Page 23 of The One Decent Thing

I got up and moved closer to the back door in time to hear Sebastian saying, “…not like that, exactly. But he went way too far. You haven’t, like, noticed that I’ve been really careful not to be alone with him for months and months? Or drink very much when he’s around?”

So Chris had been hanging out with Brody and putting Sebastian in the same room with him? Fuck that. Maybe I was going to have to break his nose after all, even though I usually stuck with picking on people my own size.

“I’m really sorry,” Chris said, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. “I had no idea. I knew he had like, a thing for you, but I had no idea. I would have totally ghosted him if I knew he’d done that to you.”

Which wouldn’t solve the problem, namely Brody being free to go about his business and be a bastard to someone else, but okay. My anger at Chris simmered down a notch. At least he had Sebastian’s back.

Not to mention, he’d showed up on Sebastian’s doorstep with only his twig of a buddy as backup to confront someone he thought was a dangerous felon. A million points for stupidity, but another million points for loyalty. Fine. I was provisionally taking Chris off my shit list. Now that the danger of them calling the cops had passed, and my blood pressure had gone down below stroke level, I even allowed myself to laugh — quietly, because I didn’t need the eavesdropping going the other way. Jesus fucking Christ, that had been the most incompetent rescue attempt I’d ever seen. If I was really the guy they’d thought I was, a violent offender with a grudge against Sebastian or worse, some kind of hold over him, they would’ve been so screwed. I pictured Chris and his friend talking like that to the guy in the cell next to mine, who was in for his second assault and battery conviction, and winced. Yeah, that wouldn’t have gone well for them.

Approaching footsteps made me jump back and drop into my chair, trying to look casual. Should I rest my arms on my knees? Was that too casual? I pretended to be looking at the nasturtiums. The yellow ones were doing great, but the orange ones were a little ragged. I might need to swap the plant out for a new one when Sebastian wasn’t looking. He had this weird thing about these plants staying exactly the same — I’d tried to shift one of the pots over a few inches the other day and he’d freaked out.

The screen door banged open and Sebastian appeared, his hair waving wildly around his face like he’d been pulling on it. Even in the washed-out light of the single bulb over the back steps, his cheeks were as red as the geranium I’d planted for him.

“I think the pizza’s arriving,” he said. “You should come back inside. I told them how stupid they were being, so they won’t be assholes to you.” He looked down at his feet, the corners of his mouth turning down in a pitiful little frown. It was like his lips were on a string, attached to something in my chest; that tiny motion tugged on me, made me tense up all over and have to stop myself from going over there and — I had no idea what. “If you even want to,” he went on, his voice small. “After that I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to be in the same room with them, or with me, even. I’m so, so sorry, Aidan. That was so messed up. Brody called Chris and told him —”

“I got that part,” I cut in, a little sheepishly. I hadn’t wanted to admit to listening in, but that was better than sitting there like a dick while Sebastian forced himself to recap the whole argument for me. “Your voice kind of — carried.”

“Yeah.” He laughed a little and wrapped his arms around his chest. “I guess it probably did.”

Fuck this. Sebastian only stood like that when he was upset, and he couldn’t look at me, and fucking damn it, I wanted him to look at me. I wanted him to look at me the way he had when I’d asked him if he wanted Chris and company to stay or go. He’d gone from freaked-out to almost calm in the space of a few seconds right then, and he’d looked up at me like I was some kind of badass superhero.

And anyway, I couldn’t take it. “Hey,” I said, and stood up. “Hey, look at me.” I walked over to him and stopped on the step below him, putting our faces right at the same level for once. With an effort of will that I should have gotten a medal for, I didn’t tip his chin up and rub my thumb over his mouth again. Stuffing my hands in my jeans pockets helped.

He slowly lifted his head on his own. “Yeah?” It came out in a rough whisper that raised all the hair on the back of my neck. My eyes flicked to his soft mouth, still curved down at the edges, and to the pale line of his throat.

