“I often find that procrastination leads to last-minute panic, which stokes my creative fires,” I said. “I’ll pull it off.” Maybe. Either that or I’d have to wing it. Which was probably going to happen anyway, because that was how my life worked.
Darren stared at me for a moment before he glanced down the hall. We could hear Sandy making demands about what Vince could and could not bring along with him while Corey sang “Thriller” by Michael Jackson in the background for reasons I couldn’t quite figure out. Then he looked back at me, reached out, snagged me by the elbow, and pulled me to
ward the kitchen, farther away from the bedroom.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m not going to try anything. You don’t have to manhandle me, you gigantic asshole. Okay, that was a lie. I was going to kick you in the shins and then make a break for it. I’m not sorry. You intimidate me with all your muscles. I asked Vince if you were on the juice once, but then he told me you were allergic to apple juice so he didn’t think so, and I just let it go because sometimes, I just need to put my face all over his face, you know?”
“Paul. Stop talking.”
“Right. I can do that. Most of the time. Why are we in my kitchen? That’s—”
“How has no one murdered you by now?”
“I’m surprisingly agile,” I admitted honestly. “You should see the ways I can bend. Wait. That sounded wrong. I’m not hitting on you.”
“Yeah, didn’t think that you were. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m unavailable.”
“Because you’re in lurve with my best friend?”
He grimaced. “Can you please not say it like that? I get it enough from Sandy already.”
“Well, you did say it first.”
He sighed. “So I hear all the time.”
“You seem like you’re the type that needs to be reminded of things.”
“How so?”
I shrugged. “You’re the Homo Jock King. All you know is working out and railing twinks. It’s kind of in the job description.”
“Is that all you think of me?”
I was taken aback by the question. I bit down on the sarcastic response that threatened to spill out. I wouldn’t say he looked hurt, per se, but he was obviously uncomfortable, something I didn’t think I’d ever seen on Darren Mayne before. At first he’d been a cocky asshole who seemed to have little regard for anyone other than himself. Then he was the cocky asshole who cared deeply for his brother and maybe had a crush on Sandy. Or Helena. Or both.
And then he became the cocky asshole who my best friend loved more than I ever thought possible. He still had the persona of a jerk, he still was intimidating as all fuck, but there were softer edges to him now. I didn’t know if they were because of Sandy or because he was finally letting himself relax. I knew Sandy saw sides of Darren that I never would, and while I sometimes had a hard time believing he was as good as Sandy said, I trusted Sandy to make the decisions that were right for him.
And it helped that every now and then, I’d catch Darren watching Sandy, a fond look in his eyes, something I’d only ever seen him direct toward Vince and his own mother, the few times I’d seen her. I had to take a lot on faith when it came to Darren Mayne, but I thought maybe it was going to be a good thing.
“You hurt Sandy, I’ll cut off your balls,” I blurted.
“I know you will,” he said. He leaned back against the counter opposite me, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can be scary when you want to be. Weird, but scary.”
“Damn right,” I said, feeling rather proud of myself. “I’ll murder you so hard, bitch.”
“Too far.”
“Yes, sir,” I squeaked. “Sorry, sir.”
He looked at me like I was the most exasperating thing in his world. Which, to be fair, I probably was. I could own up to that.
But then surprisingly, it faded. And the Homo Jock King let his mask slip just a little more.
He said, “I trust you.”
I squinted at him. “Thank… you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t trust many people.”