After the End (14 page)

“You really don’t have to drive me,” I tried to protest. “The bus goes right past the library.”

“Hush,” Anna told me with a grin, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Like we’re going to miss a chance to see you off. Don’t ruin my fun, O’Malley.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I climbed in the backseat, careful not to squish the box. Tracy kissed Anna before they pulled out into traffic; it was a silly ritual to anyone who didn’t know Annabeth, sweet but forgettable. Six years ago, though, we’d almost lost her. She and Tracy had been fighting, some stupid thing after a date, and Anna had taken off into traffic angry. The other driver had come out of nowhere, slamming into the passenger side of the car, nearly taking one of my best friends with it. Everyone walked away; the cars had been totaled, but some form of grace had been with Annabeth that night. Tracy never let them go anywhere without a kiss, like it was a talisman to ward off the worst. Like love could wrap someone up and hold them safe.

I, better than anyone, knew that wasn’t true. But I also knew how important it was to believe it could be. Besides, how could anyone ever argue against love?

The outside of the library was a blaze of light. There were tiny twinkling bulbs in the branches of the trees that lined the path, fat blazing lights hanging from the eaves, and the whole thing looked like a reflection of the night sky. Annabeth parked a short way away, and both women turned around to give me reassuring smiles. “This is going to be fun,” Tracy said and Anna nodded seriously. They both were so
earnest
it made me laugh, rolling my eyes heavily at the both of them.

“I’m not a kid you’re trying to convince to eat his vegetables,” I complained, but I reached out to squeeze both of their hands. I was indescribably thankful for their presence. This was something more than beyond my comfort zone. This was tuxes and dancing and
dating
, real dating, where I was actually going to try and think about tomorrow. It hurt, every inch of it, stretching painfully, uncertainly. It felt a bit like I’d started sprinting without remembering to warm up, like bits and pieces of me were coming to life again.

I ached. But I wasn’t numb. So that was a start.

Leaning forward, I kissed both of their cheeks. “Get out of here.” I bopped Tracy’s forehead with my own, and she carefully tugged at a strand of my hair, being sure not to mess up her work. “I’ll be fine.”

“Call us if you need a ride.” They settled back into their seats, and I stepped out into the chill night air, hugging my coat around me. The engine sputtered back to life and their car pulled away. I was alone.

Right. Okay. Nothing to it. Just one foot in front of the other until I walked into the
formal ball
.

Christ, I hoped I didn’t fall down.

The room was awash in candlelight, soft music playing. I walked down the stairs, gripping the railing, desperately hoping I wasn’t about to make an idiot of myself. There was an orchestra in the corner, tables with opulent coverings scattered around a space obviously intended for dancing. At the moment, people were mingling, masks on, sipping on champagne and wine.

“Are you Quinn?” A man appeared at my elbow, dressed in white and black with a deep burgundy bowtie. Blinking, I nodded, confused as to how I’d given myself away as a pretender so soon. He just smiled, though, and handed me a box. “Brady said to give you this and show you to your table. He’s busy in the kitchen, but he should be free as soon as the second wave of hors d'oeuvres comes out.” The guy was friendly, holding out his hand, which I took in an awkward shake, juggling the box from Brady and my own. “I’m Conner, by the way. Gotta say, bunch of us were definitely looking forward to meeting you.”

I followed him, dodging around people in dresses and suits that cost more than my rent. “Why’s that? I promise, my dancing isn’t
that
bad.” The joke was weak, but I was feeling more than a little out of place. And nervous, I’d admit it. A
lot
nervous to be out like this, to be so far removed from quiet nights at home or long days spent in a comics store. This was kind of not my scene. Even before, I’d hardly been a
party
type of guy, much less a
ball
.

Conner shot me a look, barely hiding a smirk. “You are the guy who’s been driving Mr. Smooth Operator absolutely crazy for the past month. We even had a pool on whether you’d show up at all.”

Oh. I looked down at myself then back up at Conner, shrugging. “Did you win?”

He laughed, holding out a chair for me. “Fifty bucks. Don’t tell Brady, though.”

