Page 25 of Falling Faster
That smart ass smile returns and Patrick slowly pulls his phone from his pocket. "I'm so onto you. But fine. I don't have anyone interesting texting me anyway."
While he opens the app and calls, I order our usual from the pizza place then clean up the chip crumbs. Cody and Devon's familiar voices fill the room. Patrick props his phone against the stack of magazines on the coffee table. He and I sprawl on opposite ends of the couch. Our friends on screen are positioned the same way, lounging in Devon's living room.
"Hey, boys." Cody beams a megawatt smile. "What's good?"
Patrick smirks and pokes his foot into my calf. "Craig met someone."
"You did?" Cody and Devon ask together, then look at each other and laugh.
Damn, I wish we were all in the same room. Settling deeper into the cushion, I pick up my beer then pass Patrick's over to him. "I did. His name is Ty. He's an artist and is deep into comic books, too."
"Ooh, he must be something." Cody leans into the screen with a sigh. The most dramatic member of our friendship quad is a total romantic. "Even your eyes are smiling."
Fingers steadily tapping out a beat on his thighs, Devon confirms Cody's words with a nod. "I'm expecting to see cartoon hearts popping out of them."
Patrick snorts a laugh, I scoff, and Cody grins.
And Devon continues with a wave of his hand, "Tell us about him."
I dive in, relaying everything that's happened since Irescued Ty from the table disaster. My friends are enthusiastic and sympathetic, and want to see photos of Ty and of the sketch he made me, and Patrick takes too much pleasure in me needing to use my phone to accommodate their requests. Luckily, no messages pop up from Ty.
Our pizza arrives, as does Cody and Devon's. We talk, laugh, joke, and catch up on everything that's happened since our last group chat, and talk about the song we've been working on. Patrick plays the melody for them again and I share new lyrics I wrote this week. We may only occasionally put out a single, but I'll take that over nothing.
Eating the same food is almost like having them here with us like they used to be, all of us crowding around a pizza box, starving after a hard night of playing, or more often, a hard night of working shit jobs that didn't pay nearly enough. The fierceness with which I miss my friends, miss the four of us being together, hits like an unexpected punch to the solar plexus. In addition to Ty, I have two other very good reasons to make a trip to Buffalo soon.
After the call ends, I walk Patrick to the door. "We should visit the guys soon."
"And Ty?" The smirk I'm expecting of him doesn't surface.
"I hope so. I really want to see him."
He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. "We'll figure something out when you're back. Good luck with the tour. Keep me posted on how it goes. And Craig… Back to Ty, listen. I know I don't know what you're going through, but I can imagine. These next few weeks away will be busy, but I hope by the time you get back, you're closer to receiving the answer you want."
"Thanks." I hug him hard, holding on a second longer than usual. "You're a good friend."
"Keep that thought in mind if you find stray chip crumbs in the couch cushions." He's smiling as we draw apart. "See you, bud."
I lock up behind him, then turn and stare at the living room. In the absence of four voices talking over top of each other, the silence seems so loud. My gaze lands on the sketch. Then on my luggage by the door.
Maybe getting on the road for a few weeks, the change of scenery, the change of focus, will help take my mind off of the situation with Ty. Though I doubt it.
I am well and truly hooked. But if Ty ends up not wanting the same things… I lay a hand over the icy shard lodged in my stomach. If that happens… then on top of everything else, I will also be thoroughly gutted.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TY
Fighting through the floaty feeling that's been my companion thanks to working late nights with Slater, coupled with earlier than usual starts at the insurance office, I drag myself down the hallway of Slater and Noah's apartment building, thankful it's Friday. Their place is a home away from home, and for the past two weeks, I've been living here.
My sketchbook and tablet are filled with ideas and notes I jotted down during my lunch break. I'm longing for hours of uninterrupted sleep, but my level of exhaustion will have to wait, because I have a video chat scheduled with Craig in less than fifteen minutes.
One month has passed since we met. We've both been super busy, me with the two jobs and Craig on tour, yet we've managed to exchange texts every day, sometimes, multiple times a day. A month of talking, flirting, and I'm falling for him more and more.
Using the key the couple gave me, I let myself into their place, then toe off my shoes and tuck them in a corner. Slater's sneakers lay on their sides a few feet away from thewall, total tripping hazards. I push them under the small table by the front door, out of the way. "Slater?"
"In the kitchen."
Following the scent of coffee, I head that way. Slater sits at the kitchen island, his laptop open, huddled over the detailed spreadsheet we created to keep track of characters, plot lines, and scenes. I set my bag down on an empty stool and withdraw my sketchbook, tablet, and notebook. "I know we're supposed to be working, but Craig only had a small window of time to talk today, so he and I are chatting in fifteen minutes."
