The party on Justin's farm
Everyone who sees you falls in love
You eat us up
You live like you're on camera
-- Glass Animals, Your Love (Déjà Vu)
The entrance to the farm was off the main highway, a gravel patch that stretched long into the field, with rickety fence posts and barbed wire on both sides. At least it wasn’t a dirt path, or his father would’ve been very upset about the dust on his car and both Theodore and his mother wouldn’t have heard the end of it. There were very little streetlights out here, so Henry turned on the high beams, driving carefully.
A reflective sign up ahead indicated the farmhouse on the path to the left and the actual farm straight ahead, on the dirt road. Henry was more than happy to take the left and stay on gravel.
Just as promised, Justin was alone at the gate. He waved at the car as soon as it arrived, a bright red flame glowing between his fingers. Knowing him, that was most definitely a joint. The mere sight of it made Theodore’s pulse race.
As they approached, Justin pulled the gate open, allowing the car to roll right in, still driving slowly, but this time because Henry was trying to get a good, long look at the redhead. He even rolled down the passenger window.
“Hey, Justin,” Henry greeted, nice and friendly. “Nice to meet you.”
In reply, Justin waved at both parents, a meek attitude about him. “Hey there, Mr. and Mrs. Voss. I hope you had an easy time getting here.”
Oh, no. Oh god, no. Theodore could see the way his mother tilted her head and his father squinted, curiosity in the crease between his eyebrows.
“The drive went just fine. Now tell me, how’s Ryan doing?”
Justin passed the back seat a glance, but through the tinted windows, Theodore was fairly certain that his friend couldn’t see him. “He’s alright. Uh.” He took a couple of steps backwards, pointing at the massive farmhouse a few dozen feet behind him. The gravel path led to a roundabout with some plants in the middle, where the only other exits either led into the garage or up to the farmhouse. “You can drive up to the door, if you want; I’ll be here to close the gate when you’re done. Unless you guys are staying, of course.” That last part was added very quickly, an afterthought that he would’ve nailed had he not been high.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Carolyn waved a hand, her polite smile perfectly set in place. “But thank you for the invitation.”
With a nod, Henry rolled his wife’s window back up and took the exit up to the farmhouse. It was a little ways away, but even from a distance, Theodore could see the silhouettes of the partygoers that littered the front porch, smoking what was probably weed. The front door was left wide open, shining a bright orange light behind them, joints lit in the dark. Thankfully, the driveway didn’t get close enough for his parents to really know what those guys were smoking. The windows that lined the first floor showed a crowd of dancing bodies, too many for the three of them to be able to see very far inside. All in all, he was fairly sure that neither Laith nor Ryan had been spotted.
“Do you think Ryan’s here?” he asked, heart lodged halfway up his throat. Ignorance was the only out he could find.
Henry turned around to give him a look, eyebrows drawn hard together. His hands shook. “You don’t know?”
“No, I haven’t talked to him since he left. I didn’t know Justin knew him; he wasn’t at the party where we met.”
His mother shifted awkwardly in her seat. “It seems Justin knows a lot of people.”
“Yeah, he’s very popular.”
Henry glanced out the windshield, skepticism written all over his face.
“Justin’s a good guy,” Theodore continued, body leaning closer to his parents’ seats. “He wouldn’t hang out with people like Ryan. He might know him, but I don’t think they’re friends. He’s my friend.”
His parents shared a look.
“I’m sorry about that, sweetie.” His mother didn’t sound very sincere, but he’d take it. “I’m sure you’re right, but if Ryan does happen to be here, you can call us to take you home.”
“Thank you, mom.”
Begrudgingly, his father settled back in his seat, an exhale escaping his nose. It shook Theodore to the very bone.
“Thank you, dad,” he muttered, sliding across the back seat for the door.
“Theodore,” Henry called the moment his hand touched the handle, “don’t forget the conditions for your present. I really want you to get it.”
He swallowed hard. “I’ll be good, I promise.” With that, he left the car.
As soon as the door closed behind him, his chest burst into flames, heart punching him hard in the ribs—god, Justin was such a fucking idiot. His hands closed into tight fists, trembling. He wanted to kill him. Why the fuck did he have to say that? It was so easy not to say anything; the wave would’ve sufficed.
