“You can’t stand to be away from your work, can you?”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Would you prefer I lie and tell you I’m really good at reading people?”
He nods. “That would work.”
“Why are you such a workaholic?”
“I’m not.” After I cut him a look, he continues. “Usually. The deadline is what’s stressing me out. I’m used to planning my time in a way that I can do small amounts each day, but the closer the deadline gets, the more work I need to do, and it stresses me to the point where I can’t do a single thing.”
It’s no surprise he’s so on edge all the time. Working under that kind of pressure would be enough to make me freeze up too. “I know it will be hard, but can you try—just for the day—to forget it and pretend to enjoy spending time with me?”
He scoffs, and I grin his way. “Can’t make any promises.”
“It’ll be a real struggle, I’m sure.”
“I’ll do my best not to cock it up.”
I bark out a laugh, and whatever lingering tension there was between us completely disappears. This Beau is one I can get on board with. Now if only I can forget what he looks like as he comes, we might be able to nail the position of world’s greatest roommates.
It takes twenty minutes for us to get to the ghost town on the outskirts of Kilborough. The whole place is a tourist trap. Ticket prices, tours, and souvenirs, plus the expensive themed motels. Locals rarely come out here because during tourist season it’s busier here than in town, and the only time I’ve ever been to Kill Pen was on a high school field trip. I’d be willing to bet Beau’s the same.
My suspicions are confirmed when I pull into the parking lot and he whistles. “The prison? Really?”
“It was supposed to be inescapable. That’s your fortress.”
He gives me this weird puzzling look, but I jump out of the car instead of sticking around to try and decipher it. Because the second I start thinking about the looks he’s giving me and what they mean is the second I start thinking about other looks I’ve seen on his face and then other body parts that caused those looks. And I really, really don’t want to be the creep who keeps picturing what Beau must look like naked.
He’s Marty’s friend and my roommate—those lines are clear, and the best thing I can do is not blur them.
Even if he does have a pretty fucking cock.
“I’ll pay,” Beau says before we reach the ticket booth. Since it’s still early in the season, it’s busy but not ridiculously so.
“Why? This was my idea, and I have money.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t. But I have more money than I know what to do with, so let me spend some of it.”
I wave him ahead of me. “You won’t hear me arguing.”
We pay for entry and a tour, then make our way through the ghost town toward the prison at the base of the hill. There are people running tours through the tunnels underground, shops selling souvenirs, tourists exploring the abandoned buildings, and brightly colored signs everywhere with reenactment schedules on them.
Everything is themed too. The costumes, the food and drinks being sold, the site maps, and the signage to stop people from getting lost.
It’s old and intimidating. The front of the prison is surrounded by a stone wall, housing a courtyard and front entrance, then when we pass through there, we reach the main compound. It looks exactly like I remember it but less menacing than when I was a teenager. Barbed wire tops the heavy, metal fences, and the gates to enter are thick steel and at least fifteen feet tall.
Our tour guide is a grumpy, balding man with missing teeth who was a resident of Kill Pen back in the day. He goes over the history of the place, why it was built, and the reason they closed and shows us through the high-security wings.
Beau and I walk side by side, arms bumping against each other. I’m listening to the guy up front, but we’ve clearly lost Beau. He’s studying everything with interest, and when we pass through cells and into common areas, I can tell he’s cataloguing every detail. He hasn’t picked up that I’m watching him, and the more I watch him, the less interested in the prison I am. His expressions are constantly shifting, light eyebrows drawing together, eyes glazed behind his glasses, lips silently repeating certain facts, and it’s almost as though I’m getting a glimpse at the conversations taking place inside his head. It’s … different. I can’t look away.
“And this is the main guard booth for the high-security floor. The CCTV systems were replaced shortly before the closure, and as you can see on each of those screens, they had every cell covered. No such thing as privacy in them days.”
We wait for the rest of the tour group to pass us and then take our turn inside. Beau immediately drops into the chair and starts inspecting … everything. The screens, the desk setup … I watch him and his constant energy.
The voice of our guide begins again outside the booth, and I watch through the glass as our group moves on.
“Ready to—”
I turn back to Beau and …
He’s on the floor, chest flat to the ground as he peers under a bank of drawers.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Looking.”
“Uh-huh.” I lean against the desk. “See what you’re after?”
He searches for a bit, wriggles under the desk and out again a moment later, then straightens and sits back on his heels. “It’s all wired in. No good.” Beau looks so serious, I have to remind myself not to laugh. If I was a dick, I’d point out to him that this is the kind of thing that might weird some guys out. But I’m not “some guys,” and it’s kind of fun to see someone with a complete lack of awareness on how they’re perceived.
Instead, I play along.
“The … CCTV?”
“Yep. I need something else.”
“Your fantasy world has electricity, then?”
“Of course.” He tilts his head. “It’s a semi-contemporary setting on earth, but instead of the world having a huge focus on technology, it’s on magic.”
“That sounds fun.”
“It’s the world I wish we lived in.”
There’s a longing in his voice that makes me curious. I hold out my hand to help him to his feet. Unlike the last time I tried it at Marty’s, he takes it. “What’s so great about this world of yours?”
“Are you saying you’ve never read one of my books? Should I be offended?” There’s a mischievous spark in his eyes that I like.
My mouth drops. “Are you teasing me, Bo-Bo?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I pretend to narrow my eyes. “I’m onto you. And I’m also well aware you’re deflecting.” But if he doesn’t want to tell me what’s so great about his world, I won’t push.
“I have no idea what you mean.” He smiles angelically as we leave to catch up with the rest of the group.
And fine. Maybe he doesn’t want to tell me right now. But hopefully he will, because I want him to feel comfortable confiding in me, exactly the way I’ve been doing with him.