding and some stain to be a real handsome floor treatment, and Reg had taped tarps around the edges.
He was trying to paint.
Yeah—he’d made about six mistakes that Bobby could see. Hadn’t taken off the baseboards first, hadn’t taped around the window ledges, was using a roller with too high of a concentration of paint, and seemed to be using all-weather paint as well, which was why it had smelled so strong.
But the mistakes didn’t matter.
What mattered was that Reg was fixing up Veronica’s room.
What mattered was that he could make his own beginnings, with or without Bobby.
Bobby was so proud of him, he almost cried.
He was looking around, making a list in his head of things Reg might want to know—or that they could do together—when Reg came padding up.
“You disappeared,” he mumbled sleepily.
“Looking at this thing you did,” Bobby said simply. “Good job, baby.”
Reg smiled a little. “Not as good as you could do it.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Bobby shrugged. “It’s your house—you took charge. You did great.”
“Our house,” Reg said soberly. “I’ll put your name on papers, like with V. Needs to say ours.”
Oh. Bobby bit his lip. “I been waiting for that,” he admitted. “It’s had good bones all along.”
“But you fix it up so pretty,” Reg said, smiling enough to glow. He blinked then, and his smile went shy. Sultry. “God, you look good.”
Oh yeah. Bobby had known. They weren’t over yet. Not by a long shot.
“Wanna shower?” he asked. “Nice cool shower?”
“Yeah,” Reg said. “You first. I’m gonna hydrate.”
Bobby laughed, low and dirty, and pinned him to the wall that wasn’t painted yet with a hungry kiss.
They had to wash that wall again when they were through—andthenthey showered.