Up on the porch where the unmistakable scent of weed permeated the air, he watched Justin wave at his parents again and close the gate, joint plucked between his lips. He pictured both of his hands on the lapels of Justin’s flannel, shaking him. The look on his father’s face, the skepticism, the fact he knew Laith and everything that happened underground—he’d put the pieces together. It might take him some time, but he’d do it; Theodore just had to stall him until Christmas. After that, Henry was free to hunt him all the way across the state.
Without any interest in waiting for Justin, he walked into the house and joined the crowd. None of the people near the door were recognizable. Bodies moved loosely to the beat of the music, red solo cups flashed under the light and sequins sparkled as girls danced, the bass a resonance in Theodore’s rib cage, the scent of weed heavy in the air. Were they smoking inside too? He shouldered past the crowd further into the living room, large and tall with a small room on the left, a staircase hidden behind it, and two archways up ahead, a big one in the center of the wall and a smaller one near the corner. His vision was limited, obstructed by dancing bodies and moving heads, but he could catch hints and glimpses of a bar at the very back, his best bet at finding Laith.
He approached it with his neck craned up above the crowd and watchful eyes that scanned every facial feature around for any semblance of familiarity. So far, nothing. It was surprising to find that Laith wasn’t in the bar’s immediate vicinity after all, though the fact that he wasn’t here now didn’t keep him from coming back for more.
Behind the bar was a coat hanger full of bags where he stashed his own, Justin’s gift retrieved to join the bottles that filled up the counter. This bar was the kind with two counters, one higher than the other, probably to hide the preparations beneath it and give them an air of mystery. No one was tending it; people just came and went for the beer keg in the corner, never actually taking up the barman’s place. All the bottles on the hidden counter made him wonder if they had been gifts or if he was really the only clown with one. Some of them looked pretty fancy, but then again, that didn’t mean they were expensive.
“I see you’ve found the bar.”
Justin’s cheery voice set his jaw, but still he turned around to look at him. The hand on his gift nudged it toward the host. “Here, for inviting me. Thanks.” He did his best to keep any bitterness out of his voice, even if the attempt was a failed one. It was the thought that mattered.
Justin frowned, eyebrows up on his forehead, impressed. Okay, so that pretty much confirmed that gifts weren’t a thing that people in his social circles did, or at the very least, not this kind of gift. He should probably have saved it for an event at one of his parents’ friends’. “Wow, really? You didn’t have to, man. I invited you because you’re a cool dude, not because I was expecting anything.”
“Just open it, dude.” He damn near rolled his eyes. Goddammit.
Justin removed the bottle from the box, and with weed blocking rational thought, aimed the cork right into the crowd. Well, not into the very first person across the bar, but up in the air, over their heads, which would end up with the cork hitting someone either way; it was inevitable.
Theodore tried to aim the bottle higher up at the last second, pulling on Justin’s arm, but all that did was shoot the cork right into the ceiling, which ricocheted down into the crowd anyway. It hit the back of someone’s head, and as the crowd turned for a curious glance, Theodore finally found some familiar faces. He first saw Ryan clutching his head, then Laith laughing next to him and Emily failing to hide a big grin behind her red solo cup. When Ryan turned around, his friends all followed his line of sight straight over to the bar. Theodore’s heart skipped.
“Theo?” There was nothing but confusion in Ryan’s tone, a surprising reaction to what Theodore was sure would be blind rage. The fact that Ryan didn’t immediately charge for him was a winning point already.
The smile that had graced Laith’s face a moment ago dropped as soon as their eyes met. There was a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance in the crease between his eyebrows, much closer to the emotion Theodore had expected from his brother. Without missing a beat, green eyes glanced him down, differently than Laith had ever done before. Vexation was laced with desire, a bright flame in deep emeralds. Theodore’s heart jumped for a different reason now, a change of seasons in the air, in how quickly Laith had gone from pissed off to extremely interested. Was that how he looked at Laith all the time? It felt… nice to hold this kind of power. No wonder Laith had always thought to be the one in control if this was consistently how Theodore looked at him, even if his perception of the situation was incorrect.
His sight wiped Emily’s smile right off her face, cup tilting to down the rest of her drink. Was she also mad at him? The moment that question formed within his mind, he remembered what he’d said to her last night; how rude he’d been when she’d only wanted to help. He’d meant to apologize earlier, during the call where his actual intention was to get Justin’s address, but she hadn’t answered. It occurred to him that she might’ve asked Justin to get it because she didn’t want to speak to him, and as she pushed her cup against Laith’s chest before walking off, he realized he was right. Just how upset had he made her? The way Laith took the empty cup without even looking at her was so absent, so mechanical that Theodore didn’t think his brain had even registered the exchange.
