Page 66 of Quiet
“Sweetie, I hate to drag your lovely ass out of bed but—Oh . . . oh my.”
The sound of his best friend’s voice was the last thing Isa wanted out of the moment, and it nearly caused him to knee Briar in the face.
“My baby boy is a man now!”
Isa caught a glimpse of Will’s delighted face before Briar threw a blanket over his entire body. “Can you give us a minute, Will?” Isa asked as he pulled the blanket off his head.
“Don’t stop on my account. I’ve already seen this much, might as well keep going, right?”
Isa grabbed the first thing he could find and threw it at his friend. Fortunately for Will, it was soft. Unfortunately for him, it was the sex-stained towel.
Will dodged and ran for the door. “That’s fighting dirty, Isa!”
“You started it, you pervert!” Isa shouted after his friend.
Will slammed the door behind him but kept talking through the door. “It’s not like I haven’t seen everything already!”
Storm clouds began to form on Briar’s face. It took a second, but a breath of starlight told Isa that Briar didn’t like the idea of Will seeing Isa naked.
Oops.
“Stop trying to give Briar the wrong idea, Will.” Isa yelled, struggling not to laugh. He’d find a way to pay his friend back for this. Once he stopped being mortified enough to die, that is. “Really, Briar, Will is all talk. He’s not interested in me.”
“True, but Briar is another matter,” Will called through the door.
“He has a key to your room.” It wasn’t a question.
Briar glared at the door.
“We’re porn buddies!
“Oh my god, Will, stop helping!”
It wasn’t entirely a joke, but he didn’t want Briar to know Will had a key to Isa’s room in case Isa was in class and his family decided to surprise him with a visit. When it happened, Will’s job was to run to Isa’s room and make sure nothing incriminating could be found. But it wasn’t porn he’d needed to hide—he kept that safely inside his password-protected laptop—but anything advertising his major had to go. They thought he was a religious history major. If they knew he was really a theater major, his life would be over.
Isa didn’t need Briar to know about this fact. The less he knew the better, really. So, instead of explaining, Isa threw Briar his pants then grabbed the first pair he could find. When they fell off the second he pulled them on, he looked up to see Briar’s extreme look of confusion as he held Isa’s pants against his large body. He appeared like he couldn’t decide whether he should fall over laughing or actually try to put them on.
“Oh, shut up,” Isa said as he snatched his pants back. When he went to kick Briar’s pants toward him, his body twinged, and he whimpered.
“Isa—” Briar moved toward him in concern.
“Don’t.” Isa hissed. “If Will hears you say anything he’ll make my life hell for the next week. I’ll just soldier through.” Isa gritted his teeth and tried to put his pants on. When he’d kicked Briar’s pants, he’d agitated . . . something, and now he was paying the price.
Briar backed him slowly toward the bed, holding a finger to his lips and pointed toward the door with a wry smile when Isa tried to protest.
But instead of going back to what they’d been doing when Will so rudely interrupted them, Briar urged Isa to sit down and took his wrinkled pants from his hands. He looked around the room until he found Isa’s dresser and went through his shirts one by one until he found one that passed whatever aesthetic he was going for.
He pulled a long-sleeved, green linen shirt over Isa’s head and batted the boy’s hands away until he sat still and let Briar dress him. It took him less time to find a pair of pants that passed his standards and helped Isa into them as well.
“You’re being awfully picky for someone who dresses entirely in black,” Isa muttered.
“And you’re not picky enough.”
Isa shut his mouth. He’d been teased often about his fashion sense—or lack thereof. It wasn’t his fault he’d been raised among people who had no idea what fashion was. He was still trying to figure out his aesthetic, for cripe’s sake. If he tried hard enough, he knew he’d figure out how to make plaid work for him. He just needed time.
Briar rooted through Isa’s closet until he found a black scarf to tuck around Isa’s neck, tying it in an artful knot. Every now and then, Briar’s fingers would stray from their task to brush against Isa’s cheek. His burning gaze told Isa he was doing it on purpose.
Unbidden, Isa’s hand reached up to trace Briar’s brow. Briar paused and locked eyes with Isa, encouraging him to continue. Isa traced the strong lines of his face, lost in Briar’s beauty. He understood now why Briar watched him with such intensity. If Isa hyper-focused like this all the time the way Briar seemed to, he’d never get anything done.