“Don’t tell me what?” There was that drawl, that cool voice that tugged at my gut, both sent butterflies twisting through me and made my shoulders finally relax. Brady came up behind us, clapping Conner on the shoulder, stooping to kiss my cheek.

“What an industrious and valuable worker I am,” Conner returned easily, flashing us a grin. “It goes to my head.”

He was gone then, twisting around the people like it was a dance in and of itself, disappearing into the back. Brady was dressed in that suit with the tails, a black mask just covering the top half of his face. He looked dashing and mischievous, hair a riot of waves above gorgeous brown eyes, and I found I couldn’t help smiling back up at him. “Hey,” I said, almost embarrassed at how easily he slipped into a world I was gaping at.

“You made it.” Brady looked happy enough to make me not care that the shoes were pinching my feet. That didn’t matter at all if it helped make his face light up like that. “Have you opened your box?”

Right. Boxes. I slipped him the one I’d brought him shyly while I opened mine. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a delicate blue mask. It had painted silver swirls, the whole thing looking stunning, like a piece out of a rich Renaissance painting. I put it on and tipped my head to the side, smiling. “So?” I asked, glad he’d chosen one that left my mouth exposed. The full-face masks just looked claustrophobic. “How do I look?”

Brady proved the benefit of our masks’ designs, leaning in to kiss me lightly. “Perfect,” he told me and I blushed, but the compliment was nice. Not even half as nice, though, as the feel of our hands lacing together. Giving me another sideways look, Brady opened his box.

It was silly, maybe. Overly sentimental. But I’d gone to a local florist and had them create a small, subtle boutonniere that had leaves instead of flowers. Fall leaves, red and gold, like the one he’d tucked into my coat the second time we’d seen each other. Definitely a bit cheesy, sure, but sometimes I got like that. And I was hoping he’d get it, that he’d see I
wanted
to be there. That I was choosing to spend time with him.

“Quinn,” Brady murmured, long fingers carefully brushing over the leaves.

“If it’s stupid, you don’t have to wear it,” I hastened to assure him, but Brady hushed me with a grin, immediately fastening the boutonniere onto his suit.

“I love it,” he told me softly, drawing me in for another kiss. “You’re amazing.”

“Yeah, I really think you’re the only one here that qualifies for that.” I huffed out a little laugh, looking around the room. “This is truly incredible, Brady. I mean, God, it looks like something out of a fairy tale.”

Brady smiled at the praise. “Good,” he said, crossing his legs and leaning back. “That was the hope.”

He looked damn good in that suit too. Everything about him seemed so refined, so cool and in control. Brady had always seemed that way, but here it was like he was so much
more
, like he’d settled into his element. I liked him mussed and on my couch, in my kitchen, but I was a little surprised to find how much I liked him
here
, too. How much that confidence fit him.

“Brady.” A young woman appeared beside us in the same sort of uniform Conner had been wearing. She flashed me a smile, polite but busy, and I relinquished my hold on Brady’s hand. “We’re having a minor quiche crisis. Do you want to—”

“Serve take-out burgers? You have no idea, Gwen.” Brady sighed, giving me an apologetic look. “Sorry, sweetheart. My magic fingers are needed elsewhere.”

“Too bad.” I tried for an innocent look. “I had plans for those.”

I’d admit, it still felt strange, teasing like that. Talking about intimate things, things that were meant for between sheets and skin and panted kisses. But the uncomfortable twist in my stomach was pushed to the side in favor of the warmth, the connection. Brady’s look was unsure, but his lips twitched upward, a hopeful expression hovering on his face. The last time I’d reached out, I’d also retreated just as completely, and he was hesitant. That was okay—so was I.

“I’ll make sure to keep them safe for you,” Gwen smirked, taking Brady’s elbow.

“Give me ten minutes,” he promised me. “Then I’m going to try and convince you to dance.”

“Ten minutes,” I agreed, catching his hand to squeeze his fingers lightly with my own before he strode back toward where I imagined the kitchen to be.

Left to myself, I dared to wander, coasting along the outside of the main group. It was like someone had swept the autumn leaves inside, the bright colors flitting around the floor in succulent fabrics, rich reds and golds and greens caught up in candlelight. The music was slow and sweet, an undertone for the ebb and flow of conversation that wrapped around the room.