Ryan started off toward the bar, and holding the stare, Laith followed. Emily’s empty cup was placed on the high counter without a single fraction of Laith’s brain thinking about it, eyes perfectly set on Theodore’s face. He almost smirked.
“Did you invite him?” Ryan spoke to Justin as if Theodore wasn’t standing right before him. Under the weight of Laith’s attention, Theodore couldn’t bring himself to care.
“Yes, I did.” In perfect peace of mind, Justin poured them all half a glass of Ruinart.
Ryan scoffed. “So mom dropped you off.”
“Must be why you brushed your hair today,” Laith commented. There was no sarcasm in his voice, a genuine remark. Had their disagreement last night been forgotten, or did Laith just have a different list of priorities? Either way, yes, he’d brushed his hair so his mother wouldn’t berate him about it.
Passing Laith a brief smile, Theodore glanced at his brother next. “If I drove myself over, I’d probably get a DUI on the way back, don’t you think?” He tried to sound as matter of fact as he could, one shoulder raising for a half-shrug. “Who knows how much I’ll drink tonight.”
“Like you’re old enough to drink. Like you even have a car!”
He stared at Ryan. It was total bullshit, but his lack of an answer coupled with the prolonged stare slowly formed a point, the synapsis in Ryan’s brain compromised by the alcohol in his system. Watching his gradual realization pinch both of his eyebrows together was a true delight, shock and horror creeping across his face.
“Well.” Laith picked up one of the champagne glasses and clinked it against another. “Congratulations.”
Theodore bounced his eyebrows in reply.
Somebody else approached the bar as they talked, circling the group to take the spot next to Ryan. She was incredibly tall, taller than everyone in the group, even Laith. If she wasn’t in heels, then she was easily the tallest woman Theodore had ever seen. Her skin was dark and perfectly spotless, covered with a type of lotion that made it glow under the light, magical. Long box braids flowed down her head all the way to her waist, some of them tucked to the side to form bangs over her forehead, golden beads like Roman rings shining here and there. She looked like a goddess with long eyelashes and dark red lipstick, cheekbones highlighted gold, eyelids glittery red. They matched her dress so well that it looked as if she’d glued some of the sequins on her face, turning them into glitter first. The cut of her dress was a square over her chest, straight lines down and across, forming two thin straps over her shoulders. She must’ve been wearing a pushup bra or something, because Theodore just couldn’t look away, cheeks burning.
“What did I miss?” Low yet feminine, she sounded ethereal.
Who was this?
“I just hit Ryan in the head with a cork,” Justin explained, one hand offering a glass to her. “It was an accident. Also, Theo is here.”
“Hi.”
Hi?! He’d never sounded so lame in his sorry life. Still, the woman gave him a nice smile, dimples pushed lightly into her cheeks—gorgeous. Why was a goddess speaking to him?
“I’ve heard much about you.” She leaned her waist against the counter, light pink nails touching the champagne glass, sharp like knives. “You’re practically all Ryan talks about.”
She knew Ryan?
Wait.
“You’re Sherry?”
Her smile widened as his heart sank to the bottom of his rib cage, bags full of rocks tied tightly around it. There was no way Ryan had landed a woman like this, several dozen feet entirely out of his league; a high school baseball team playing against professionals.
“How do you know her?” The skepticism in Laith’s tone reminded him of last night, a brief callback through his inebriation. Emotionally volatile, Laith could change his mind in a second and completely rearrange his priorities at the first wrong answer. Theodore had to be careful. He wasn’t sure what was it about tonight that had made Laith forget about their feud in the first place, but he’d try not to ruin it, if he could.
“I don’t; Emily just told me about her once.”
“What did she say?” Sherry asked, eyebrow rising.
“Wait, where’s Emily?” Justin cut in, glancing up and down the bar.
“Probably in the bathroom.” The carelessness of Laith’s comment, accompanied by a shrug, told Theodore he was off the hook—his answer had been perfectly acceptable. Furtively, he breathed out.
Justin left through the small archway by the bar, which Theodore noticed led to the kitchen. He could peek into it from here, at the beige tiles across the floor and the wooden counters all in a row, cabinets on top. The lights were off, so he could only see Justin as he moved under the moonlight, rushing into the darkness. Something about it was simply terrifying.
