He pulls himself back up. “Yep. We had a penthouse in Boston, but she wanted to have someplace quiet to go. She spent a lot of time here. He never did though. This was her safe place, so it became mine.”
“I like that he hasn’t tainted it.”
Carsen’s gray eyes turn soft. “That’s my favorite part.”
I lean forward and give him a gentle kiss. He sighs when I pull away and puts his forehead to mine, then leans back in for another kiss. And another. And another.
My heart is beating wildly, and I have no idea why I initiated another kiss between us. I have no idea why it feels so good either, why we’re acting like we haven’t barely talked since making out in my bedroom.
“This is so weird. Are we going to pretend you didn’t have me horizontal a few weeks ago and then ignore me?”
I can hear him swallow; it seems louder when I have my eyes closed. “No. I’ve just been too nervous to talk to you. Too…everything.”
“You have? Why?”
“Because—”
“How are the pizzas coming along?”
Unlike in the bowling alley, we don’t jump apart when the boys come strolling back into the kitchen. Carsen eases away and I open my eyes, but we continue to hold hands and sit close together.
Nate has a noticeable new hickey on his neck, and he smirks when he sees me notice it. Blake checks on the pizzas and determines we have about five minutes left on them.
“Any special requests with these?”
“Actually, do you have any—” Carsen disentangles himself from me and heads to the fridge. I gasp as he pulls out a bowl of my most favorite thing ever: nacho cheese sauce. “No way! Why? How?”
“I know you put it on everything and was curious about how it would taste on stuff here at home, so I snagged a bowl from Vern’s after my shift yesterday.”
“I was wondering what the hell that was for. I almost threw it out this morning,” Nate says.
“You wouldn’t dare do something so blasphemous!”
“But…on pizza?”
I turn to Blake, the one who dared to make such a silly inquiry. “Yes! It’s heaven.”
“Full disclosure, she orders it with everything. Burgers, grilled cheese, quesadillas, tuna fish sandwiches…everything. Not sure she’s a good judge on its ‘heavenly’ taste.”
Blake pretends to gag. “Tuna? That’s disgusting.”
“He made that up. I’ve never even ordered tuna at Vern’s.”
“But if you did…” Carsen pushes.
I shrug. “I’d maybe try it.”
“Oh, you’re a whole new kind of strange, Elliott. I like it.” Nate holds his hand out for a first bump. I oblige.
The timer goes off and the boys move around the kitchen like they’ve done it a million times before. Blake immediately goes to the oven and begins pulling our dinner out. Carsen heads to the pantry, tossing paper plates onto the granite countertops, then picks a few paper towels off the holder. Nate sets out cooling racks and refreshes our drinks.
I sit and watch, taking it all in. I don’t know if they realize it, but they have a family here, and it’s a damn fine one.
Once it’s all set out on the counter, Blake announces, “Dinner is served. Dig in!”
We load our plates up, each of the boys taking a scoop of nacho cheese sauce, and find a spot at the table.
“Okay, you’re onto something with this nacho cheese shit. This is fucking awesome,” Nate croons.
“I know. Carsen? You gonna try it?”
He eyes the cheese and his pizza warily. Finally, he picks up a slice and dips it cautiously into the sauce. He takes a small bite, and his eyes go wide. “Holy fuck. That is good.”
I beam. “Told you so.”
We scarf down the pizza in no time flat, though not before fighting over who gets the last scoop of cheese.
“So, do you go to college around here?” Blake asks as we all sit around with our bellies full, too stuffed to move.
“UMass.”
“Which campus?”
“Boston.”
“No way!” He motions between himself and Nate. “Us too. I can’t believe we haven’t seen you around campus before.”
“It’s a big campus, and I like to keep to myself.”
“Would they know Jackass?”
I nod. “Probably. Everyone seems to know him.”
“Jackass?” Blake questions. “And hey, why are you home so early? I thought you were closing at the bowling alley tonight?”
Carsen raises a brow in my direction, silently asking for my permission to share the story of the evening. I shrug, letting him know it’s up to him.
“There was an…incident at work. Jackass, who is also known as Jase—does he have a last name?”
“Barnes,” I supply.
“Jase Barnes,” Carsen continues, “is Elliott’s bestie. He came strolling—wait, no, he came stumbling into the building. He said a lot of shitty things to Elliott, who took it all in stride, and then he got a little too close to her. I reacted.”
“So you hit him?” Nate says.
“Not as much as I should have.”
The boyfriends share a worried glance. “We know Jase,” Blake affirms. “No offense, Elliott, but he’s not a very nice guy. He… Well, he’s a dick, to be frank. I watched him trip a kid then high-five his buddies when the dude’s nose started bleeding. It was awful. He was also in a fight at an end of the year party we went to.”
“Oh shit, that was him? He was in a more questionable room of the party, flipped out because his date wanted to dance, grabbed her hard enough to bruise her. I started heading that way when some other guy stepped in and it started a huge fight. We bailed soon after,” Nate adds, and then he winces. “Sorry, Elliott.”
“Don’t be sorry. It seems like I’ve lost my Jase.”