I dragged my gaze back up to his, and that wasn’t much better: endless, clear pools of sky-blue, pulling me in. “Sebastian, I —”

“Are we eating or not?” Chris called from the kitchen, and a cabinet opened and shut with a slam.

Sebastian turned even redder and whirled away from me, leaving me gaping after him. “Yeah, yeah, we’re coming right now. Are you getting plates?” He glanced over his shoulder, biting his lip in a way that should have been fucking illegal. I shoved my hands deeper in my pockets. Oh, fucking fuck, what the fuck was wrong with me? “Aidan? Are you going to eat with us? I can bring you food if you want. Or kick them out,” he added more loudly.

When he said my name like that, I probably would’ve given Chris the whole pizza if Sebastian asked me to.

“Let’s eat,” I said. “No worries.”

The smile I got in return for that made my head spin. Pizza. Focus on the pizza, and on making nice with Sebastian’s friends.

Still, I had to linger in the foggy evening chill for a second longer before I could go back inside without embarrassing myself.

Chapter Twelve

Sebastian

“Don’t worry, Lucas drove!” Chris caroled, as I tried to guide him off my front porch. He was stumbling into everything, including me, and it didn’t help that I wasn’t much steadier. Pizza had turned into pizza and beer, which had turned into more beer, which had led to this. Chris tripped on nothing and we both careened into the post of the front porch’s railing. “Lucas! Luuuucaaaas, are you coming?”

“He’s already in the car, dipshit,” I muttered, but I couldn’t help my snicker. My insides were fizzing like a shaken microbrew with the relief of everything being okay, my annoyance at Chris, and the leftover high of that earlier almost-moment with Aidan. The combination was making me wobbly and close to hysterical. “Come on, let’s get you buckled in.”

I probably should’ve asked Aidan to drag Chris to the car, but — no. There was no way in hell I was letting a drunk, handsy Chris play the damsel in distress, rubbing himself all over Aidan’s chest and arms and back as he got helped to the car. Chris had gotten over his fear of Aidan pretty damn quickly. The fact that Aidan was like every gay guy’s fantasy of a hot bad-boy top was enough to clear every worry from Chris’s mind, apparently. He started out eyeing Aidan like he was about to kill us all. Then Aidan smiled at him, and Chris plopped himself down right next to him on the couch and started touching his arm every five seconds.

Loading Chris in the car took longer than it should have, what with the hugs and the slurred apologies and the way he kept laughing like a hyena every time the seatbelt slipped.

Slamming the car door was a relief. I waved Lucas off and blew Chris another kiss, and then blew out a long sigh as I weaved my way back to the house. It had gotten cold all of a sudden, and I was rubbing my bare arms as I stepped through the open door. I needed a blanket, or a hug from someone bigger and warmer than Chris.

Maybe I would’ve had better luck if IwasChris. Aidan hadn’t been flirting back, but he sure hadn’t seemed to mind Chris’s attention. He’d laughed at Chris’s jokes, offered him the last piece of pizza — which Chris had then offered to share, shifting himself even closer on the couch — and finally let Chris slump against his shoulder while we all finished our last drinks.

Aidan hadn’t moved, although he’d held himself stiffly, like he was afraid Chris would suddenly freak out over their proximity. He’d even let Chris whisper at him drunkenly without shoving him off or telling him to cut it out. Meanwhile, Lucas and I sat on chairs we’d pulled in from the kitchen, chatting a little about our classes. It wasn’t awkward enough to do anything about, but seriously? I loved Chris, but the effort of not looking as pissed and left-out as I felt had taken its toll. Aidan wasmyroommate. My friend, maybe. The guy who made me a rainbow garden. If he was going to let some drunk gay boy snuggle with him…why wasn’t it me?Because Chris is better-looking and not crazy, and didn’t send Aidan to prison. What a mystery.

My mood was dropping as fast as the temperature outside. The buzz of the beer faded into a sick, miserable comedown, but my head didn’t feel any clearer and the room was still turning a little. The worst of both worlds.

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