A red tainted Silence (14 page)

“Yes.”

“He’s attacked you before. Recently,” I said, not disguising my anger. “How long ago?”

“Last week. After ... after the audition.”

“Fuck.” His head shot up at that, his gaze boring into mine. I grimaced, remembering then how Percy had verbally assaulted Nicholas. “Sorry,” I said, straightening. “Let me see your back.”

“I’m okay.”

“Let me see anyway.”

Nicholas hesitated, then turned around. I ran my hands down his back, my tan skin dark against his almost ghostly pale. He trembled beneath my touch as I neared the small of his back. I brushed my fingers across the hollow at the base of his spine, wanting to but not quite daring to bend down and kiss him there.

I promised myself I would, soon. I ran my hands back up to his shoulder blades and over his shoulders and down his arms, laughing softly at what I discovered.

“Goosebumps?”

“Can’t help it.”

I laughed. He was so soft, so different from me. I couldn’t believe I was touching him like this, and he was letting me. “You’re so beautiful,” I said.

He snorted softly. “No, I’m not.”

I realized then that Percy’s attacks had probably had another effect on Nicholas. If I ever saw that bastard again, I’d kill him for his cruelty. I wondered just how thoroughly Percy had crushed him. I couldn’t do anything about Percy now, but I could do something about Nicholas.

“Yes, you are. To me,” I said softly, sliding my hands around his waist. I smiled as he instinctively sucked in his gut when I rubbed his stomach -- so he had a little bit of a belly. I really did like it, the softness of his skin against the roughness of my palms, the contrast of my tanned skin against his pale.

I pulled him gently to me and kissed the back of his neck, beneath his hair. A moan escaped him and he dropped his head back onto my shoulder, covering my hands with his own. Holding my hands there? Maybe. I know I wanted to dip lower, see if he’d responded 76 Carolyn Gray

to me as I did to him, but I didn’t pull my hands away. I would gladly take things at whatever pace he needed to set.

So I lost myself in the sensation of simply holding him, feeling his skin against mine, his warmth blending with my own. The brush of his hair against my face, the rise and fall of his chest. How many times had I imagined this? Fantasized this? Too many to count. The reality was so much better. I couldn’t believe it, either -- all my earlier nervousness was gone, lost in the heady scent that was Nicholas in my arms. I stilled myself, hoping the feel of my arousal pressing into his back wouldn’t freak him out. But instead he pushed back against me, making me shudder with goosebumps.

“I’m not beautiful,” he protested again, but lacking the vehemence of earlier.

“Yeah, you are. A little filthy, but still beautiful.” He rewarded me with a soft laugh. “Probably smell, too.”

“So do I.”

“Not as bad as me.”

“Yeah, right. You smell fine. I was the one lying against those nasty pillows without a shirt on.”

He half turned his head toward me. Relief filled me as I saw a mischievous glint in his eye. “Maybe you should take a shower first, then, stinky boy.” A sudden vision of sharing a shower with him filled my mind, but I quashed it, remembering my dad’s warning. With great reluctance I released him. “I’ll take a shower in my parents’ bathroom. Need any help?”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

I grabbed the clothes I’d pulled out of the drawer and handed them to him. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen when you’re done.”

“Waffles,” he said, grinning. “I’m starved.”

“Me, too. Jonathan’s okay, Nicholas. He says stupid things sometimes, but he usually gets over it. And I’m sorry about my dad, too. I didn’t expect him to react like he did.” He nodded, then hesitated, his eyes boring into mine. “Brandon?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Then he turned and disappeared into the bathroom. I wondered exactly what he was thanking me for, but it didn’t matter. The look in his eyes said it all.

He wanted me.

Swiping my clothes off the dresser, I left my room, passing by the kitchen, where I saw my dad kissing my mom goodbye. I froze as his gaze turned to me. My excitement over what had just passed between me and Nicholas died as he approached. I took a step back, meeting the wall. I flattened against it.

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My dad shook his head and stopped. “My gosh, son. I’m not going to hit you.”

“Sorry. I know,” I said, forcing myself to relax.

He spread his hands in apology. “It’s just a bit of a shock -- Damn.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he had when he was searching for the right thing to say but didn’t know exactly how to get it out. He dropped his hand. “At least this explains one thing.” I glanced at my mom over his shoulder where she hovered, concern etched on her face.

