Page 12 of Key Change

Anthony wished he’d never said anything. He hadn’t been shunned, but he had been the subject of gossip. He needed to respond, Mick wasn’t going to judge. He acted like a friend who wanted what was best for him, though Anthony had no doubt that would change the moment he stepped out of line–which he wasn’t going to do.

Anxiety spiked and some were curious. It was awkward.

His thumb hovered over the letters.Like I didn’t belong.He couldn’t bring himself to type it, so he hit send.

It was a good step forward. I’ll see you in a couple of days.

That wasn’t the date he wanted to be arranging, assuming that’s why Cillian had texted. His stomach tightened, hating the way everything was that much more difficult. He pushed aside thoughts of Cillian and the kiss to get the job applications done.

It was only then he deliberated his next move.

There was no reason he shouldn’t call Cillian. Except the idea made his mouth dry. He re-read Cillian’s text to be sure Cillian wanted him to call. He’d only read it about fifty times. He’d relived the kiss about the same and spent longer in the shower because of it, which he did not regret at all. His lips curved.

Last night, the idea of having a social life seemed like a cruel joke. This morning, it was something he wanted. Unless the text was some kind of game. Had he set up another dare with his friends?

How much did he actually care if that’s all this was?

Anthony tapped his phone against his palm. Was he really going to be picky when Cillian was offering something he hadn’t tasted in ten years? Having sex would be better than drinking expensive coffee, or boutique beer, or being able to stay in bed for as long as he liked, or even staying up with his light on for as long as he wanted. They were small freedoms he was making the effort to take instead of remaining in the habit prison had ingrained in him. But he was so used to routine that breaking it took more effort than expected.

He tried to swallow, but his tongue was too thick. He’d called up plenty of men and never cared if they rejected him. The worst thing that might happen was Cillian laughing and claiming to have changed his mind.

So what?

There’d be others. He could download an app and find someone else, but he’d spent too much time around those who didn’t care. He didn’t want to break his dry spell with someone who didn’t know his name.

If he didn’t call, Cillian wouldn’t call him. He needed to do this if he wanted more. And he wanted. God, how he wanted. Heat slid through his blood like a drug. That first rush was always the sweetest. He closed his eyes and imagined he felt Cillian pressing against him, making sure he felt every inch. The way he’d acted as though everything was possible before his brother ruined the moment.

Did Hayden resent him having even one small pleasure? Yes. Yes, he did.

Anthony opened his eyes. He’d be damned before he let Hayden, or his own self-doubt, stand in the way. At some point, he needed to figure out dating, and as much as he needed to focus on getting a job and pulling the rest of his life together first, he wanted some fun. He deserved a good time after doing hard time.

He pressed Call before he changed his mind. The phone rang three times before Cillian’s voice gave him a recorded message. Anthony had a few seconds to think of something to say, and he had to say something instead of hanging up.

He cleared his throat. “Hi, it’s Anthony. I’m hoping you’d still like to get together. Dinner, maybe?”

Why did he suggest that? He didn’t have money to throw around, and the restaurants where he once would’ve taken a date were now well out of his price range. He hung up and smacked the phone against his forehead.

He eyed his expensive suits. How many designer suits—that no longer fit quite right—did he need. How many cufflinks and expensive watches?

No. They were a rainy day fund that he needed to hold onto.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Cillian wound up the lesson,not sure any progress had been made. Usually, he’d remind the student about practicing and breaking down each piece instead of playing the piece all the way through and hoping for the best. Today he didn’t care, and he’d said it all before. Emily packed up her books. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about improving, but at seventeen there were other things to do than practice, like boys.

He sometimes joked that if he hadn’t grown up on a farm, he wouldn’t have gotten so good. He understood the distraction all too well, sinceallhe wanted to do was return Anthony’s call. Margot had been most helpful in giving him Anthony’s number.

He smiled, glad Anthony hadn’t waited days. After last night, he wanted more and he didn’t care about being Anthony’s first since he’d gotten out. If anything, that made it better. Anthony would remember him long after, and he liked that idea more than he wanted to admit.

“Hey. I don’t want you to work on everything. Pick your favorite thirty-two beats and make it shine.”

She eyed him skeptically. “That’s all?”

He shrugged. “Yep. These pieces aren’t exciting, but you need them for the exam. Remember, if you don’t pass, your motherwill find you another teacher.” He was her third teacher in two years.

She rolled her eyes.

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