Page 50 of The Party Plot

“Sure.” Laurel kissed his temple, breathing him in. His hair smelled like the rain, and like the cheap soap from the shower, and underneath it was the familiar, undefinable smell of Casey himself, herbal and a little bitter and incredibly comforting. Something trembled in Laurel’s chest at the thought of maybe making this work, maybe being able to wake up next to him every morning, to nuzzle at his scalp and kiss him awake. “Turner Classic Movie marathon it is.”

“Wait, what? I didn’t—”

“Oh no, too late, I already have the remote! Get ready for fabulous costumes and choreographed dances and for your heart to be filled with song!”

*

Later, as they watched Rex Harrison being a loveable curmudgeon and Audrey Hepburn being her gorgeous, doe-eyed self, Laurel snuck a look at Casey. He had remained stone-faced throughout most of the musical, although Laurel could have sworn he’d caught him tapping his feet occasionally beneath the covers.

Noticing Laurel’s eyes on him, he said, “What?”

“Just curious what you think.”

Casey nibbled on a moon pie. “I mean, it’s just a makeover rom-com, but with singing.”

Laurel sputtered. “Just? This is the origin of the trope! And—and her hats alone elevate it, I mean—”

“What is it with you and Audrey Hepburn? Your mom is obsessed with her, too. That was supposed to be her Halloween costume.”

“Yeah.” Laurel sighed. “I guess I get it from her. I grew up watching all of these movies. It’s kind of the only thing we have in common. She’s always wanted to be, like, alady. But she’s not very good at it.” He took the moon pie from Casey’s hand, stealing a bite. The chocolate was warm and melty. “I know, I know. A gay guy who loves musicals. Groundbreaking, right?”

Casey shrugged. “I mean, I have nothing to say. I’ve always leaned into every stereotype I could, as long as it got me ahead. I think it helped me seem—harmless, to your mom.”

Laurel wondered what that would be like, wondered if it had felt any more genuine than what he’d been doing, straddling some weird limbo where he was and wasn’t himself. He considered asking, but then Casey added, “Besides, I’ve kind of always wanted to be a florist. So maybe I’m just as groundbreaking as you are.”

Laurel felt himself smile. “You’d be an amazing florist. Much better than being a party planner. I still can’t believe she fired you.”

“I can. I kind of cussed her out a little bit. And said she didn’t give a shit about you, and that Howie Bonard was an asshole.”

“Oh my God,” Laurel blurted. “I think I love you.”

His stomach went cold as soon as he said it. He hadn’t meant to, and Casey had frozen up on the bed, hand halfway to his mouth. “Laurel,” he said cautiously.

“Shit, forget I said that.” His heart was hammering in his throat, and he was babbling, probably making things worse. Laurel could feel his face getting hot. The thing was, it had felt natural to say. Natural and easy and strangely not terrifying. “I mean—forget I said thatnow. I will say it. But when I do, it’s going to be romantic and unforgettable and we’ll be in some sweeping, gorgeous location, like a cafe in Venice or something, and—”

“Come here.” Casey put an arm around him, pulling Laurel against his side. “You’re bright red,” he murmured, nuzzling against his blazing-hot neck. “And your hands are covered in chocolate.” He kissed Laurel’s palm, his knuckles, sucking his fingers into his mouth one-by-one, and Laurel’s nervous trembling got an edge of desire to it, sparks going off in his lower belly. Casey was settling over him on the bed, one hand on his hip, and Laurel gasped as he began to kiss his way down his neck and over his chest with aching slowness, lips plush and lingering. He had the vague thought that he should pause the movie, but when he reached for the remote, he ended up knocking it off the bed, and then he couldn’t care anymore, because Casey’s mouth had enveloped his cock and it was just the velvet softness of his tongue, the silky strands of his hair between Laurel’s fingers and the wind outside battering at the door.

*

The credits were rolling, and Casey looked distinctly unimpressed. Though to be fair, they hadn’t really paid attention to all of the movie, so Laurel would have to make him watch it again.

“Not your favorite?” he asked, drawing circles on Casey’s chest with his fingers. The hair there was dark brown, and correspondingly dark stubble had started to come in along the line of his jaw. There was something precious about seeing him imperfect like this, without the nice clothes and the skincare regime, his usually slicked-back hair all mussed from Laurel running his hands through it.

Casey made a face. “I just don’t understand why she didn’t marry Freddie. He was rich, and hot. And he had, like, the most romantic song of all of them. They could have opened a flower shop and had a bunch of hot working-class sex. But instead she went for the grumpy old guy.”

“That’s because she and the grumpy old guy have an intense, antagonistic connection that’s simmering with unresolved sexual tension,” Laurel explained. “Besides, Freddie’s kind of a doofus.”

“Huh.” Casey pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Well, maybe I have a thing for rich doofuses who can sing.”

Laurel wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he retrieved the remote control from the floor and brought up the TV guide menu. “Well, let’s watch another one. I’m going to turn you into a musical lover if it kills me. Here, you’ll like this one. It’s about a con man with a heart of gold, just like you, and an uptight librarian that—”

Casey grabbed for the remote. “I amnota con man with a heart of gold. Can’t we just watch Law and Order or someth—”

There was a cracking sound from outside, so loud that Laurel felt it in his chest, and a flash of light too bright and close by to be lightning, and then the TV winked out, the room plunging into darkness.

“Shit,” Laurel said, pulse fluttering in his throat. “Do you think it was a transformer going out?”

“Probably.” He felt Casey’s hand against his lower back, smooth and calming, though he couldn’t see anything, eyes not yet adjusted to the sudden blackness. Casey’s lips touched Laurel’s temple as he said, “Well, what do we do now?”

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