Dissonance (14 page)

Cam tried to focus on his breathing. It was easier now that he knew where he was. It was also easier as Galen massaged the tension away. The memory of the dream began to fade, and with it, the tension in his body. He sighed and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to drift. And of course it drifted where it always seemed to go. Cam imagined Galen’s hands on other parts of his body. Touching him. Stroking him.

“Feels good,” Cam said on a voiced sigh.

“I’m glad.” Galen continued to knead the muscles of Cam’s upper back.

Cam’s thoughts wandered again. This time, though, he didn’t just imagine what he wanted. He turned and reached for Galen’s face, pulling him into a kiss. A gorgeous kiss that had him moaning and tasting Galen’s mouth and feeling Galen’s slightly rough jaw brush his own skin. Galen knew how to kiss. Galen pressed his tongue around Cam’s, then probed Cam’s mouth. Cam wrapped his arms around Galen’s waist and under his T-shirt—

“Cam,” Galen gasped as he pulled away.

Cam heard his panted breaths, saw the slightly glassy look in his eyes, and knew Galen wanted him too. Why was he pushing him away? “But I thought—”

“It’s not right, Cam,” Galen said as he stood up and brushed his lips with his fingers in obvious shock. The fabric of Galen’s sweatpants was tented.

“I don’t understand,” Cam said, desperate for more. God, he needed more! He wanted Galen and Galen wanted him. How much more “right” did it need to get?

“I’d be a total asshole if I took advantage of you like this,” Galen said.

“You wouldn’t be tak—”

“Cam,” Galen interrupted with a shake of his head, “I’m not going to lie. You’re hot as hell and I liked that. Kissing you. But you know it’s not right. Not now.”

Cam nodded and exhaled slowly. He supposed he could live with that answer. It left open the possibilities and he felt less rejected than he had been a few minutes before.

“You should try to get some sleep. We can talk in the morning, if you want.”

Great. More talking.

Max, who’d been sitting at the foot of the bed through all of this, now walked over to Cam and pressed a cold nose against his thigh. Cam rubbed his eyes and sniffed. No doubt noticing this, Galen eyed him warily and handed him a tissue from the table beside the bed.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Allergic,” Cam said quickly. Did Galen think he’d been crying?

“Let me get you something for that.” Galen, with Max following behind, trotted down the hallway and returned with a glass of water and a bottle of pills marked Benadryl. “Should help,” he said, and he added, “and it’ll help you sleep too. I take a few of those and I sleep like the dead.”

Cam took the glass. Galen opened the bottle, shook a single pink pill onto his palm, then offered it to Cam. Cam reached for the pill and brushed Galen’s hand as he retrieved it. He ignored the warmth and arousal that brief touch engendered and swallowed the pill without a word.

He’d never been so mortified in his life. Even sleeping on the bench in the subway didn’t compare to waking up a complete stranger by screaming in his sleep. How much more pathetic could he get? Waking Galen up in the middle of the night like some stupid child—even worse, with a runny nose.
Coming on to him and getting the cold shoulder….

“Do you want me to stay a little longer?” Galen asked.

“No, of course not.” He wasn’t a child. He didn’t need coddling. He already resented being indebted to Galen; the last thing he wanted was to owe the man more than he already did. And being rejected hadn’t made him any more likely to lean on Galen, either.

“Okay.” Galen got up and walked to the door, where he lingered for a few seconds but said nothing.

“I’m fine.” Cam yawned. “Tired. Sorry to wake you.”

Galen frowned, then shrugged. “Okay. But if you need anything—”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Galen pressed his lips together but didn’t press the issue any more. “Come, Max!”

The dog didn’t budge.

“Max! Come!”

This time Max jumped onto the bed and burrowed his head into Cam’s lap, then sighed contentedly.

“It’s all right,” Cam said, smiling in spite of himself. “He can sleep with me. I’ve got the allergy thing under control, remember?” It surprised him to realize he actually
wanted
the dog to stay. He didn’t want to sleep alone.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Good night.”

“Good night.” Galen was gone a moment later.

Max stretched out and pressed his back against Cam’s thigh. It took Cam nearly an hour, but he finally fell asleep. And this time, he didn’t dream.

C
AM
DOZED
on and off, waking only when he realized it was well after noon.
Another Monday
. He hoped this one would be better than the last few. He hadn’t even thought to ask Galen about his job and whether he’d be around in the morning. The nightmare had been horrible and waking Galen up embarrassing. Cam still couldn’t explain it, except that he was under too much stress. Too many things to think about.

“Morning,” Galen said with a bright smile as Cam plunked himself down at the kitchen table a short time later. “Or afternoon, I guess.”

Cam grunted his response.

“Tea, then?”

“Coffee, if you don’t mind.” He spoke more coherently this time. Caffeine was too important to be lost in translation. When Galen looked at him with surprise, Cam added, “I prefer coffee after noon.”

Ten minutes later, having drunk two cups of surprisingly good European coffee, he felt almost human. “Don’t you have to work?” he asked when his head had cleared.

“I need to stop over at the school,” Galen said. “But just to drop off a clarinet I fixed. The benefits of part-time teaching. I have a few students coming late this afternoon. Private lessons.”

“Anything I can do to help out?” Cam wasn’t sure what he was
capable
of doing, but he needed to do something or he’d go mad thinking about all of the shit dogging him.

“You’re welcome to come with me, if you’d like. I thought I’d head over there after my lessons.” Galen set a pile of scrambled eggs in front of him, along with something he called “facon,” which Cam learned was some sort of soy protein shaped to look like bacon. Although he wasn’t sure why someone who didn’t eat meat would want something to look like bacon, the stuff tasted quite good.

