Page 55 of The Party Plot

Laurel laughed. “Then you should be a natural.”

“You’rea natural,” Casey admitted. They had stopped; Mae seemed to have realized that no one was in control and was taking advantage of it, snuffling at a patch of dandelion greens growing along the edge of the sand. “How long have you been riding horses? Since you were a kid?”

“Yeah.” Laurel scratched his horse between the ears, and it whickered good-naturedly. Something passed across his face, too quick to read. “I had one, but my mom got rid of it.”

“Not sure if you’ve noticed, but your mom kind of sucks.”

“Yeah, well. I wasn’t kidding. I’ll tell her about us. If you want me to.”

Casey looked at him, not sure what to say. Laurel was so gorgeous, windswept and flushed, stars in his eyes, and of course it was easy for him to believe everything would be okay, because he lived in a world of heartfelt declarations and happy-ever-afters and bursting into song. He lived in a world where money was no object and there was always a safety net to fall into. Casey kind of hated himself for thinking it, because he knew now that not everything in Laurel’s life was easy, or particularly rose-colored. But the thought persisted, bitter and nagging and unfair. He cleared his throat.

“Did you ever picture yourself with a guy who can’t even ride a horse?” He tried to sound lighthearted.

“You’re doing fine,” Laurel said. “And I didn’t picture myself with anyone, really. I couldn’t get that far. But if I had,” he grinned, “it probably would have been some handsome, smooth-talking bad boy who challenged me and got me out of my comfort zone. Who made me feel brave and worthwhile and pissed off my mom.”

“I—” Casey’s heart stuttered in his chest, and he felt his face getting hot. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being called a bad boy. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Laurel reached across the space between them, squeezing his hand. “Don’t worry so much, babe. I’m all in. I don’t want anyone else.”

Casey’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to give in, to let himself fall, but it was terrifying. But maybe he had already been falling for a while, because there was nowhere he’d rather be than sitting in this uncomfortable saddle on this horse who clearly didn’t respect him, basking in the light of Laurel’s sweet optimism.I want to believe you,he’d said, in the hotel. He wanted to believe him still, wanted to believe this patch of sunshine in his life would last, stretch out. “We’re so different,” he managed at last. “I’ve never traveled. I didn’t go to college. My idea of fine dining is, like, Applebees. I—“I’ve got all sorts of things wrong with me. Probably ones I don’t even know about yet.

Laurel shrugged. “I’m glad we’re different. Fuck, I couldn’t stand dating some obnoxious Peter Pan trust fund kid.”

“Laurel.” He was so much more than that. So much more than Casey had originally thought of him.

“Somehow you seem to put up with me, though.” He winked. His horse was getting restless, snorting and prancing on the sand, and he tugged on the reins. “Should we keep going? I don’t think this guy sits still very well.”

“I mean,” Casey said, unable to look him in the eye. “Mae has found a snack, and I don’t want to bug her.” She was still yanking up mouthfuls of dandelion greens, apparently determined to get every last bit.

“You sure? Because if you’re going to stay here…” Laurel chewed his lip, excitement building in his eyes. Casey saw his hands grow tense on the reins, forearms practically vibrating. Like a kid about to open a present, he thought. Or a dog about to get a treat. The horse was just as excited, seeming to sense Laurel’s mood, its feet beating a tattoo in the sand. Casey thought he finally understood the meaning of the phrasechamping at the bit. “Do you mind if I run him for a little while? It’s been so long, and I really want to go fast.”

“Just be careful.” It was barely out of Casey’s mouth before Laurel was off. They started off at a trot, but soon the horse was rippling across the beach like a ribbon in the wind, sand flying up from its hooves, wild and powerful and free. Adrenaline flooded Casey’s chest as he watched them, the seamless way they moved together, the way Laurel leaned into every turn as the horse streaked across the sand. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the speed, the enthralling, wild nature of it, or because of what Laurel had just said. Or maybe it was watching Laurel do something that made him happy, the pure elation shining on his face, the weight lifted from his shoulders. The way he threw himself into it without caution, without a second thought, lost to the bright, open sky and the waves and the wind.

I’m all in.

Was this what it felt like? Was this what all the people in Laurel’s movies sang about? The way his heart clenched when he looked at him, the way he never wanted to stop looking? The way every cell of Casey’s body seemed to lean toward Laurel, and the way he couldn’t get enough of him, wanted to bask in the light of his smile and listen to his obscure jokes and learn every little untold detail that made him who he was?

Mae snorted and made a kind of whuffling sound, apparently satisfied that she had eradicated the dandelion plant. She raised her head, and Casey scratched her gingerly between the ears. Her neck was as strong as a tree trunk, and there was something about her that inspired confidence, like she could keep a secret. “Shit, Mae,” he muttered. “What do I do? I think I’m in love with him.”

*

Laurel was talking a mile a minute in the car; he couldn’t help himself. He felt like he’d been struck by lightning, or like he’d taken one of Melody’s illicit Adderall pills, every particle of his body vibrating with energy. It had been so long since he had been able to ride a galloping horse, to get that vicarious runner’s high and scour all the worries—all thoughts entirely—out of his brain. He really hoped he wasn’t annoying Casey. It had been a big ask to get him on a horse in the first place, and now he was just prattling at him endlessly, not only about horses but about everything and anything, as they made their way back down the coast toward Laurel’s condo.

“Do you think we should go to one of his shows? I don’t know. It sounds fun, but I feel like it would be so awkward, tucking dollars into my drama teacher’s g-string. You know?” Laurel was turning a matchbook over and over in his hands, a gift from Mr. Petrowski, who had told them the next time they were in Charleston, they should stop by the Leopard Gecko Lounge and see him perform. (“I start out in a giant mech suit, then strip down to a little cocktail number,” he’d said.)

“I would go,” Casey said. “I want to see the mech suit.”

“Well, good. Then it wasn’t a complete bust.” Laurel looked at him guiltily. “I know you didn’t really like the horseback riding.”

“That’s not true. I liked watching you ride a horse.” Casey put a hand on Laurel’s thigh, squeezing gently. “And I think Mae and I have an understanding.”

“So you would try it again?” Hope blossomed in Laurel’s chest.

“Laurel, if you keep wearing these pants, I’ll try anything you ask me to.”

*

Back in the condo, Casey was peeling said pants off of Laurel, his mouth on his neck, the corner of the kitchen island digging into Laurel’s hip. They had, once again, failed to make it to the bedroom, but that was fine with Laurel, better, even. He wanted Casey here, now, wanted him with raw immediacy. His heart was in his throat as he said, “We can skip the condom if you’re okay with it. I’m clean.”

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