Carsen flinches at my words.
I don’t miss it.
Neither do Nate and Blake.
The silence stretches.
“Anyone up for a board game?”
The question makes me smile, which bubbles into laughter. Before I know it, I’m clutching my stomach and giggling while the three guys stare at me in disbelief.
“Did you bring home a crazy?” Nate mock-whispers to Carsen.
“She seemed normal.”
“Nate seemed normal too and look what we ended up with there.”
Nate reaches out quickly and tweaks Blake’s nipple. The action is met with a loud yelp and a chase around the kitchen table while Carsen slaps his hands against the table, yelling at them to knock it off.
I’m still laughing when they sit back down to gape at me some more.
“Are you okay?” Carsen cautiously lays a hand on my arm.
I swipe at the tears beginning to run down my cheeks. “I’m good. It’s all so…” I wave a hand. “Domestic around here. I love it. I love that I’m able to witness it and I love that you have it after everything you’ve been through.” I look over at Nate and Blake. “And I hardly know you boys, but I think I love you too.”
“Can we keep her?” Blake whispers. His green eyes are shining with I don’t even know what, and he doesn’t break eye contact with me, not even when Nate reaches out and places a hand over his. “Can we?”
“Yes,” Carsen says, the adoration in his voice clear, making my heart beat faster and faster. “Yes.”
9
Carsen
We skipped board games and opted for a movie in the living room instead, because according to Nate, “Monopoly ruins friendships.” I’m certain there’s a story there.
Nate and Blake abandoned us, announcing they needed to get back to their own movie. Right. Sure. I know exactly what that means, and it has nothing to do with a movie.
“So, on a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate this movie?”
“Solid twelve and a half.”
“Want to ditch it?”
“Yes!”
I click off the telev
ision and reach out for her hand. She doesn’t hesitate for a second as she slips her hand into mine. I lead her up the stairs, past the boys’ room, and down the hall to the master bedroom.
I flip the light on once we step inside, and she gasps.
“Holy hell. This is your view? Why do you ever even leave your room?”
“I usually only ever leave for work. I’m kind of a hermit.”
“You? No way. I don’t believe it.”
“Tease all you want, Mathers.” I shrug. “It’s nice sometimes, having this space.”
“It’s beautiful, Carsen. This view of Lake Q and the bedroom…it’s massive yet cozy. There’s something about it that’s…peaceful.”
There’s a wall of windows and a balcony that look out over the lake; it’s the reason I chose this room as my own. I’m certain it’s the reason Ma did too. Painted a serene light gray, the room—along with the view—is the epitome of calming. If I ever had to choose to be locked away somewhere, I’d opt for this room in a heartbeat.
“This was her room.”
“Her bedroom?”
“Her painting and photography room.” Her eyes light up when I say photography, and something clicks for me. “Those pictures in your bedroom, the black and white ones alongside your bookshelf—those were yours, weren’t they?”
Her cheeks tint red and she tucks a chunk of her silky blonde hair behind her ear. “Guilty.”
“You’re very talented.”
She rolls her eyes and begins to lazily amble around the room. “You’re only saying that to be nice.”
“Or as a genuine compliment.”
“We’ll go with mine,” she says on a flirtatious wink—or at least that’s what I think she does. “So, you read.”
She stands in front of my small bookshelf and peruses the titles on the shelf.
“Nah. Decorations.”
“You like music.”
She gestures to the various floating shelves throughout the room.
“Heavens no.”
She stops her tour of my room in front of my desk where my computer and random scribblings sit. “And you”—she shudders—“study.”
I head for my bed, jumping up onto my preferred side and fluffing the pillows behind me. I watch as she inspects all the odds and ends on my desk. A pencil sharpener, even though I only use pens. A sticky note, even though I don’t like anything sticky. One of those USB powered coffee cup warmers that I only put my tea on. And finally, a photograph—of a family that isn’t mine but instead the one that came in the frame.
I see her pause at it, and I know she wants to question why I don’t have one of Ma up. I don’t have pictures of her up around the house to remind me of her—I have the stars for that.
I grab my chest in dramatics. “Only for the sake of higher education.”
“How valiant.”
“That’s me, valiant.”
She gives me a sheepish grin. “You’re a good man, Carsen. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“I give myself credit where it’s due.”
“And it’s not here?”
“You want to see something cool?” I ask, changing the subject.
The tilt of her head tells me she doesn’t appreciate the tactic the way I do, but she lets it slide. “How cool?”
“Scale of one to ten?” She nods. “A solid twenty.”
Her brows rise, already impressed. “Twenty?”
“Yep.”
“Big promise to fill. Can you deliver?”
“I’ll do my best.” And that’s all I can promise.
I point to the side of the bed I’m not occupying. “You, there,” I instruct. She doesn’t move. “This is not a ploy to advance our sex life—though I do think we need to discuss that further—but it’s part of the surprise.”
“Fine, but if you try to touch my butt…”
“You’ll what? Enjoy it?”
Sighing, she relents. “Probably.”
