“But it won’t make a difference.”
“I don’t do it because I think it will make a difference, I do it because I like to torture myself with all the ways I could have been better, funnier, sounded smarter or more interesting. I work out everything I would change if I could.”
Those unnerving eyes meet mine again. “Funny. Because I don’t think I’d change a thing.”
My mouth drops, and I want to point out why he’s wrong, and where I could have been smoother, and maybe moments I could have made him more relaxed.
But then Payne’s large hand is patting my arm in a completely casual way, and I damn near swallow my tongue.
“I think I’m going to hit the sack,” he says.
All I can do is nod.
DMC GROUP CHAT
Art: Hey, how’s things? Settled in okay?
Payne: Depends on how you define okay.
Orson: Oh no, I sense a story.
Payne: Haha no story. Just … different.
Griffin: Dude, you’re living with Beau, even if everything is ducked, at least you have the eye candy, right?
Griffin: Fucked, dammit.
Payne: He’s cute all right, but also … I dunno. He has a routine at home, I guess, and I’m trying not to disrupt him too much.
Art: If you walk on eggshells around him, all you’ll end up with is messy feet.
Orson: What Art and Griffin are TRYING to say is that sounds tough and we’re here if you need to talk.
Griffin: ^WHS.
Art: Sure. That. But also, this is your time. You don’t need to explain yourself to anyone or make excuses. It’s your place. Live the way that makes you happy.
Payne: Thanks for the … I want to say support, but that doesn’t sound right.
Art: Any time, brother.
Orson: Maybe next time message me direct.
Griffin: Hey, do you think you could snap some sneaky shirtless pics? Asking for a friend, of course.
Payne: JFC.
5
Payne
I tuck my hands behind my head, staring up at the bright white ceiling. It’s new, like everything else in the apartment, but unlike everything else, it’s still perfectly clean. I know, because in the week since I’ve moved in, I’ve spent a bit of time studying it.
All thanks to my … let’s go with interesting roommate.
There’s noise from out in the living room, and it makes my lips twitch. Beau is different than I thought. It’s weird that I’ve known him for over twenty years, but apparently I didn’t actually know him. When we were younger, he was my kid brother’s friend. Always around, cool to chat to and shoot the shit with, but during our college years I barely saw him, and since then … he said that fucker made him feel uncomfortable, and the more I think back to how Beau behaved with him around, I realize how different it was to when it was only me visiting home.
In the last week, I’m seeing a different side to Beau.
And it’s a side of him I’m not sure how to take.
He’s … high-energy but in a controlled way. Every time I duck out there, he shoots to his feet and hovers around me, trying to force conversation, eyes constantly darting back to his desk. It’s clear he doesn’t know how to react to someone being in his space, and if this is what he was like when he had people cleaning the place, I’m not surprised he stopped having them come. There’s a difference between needing to fill silences and needing to make yourself available for every possible second. Beau is firmly in the latter category.
And during the few times I’ve snuck out there without him noticing, I’ve watched him. He’s constantly doing something. Swinging his chair, or tapping his pen, or punching random keys on his keyboard. Being around all that energy makes even me feel awkward, and that’s not a feeling I’m used to.
So, I’ve been spending time in my room. Too much time. I get what Beau meant about it feeling claustrophobic. The window here looks into the next yard, so I like to have breakfast out on the balcony, looking up at Provin Mountain and the old Kilborough Penitentiary—or Kill Pen for short.
I get up and stretch, then head out into the living area, which is … well, not the same room as it was yesterday.
My feet halt in their tracks. Every item of furniture has been dragged into the room and piled together. Chairs and stools, the dining room table. One couch has been pushed up onto its side, and the other is blocking the entrance to the kitchen. Dark sheets cover the windows, and a mattress—I’m assuming Beau’s—is propped against the door to the balcony, preventing any light from getting in.
Did someone break in? And, what? Caused polite and mildly annoying chaos?
“Ah … Beau?” I call out.
His head pops up like a meerkat in the middle of the mess. He blinks at me for a moment and then, “Shit. Sorry. Umm …” He glances around, like he’s seeing the mess for the first time.
“What is all this?” Somehow I manage to get the question out without sounding too amused.
“A fort …”
“A fort?” Okay, I stumble over my amusement on that one.
“Sorry, just—just give me a second and I’ll take it down. I was, umm—” He cuts off and shakes his head. “Never mind. It will be gone. Momentarily.” He disappears inside, and I choke back my chuckle before approaching. Peering over the side, I find Beau scrambling to pick up a mess of papers and notebooks that surround his laptop. “Whatcha got there, Bo-Bo?”
His head jerks up, face flushed and glasses slipping down his nose. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Instead of pushing him to explain, I duck down, find the entrance, and crawl inside.
It’s obvious he knows I’m here by the tension in his shoulders, but he doesn’t look at me.
“So, it’s possible I forgot you were home,” he says in a rush.
“And you regularly build forts for yourself when you’re alone?”
“Of course not.” He gives me a look like the question is ridiculous.
“Then …”
He sighs and drops back to sit on the floor. “I’m stuck.”
“Stuck?” I pretend to glance behind me. “The entrance is right there.”
“Funny, but I mean on my book.”
That makes more sense. Good to know Beau isn’t losing it. “What are you stuck on?”
A scowl crosses his features. “I have this impenetrable fortress. Like, the whole series has been well established that it’s impenetrable. No one in or out unless it’s approved.”
“Okay …”
“And now the stupid hero’s stupid love interest has been stupid, captured, and taken there.”
I don’t mean to laugh, I really don’t, but it slips out anyway. “Sounds stupid.”
He makes an affirmative noise.
“Well, your world, your rules, right?”
“Sort of. But it doesn’t work that way. Once it’s established, I have to work with it, otherwise the whole series crumbles if the world building can’t be trusted.”
“I know nothing about this stuff, but surely one tweak isn’t something people will notice. They’re there for a good time, not to pick the thing apart.”
He cocks a pale eyebrow, and it makes me grin. “One time I spelled a minor side character’s name as J-U-N-A-E-A instead of J-U-A-N-E-A and had thirty-seven emails about it.”