I looked back at my dad. “Explains what?”

“Why I never had to ground you for having girls in your room like I did your brothers.”

I bit the inside of my lip as Jonathan jumped behind my mom and grinned at me.

See? he mouthed.

I shrugged, turning back to my dad. “Yeah, well --”

“I just figured you’d learned a thing or two from your brothers.” I dropped my gaze to the floor, but couldn’t hide my smile. “I did. Just not that.” My dad clapped me on the shoulder. “Well, we’ll talk later about ... about all this. But tell your ...” He looked at me, helpless.

“Nicholas.”

“Yes. Right. Tell Nicholas I’m sorry if I frightened him.”

“I will.”

“We’ll talk tonight. About all this.”

“Okay, Dad.”

He looked at me for a moment, shook his head, then without another word left for work. I collapsed against the wall and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, both Jonathan and my mom were grinning at me. I smiled at them in relief, then escaped to my parents’ bathroom.

My shower was quick. The place on the side of my face where Percy’s buddy had hit me pounded in the hot water, making me a little dizzy. That and lack of food, I thought.

And, maybe, knowing Nicholas was in another part of the house, having a shower, too.

I pushed that thought out of my mind.

When I got out of the shower, I toweled quickly -- the hot water had loosened the stiffness I felt -- and then, still naked, I leaned over the sink to look at myself in the mirror. I winced as I examined the side of my face. At least my eye wasn’t swollen shut. I stepped away from the mirror. And stopped.

I looked at my reflection. Nicholas had worries about how his body looked to me. I knew how he felt. I spread my hands across my stomach and grimaced. I’d lost weight over the past two years. I’d weighed more at eighteen than I did now. About ten pounds more.

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No, more than that, sixteen pounds. Now I was way too thin -- I looked like a fucking scarecrow. Like I’d been in prison, living on bread and water for months.

Talk about unattractive.

I turned away in disgust, grabbing my clothes and yanking on my boxers and shirt. I pulled on my shorts and left the bathroom, rubbing my towel over my hair as I walked into the kitchen. The rich smell of butter, hot syrup, and crisp bacon made my stomach growl.

Jonathan motioned for me to sit, then placed a plateful of waffles in front of me. “Here you go. Round one.”

“Geesh, Jonathan. I can’t eat all that,” I said as I stared at the waffle mountain. He plunked six strips of bacon on my plate. “Whoa,” I said.

“Eat. You need it. I’ll get you some milk.”

“Has Nicholas come out yet?” I winced at Jonathan’s amused expression, belatedly realizing what I’d said.

My mom entered the kitchen then. “No,” she said, smiling as she took a place at the table, oblivious to what I’d said. She frowned at Jonathan’s snickering. “I just checked on him. He fell asleep after his shower, poor kid.” I laid my fork down. “Are you sure he’s okay --” I started to stand.

She put a hand on my arm, stopping me. “He’s fine. Just exhausted. I covered him with a blanket and he didn’t even flinch.”

I sat back in my chair. “Thanks, Mom. I’m not surprised. We didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Busy?” Jonathan asked innocently, then laughed as my face heated.

“Not what you think, Jonathan. The guys who beat Nicholas up and gave me this --” I touched my face. “-- chased after us. We had to hide in an old apartment building all night.”

“You’re kidding,” my brother said, sobering. “Sorry.” My mom pulled out a chair and sat. “Brandon, who were these boys? Do you know?”

“Nick’s ex-boyfriend from high school was one of them. I don’t know who the other one was.”

“Maybe we should call the police,” Jonathan said. “Little bastards might enjoy a couple of nights in jail.” He snorted.

“No,” I said. “No police.”

“Jonathan’s right for once, son.”

“Thanks a lot, Mom,” Jonathan said.

She ignored him. “You boys were attacked. You could’ve been seriously hurt. Those boys had no right to hurt either one of you.”

“Nick doesn’t want them involved,” I said.

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“Cops won’t do anything anyway,” Jonathan said. “He’s a little beat up, but that’s it.

Guys get in fights all the time. They won’t care.”

“Well, they should care,” my mom said, clearly unhappy.

But Jonathan was right about that, too. What would the cops do? I knew Nick wouldn’t tell what they were doing to him. I wouldn’t either. I’d all but promised not to.

