by Skyler Andra
Now, though, he was still as tall, but a layer of muscle had replaced his leanness. In comparison, he wasn’t as bulky as Rane, but possessed a lean quality to him, like a gymnast rather than a boxer. Dressed in a button-down shirt and a pair of dark khakis, my eyes traced his toned physique. Somewhere along the way, he’d gotten a way better haircut as well, and his slightly wavy, brown hair gave me a sudden urge to run my fingers through it.
“The guy I roomed with while studying at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee got me into weights and acrobatics,” Byron said, running a hand along his biceps. “I kept up some of the stuff when I came out here.”
“Well, it’s working. Very well.” Somebody stop me, I was rambling like a lunatic.
I winced at letting myself say that, because most people who sent out desperate emails for help didn’t immediately start to talk about how good their rescuers looked, even if Byron did look perfect.
It occurred to me belatedly that it had been a while since I’d eaten the granola Jeff gave to me. I’d gone past hungry a while ago, my stomach giving up on sending me signals that were obviously not going to be satiated. That was my excuse at least, for the first thing I said to Byron being about how much he’d changed over the last few years.
Oh god, please let this be a matter of low blood sugar rather than some kind of weird feature of being imbued with the power of the god of love.
“Thanks, Locke,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pant pockets. “You look…good…too.” He hesitated as if trying to find the right word.
My heart did a flip at the compliment. Despite what I refused to admit to myself years ago, I still held a soft spot for Byron, even after all these years. I smiled and tucked my head. This was the effect he still had on me.
“Locke, what kind of trouble are you in?” Byron’s words pulled my gaze up to meet his.
I didn’t even know where to start or if he’d believe me. Just thinking about it sounded unbelievable. The kind of things that happened to people in books and movies. Not to Locke Casey.
“It’s weird,” I began, my throat still dry with nerves at catching up after all this time, and in odd circumstances. “Really, really weird. Look, could we maybe get out of the open?”
Byron’s eyes narrowed, and I imagined the neurons in his brain firing, considering various scenarios I might be caught up in. “Sure.”
It occurred to me as Byron opened the passenger’s side door of his Chevrolet sedan, marked with the words University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, that he still had no idea what my trouble was. For all he knew, I might have organized crime after me. According to the false radio reports, I was a criminal myself, on the run from the law. I was surprised they hadn’t blasted my mugshot across the TV yet. Maybe they already did. But he hadn’t questioned it. Never doubted me.
“Thank you,” I said. “For trusting me.”
A curious and concerned glint buried behind his gaze.
The instant I was in the car, I smelled something so good that my mouth watered.
“Oh my god, is that Tulsey’s?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t a residual smell, but the scent of the fresh stuff. Fingers crossed Byron had brought me some.
Tulsey’s burgers were legendary where we’d gone to school. It was one of those weird chains that never seemed particularly bound by location, and its burgers were immensely large and stuffed full of grilled onions, cheese, and a special sauce, both sweet and sharp. I hadn’t had one since I’d graduated, and with a slight smile, Byron reached into the back seat, passing me the bag.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I couldn’t help myself.
God. Right now I could kiss him for bringing me my old-time favorite chow. I dove into the bag like a starved coyote, tearing open the package and wolfing down the food inside.
“You’re welcome,” Byron said with a chuckle. “Maybe slow down a bit, if you’ve not been eating much lately, or you’ll make yourself sick.”
I looked up from the burger, remembering belatedly to wipe my mouth. The advice, so very close to what Rane had told me about the water a few days ago, made me wince a little at the reminder, despite being solid advice.
I lowered my food. “Where’s yours?”
“I’m not hungry, all things considered.” The concern burning in his voice demanded answers.
Soon, I promise. Just when I’m safe.
“Go ahead and eat.” Byron gestured for me to continue. “There’s more food at my place. Unless you have any objections, I’m taking you there now.”
It had been hours since I’d last eaten, and I could eat a horse.
As Byron pulled his car away from the curb, his eyes brushed across me. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
I almost spat out my mouthful. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
“I didn’t know what to think,” he said. “So I wanted to be ready for anything to make sure you’re safe.”
He said it with a smile on his face, his shoulders lowering, and his back relaxing into his seat, as if he felt a kind of relief. Another pang of guilt jabbed at my insides. After the way we’d left things, our fight, I wasn’t worth this kind of loyalty. But here he was giving it to me anyway. That was another thing about Byron. It was in his nature to help. Whenever anyone at college needed help with an assignment, Byron was there, without asking for anything in return. Many a later night we’d spent nutting out solutions together, bringing our friendship closer.
Doing what I did best, clamming up with my feelings, I stuffed my burger into my mouth. By now it was almost dark, but he navigated the streets of Boise as if he were born to it.
“You always hated driving,” I commented, desperate to break the silence that had descended upon us.
“Things change.” His voice held an edge of finality, leaving me wondering if he referred to something else.
He was right. Things changed, and right now, it felt like everything was moving so fast that it made my head spin. No longer hungry, I set the rest burger aside, and as we drove through the darkness, I felt something in me calm down. Byron always had that effect on me.
