Page 20 of Gunpowder

Blair’s stomach flipped at those words and he said his goodbyes quickly before he hung up. He stood up and tucked the gun against the small of his back. He stared at the darkened screen of his phone. Damn it. Every time he had a chance to leave Wren alone, he strayed closer instead.

I can take a step back from this whenever I want, Blair reasoned to himself on the way downstairs. A date didn’t have to mean anything serious. Just getting to know Wren better wouldn’t cause Blair to be distracted. Right?

Blair straddled his motorcycle, a lean street bike with the Incindious logo on the side, the red and black lines standing out against the glossy white paint. His pants drew a little tighter over his thighs when he put his feet against the pegs, but it was more of a mild discomfort than pain.

He rolled the throttle back as soon as he was out of the parking lot. The wind whipped his hair away from his face, made his eyes sting in the best way. It made him forget about the warehouse. It didn’t allow him to care that Wren was the walking embodiment of a bad idea with all the chaos already brewing in his life. The wind forced everything out of his mind except the rush, and he wondered if this was what the people with dilated pupils and bleeding nostrils paid Adam and Nolan for, if it was anything like the same escape they sought.

Sooner than he expected, he was at the NYU School of Medicine. It was hard to miss seeing as it was pretty much its own block. The buildings stretched higher than anything in Flushing, and higher than many of its neighboring structures, as well. The place looked like a fucking nightmare to navigate. He rolled to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk, where a group of students were openly staring as he put the kickstand down. He gave a half wave and looked around. Did he call Wren, did he go look for him? He was at a loss now that he was actually there.

One of the ogling students whistled, a redhead like Blair but with much softer waves than his own choppy haircut. He winked at Blair and Blair’s cheeks heated up.

A familiar voice saved Blair from any further discomfort. “Andy, please keep it in your offensively bright pants.”

Blair flushed deeper as he realized one of the students, standing behind those at the front, was Wren. The redhead in yellow skinny jeans—Andy, apparently—had just stepped back to let him through. Wren’s hair was down and he was wearing a black tank top, leaving his arms exposed for Blair to stare at the lean muscle and pale skin on display. He wondered how long it would take before just looking at the gorgeous fucker didn’t reduce him to one functioning braincell.

His voice finally came back, steadier than he expected. “You ready, Sunshine?”

Wren’s lips pressed into a thin line and Blair smiled. Annoying Wren was no less fun now that it was the first night they met. Blair focused on him rather than the students gaping at them. Wren threw a leg over the bike with ease and rested his hands on Blair’s hips, a light pressure he almost couldn’t feel through the material of his cargo pants.

“Hold on,” Blair advised, knocking the stand back up.

There wasn’t much of a choice once they were in motion. Wren jolted forward when the bike picked up speed and wrapped his arms around Blair’s waist. His forearms were rigid, fingers laced together. Blair went back the way he came, stopping only when he got caught by a traffic light.

He turned his head in Wren’s direction. “You ever taken a motorcycle across the Ed Koch before?” he asked, nodding to the shape of the Manhattan bridge looming in the distance.

Wren’s voice was nearly lost in the road noise but Blair heard him reply, “I’ve never taken a motorcycle anywhere.”

“That explains why you’re all stiff. Just relax, and—oh. Um, hey.” He forgot the rest of his sentence as Wren had propped his chin on Blair’s shoulder to listen, so close that his hair tickled the side of Blair’s face. Wren moved his head away when they took off again and Blair let out the breath that had lodged itself in his throat.

The traffic was pretty slow moving until they got past the final light before the bridge. After that, there wouldn’t be another intersection until they were across the bridge and in Queens. Blair grinned at the sight of the seam where the city pavement gave way to the darker asphalt of the bridge.

As soon as he felt the slight bump, he leaned his shoulders forward and the bike accelerated with a scream of the engine, a guttural cry of excitement for the stretch of open road. The arms around his waist cinched for an instant before Wren adapted his grip to their speed. He wasn’t holding on to Blair in the deathgrip he expected from someone who had never been on a motorcycle, let alone a street bike that sliced through the air as his did now. He mirrored Blair in leaning forward and held on just tight enough for Blair to feel the slightest pull of fingers curled into his shirt.

The wind brought with it the briny smell of the East River below. He felt Wren’s head turn, the side of his head pressing against Blair’s back and he wondered what the experience was like for him, if he was breathing in the same scent or turning to take in the view of the city flashing by. He pulled back on the throttle again and Wren’s arms folded around him just a little tighter. He was surprised by the sudden lightness in his stomach that had nothing to do with their speed. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know how long it had been since he had been this close to someone. Wren wasn’t embracing him out of intimacy but his hold on Blair’s waist, the weight of him against his back, it was oddly grounding.

Blair felt the telltale bump of transition as they came off the bridge. He hung a right, leading them away from Wren’s hospital, away from his own Flushing and the comfort of being in his territory there. There was still a salty tang in the air as they rode parallel to the water.

They glided to a stop in a parking space for the Gantry Plaza State Park. He waited until Wren got up before he stretched and pulled his shirt away from his back where it had gone tacky from the added heat of Wren’s body. He didn’t mind, especially not on the waterfront where it was cooler. It was a little embarrassing how slow he got to his feet but he figured that was better than doing it too fast and falling right back onto the seat. Standing wasn’t the greatest feeling ever but, after testing some of his weight on both legs at the same time, Blair found it was bearable.

“What did you think of your first time on a motorcycle?” he asked.

Wren turned away from the railing overlooking the river to face him and Blair didn’t really hear his reply, distracted by the flush of color the wind had brought to Wren’s face, by how much of a disaster his hair had been blown into. He wasn’t paying attention to what Wren was saying, but he was aware of the rhythm of his voice rising and falling like Blair’s own chest, taking his mind back to “Blair, shut up.”

Keeping a hand on the railing let him walk much like he did when he had his crutches, if not a bit slower. His limp felt even more obvious next to Wren’s unhindered stride but at least the other man wasn’t walking especially fast.

“So,” he started. So, I thought you were going to kiss me…and I thought I was going to let you. “Which side of the water do you live on?”

“The other side. I certainly didn’t walk across the Queensboro Bridge to get to class.”

Blair ignored the sarcasm. “Seems like a nice school.”

“Blair.”

He hoped Wren couldn’t see him tense, didn’t somehow know that it made him think about what happened in the car, or even if Wren regarded that moment as anything significant.

Satisfied that he had Blair’s attention, Wren asked, “Are you concerned that oxygen levels will deplete if you don’t fill the air with pointless small talk?”

“Well sue me for wanting to get to know you better, asshole.” He wasn’t sure if the heat in his face was more from embarrassment or indignation at Wren’s attitude.

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