I pushed my plate away. Thinking about it killed my appetite.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” my mom said, pushing the plate back. “Eat.” I sighed and picked up my fork, cutting a piece of waffle and plunking it in my mouth.

I closed my eyes -- it tasted like heaven. I ate another, and another, before settling back in my chair. “Delicious.”

“I know. I’m a hell of a cook,” Jonathan said.

“Pat yourself on the back, why don’t you.”

“Nobody else will. Eat some bacon. It’s crispy, just like you like it.” I looked from Jonathan to my mom. Neither was eating. “Is this a conspiracy?” My mom smiled. I relaxed a little, glad she’d given up on the cop thing. “Of course it is.

We’re going to fatten you up whether you like it or not.” I ate two pieces of bacon, took another bite of waffle with both of them eyeing me, drank an entire glass of milk, and pushed aside my plate. I’d barely dented the mound.

“That’s it. That’s all I can handle. Especially with you two watching me.”

“Where’d you finally find him, anyway?” my brother asked.

“Reading poetry at a bookstore.”

“He’s a poet,” my mom said. “That’s wonderful. Tell us more about him.”

“Well, he goes to the university. I don’t know what he’s studying, though. He works at a record store. He’s an incredible lyricist. And he’s a part-time teacher.”

“You’re kidding,” Jonathan said.

“Nope, not kidding. Preschool.”

“The guy’s a fucking saint.”

“Jonathan,” my mom warned.

“Sorry. Geesh, Brandon. The guy’s a polite, vegetarian, poet-lyricist-preschool-teacher who’s also a university student. And he sings?”

“He does that best of all.”

“I figured Adam was screwed in the head about that one. Does Nicholas know about you?”

I sobered. “Does he know I’m a cussing, meat-loving high school dropout without a job, who also drinks and smokes occasionally? No. Not yet.” I stared at my plate, realizing then I hadn’t had a cigarette in over a week. “Not much of a catch, am I?” 80 Carolyn Gray

“Not true. Who’s also an amazingly gifted musician, a deeply caring individual, and an incredible human being? Brandon Ashwood, that’s who,” my mom said.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my mom and have to.”

“I’m saying it because it’s the truth.”

“Why does he live at a shelter?” Jonathan asked. “Where is his family?” I poked at the leftover waffles with my fork. “I don’t know. I haven’t asked.” I dropped my fork on the plate and stood. “He lost his roommate, his car broke down, and he couldn’t afford anything by himself, so he moved there. I’m going to go check on him.”

“And I’ve got to shove off,” Jonathan said. “Got some errands to run. Oh, and Sprout’s going to come by after school. She’s worried about you.”

“Thanks, Jonathan.”

“No prob.”

My mom cleared her throat. “You’re not leaving this mess, young man. I have to go to work, too.”

“I’ll clean up,” I said. “You guys go on.”

My mom stood and kissed me on the cheek. “Don’t go waking him up, you hear? He’s been through a lot and needs to sleep more than anything. He can have something later. I’ll try to come up with something good for supper that he can eat.” She paused. “If he wants to talk to the police, I’ll take him.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, truly grateful. She looked at me for a moment, a smile on her face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Why? Because for the first time in a long time, you look happy.” I felt my face heat, but I couldn’t help returning her smile. “I am, Mom. I can’t believe I finally found him.”

She kissed me on the cheek. “Remember what I said yesterday. Give it your best shot, Brandon. You won’t know what can happen unless you try.”

“I know.” I folded her into my arms and hugged her tight. “Thank you for everything. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“And hey, where’s my Snoopy bandage?”

She laughed, grabbing one from her first aid kit and carefully placing it on the side of my face. “There you go.” She kissed it, kissed me again, then left me to my chore.

I started to clean the kitchen. Jonathan left, promising to be back before Adam got off work and came skulking around. After a while, my mom emerged from her room and, with a kiss, left me, too.

I was finally alone in the house. With Nicholas.

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As soon as my mom’s car left the driveway, I went to my bedroom. The door was closed. As quietly as I could, I opened it and peered inside. My mom had, as she’d said, covered Nicholas with a blanket. She’d also closed the blinds. I walked over to my bed, pulling my desk chair after me, and then sat, elbows on my knees, and stared at Nicholas. It was barely light enough in the room to see his face, but I could tell he slept peacefully, untroubled. A strand of hair had fallen across his cheek and I reached out and moved it, tucking it behind his ear. He didn’t move.