His face is serene as a statue. Is he serious? He can’t be.
Brady’s howl of laughter nearly bursts my eardrums, and Tanaka’s expression finally breaks. He chuckles, smacking his big fiancé on the arm. “You couldn’t give me ten more seconds?”
“I’m sorry, baby. His face,” Brady wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. “I’ve never actually seen someone’s jaw drop like that.”
I snap my mouth closed, my neck hot. “You almost had me.”
“Sorry Elliot. The grimness rolling off you in waves was getting to me. You’re not marching to your death—you’re admitting your feelings.”
That’s all. No big deal. Just risking everything on the hope that Joey will believe me. Give me a chance.
“In all seriousness,” Tanaka says, “now that you know our secrets, I’m holding you responsible for guarding them. I promise the people who live here that I’ll keep them safe. You need to do the same.”
He’s dramatic, that guy. But helpful, I admit, as he tells me what I really need to do to get inside.
After I key in the code, the door slides open. I step through and into a hallway that looks identical to mine, down to the two doors. Only I know this is the mysterious fourth floor. I can hear music thumping behind one of them. Bex. The night concierge. The gadget maker who doesn’t like fresh air or people.
I thought I knew this building’s secrets, but I wasn’t even close.
The door I just walked through slides shut behind me. I glance back at it and see nothing but a blank panel in the wall framed with molding. It blends in with the rest of the décor so well nobody would know it was there unless they were supposed to.
Shaking my head, I quickly push open the door next to the elevators for the private stairs and run up them two at a time to get to my floor. After I key in the code for the fifth-floor security door I’m in my hallway heading to my apartment.
I get inside, drop my keys in the kitchen and walk right out onto the balcony without stopping to look around. If I’m doing this, I need to do it now before I lose my nerve.
Most of Joey’s lights are out, but something is flickering.
The television. Tani or Joey?
Will either of them let me in?
Trust that when you leap, he’ll be around to catch you.
Great advice, but that isn’t my problem, I think as I hoist myself over the railing. I’ve been leaping over obstacles between us from the moment I met him. What I don’t know is if he can love me enough to try out a leap of his own. If he even wants to try.
He’s been hurt. I haven’t cared about anyone else enough to know what that’s like. It makes me sound hard, but I’m feeling anything but right now. Joey is so much braver than he thinks he is. He was abandoned, and he still reached out for love. He was kept a secret. Discarded. And he still reached out for me.
I don’t think he knows how fucking courageous it is to walk through this world with an open heart. But I do.
I let us keep our secret because I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to deal with the fallout. At the time, I wasn’t sure of anything.
But now that he’s let me go, cut things short and given me a free pass? I hate how wrong that feels. Everything about it. I don’t want to get off that easy. Part of me is grateful for whoever told the reporters about us. I wanted someone to force me to admit the truth. That I’m in love.
Now that Joey has fixed things, this is the only option I have left.
Damn him for making that decision without me.
I feel like a criminal as I peer through the windows. Someone is sitting on the arm of the couch, so I knock lightly. “Joey?”
The figure flies backward onto the floor, clutching whatever he’s holding in his arms instead of using his hands to break his fall.
“Jesus,” I swear, jiggling the handles of the doors.
Relieved to find them unlocked, I push open the door and flip on the light. “Are you okay?”
He goes still but I can’t see his reaction. His face is covered by cardboard. I think it’s that life-size image of the man with weird ears.
“You’re always asking if I’m okay.” Joey sounds subdued. Distant. “You don’t usually break into my apartment to do it. That’s new, isn’t it, Quinto?”
“You have no idea how new.” I help him to his feet instead of asking who he’s talking to. He’s wearing his boxers and a stained sweatshirt. I think its spaghetti sauce. “Joey, we need to talk.”
He nods, still not looking at me as he sets the figure down, turns off the television and walks toward his stairs. I know it’s probably because he doesn’t want to wake his roommate, but my body still responds to the idea of getting him anywhere near a bed. His bed. We’ve never been in his room before.