Cam took a few mouthfuls of egg and considered the invitation. “Don’t you need to show identification to visit a school?” Cam had heard about some of the security precautions schools were taking in the wake of recent violence.

“Not after hours.”

“All right,” he said as he picked up a piece of the facon. Nobody knew he’d made his way to New Jersey. Nobody here would know him, especially not high school students.

“We can stop at the grocery store on the way back. Pick up a few things.”

Cam stared at his eggs as the realization hit him that he’d been eating Galen’s food for nearly two days now. This was ten times worse than the board giving him grief over his spending. He was entirely beholden to Galen, with no means of paying him back.

“Something wrong?” Galen asked when Cam didn’t respond.

“No. Just that I’ll pay you back for all of this.”

“Don’t sweat it. If it’s the food you’re worried about, don’t. I’ve got plenty of money for food.” Galen picked up his mug and took a sip of his drink. Cam must not have looked convinced, because Galen added with a chuckle, “Really, Cam. But if you’d be more comfortable paying me back when you’re on your feet again, that’s fine with me.”

“M
R
. R
USK
!”
One of the boys in the hallway gave Galen a high-five, then ducked into a classroom.

“Eddie,” Galen said to Cam, as though this meant something. “Good kid. Doing better now that he’s got a decent foster family.”

“Oh.” No one had talked much about foster families when Cam had been growing up. He suspected few, if any, kids at Briggston
—
maybe a few of the scholarship dayers—had been from homes like that. Not that Cam’s family hadn’t had their own issues. Tylerton High School looked nothing like any school he’d attended either. The brightly painted lockers did little to counteract the dingy yellowing walls. Here and there, signs reminded students of various activities.

“Is it always so quiet?” Cam asked when they’d walked down several hallways without seeing more than a few students.

“School ended at 2:20.” Galen motioned Cam to a stairwell, and they began to climb. “Only the kids in clubs and sports are left now, and since the last round of budget cuts, there aren’t as many after-school activities as before.”

They reached the top of the steps and walked down yet another corridor. “My office is through here,” Galen said as he opened a set of double doors onto what Cam guessed was the band room, judging by the instrument cases that littered the steel shelves and the chairs arranged in a semicircle around a podium.

A student sat behind the piano in the corner of the room, playing something familiar.
Rhapsody in Blue
. Surprisingly difficult music for a high school student. More surprisingly still, the boy played beautifully.

“Hey, Mr. Rusk!”

“Jamie,” Galen answered as he walked over to the piano. “You’re doing a great job with that. I like what you’ve done with that last section. That’s exactly what I was talking about last week.”

Jamie grinned from ear to ear, clearly pleased with the praise.

“Cam,” Galen said with a quick look in Cam’s direction, “meet Jamie. Jamie, Cam.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Cam said as he shook the boy’s hand. Jamie had freckles on his cheeks, pink lips with a lovely Cupid’s bow, and sandy blond hair that reminded Cam of Galen.

“Jamie’s one of my star pupils. He just scored himself a full scholarship to Juilliard.” Galen’s face radiated pride as he said this. “Early admission.”

“Congratulations.” Cam knew the school well—one of the best conservatories in the United States.

“I’d never have gotten in if it hadn’t been for Mr. Rusk,” Jamie said, his gaze flitting around the room in embarrassment. “He’s a great teacher.”

“Jamie’s been studying with me since he started high school. In fact, he has a lesson tomorrow”
—
Galen winked at Jamie
—
“so we should let him practice.”

“Good meeting you, Cam,” Jamie said as he settled back onto the piano bench.

“You too, Jamie.”

Galen pointed to a door at the back of the room. “That’s my office,” he said.

Galen’s office might have measured ten feet by ten feet, although the actual floor space showing was far less. Piles of music, all neatly stacked, lined the walls and covered nearly the entire small desk. Metal mouthpieces and reeds lay on a shelf above the desk.

“Impressive.”

Galen laughed. “That’s one way to look at it. Fortunately I don’t spend much time here. Not really a desk job.”

“You obviously enjoy teaching.”

“I love it.” Galen’s face lit up as he said this. Cam had seen that same look in Alex Bishop’s eyes when he talked about his own music. He didn’t understand it, but it felt palpable and real. “Things are so different now than when I was a kid. For some kids, this is the only exposure they get to classical and jazz.”

Galen unlocked one of the desk drawers and pulled a few wooden reeds out, then locked it again. He opened the clarinet case and put the reeds inside, then left the instrument on a shelf with a sticky note that read
Marla
. “She’ll pick it up before rehearsal tomorrow,” he explained. Cam struggled to keep up with the quick change of subject.

Jamie had moved on to what Cam guessed was Beethoven when they left a few minutes later. “See you tomorrow,” Jamie called after them.

“W
HY
DO
you teach?” Cam asked as they wandered the supermarket aisles a short time later.

Galen shrugged. “I’m not sure. I mean, I’m sure I like doing it, but I’ve never really thought about the why part.” He crouched down and pulled a bag of something marked “textured vegetable protein” off a shelf, then handed it to Cam. “Put this in the cart, please?”

Cam held up the box, eyed the bits of dried flaky things, and frowned. “What is this?”

“Fake meat.”

“How…?”

“Add boiling water to reconstitute it,” Galen explained. “It’s used just like ground beef. You can use it in spaghetti sauce or tacos.”

“Why would you want fake meat if you’re a vegetarian?” Cam didn’t understand the facon either.

“No idea. I guess texture’s part of it, but it doesn’t really explain it, does it?”

Cam shook his head. “Not really.”

“You could probably ask a vegan the same question about soy milk too,” Galen said as he put a box of crackers in the cart. “I guess vegetarians want familiar things. Most of us grew up with meat and liked the taste of it, so we want a substitute.”