“She didn’t tell me anything, only that you two are dating and obviously spending time together,” he explained, turning back to glance at her, “but you know about me.”
“Yes, I do.” She smiled, hand moving the glass to stir its contents. “I know you’re obedient, diligent, good and going to business school. An accomplished young man.”
Ryan scoffed. “You’re being extremely generous.”
“No, she’s reaching an olive branch; that’s what diplomats do. Do you know how expensive that can be? Bro, she has people begging her to represent them, begging, while you’re getting it all for free.” Laith’s speech was incredibly slurred, head shaking as he clicked his tongue. “Don’t complain.”
“That’s very sweet of you, but not everyone feels the same way,” she clarified. “Some would say I’m manipulative; that I’m a liar who cherry-picks amends to serve a grander purpose, to follow some agenda. Truly, you’re giving me far more credit than I deserve.”
“That’s just what happens when you sign with the DP.” Laith placed his empty glass on the counter and picked up a full one. “Nobody trusts you anymore.”
“Except you do.”
Laith grinned. “I don’t, really.”
Sherry almost laughed, shoulders moving with the snort that left her nose, a delicate smile on her face.
Next to her, Ryan looked extremely annoyed, eyes locked on Theodore. “Are you leaving?”
Theodore squinted. “I’m just getting started.” With that, he turned back to Sherry, jaw set tight. “Can I have this dance?”
“So polite.” She grinned, empty champagne glass set back onto the counter. Nothing else came, her answer better illustrated by leaving the bar with eyes fixed on Theodore, a siren call making him follow. It was playful and he saw that, how clearly she didn’t consider him an option, nothing but her boyfriend’s little brother. His request was a mere amusement. It was fine, after all Laith had been the same way, unsuspecting, humoring his little whims for a laugh. This wasn’t to say that he wanted Sherry or would ever try anything with her, only that she didn’t take him seriously and neither did Laith. That was all.
If it ever came down to it though, he wouldn’t hesitate to meet her face with his own, even if he’d have to leap a foot in the air for it. Whatever; Ryan didn’t deserve her. It was all up to her, really. In a perfect world, he’d have her and Laith both, leaving Ryan with absolutely no one.
Ryan and Laith followed the two of them onto the dance floor, but it was made very clear that Sherry was dancing with Theodore, not his brother, even if platonically. He’d still take it. The whole point was to spend some time with Ryan’s girlfriend and watch vexation swell on his face, eyes glued on the two of them.
He didn’t touch her at all, but let her sling her arms over his shoulders, hips moving with the beat, hair and makeup shining. She was stunning. Their height difference made it so he had to glance up to look at her, just like he did with Laith, and honestly, it was kind of hot. Every girl he knew was either his own height or just a little bit taller, but definitely not this tall.
He didn’t want to break eye contact to confirm his suspicions, that she was in a pair of very high heels, but even if he shaved six inches off of her, she was still taller than him. Not taller than Laith, though.
Laith danced not three feet away from him, groove in his feet and movement in his shoulders, effortless and cool. In fact, everything about him was effortless and cool, careless and detached, wrapped in an air of unattainability that was far too attractive, a challenge. That just so happened to be Theodore’s weakness. Maybe that was his type after all, someone who absolutely didn’t want him in any way, who was far above him and knew it too.
Laith danced very smoothly, sipping from a cup here and there, watching him over the rim. They observed each other in silence, interest in Laith’s eyes and fire in his veins. The precariousness of their situation and how easily it could all go wrong hit him with a rush of excitement; Ryan was right there, yet Laith didn’t seem to mind it, staring at him with flames in his eyes. Theodore stepped closer to Sherry for an experiment, fingers grazing her hips, just shy of touching her. Laith’s behavior didn’t change in response to that, a one-track mind focused solely on him, the kind of attention that flooded his chest with warmth and boosted his ego. He was that interesting?
Ryan, however, seemed to be one second away from severing his head clean off his body with his own bare hands. What stopped him? Just as the thought crossed Theodore’s mind, his brother walked over and wrapped both arms around the two of them, a strange hug. At least, that was what it looked like, until Sherry turned to Ryan and let him kiss her, right there, inches away from Theodore’s face. Instinctively, he leaned away, blood gushing cold in his chest, elbow brushing Ryan on the stomach, but couldn’t make it far with Sherry’s arms over his shoulders and Ryan’s across his back.