“Thanks,” I said. “For the burger. For showing up.”
I reached my hand across the console and touched his thigh. Years ago, it would have been a normal kind of touch for us. A touch between close friends. If he were a stranger, it would have been too much to bare. I had no idea where our relationship stood right now, but Byron reached one hand down and closed it over mine. His hand was calloused, which I hadn’t expected, and warm.
“Of course.” He gave me the kind of smile that told me he’d do anything for me, and I melted into my seat.
Seven minutes later, to the dot on his car clock, we arrive at Byron’s place; a fairly nice duplex in a residential part of town. Based on the sports flags in the window and the booming music next door, suggesting a possible party, this seemed to be a college neighborhood.
At the front door, he let me in as easily as he had let me into his dorm room years ago.
Standing in the threshold, he said. “You can stay in the guest room for now. It’s not really decorated or anything, but the sheets and blanket are clean.”
As a matter of fact, the entire place had a kind of empty and deserted look. White walls devoid of any pictures, paintings or decorations. The bare minimum of furniture, including a sofa and small dining table for two. Although Byron’s bookshelves were as full as they ever were.
“Nice place,” I said. “Mind if I wash my face first?”
“Down the hall to the left,” Byron said.
In the small bathroom off of the guest room, I washed my face, and glanced in the mirror. God, my skin was exceptionally pale and dark circle crept up beneath my eyes. I must have looked a nightmare to Byron, but he hadn’t said anything.
Now that I was here, as safe as I’d been for a long time, I felt a little wobbly on my feet. I wasn’t sure if it was the shock of everything finally catching up to me. All the shit I was off
icially in. Or whether it was from seeing Byron again, and the affect he still had on me. Getting my bearings, I ended up sitting on the bed, staring out the window at the yard. With a square of mown grass and a twisty little tree in the corner, it was as bare as the inside. Low maintenance and relaxed came to mind. Like the inside of his duplex. Like Byron.
Slowly, I became aware of the fact that I wasn’t alone. Byron stood in the doorway, one shoulder hitched up on the doorjamb, watching me. He had changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, and it made him look more like the young man I remembered. I felt as if I were seeing things in double vision. From one vantage point he was still the boy I had known. In the other he wasn’t.
“Why do you live like this?” I asked.
He tilted his head to one side as if it were a completely ridiculous thing to ask. “What do you mean?”
I circled my arms. “You’re not really living here, are you? This wasn’t what you wanted.”
Byron’s eyes narrowed, a look that I knew very well. “Do you do any better? What have you managed to get on your walls?”
He was right, but it didn’t even sting. I lived like I had just moved in, even if I had moved in ages ago.
“That’s not the point,” I said. “I never wanted all the cozy homes and garden thing.” An ache settled in my chest at the prospect of getting out the next sentence. “I thought that’s what you wanted with Melanie.”
He flinched at the mention of her name. Melanie; the one who had caused our biggest fight. All that time throughout college, I’d crushed on Byron, and him on me. But because I never acted on my feelings—too frightened too—he moved onto her and left me crushed. When I confronted Byron about it, he told me it was too late. Out of hurt and spite, I let a few choice words fly. So did he. Heated words fired back and things escalated pretty quick. I was a stupid idiot. Instead of making Byron realize I was the right one for him, I’d pushed him further away. Every day afterwards I lived with the regret. I’d never gotten over him. Being with him brought up all the old feelings again. My chest tightened with all my pent up pain.
Real smart of me, bringing her up when he was the one deciding if I had a place to stay or whether I had to hit the road. But I also knew Byron too well. Once he had said he was going to help, he’d never withdraw that offer, no matter how much smarter it would have been to do so.
“It was what I wanted at the time,” he admitted. “I think it still is…with someone. Someday.”
I hadn’t failed to notice the warning signs that Byron and Melanie had broken it off. The lines of sorrow in his forehead. The way he avoided mentioning her. The way the cords in his neck stood out.
Byron crossed the room to sit beside me. “But that’s not what we’re here to talk about, is it?”
“No, I guess not.” I took a deep breath preparing myself for my utterly insane explanation.
But when I opened my mouth to start, I froze, unable to get it out. Where did I start? With the white light coming through my window, which I still hadn’t completely omitted the potential of it being a seizure. That might explain why I saw weird red cords connected to people’s chests. What about starting with the men in my apartment, talking about bringing in the extraction team for me? Jumping right to the gods and avatars? Skipping to being on the run with Rane, and the police and men in suits after us? Nah. Maybe I should start of light with about what I knew about the strands connecting all the people to their loved ones around the world?
I choked on the words. To my humiliation, a lump rose in my throat, made of hot tears. If I wasn’t careful, I’d dissolve into a crying mess on Byron’s guest bed. I couldn’t stand that, and I shut my eyes tight, closing myself off so hard that I shook. Dammit. I would give Byron his answer. He deserved to know.
“Hey.” Byron’s voice called me back from my mini-breakdown (something that was probably long overdue, when I thought about it).
