Food for Thought (4 page)

“Nothing,” Keegan whispered back. With a movement sudden enough to break the mood, he ruffled Emmett’s wet hair. “Shoo!” he laughed, and Emmett backed up and nodded, trotting to the bathroom to do what Keegan ordered.

Later, in the dark of the movie theater, Emmett would look at Keegan to see if he was laughing. For some reason, movies were funnier when Keegan laughed—Emmett had never figured out why. Keegan looked back, and the oddest thing happened. The movie went away, and all that remained were Keegan’s bright eyes and full mouth, the glint of his teeth as he smiled.

Emmett reached for popcorn, slowly, and Keegan’s hand met his in the bucket. For a moment they both froze, hands touching, and Emmett wanted to grab his hand so bad his chest ached with it.

A collective gasp from the audience jerked Emmett’s attention back to the screen, and he took his handful of popcorn while carefully not meeting Keegan’s eyes. He’d been scrupulous, he thought. This past year, he’d been so careful—he never wanted to give Keegan any reason to think he was available. That would just be cruel.

His heart thundered, and he felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck in the chilled theater.

He ignored the little voice in his head that said,
Oh yes. This was the taste of pain.

I
T
WASN
’
T
until the movie was over, and they were walking through the theater to the still bright day that he felt his phone buzz in text.

Hey, you back yet?

He looked up at Keegan. “It’s Chris.”

“Well by all means tell her you’ve been back in town for hours,” Keegan smirked. “That’s
such
good behavior in a boyfriend.”

Emmett grimaced.
Yeah. Me and Kee saw a movie.

I thought you’d call!

Sorry—Kee got there first.

Nice to know I rank. Dinner tomorrow?

Catching up on work tomorrow. Lunch at my desk?

That’s romantic. Not.

Dinner Friday?

Better. See you tomorrow.

Emmett slipped the phone in his pocket and turned to Keegan. “Dinner?”

Keegan was looking back, his usually grinning face unexpectedly troubled.

“You know, it’s not really kosher to ditch your girlfriend for your friends. Somebody told you that, right?”

Emmett shifted uncomfortably. “Well, she’s not really… I mean, you know. Dinner, movies—not serious.”

“You mean no sex,” Keegan said, his voice acerbic.

Emmett shrugged. “Uhm, you know, that’s a little personal….”

“No sex,” Keegan assessed flatly, and he stopped Emmett with a hand on his arm. “Emmett—honey, you know, this isn’t really fair to either of you, right?”

Emmett didn’t shake him off—it felt so good to be touched. “I, I mean, she’s got all the right qualifications, you know? She’s funny, she’s nice, she puts up with my psycho cat—”

“But… but
sex
. Do you even
want
to kiss her?”

“I… it’s something I’m trying to get over,” Emmett said staunchly. He didn’t want to talk about this, but if he
had
to talk about it, Keegan was the one person he could talk to. “It’s… you know… the whole—”

“Jordyn thing,” Keegan snapped, for once not sounding sympathetic. “Honey, you cannot let one failed relationship define your entire life!”

“I’m trying not to!” Emmett snapped, clicking his remote because they were drawing near his car. “I mean, it’s not like he can hurt me anymore!”

Keegan let go of his arm so quickly Emmett stumbled without dragging along the extra weight. “He?”

“She,” Emmett muttered. “Slip of the tongue. Swear. She. She was a real bitch.”
Except Jordyn wasn’t the bitch. Paula was the bitch. Jordyn was just as scared as I was.
But he hadn’t told that part of the story to anyone, not Vinnie, not Flora, not Keegan.

He thought he’d keep that part of the story to himself.

They got into the car silently, and Emmett turned the ignition. “Where do you want to eat?” he asked brightly.

“Freebird’s,” Keegan replied absently, still staring at him. “She.”

Emmett swallowed and looked straight ahead. “She.” Carefully, without making eye contact as he swung his head around, he looked behind him, so he could back out. Keegan let him, and it wasn’t until they were heading out of the movie theater and down the road that he spoke again.

“She.”

“So I said.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Emmett sighed. “I can’t help that,” he said, hoping to keep his dignity.

“You can, but you won’t,” Keegan snapped.