Their presence in his personal space was uncomfortable enough, but what really freaked him out was how they held him in it, forcing his involvement even if only as an observer of their intimacy. The low lighting of the room covered their kiss in shadows, their jaws moving in unison, tongue flashing. They were so close that Ryan’s cologne permeated the air around him, a sickness in his stomach, Ryan’s shoulder brushing the side of his face—invasive. He needed to get away. What had started as an innocent joke to get a reaction out of his brother had turned into a goddamn nightmare.
He glanced at Laith, blue eyes peeking over Ryan’s shoulder in a silent plea for help. Laith’s steadfast attention on him had made him believe he’d watched this entire exchange and was on his way to break it up, but as soon as Laith’s leather boots took two steps over, Emily showed up.
She walked right between him and Theodore and snaked an arm across his stomach, barring him with a red solo cup in her hand and groove in her step. Laith watched her curiously, brows knitted together—the rescue was cut short. Distracted, Laith let her take his arms and turn him around, pulling him into a dance.
Theodore almost screamed. With panic rising in his lungs, he shoved Ryan in the chest, but it was really Emily who broke it up, all by accident. In her newfound enjoyment of the party, polar opposite to the bitterness upon Theodore’s arrival, she took Ryan by the shoulder and literally grabbed his attention. Once he turned around, the hold was broken and Theodore could safely get away, heart hammering into his ribs.
He ran right into Laith’s arms, face buried into his chest, breath coming in short, but at least it was filled with amber this time, a familiar peace. Laith held him loosely, feet stumbling back a step, a heavy arm falling across his shoulders. Justin’s voice mingled with the music but was still loud enough to translate his enthusiasm to the crowd, probably the same one shared with Emily. Theodore didn’t think much of it, and still wrapped safely within Laith’s one-armed embrace, turned to look at them, the side of his face pillowed on Laith’s chest.
Emily danced much like she’d done all those years ago, when Theodore had first met her, careless and a little goofy, a ball of excitement. Her energy seemed to seep into everyone around her, because they all joined her in one way or another, dancing like no one was watching, laughing at absolutely nothing but themselves. He wondered if they’d noticed his embrace with Laith and if they even cared, but as soon as the thought formed in his mind, he remembered the camping trip and how none of them gave a single shit about Laith or what he did, so the answer was probably no. They cared about Theodore and what he did though, but lost in their own worlds, they must have forgotten about him, at least for now. Good.
In temporary animosity, he pulled away from Laith, but not entirely; their embrace was just loosened enough for him to dance in the small space between them. He held Laith by the waist so he wouldn’t drift away, eyes up at his face, watching him slowly figure it all out, a sly smile widening his lips.
It didn’t last long. Evidently, their dancing friends, even under the disorienting influence of alcohol, eventually remembered to check on him and came across their little involvement. It was innocent, really; Laith touched him on the shoulder with a drink in his other hand while he held him by the waist like a harbor, both of them dancing freely. Still, none of it was very much appreciated and Emily quickly came in to break it up.
She spoke a few angry words to Laith that were too rushed for Theodore to catch, but judging by her tone, he knew it was admonishment of a kind. As soon as she left, Laith gave her a long look and finished the rest of his drink.
To salvage the moment, Theodore decided not to ask about it. A movement off to his right caught his attention, and as he turned to investigate, he saw Justin break off from the group and slip into the crowd. That struck him as something that could benefit him right now, so he took Laith’s wrist and started after the host.
Despite losing Justin in the crowd, there was only one location to really end up in this corner of the room, where couches and armchairs nestled a television up on the wall. The furniture had been pushed away, so people could sit in a big circle and pass a bong around. Since Theodore had only ever been around joints before, this felt a lot more hardcore, subversive. Being in this kind of party made him feel like a proper adult.
He used Justin’s approach as an opportunity to join in too, pulling Laith close behind with a tight grip on his wrist. Even though Justin might not have seen them tag along, he didn’t seem very surprised at their presence either way; a bounce of red brows and a lazy smile welcomed them as they sat down. Theodore was sure that anybody else would’ve had a huge problem with him joining a bong rotation, but Justin was absolutely not that kind of person. In fact, when the guy next to Justin picked up conversation with him, he completely forgot about the two of them.
