Page 52 of The Party Plot

“It’s okay.” Laurel stretched, yawning. “I’m not exactly in a hurry to get home, either.” His shirt rode up, exposing a sliver of skin, and even though Casey’s tongue had been all over every inch of him last night, his mouth still watered, and his worries about the glove box winked out of existence. He would never get tired of looking at him.

“Laurel.” Casey was about to ask again if he was sure he wanted to go back. They could take a detour at least, stop in Savannah and walk hand-in-hand beneath the dangling arms of the live oaks. Anything to prolong this time together, before real life came rushing back in. But Laurel’s phone was ringing, and he had pulled it out to answer.

“My dad,” he said. “Do you mind?”

Casey shook his head. He stared resolutely out at the road, trying to look like he wasn’t listening in. Though of course he was. It was hard to catch anything, though, because Laurel was speaking some combination of English and French, and damn, if everyday Laurel was already as sweet and hot as fresh pecan pie, hearing him speak French was like putting ice cream on top. Casey’s palms felt a little sweaty on the wheel as Laurel’s tongue wrapped around the words.

“Mais non,Dad, ce n'était pas un ouragan.C'étaita tropical storm. No, I don’t know how you say it in French.Une … petite tempête tropicale.Tout va bien.” He shot Casey a smile, and Casey’s heart flip-flopped. “Actually,je suis avec … eh bien, ce n’est pas un ami. Mais j'espère qu’il sera un petit amisoon.”

The person on the other line said something loud and excited-sounding, and Laurel blushed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah.Il est très gentil.I’ll have to ask him. Okay. Okay, Dad.Je t’aime aussi.À bientôt.” He hung up, face still flushed. “Sorry about that,” he told Casey. “He gets worried about hurricanes. And his geography of the US is shaky, so he’s sure I’m in the middle of every single one, no matter where it is.”

“I didn’t know you spoke French.”

Laurel made a face. “At, like, a kindergarten level. I understand a lot more than I can speak.”

Casey shrugged. “Still sexy. Did you say you were with a friend?” He had been able to pick out that word, at least, or thought he had.

“Uh.” Laurel turned a little redder, and he fiddled with the air conditioning vent on the dashboard. “Not exactly. I said—I said you weren’t a friend. But that I hoped maybe you would be a boyfriend soon. Oh, and he wants to meet you now. Sorry.”

“A—” It felt like someone had just released a flock of birds inside Casey’s chest, and his fingers were trembling, and he had to remind himself that he was still driving and that he couldn’t just gaze across the cab at Laurel for the foreseeable future. “A boyfriend, huh?” he said finally. “Are you sure about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Laurel’s face was open, earnest, and Casey felt sure he would never deserve someone like him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m scared as hell. But that doesn’t mean I’m not sure.”

“What about my past?”

Laurel shrugged. “People can change. You’ll find a better way to make money, I know it.”

Casey shook his head. “Life isn’t as easy as you think.”

“Then let me make it easier. I can help you. Not,” he added quickly, “as a sugar daddy. Just as—a safety net. It seems like you’ve never had one.”

He hadn’t, and he hadn’t ever really had a boyfriend, either. Casey had spent his whole life wanting nicer things, wanting what other people had, but he’d never dared to want love. He thought of what Laurel had said in the hotel room, and his heart squeezed. He wondered if he had meant it. He wondered if it would last.

Casey cleared his throat. “I have to be honest, Laurel. I have no idea how to be in a relationship. I don’t even know where to start.”

Laurel plucked Casey’s hand off of the steering wheel, kissed the back of it. “Let’s start at the beginning. As Julie Andrews says, it’s a very good place to start. I want to go on a date with you. Multiple dates, actually. I want to show you all of my favorite places.”

“In Bonard?” Casey’s chest felt like it was full of glitter, but he forced himself to be practical. “What about all the gossip? What about your mom?”

“What about it?” Laurel shrugged, a careless grin on his face, that one tooth catching on his lower lip, and, at least for that moment, all of Casey’s reservations melted away, replaced by a shivery sense of exhilaration. “I don’t really care anymore. I’m done worrying about what people think.”

*

For their first date, they really did go back to the beginning, taking a trip to Abernathy Farms’ annual harvest festival. It was warmer than usual for early October, hay bales baking in the sun, the goats in the petting zoo chewing lethargically at broken-open pumpkins. Had it really only been a number of weeks—eight, or maybe ten?—since Laurel had been out here with Casey the last time, the two of them crammed into the back of a golf cart, resentment and lust simmering between them as their thighs brushed? It felt like years had passed since then, but the Halloween decor all over the property told Laurel that it was, somehow, still Fall. The spooky skeletons and bloody scarecrows set up around the property looked comically out-of-place against the sparkling blue of the sky and the still-green fields of crops. Hordes of sweaty children, many of them in costume, drunk on apple cider, kettle corn, and the novelty of it all, chased each other and climbed on the piles of pumpkins. There was a giant, “haunted” bounce house set up, and a fun slide that Casey definitely exceeded the height limit for. Which was too bad, because Laurel would have forced him to go down it otherwise. He was still kind of tempted to try to talk him into visiting the face-painting booth.

“God, there’s a lot of people here,” Casey said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I mean, if you want privacy, we could get lost in the corn maze and make out.”

“Uh, no. Sounds scratchy and uncomfortable. Ooh, they have caramel apples!” Casey pointed in excitement at a hand-painted sign on the side of the barn. “Will you share one with me?”

“Sure, go get us one.” Laurel watched him walk away, eyes lingering appreciatively on his tall, slim figure. Casey’s hair gleamed in the sunlight, nearly as bright as the white of his jacket. His eyes were hidden behind designer sunglasses, and he looked elegant, enigmatic. Untouchable. Laurel felt a little thrill, knowing that no one else here had any idea what lay beneath the surface of him.

It was so nice, admiring him from afar and knowing he was coming back. Being with Casey feltcomfortable, in a way no other hookup or relationship or situationship had. When Laurel had been in love before, it had been stars and sunsets and secrets and extremes, but this was like the beach on a sunny day, easy and soothing. He knew he probably shouldn’t even be thinking of love this early on, should be protecting his heart, but apparently he wasn’t great at that. Never had been, really. Didn’t want to be.

The line was long, and eventually Laurel lost sight of Casey. He pulled out his phone to pass the time. Nothing from Denise, but that would probably change as soon as the wheels of the town gossip mill started turning. As far as Laurel knew, she wasn’t even aware that he’d been out of town at all, and now that he was back, he and Casey hadn’t made any grand announcements. They were just—together, and people could draw whatever conclusions they wanted. Laurel had already noticed Sarah Ann Copeland here with her grandchildren. She was staring at him with a look of incomprehension, probably already formulating what she’d say to all the church ladies. Laurel waved at her cheerily. She pressed her lips together, not returning the gesture.

Yeah. So it was probably a matter of hours before Denise started blowing up his phone. Laurel saw Casey returning from the concessions booth, a caramel apple in one hand, and thought for a moment about grabbing him around the waist and bending him back in a big, cinematic kiss. Maybe also grabbing a handful of his ass, just to make it extra obvious. But there were kids around, after all.

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