“Do you not want dinner and television?” Emmett asked, his voice throbbing with hurt.

“No, boyfriend. I’m not bailing on you now. This shit is just getting good.”

T
HE
SILENCE
healed during dinner, when Emmett told the story of Uncle Jimbo, and the kid whose lips were turning blue but wouldn’t get out of the pool. He told about the long game of Risk after most everyone else had gone home, and how Vinnie’s older sister Rebecca had practically table danced when she won around three in the morning.

Keegan ate his burrito bowl with gusto, while Emmett picked at his salad.

“You really live for this shit, don’t you?” Keegan asked, his mouth full, and Emmett shrugged.

“You know. Me and Dad. It was lonely. And then Dad died and… these are the only people who care if I’m alive or dead.”

“Not true,” Keegan said after he swallowed. “I care. I give a ripe royal shit. Doesn’t that count?”

“It counts for a lot,” Emmett said sincerely. “I mean… you know. I was a wreck. I’d
be
a wreck without you, Kee. You know that.”

“Yeah, but has it ever occurred to you that
I
should have a boyfriend, just like you have a girlfriend?”

Emmett shoved his salad aside. He wasn’t hungry anyway and he had those sandwiches from Flora in the refrigerator. “I sort of wait in dread,” he said, looking elsewhere. “I mean, I know you were dating when I moved in, but… you just made it so easy to forget.”

“Yeah, well, you make it easy to forget you have a girlfriend. You know why?”

Emmett grunted. “Because I don’t treat my girlfriend very well.”

“No, because you don’t
have
a girlfriend!” Keegan gestured with his fork. “You don’t have a girlfriend, I don’t have a boyfriend, and neither one of us is having sex! Can you tell me why that is?”

Emmett sighed. “Because I’m an ugly pathetic loser who can’t get over my hang-ups and you’re too nice to ditch me?”

Keegan smacked him upside the head. “Shut up,” he said thickly. “For one thing, it’s not true, and for another, thinking like that means you’re not really looking for the answer.”

Emmett put his weight on his elbows and linked his fingers behind his neck. “What
is
the answer?” he asked disconsolately, because even though it was staring him in the face right now and had been staring him in the ass only a few hours ago, he
still
needed guidance in that department.

“Hell.” Keegan shoved what was left of his burrito away from him with a huff of frustration. “Right now the answer is ice cream. Take me home and feed me, Jerkules, and we can watch our shows.”

Emmett couldn’t help it. Keegan was still hanging out with him. He was going to spend the evening next to Kee, eating ice cream and watching TV.

He smiled. “Thank you,” he said, looking sideways from around his arm. “Thanks, Kee. I’m really grateful.”

“Don’t be grateful,” Keegan sighed, standing up. “Just don’t be. It’s like the consolation prize of dating. Gratitude. Totally bogus. Just feed me some fucking ice cream, and we’re good.”

Emmett straightened up and stood, pushing his chair in. “Deal.”

C
HRISTINE
WAS
one of those women with the cute little round apple cheeks that grew bright and rosy when she smiled. She had brown hair and huge brown eyes, and she could get away with wearing a Disney Princess shirt under her black blazer.

She adored Thai food, which, thank God, Keegan despised, or Emmett would have been sick for most of his week.

“So,” she said coyly, picking the pineapple out of her green curry, “how was it?”

“Great!” he said, skipping over all of the uncomfortable stuff. “Wonderful. Talked to everybody. Watched the kids play. Gave Angela crap for marrying Vinnie. It was great.”

She smiled at him guilelessly. “Well, maybe next year I can come.”

He took a bite of his pumpkin curry and nodded. “Yeah, sure. You’d like it. You like that, right? Family?”

Christine shrugged. “Well, I want to have kids, if that’s what you mean.” She took another bite and nodded at him, like she was trying to convince him of something.

He changed the subject to the action adventure flick they were going to see that night, and she let the subject drop.

They didn’t eat buttered popcorn in the theater, and there were no sudden breath-catching moments in the dark. He dropped her off at her house, which was only a mile or so from his, and when she asked him if he wanted to come in, he said, “No, hon. I’m sorry—Kee and I have plans tomorrow to go through this old family cookbook that Flora gave me. We think it might have some pretty good stuff on it, but it’s handwritten, you know? We’ve sort of got to figure out the recipes, right?”

