Page 49 of Script Swap
But he shook his head.
“Bobby—”
“Nothing.Never mind.”He kissed my ear this time, released me, and said, “I’m going to rinse off.”
I settled on the appropriate, sensible, boring black trunks and a sleep shirt.I climbed into bed.There was no way I was going to fall asleep, but beds are like my natural habitat—they’re soft, they’re fluffy, they’re exactly the right degree of warm.
True to his word, Bobby must have done nothing more than a quick rinse because he was padding around the room naked in less than five minutes.Bobby has this thing with nudity where it doesn’t faze him at all.And let’s be real, who am I to complain?He’s got broad shoulders.Big arms.His stomach is flat and hard.And don’t get me started on what Fox calls his tush.(I mean, Iwillsay this:sculpteddoesn’t even come close.) His hair, still wet from the shower, hung glossy black across his forehead, and it made him look younger and, honestly, a little wild.Bobby didn’t bother with pajamas, by the way.He climbed into bedau naturel.(I learned that from a mystery about a French bakery where everyone gets killed by a different type of baguette—are there different types of baguettes?)
But then he reached for his study materials for the detective exam.
I tried to smile.“I think I’m going to read.”
“Okay.”
“If you’re going to study.”
“Sure.”
“Or we could do something else.If you want.”
“Hmm.”
Which wasn’t really an answer.
So, I grabbed my book.I was trying to read a Tana French novel, and honestly, she’s a genius, but tonight it seemed like there were alotof detectives dancing around their apartments to sad music in some weird pseudo-mating ritual.And it didn’t help that Bobby was doing that thing where he was leaning on one arm, and he had a pen tucked behind his ear, and he kept reaching up to grab the pen and then put it back, and myGoddo you know what that does to someone’s biceps?
Did he think people didn’t get murdered in other towns?
The question popped into my head.
I mean,didhe?
People got murdered everywhere.And yes, Hastings Rock had seen an unusually high murder rate in the last couple of years.But that was a fluke or a spike or—I wanted to say something about solar flares, maybe.
Did he want to move?
“Do you want to move?”I asked.
Bobby glanced up at me.He took a moment, and then he said, “I don’t know.I’ve thought about it.”
“Then why are you doing that exam?”
“Because I want to be a detective.”
And if that wasn’t a Bobby Mai answer, I didn’t know what would be.
Would moving be so bad?I loved my friends here.But Keme and Millie weren’t going to hang around forever.They were young.They were in love.They were ready to start their own lives, and if I was being honest with myself, they were already starting to pull away.To make that little bubble for themselves that every couple inevitably created.They’d want their own place eventually.They’d get jobs.They’d have kids.And Indira and Fox had flexible lives.They could come visit us.
We could go somewhere new, somewhere neither of us had ever been before.Somewhere nobody knew us.We could go to San Francisco.We could go to Miami.We could go to, uh, Missouri.(Oh God, no.) And we’d be Bobby and Dash, this cute, normal gay couple.And people wouldn’t buy me snacks at the theater because they couldn’t believe I might possibly notwantsnacks.And nobody at the gym would ask if I got lost when I showed up early in the morning—like I didn’tlovegoing to the gym.
And nobody would know I used to write.
“I mean,” I said, “maybe that’s a good idea.It could be fun.”
Bobby frowned up at me.His dark hair was like a blackbird’s wing.
“You’re right.We’d get away from the murders.It’d be safe.Or safer.And you’re such a good deputy, Bobby.You could get a job wherever we went.And I could do something freelance at first, like editing or something, while I figured out something long-term.I could get my teaching certificate.I could teach high school.”