Laith sat with a leg outstretched and the other bent at the knee, one palm flat on the ground to lean on, fingerless gloves over his hands. In a black t-shirt, skinny jeans and combat boots, he dressed a lot more similarly to when they’d first met, except the spiked vest was missing and he had a lot more tattoos now. Come to think of it, he’d worn almost the exact same thing last night, a completely different kind of fashion than the joggers and the black Vans from last week. Was it a conscious choice? He hadn’t looked like much of a rat up on the streets the last couple of times, so yeah, it was probably on purpose.
Their eyes met.
“You look good,” Laith commented, offhand and sincere, but Theodore knew that even if he’d lied through his damn teeth, the compliment would still have crashed into him like a tidal wave.
Breathless, he didn’t even know what to say, allowing Laith a moment to reach over and touch the collar of his jacket, knuckles grazing his jaw, fingertips just barely touching his neck.
“What is that, Calvin Klein?”
“Diesel.”
The word left him in a whisper, tobacco strong in his lungs; the only scent he’d ever want to know.
Green eyes found his face again. There was a sort of softness in the way Laith looked at him this time, warm even, tender. His heart raced with it, heat crawling up his neck, cheeks burning. Very carefully, Laith touched his chin, thumb and forefinger at each side of it, practically cupped into the center of his palm. “You know, you look just like the Hollywood boys.”
His eyebrows raised. Really? For a group of living people, those boys sure haunted his everyday life, Laith’s eternal obsession, his end-all be-all. If he reminded Laith of them, then that explained the depth of his interest tonight, verging on fixation. Was he finally Laith’s type, now that he owned a pair of black skinny jeans, or had he been his type all along?
“And all it took was eight hundred dollars, huh,” he joked, even though that wasn’t even remotely a joke. Still, it made Laith scoff out a laugh. Worth it.
The hand on his chin left it to touch his hair next, fingers brushing his bangs aside, almost long enough to be tucked behind his ear. There was genuine affection in Laith’s eyes, in how carefully he took notice of the details, looking at Theodore as if he were made of gilded marble. His attention was warm. Theodore could feel it like a blanket over his shoulders and a hearth in his chest.
“I like your hair this way,” Laith commented, touching him just above the eyebrow.
“You don’t like it messy?”
“I do, but it’s more like you this way.”
Because he’d worn it like that his entire life. Fair enough.
A tap on his right shoulder prompted him to turn and see that the bong had come around to him. He took it, but didn’t exactly feel like taking a hit. Not because it was tall and intimidating, considering he’d never done anything like this before, but because he still felt like shit from last night, hungover and sick. He hadn’t touched a single glass of champagne all evening and the mere thought of beer made him want to throw up, so he’d play it safe. He simply passed it to Laith, who gave him a look.
“What, aren’t you hitting it?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“I can teach you.” Laith shrugged. The white case of a lighter flashed over the black of his glove, a contrast in his palm. “It’s no problem.”
“Thanks, but I’m just keeping it sober today.”
“Really.” There was no conviction in Laith’s voice. Theodore didn’t blame him; if their roles were reversed, he wouldn’t have believed him either.
The bong had a little piece jutting out the side where weed was packed into, a bowl that Laith brought the lighter close to, flame burning the weed within it. The very top of the bong was placed right on Laith’s face, and soon after, water bubbled and smoke began to form. It was fascinating to watch. Once Laith pulled the bowl out, all the smoke drafted into his lungs, a big breath that puffed his chest out. He held it while passing the bong over to Justin, only breathing out a long moment later, smoke blowing up into the room. That was probably why it was so foggy in here.
“Last time you were sober,” Laith started, eyes up at the quickly dissipating smoke, “things got very… interesting between us.”
Theodore’s eyebrows quirked up, heart skipping a beat. They didn’t talk about that. “Last time or the time before?”
“You drank last time. It was better, obviously.” A big smirk cut across Laith’s face, sharp eyes focusing on him. Theodore’s throat closed. “But that’s not the reason why. Those two things are unrelated.”
“You mean me drinking and you getting off.” It took him a Herculean amount of effort to keep his posture when embarrassment poisoned every ounce of his blood. He had to look certain and tough; unbothered, just like Laith, who simply raised his brows in response. “Did you have fun?”
“You know I did.” Laith’s voice was low and smooth, eyes unwavering. “You tasted it.”