I opened my eyes, finding him kneeling in front of me, gently gripping my knee. Tall enough to look me in the eye, he reached out his other hand to cup my face in his hands. His hand cooled my sizzling skin, and I sighed at his touch. I shouldn’t have, but I leaned into his hands, letting his touch bring me relief and pleasure. In an instant, he rekindled the dying coal in my heart into a bright blaze.
“I’m going to tell you all of it,” I promised. “You wanted to know, so you should know.”
“I don’t need to know tonight.” His thumb stroked my cheek.
I blinked at him. “What?”
Was he crazy? Why didn’t he want to know? What if the men in black or the police tracked me to his place and arrested him for aiding a supposed felon?
“Just tell me, did you kill someone?” he blurted unexpectedly, but obviously the question had been playing on his mind.
I nervously laughed at that one. “God no!”
“Are you dying?” His grilling of me showed no signs of slowing. “Is someone else going to die if we don’t act now?”
“No.”
“Good. Then it can wait, can’t it?”
It was pure Byron. He had a way of getting right to the heart of things. If he could act, he would act. If he couldn’t, he’d do something else. Right now, the idea of shoving away all of the weird stuff happening to me sounded amazing. The pressure bearing down on my shoulders lessened. Now I wanted to do something else.
Being with Rane must have awakened my libido, and I suddenly had all sorts of ideas about what that something else might be. I shoved them away and smiled a little at Byron. Asking him for that wasn’t fair. Not after showing up in his life again, two years later, with the threat of trouble casing me. Pretty sure that’d be the farthest thing on his mind.
“I…I don’t want to,” I started, putting my hand on his. “But I think I had better take you up on that reprieve. I could try to hack it all out, but honestly, I might cry, and you don’t want that.”
“I think I might mind that a little less than you fear,” he said, his eyes searching mind. “But all right. I’ll get an answer from you in the morning. Deal?”
“Sounds good.” I smiled. “Thank you.”
He ignored my thanks, helping me to my feet. “Have you had enough to eat?”
“Um, yes.” I pushed away hair from my eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten an entire Tulsey’s burger before.”
The moment I said it, I realized that it wasn’t quite true. I could still eat, just no more savory food.
“Are you sure?” Byron’s eyes widened. “I have some ice cream in the fridge.”
Damn, he knew me too well. Old habits die hard. “What kind?”
“Peppermint choc chip.”
I stared. “My favorite!”
He smiled at me crookedly. “No, my favorite. But I’ll share if you like.”
“Yes please!”
And that was how we ended up on Byron’s sad little couch watching old cheesy science fiction movies. It might have been any weekend back in college, where I curled up on the end of the couch, my feet tucked under his thigh. We ate our ice cream and poked fun at the crummy special effects and action on the screen. For a few hours, I got to forget all about the mess I was in, and that’s how I liked it for now.
Chapter 16
I dozed off during the third movie, something about strange monsters carrying the heroine away to live in an underground kingdom on Mars. Those same monsters entered my dreams, chasing me, just like the men in black. In the middle of my retreat, Byron shook my shoulder gently.
“Hey, you can’t sleep like that,” he said. “You’ll wake up with your spine in a knot.”
“I can too,” I said sleepily, and he chuckled.
God, I had always liked that sound. I’d missed hearing it. Feeling as slow as molasses, I climbed to my feet, or at least I tried to. Apparently, I was moving too slowly for his taste, because Byron sighed and scooped me up in his arms. I yelped a little, because that was certainly not something we had done before. I clung to his shoulders, maki
ng him laugh again.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to drop you.”
“I didn’t think you were,” I replied, loving the feel on my body against his.
He carried me to the guest room, and my stomach sank with disappointed. I didn’t want to sleep alone that night, and it wasn’t just the fears and anxiety over my situation looming large over everything. I hadn’t been close to Byron in years, and now that I was here again, I didn’t want to leave.
Fortunately, before I could make a huge fool of myself, he set me gently down on the bed. I simply sat there for a moment, looking up at him, and, I don’t know how else to say it, my perspective shifted. This time I was looking up at Byron and seeing at once a young man I had once cared about a great deal versus a man who was so very good-looking. He laughed again, and this time there was a tension there that hadn’t been there before.
“What, do you want me to tuck you in, too?” he asked.
“What if I said yes?” I wasn’t used to that tone from myself. It was sultry and warm, closer to my phone sex voice than my regular voice. It wasn’t fake like when I was on the phone though. This was the thing that my phone sex voice tried to imitate and never could.
He was silent a long time. Prickles of electricity ran up and down my body, and I sat up straighter, Byron taking up all my focus. The impulse to grab a handful of his shirt and to lie back on the bed was immense. I was maybe a quarter of a second from doing just that when he shook his head.
“No…” he said. “I can’t.”
I almost bit my tongue, but then he was leaning his head down, cupping the side of my face in his hand. What was he thinking? I couldn’t read his expression then. It was as if he had joined me, cycling through desire, sadness, anger and bewilderment all at once, too fast to process.
“Not now,” he amended, and he kissed me softly on my forehead.