It was enchanting. And Brady had created it. Every detail, from the heavy linen napkins to the gold-rimmed glasses, had come from his imagination. It was a side of him I hadn’t seen yet, and I was suddenly grateful I’d decided to come. All the awkward dancing in the world was a small price to pay.

I found myself at a small table tucked toward the back, taking in the room. I liked to watch the people, to see how they mingled. One by one, in drops and trickles, couples moved to the dance floor. Champagne was being offered by waiters and I gladly took a glass, sipping it slowly as I waited. It’d been more than ten minutes, but it didn’t matter. Brady was busy orchestrating all of this, and I was perfectly content to sit and let the party wash around me.

I did wish for a pen and paper, though. Something about the deep colors, the people in their best clothes and masks, made me want to try and capture it all. To attempt to find the story in the lines and curves and tones. Like many things, the idle thought turned into an obsession and I was mentally cursing the fact that men didn’t carry purses. If I had a bag with me this wouldn’t be an issue.

After a few moments, I decided the off chance of me actually
drawing
something other than dirty stick figures was worth a little inconvenience. Moving around the edge of the room, I found the door that seemed to lead to where all the servers and staff were coming and going from. This was a library, after all. Surely
somewhere
around here was some paper and a writing utensil.

The hallway was dimly lit, the noise from the party muffled. I could hear the music echoing in the walls, a muted memory of sound. Standing aside for another wave of servers with trays full of delicious-looking finger foods, I followed the trail, bright lights behind swinging doors beckoning me.

It was a kitchen, loud and brash after the hushed softness of the hall. The lights were bright and stainless steel gleamed everywhere. The kitchen normally served sandwiches and coffees to the cafe the library had added on a few years ago; now, though, it was a three-ringed circus. At the center of it, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, bow tie loosened, was Brady. He was barking orders and moving like a dancer, gracefully stepping around a woman at the stove, darting in to taste everything, chopping with such finesse and speed I couldn’t stop staring. There was poise there, and command; there was elegance and strength. It was Brady as I’d never seen him, as I’d always known him, in his element.

He was beautiful, this man.

I found a corner, out of the way, and I watched. Instead of the candles and luscious fabrics out there, here there were pots clanging and the scent of things cooking. Here there was chaos that was controlled so finely, so gently, you almost couldn’t see the steps. Every move was choreographed, though, every moment deliberate. They all danced together with Brady in the center, in a thousand places at once and each one exactly as they needed him.

There was an abandoned yellow notepad on the table, a few pencils. The first pages were filled with notes, but I flipped past, fingers aching to draw. To let the lead soar across the page, to capture a scene that was drawing me in more every second. I let myself go. I forgot the ball, the shoes that pinched my feet, the tie. I sat on the table, unnoticed by those in the kitchen, and I drew. It was bliss, to rip off the binding scar, to finally,
finally
pour myself out onto paper again. To see lines and blobs morph into something more.

I sketched with abandon, just like they cooked. Pages filled but I hardly noticed. There were smudges on my fingers, probably one on my nose from where I’d absently rubbed it, but I was lost inside the art, the creation, the moment. Hands resting on my legs, a voice saying my name, brought me back.

Blinking, I looked around. The bustle had faded a bit and Brady was in front of me, smiling in a way that sent my stomach into flips and knots. “Hello,” he murmured in that low drawl, honey and milk. “Sorry, that took way more than ten minutes. I got into crisis mode and all neglectful and—”

Impulsively, I leaned forward and kissed him. It was sweet and easy at first, a gentle press, but then my fingers hooked into those intoxicating curls and he slid forward between my legs; his tongue teased between my lips and he was devouring me then, with a drawn out groan.

“Get a room, Banner.” One of the cooks sailed past us, already tapping out a cigarette from her pack, giving both of us a look halfway between a smirk and a scowl. “Jesus, there’s food in here.”

“You’re just mad because
your
boyfriend didn’t show up in a tux and kiss you,” Brady shot back, and she snorted, not arguing the point.

“I’ll be back in five,” she nodded at us, which I took as a greeting. “Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”