Page 69 of Quiet
Before Briar could voice the objection Isa could see him trying to form, they were interrupted.
“Isa! I wanted to wish you good—”
“NO!” Everyone in earshot shouted, and Isa hurried to cover Tor’s mouth to keep him from wishing him good luck.
“We don’t say that before going onstage.”
Tor raised his eyebrows, and Isa felt his mouth curve under Isa’s fingers. “Sorry.” Tor’s voice was muffled, and Isa tried to step away, but his damned skirt chose that moment to confess its undying love to his legs. His center of gravity went topsy-turvy, and Isa began to fall. He tried to right himself, but the skirt had meant its promise of forever and clung tightly.
Hands caught his waist, and he looked up to see Tor had caught him, pulling him tight against his body.
“Oh dear,” Will said with barely veiled excitement. Like he was expecting something delicious to happen.
“Th-thanks,” Isa said and tried to pull away from Tor’s oddly resistant grasp. His heart was racing from his near-miss, and he knew his ears must be bright red considering how embarrassed he was after almost kissing the floor.
A second set of hands took hold of Isa’s waist, and he was torn out of Tor’s embrace and tucked firmly against Briar’s side.
For a long moment, the two art students glared at one another in a silence so deafening Isa wanted to rub his ears. He was too smashed against Briar to move his arms, so he was stuck wondering what the heck was going on. “Briar?” Starlight shimmered softly in his mind but was interrupted before it could tell him what Briar was thinking.
Will’s laughter rang out, slicing through the awkward moment like a knife. “Thanks for the show before the show, guys, but I’m going to take our boy here before one of you messes up his face and forces me to commit murder before the play. I’m too lovely for prison.” He tugged on Briar’s arm and pried Isa away.
Briar was even more resistant than Tor had been, but eventually let go, continuing to glare at Tor as Will led Isa away.
Isa went through the play in a bit of a daze, only truly paying attention when he was onstage. Miraculously, there was only one mishap for the whole thing—Beatrice had gotten her skirt caught in the big gear on the main set and had to be extracted as subtly as possible. Ryan had nearly burst into tears when a piece broke off in the process.
Isa hadn’t seen much of Briar during the play, but when he did, he was with Tor. The two of them had a strange energy thrumming between them, and Isa was glad he had a good excuse to not be part of it. Were they mad at him? If they were going to yell at him or near him, hopefully they would wait until the play was over. Isa would hate to have to perform during a panic attack.
Not that he could imagine Briar yelling at him or anyone. He was warm and safe. Isa’s one true safe space.
Whether he wanted to or not, it didn’t seem like Briar was in any shape to be yelling. The last time he’d caught a glimpse of him, Tor was trying to talk to him, but Briar’s face kept doing the thing where it looked like he was trying to talk but couldn’t get the words to come. Isa would have gone to him to help but was shoved back onstage before he could take a step in his direction. It was all he could do to remember his lines.
An eternity later, Isa was taking final bows with the cast in front of a cheering audience. Hopefully, that meant his preoccupation with the Briar/Tor thing hadn’t destroyed his ability to act.
He hurried off stage as soon as it was polite to do so. To his surprise, Briar was nowhere to be found. He peeked behind hastily discarded props and in the dressing room, before hearing Tor’s voice coming from the stairwell exit.
“All I’m asking is that you don’t get in my way, man. Let me shoot my shot. I’m not going to take your friend away from you. Being with me won’t keep him from being your model—though you’ll have to share whether I can land him or not. Everyone is dying for a chance to work with Isa.”
Isa raced for the stairwell, lifting his skirts so they wouldn’t try to murder him again.
Just let me get there before Briar hurts him!
Cops were notorious in their inability to cope with autistic people, and Isa doubted they’d let him come along to interpret if Briar was arrested for turning Tor into paste.
He clambered down the stairwell, narrowly avoiding another tumble. Stupid heels. They may be pretty, but Isa had yet to master running in them.
As he suspected, he found Briar with a fist in Tor’s shirt.
Unfortunately, Tor wasn’t backing down. “Use your fucking words, you freak. It won’t kill you. Or is violence the only thing you’re good for?”
Oh, hell no. Briar wasn’t going to need to hurt him. Isa would take care of it himself. Without thinking, he snatched his beaded handbag off his skirt and swung it as hard as he could. It made a satisfyingthwackagainst Tor’s back and the drawstring snapped. The sound of a thousand beads scattering in a million directions echoed throughout the stairwell.
“What the—Isa?” Tor jerked around, pulling free from Briar. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. Briar’s the one being an asshole here.”
“From where I’m standing, there’s only one asshole in this stairwell. And I’m looking at him.” Isa fingers twitched, wanting another handbag so he could smack Tor in the face with it.
“If Briar wasn’t being so overprotective, this wouldn’t have gotten out of control. He needs to let you live your life, Isa.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Regardless of whatever had crawled up Tor’s ass, Isa wasn’t letting thefreakcomment slide. Isa had been called that word too many times for him to let someone else use it on Briar. How dare he? Isa balled his fists, ready to knock Tor’s lights out if it became necessary. “Apologize.”