Her face lit up, chipmunk cheeks growing hard and shiny. “An old cookbook? I
love
the idea of that. Can I come over too?”

No! This is me
and
Kee time! You can’t intrude!
“Well, yeah. Probably sometime in the afternoon, you know?”

Because they might be done cooking by then, and she could come watch television with them, although she didn’t see why they liked watching
True Detective, Sherlock,
and
American Horror Story
over and over again. In which case, she’d give up in disgust, and it would still be him and Keegan.

She agreed, though, and said she might stop by, and he kissed her good night and watched as she got safely inside her little one bedroom and flipped on the light.

He realized he was doing this all wrong. He knew he was fucking both these relationships up. But it was just such a muddle inside of him, Kee and Jordyn and Christine….

On his way home, he stopped at the local Savon and bought five pounds of beets, some onions, frozen chicken, carrots, fennel, and chipotle cubes. Food for thought, to clarify things. That was
exactly
what he needed.

By the time Keegan showed up the next morning, wearing another brand-new shorts/T-shirt combo, Emmett had cleaned the kitchen and was pulling out the ingredients for both the recipes he wanted to make.

“Oh hel-
lo
, yard sale,” Keegan sniffed. “What are
you
wearing?”

Emmett grinned. “My old gym clothes from high school—yeah they’re falling apart. You might want to change too—I’m making the beet porridge thing, and that shit stains.”

Keegan’s eyes got really big, and he edged out of the kitchen like the walls were dripping with red dye. “Okay, okay—here, I’ll just go get something of yours!”

Emmett grimaced after him. God knew what Kee was going to think was disposable. He reached into the fridge and pulled out the butter, so it could soften, and put it on the side of the counter with the mixer, then pulled the olive oil out of the cupboard and put it on the counter by the stove. He’d pretty much memorized both recipes, and he had sort of a dance down. He’d remember one thing and go to that place and remember the other thing and go to the other place. It meant he opened his refrigerator six times and the cupboard over the stove seven, but it made sense. When it was just him, he could keep the two different recipes straight in his head. He knew which thing went where.

But then Keegan walked in, and he set the almond extract down next to the food processor, because Keegan was wearing…. Uhm….

“Is that the…?”

“Really ugly, too big, archaically designed polyester shirt the Chris-thing gave you for your birthday? Yes.”

“She didn’t get me that,” Emmett said numbly. “I bought it for myself. You’re not wearing any….”

“Shorts,” Keegan replied succinctly, doing a pirouette on Emmett’s kitchen floor with his arms overhead. The shirt rode up to expose Keegan’s bright purple briefs—and Keegan’s firm, hairy thighs. “And you should buy yourself better clothes. I will
replace
this shirt with something that makes you look
outstanding
if you let me wear it now.”

“It was in the laundry. Why would you do that?” Emmett couldn’t seem to stop looking at
his shirt
on
Keegan’s body.

Keegan stopped dancing and lifted his arm, sniffing delicately at the pit. “It doesn’t really smell bad. I like your body wash.”

Emmett swallowed and tried to keep up his once poetic motion of separating the beet porridge from the shortbread.

Keegan started to laugh, his shoulders rolling as he clapped. His long, pedicured
bare
feet danced on Emmett’s white kitchen tile. Emmett stared at those feet, caught between the refrigerator and the counter, his entire recipe-stocking exercise forgotten. “Did you mean to put the onions with the flour and the vanilla next to the onions? Because I’m thinking that’s gonna put a real crimp in Granny B’s recipes.”

“Uhm… no?” Emmett yanked his attention away from Kee, who was no longer just his “fun neighbor” and had exploded into his kitchen as his “fun
sexy
neighbor” without any warning whatsoever.

“Well get moving! Here, give me the book, and you take stuff out of the fridge, and I’ll keep it sorted. You’re completely lost here, do you know that?”

Keegan’s purple briefs were tight enough to show, uhm, Keegan’s most surprising asset, as well as his ass, and Emmett stared at him again, licking his lips, his entire body alive in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years.