Page 68 of Never Say Die
He glanced at the sidewalk where Dylan, Pru, and Shay waited, and let out a defeated breath. “Okay, fine. How ‘bout we just keep drinking? That sounds like our best option.”
“For once, you’re right. C’mon,” she said, and looped her arm around his elbow.
The night welcomed them.
Georgia avoided Shay at the first bar, keeping close to Pru. Dylan bought a round of shots while a band played bluesy jazz. They stayed for two songs before wandering to the next bar. Alcohol brightened Aiden’s skin, turning him ruddy and warm, and loosened Georgia’s mouth into a smile. Soon enough, Shay was hugging Georgia again, and Pru was complimenting the pretty bartender, and they were falling into each other, giggling and hollering as they cruised Bourbon Street.
Aiden remembered blood, though. On the cement in the alley, on his hands in the desert, at their feet in the bathroom, between Shay’s teeth in the parking garage, seeping into the tile underneath Thomas. He saw red everywhere, on walls,splattered on faces, darkening clothes, and swallowed against the taste—copper and citrus—shooing the flavor with tequila.
You’re just drunk.He steadied himself. Blinked. Ordered another drink.It’s not real.
Heady summer heat pressed on them at an EDM nightclub filled with flashing strobes. As Pru and Georgia danced near the neon bar, luring each other with curious smiles, Dylan ordered another beer, and Shay pulled Aiden into the crowd. The balmy climate thickened, shining on sweat-slicked skin and inconvenient clothes. Aiden pushed his palm under Shay’s shirt, feeling across his scar, his wide chest, and let his mouth fall open when Shay did the same, thumbing at his nipple, sneaking along his belt. Bass vibrated everything—walls, bellies, plastic cups.
Framed by swaying arms, Aiden caught a flicker of Thomas. His eyes, mostly. Glinting like a submerged crocodile. Aiden tucked his face into Shay’s neck and found his pulse, sucking on his heartbeat. Somewhere close, perfectly still in a sea of movement, he noticed Cit’s pointed chin and wide-brimmed hat. Lasers streaked the dancefloor, faces blurred, and Aiden held onto Shay.I’m awake.He rocked his hips, sliding against Shay’s thigh.I’m here, I’m alive, I’m awake.They kissed like they were alone, panting into each other’s mouths, pulling hard at skin and clothes. When he opened his eyes again, the ghosts were gone, and Shay was hard against his hip.Awake. Awake. Awake. Before they made the mistake of stumbling into another bathroom, Shay took his hand and led them out of the club.
The walk to the hotel seemed endless. Aiden righted himself on wobbly legs and gripped Shay’s knuckles. In the elevator, Aiden fumbled with Shay’s belt, mouthing at his neck, asking to be touched. They fell into the suite, laughing, yanking at clothes, tripping out of their shoes, and managed to kick the door between the two rooms shut.
Aiden said senseless things. Heartfelt things he would’venormally muted if not for the alcohol.Mi amor, spoken like a prayer against Shay’s shoulder.Cariño, ven a mí, whispered into his mouth before another kiss.Eres mío,as Aiden fell onto his back and the bed took their weight.
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Shay whimpered. “Sounds sexy, though.You’resexy, you know that? That’s a stupid question. Of course you know that.”
Aiden’s laughter hitched into a moan as Shay pushed his legs apart. He got lost in their clumsy tenderness. Clutched white sheets and warm skin, and let his eyes slip shut. When he opened them again, he froze.
Blood, thick as oil, spread across Shay’s chest, along his throat and arms. Aiden touched his stomach and his palm came away red.No, he thought.No, no. Wake up.The darkness smelled coppery and pungent, like sex and chlorine and opened flesh. He still felt Shay inside him, still felt his thumb, rubbing where they were joined, still heard his heavy breath and raspy voice.
“You okay?” Shay asked, slowing to a stop.
It can’t be real.
Aiden placed his hand on Shay’s stomach. Fingers slipped through shiny blood. His eyes welled and he choked on a sob, suddenly sure his throat had filled with water. Immediately, completely, terribly aware that he was drowning, and Shay was bleeding, and they were dying, somehow.
Shay gave his hands a nervous once over, and Aiden realized he was checking for claws.
“Aiden, hey, you’re okay. It’s okay. Talk to me,” Shay whispered, and fumbled for the lamp on the nightstand. “What happened?”
Light flooded the bed. Shay stared at him, wide-eyed and afraid, and swallowed hard. No blood. Not a single drop. He was his usual, flushed self. Skin like barley, inked and freckled. Aiden gasped like a beached fish, forcing the invisible water toleave his lungs. He coughed on nothing. Sat upright and breathed through the tightness in his chest until it loosened.
“I’m sorry.” Aiden gulped and heaved. “You didn’t do anything wrong—I’m sorry. I. . .”
Shay took Aiden’s face, cradling him. “Are you okay?”
“Felt like I was… Like I was drowning,” he said, and shook his head. “And I saw you. . . I don’t know. Fuck, I don’t know. I’m just drunk. I’m really,reallydrunk. I’m sorry, cariño.”
“What does that mean? Cariño?”
“Darling.” Aiden cleared his throat. “Baby, love, sweetheart, all that shit.”
“Oh,” Shay said, affection swelling in his voice. “Are you okay? Can you breathe?”
“Yeah, I’m just. . . I’m fine. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.” Shay pressed his lips to Aiden’s temple, his cheek, his mouth. “It’s all right. You’re all right.”
They stayed like that, breathing together. Shay laced their hands. Gripped. Grounded him to reality, to them, right there, sitting on a messy bed in New Orleans. He bumped his nose against Aiden’s cheek and held him carefully, like something precious.
“Keep the light on,” Aiden said, and crawled into his lap.
“You sure?”
