Page 52 of The One Decent Thing

I wrapped my arms around him again, savoring the warm weight of him tucked against my chest. I got to keep this. It was like a miracle. “There’s nothing about you I don’t want to deal with.”

He snuggled down and kissed my neck. That was something I wanted to follow up on, in a while. We’d make out on the couch, and then I’d get him to bed and draw out that secret smile I only got when I was kissing every inch of him, and then I’d see if I could make him scream my name.

That could wait. I buried my face in his hair and held on tight.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Aidan

My phone vibrated in my pocket at eleven-thirty on Saturday night, right as I left the door to trade off with Jason and do a few circuits of the dance floor. It wasn’t the busiest Saturday night; it was raining, and we were always slower when the weather was what passed for bad in southern California. I’d spent the last two hours huddled under the overhang by the front door, keeping my head mostly dry but getting spattered by wind-driven flurries that stung my cheeks and dampened my clothes.

We weren’t supposed to use our phones while we were working, but I ducked into a dark corner of the club and pulled it out anyway. Sebastian had seesawed back and forth between unnaturally quiet and almost manic over the last few days. One epic rant about his quantum mechanics TA had ended in tears, pizza, half a bottle of wine — which Sebastian didn’t even like — and an emergency call to Chris, who’d showed up with more wine and kicked me out of my own living room, telling me sternly to go to work early and “leave this to the professionals.” I’d had my doubts, but Sebastian had been back to normal and Chris insufferably smug when I got home, so score one for the best friend.

Whatever. I was the one who slept all night with Sebastian spooned up against me, so I called it a win-win.

Anyway, I was being extra vigilant, especially as the end of the week got closer. Sebastian had told me the article would probably come out Sunday, and his nerves were starting to hit a breaking point.

A glance at my phone screen confirmed Sebastian had called me, which was unusual. He knew I couldn’t pick up the phone at work. As I frowned down at the notification, his name flashed on the screen again. Fuck, I had to get it, but Rick was going to be so pissed if he saw me.

I stuck a finger in one ear and held the phone up to the other. “Sebastian? What’s going on?”

“I can hardly hear you —”

“I know,” I shouted. “I’m working. I’m on the dance floor, and not even on break or anything. What’s up?”

Sebastian made a funny sound, like he was laughing or choking or both. “Aidan, it’s here!”

Fuck, I hated it when he got all cryptic and roundabout when I needed him to hurry. “What’s —” I cut off as it hit me.It. The SundayCarterville Herald. “Fuck, the paper? How do you have it already?”

“Nissa brought it over. She took off right after. Just drove out here to give it to me as soon as it came off the press, and then headed home again. She rocks, right? Oh, my God, I can’t look at it until you’re here! It’s in an envelope. Aidan, I can’t look at it —”

“Okay, okay, it’s okay,” I yelled, hoping I didn’t sound like I was yellingathim. But I could hardly hear myself think. “Sit down, have some coffee, and I’ll talk to Rick. I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay?”

“I’ll come get you,” he said immediately. “I’ll be in the parking lot. I can’t wait for you to get home, and you can’t walk home in the rain anyway. Oh, my God, what if it’s awful?”

“It’ll be fine!” Shit, I could totally walk home in the rain, and it was probably better than Sebastian driving in the rain while he was freaking out. I’d made an appointment at the DMV, but it wasn’t until the middle of March. Screw that, I’d suck it up and go in without one on Monday. “Don’t drive down here, I’ll get a —”

“Can’t wait, need to get out of here. I’ll wait in the parking lot.”

“Sebastian — fuck.” I pulled the phone away from my ear. Yeah, he’d hung up. Dammit.

I circled the dance floor once, not seeing anything interesting, and came back around to the front door to sweet-talk Jason, because I was too much of a coward to ask Rick directly. Jason was my supervisor, right? His job. That was my story and I was sticking to it.

Jason extorted me to the tune of promising the burgers were on me for every one of his dinner breaks for the whole next week, slapped me on the shoulder, and told me to go enjoy my celebrity status, an evil grin on his stupid handsome face. For the millionth time, I wished I hadn’t told Jason about the newspaper article.

Five minutes later I slipped out the fire exit door at the back and scanned the lot for Sebastian’s car. It wasn’t pouring, but the air was a haze of silvery-orange droplets glittering in the tall lamps set around the lot, and everything smelled like wet asphalt and ozone. Sebastian flashed the headlights at me from a row down, and I ran for it.

With a squeak of wet clothes on vinyl, I flung myself into the passenger seat and yanked the door shut after me. Sebastian reached up and clicked the dome light on. His face was blotched red and white and his eyes were so dilated he looked like he was coming off a week-long coke bender. Probably for the best he hadn’t taken my advice and sat down to drink coffee.

There was a giant manila envelope in his lap, the corner all crumpled up from where he was crushing it in his fingers.

First things first. I leaned over and pressed my lips to his, wrapping a hand around the back of his head to hold him in place while I got a taste of what I’d been missing since I left for work. For a second I forgot all about the article, about anything but him. He did taste like coffee, but he was sweet, just like always. I gave his plush lower lip a quick nibble as I pulled back. I left my hand where it was, though, massaging the tense muscles of his neck.

“You ready, baby?” I wasn’t sure I was. Keeping it together for Sebastian’s sake had prevented me from focusing too much on how worried I was, but this was huge.

My reputation was worth shit, in Carterville. My family — what there was of it, anyway: the two drunks who’d given me life and a couple of cousins who didn’t like me were all that was left, since my uncle died — and my former friends, and everyone I’d gone to school with, and everyone I’d worked with at the superstore. My old landlord. My neighbors in the apartment building where I’d gotten arrested. The nice Korean guy who owned the liquor store down the block from there, who’d given me a free candy bar sometimes when I went in to get soda and chips on the weekend. All of them had thought I hurt Sebastian — that I deserved my years in prison.

How many of them would change their minds tomorrow morning? I hadn’t bothered trying to log into any social media since I got out of prison, but Sebastian had Facebook and Instagram. Maybe he’d find out.

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