Holy shit. His entire face quickly burst into flames, but it was fine, it was cool; he could keep the illusion going, keep his composure, fake it till you make it style. For that, he smiled innocently, despite how fast his heart raced. “Was that your favorite part?”
Green eyes dropped to his mouth. There was no verbal answer in Laith’s throat, an introspective silence.
He licked his lips before continuing. It was a very conscious action that raised a scarred eyebrow with interest. His success almost tugged the corners of his mouth into a smirk, but to keep the façade alive, he didn’t let his perfectly innocent smile be ruined. On the inside though, a maniacal grin cackled wildly. “Or was it when I sucked you off the second time?” His voice was kept quiet, a secret under the booming music. The way Laith’s jaw set in response to that let him know he could be heard just fine. “I think you like shooting straight into my face.”
Laith stirred and turned away, chest moving with a breath. Uncomfortable or turned on? The way he sat made it impossible to tell, concealed even further in the low lighting of the room, shadows cast over the entire circle. Maybe Theodore had pushed too far. With remorse jumping in his veins, he leaned closer. One hand closed around Laith’s wrist, catching his attention.
“Hey,” he whispered, eyes locked together, even though there was nothing else to follow with. He’d already gotten what he wanted, and with Laith’s focus back on him, he sat in silence.
There was a very conscious effort, on his part, to make himself look even more innocent than he normally did, angelical with his blue eyes and his blonde hair, head cocked a little bit to the side, eyebrows tilted upwards. It didn’t occur to him then that he hated that part of himself, because he knew Laith liked it, and without a second thought, played up those attributes for his undivided attention. It worked, of course; Laith watched him in a trance, a well of infinite interest, bewitched under his spell.
He didn’t dare break the stare, not for a moment, not even when Laith touched his face and cupped his jaw, fingers warm on his cheeks, careful. Holding him, Laith leaned over and closed the gap between them, faces pushed into a kiss that brought wind to his lungs and sent a hand up to grab Laith anywhere he could. He ended up fisting the back of his shirt, spine straightening up to bring them even closer, lungs intoxicated with amber.
Too soon, Laith pulled away. It felt like a limb ripping from his body, and in response to the excruciating pain that came with it, he clung to Laith as if he’d lose him, hand clutching the back of his shirt almost tight enough to tear it. The shock only lasted for a moment, though, allowing him time to realize that Laith wasn’t leaving, but looking back into the crowd, probably to ascertain their privacy. Ryan wasn’t around, and even if he were, Theodore found it hard to believe he’d ever care for a bunch of people getting high in a circle.
“He can’t see us,” he whispered, pulling Laith close.
As soon as Laith turned back around, his face was met with another kiss, harder this time, hungrier. It was different than how it usually went, almost desperate on Theodore’s part, eager to keep Laith interested, to experience the closeness that they only shared behind closed doors. At this point, it’d been too long—the brevity of that first kiss had seized him by the throat.
He practically laid on him, leaning far over Laith’s chest, the space between them reduced down to zero. The moment he tasted the sting of alcohol on Laith’s tongue, he remembered how much he’d missed this; all constraints were left behind, heart and soul poured into it. He tugged on Laith’s shirt as a hand touched him on the side of the face, the perfect opposite of his violence, a softer kind of craving that wrapped fingers around the back of his neck and held him in it, thumb brushing him on the cheek. He bit Laith’s lower lip and pulled, hand lying flat on his thigh, grabbing it. Fingers dug into the fabric just before Laith took his wrist and moved his hand away.
“Not here.”
“Then where?”
Green eyes stared at him.
“Where?” Theodore repeated, glancing off around them.
The room was jam packed with dancing bodies, but he could still see through the moving gaps, a portion of the wall and the ceiling, the little door he’d encountered on the way in.
“Is that a bathroom?” he asked.
“We should probably go upstairs.”
“What’s upstairs?”
“The master bedroom.”
His eyebrows raised to form a question that never formed—really, in the dad’s room?—because he knew Laith didn’t care. Yes, in the dad’s room; so what? The man wasn’t even around. What about Justin, though? Wouldn’t he find out? No, probably not; the only way he’d ever be sure required catching them in the act, but chances of that happening were low. Sitting next to Laith, Justin didn’t seem to have heard anything.
It was a silent agreement that hoisted both of them on their feet and pushed them back into the crowd. Absently, he took Laith’s arm; an instinctive practice to keep from getting lost.
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