Elliott hoists herself up into my ginormous panel bed. I laugh, because she looks adorable swallowed up by my fluffed-up navy comforter and the horde of pillows I sleep with.
“It’s damn comfy. Not sure if it’s a solid twenty though.”
“You thought I wanted to show you how comfortable my bed is?”
She shrugs. “Got something else up your sleeve?”
“You know, I do, actually.” I pick up the remote from my bedside table and say, “Prepare to be amazed.”
I click the on button and the room ignites in color.
“Holy… How!” She spins my way. “How is this even possible?”
I crawl to the bottom of the bed and motion her my way. She follows.
“Projector. It cost a good chunk of change to have it professionally installed into the bed, but damn was it worth it.”
“It’s…so damn beautiful, Carsen.”
I push my messy comforter off the bed and we lie down on our backs to watch the stars on the ceiling. Our hands brush, and she threads our fingers together.
“I can’t believe you have this in your bedroom. I’d spend all my nights staring at the ceiling if I had this. It’s mesmerizing.”
“I fall asleep with it on often, or out on my balcony. I’ve been known to spend the night out there too.”
“All to be closer to her?”
“That, and it’s become a comfort all on its own. It’s a reminder that I’m not alone in the world. That it’s all written in the stars, that there’s a reason behind all of this…well, shit. Keeps me going some days.”
She rolls to face me, and I match her movements. “You’re not alone. You have two amazing friends down the hall who are probably sexing it up right this very moment.”
“Oh good, I was craving that visual today. Thank you for that.”
“And you have the bowling alley. Cal. The diner. You’re not alone. There are people who care about you and do their best to make sure you’re doing okay.”
“I suppose in a certain regard, you’re right, but none of that feels like enough.”
“It doesn’t fill the void,” she supplies.
“I don’t want to simply fill the void. I want to feel genuinely happy again, and that’s a big task to take on for anyone.”
The light bounces off Elliott’s eyes and I can see tears threatening to spill over. Am I only capable of making her cry? Making her sad?
You’re pathetic! I can hear my father shouting those words over and over, and it takes me right back to that dreadful night in Boston.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t you fucking think about it, Carsen.
“Can I ask you something?” she asks, pulling me from the memory.
I open my mouth and her hand shoots out to cover it. “Don’t you dare say ‘you just did’.”
I chuckle as she removes her hand. “You did, but sure. Ask away.”
“What did you and my dad talk about?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
She shakes her head. “Not a peep.”
“Oh. Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. I figured you’d have asked him.”
“No. He retreated out to the garage once you left, and I haven’t had the courage to bring it up since.”
“Your dad…he’s one of the good ones. We talked about my mom. He told me stories she left out. Then he gave me a rather stern warning regarding you.”
She pushes herself up on her elbows. “Me? What? What for?”
“He seems to think we’re ‘doing the deed’ and because of that, he said I better not break your heart.”
“And…”
“If I do, he’ll first come for me at night when I’m least expecting it. It could be days or months down the road. Then he’ll kidnap me, torture me by making me listen to opera while he methodically tears out my fingernails. He’ll then break my index fingers on both hands because it’ll be a huge pain in the ass to do any type of work with two broken index fingers. Next comes a toe, because those
things take forever to heal. After that, he’ll dump me off in a field somewhere out of state with no clothes, no phone, and no hint of how to get back to civilization. And once I do return, he’ll start over.”
Elliott stares at me in disbelief, her mouth continually floating open and closed.
“There were a lot of other details. It was all very specific and sadistic. He said every word with a smile.”
She bursts into laughter and I can’t help but join in.
“My god. I think this made me love my father even more.”
“So he doesn’t threaten every guy you bring home? Or every guy who returns your cell phone to you? I’m special?”
“Well, I don’t bring guys home—except Jase when I was eight. I have no idea how he came up with that plan or who he’s possibly used it on in the past.” She shrugs. “But, to be fair, he did know we were making out in my bedroom. I’m certain that played into it all.”
“You’re justifying this?”
“Someone has to. He’ll need someone to bail him out of jail and I’m not sure I can count on my mother. She only truly loves him on Tuesdays, so what happens if this occurs on a Wednesday? I shudder at the thought of him rotting away in a cell because you decided to annihilate my heart.”
“You’re insane.”
“You’re not wrong,” she agrees, lying back down, this time resting her head on my chest. I wrap my arm around her and hug her tighter.
“He’s a good guy.”
“He is.”
After a few moments of silence, I say, “Trace your path.”
“Huh?”
“The stars. Trace them for me.”
She doesn’t move for a while, but I know she’s thinking. I can practically hear her thoughts jumping out of her head. Finally, she lifts her hand and begins tracing a messy path.
“This was me when I was younger. I was all over the place. I never liked one thing for too long—or too short.” She stops. “That’s when I met Jase. I had this rad TMNT backpack that he complimented. He had an ugly, ratty Spiderman lunchbox, and I told him just that. We’ve been friends since.” I can feel her frown against me. “Well, until recently.”
“Keep going.”
“I calmed down when I hit about thirteen and was in a perpetual state of ‘perfection’ for two or so years.”
We Are the Stars Page 10