“Depressed? I—no. I don’t think so, Kellan.”
“We talk about everything,” he frets, squeezing his hands together. “And I know I haven’t been very encouraging about his magic tricks, but if that’s getting him down—”
I’m going to die. “That’s probably it,” I say, barely succeeding at keeping a straight face. “Just support his magic a bit more.”
Kellan nods sagely. “You’re right. I will. I’ve been an ass.”
The two most sensitive boys on the planet, right here in this apartment.
“I’m sure he’ll text you in a few minutes,” I say a little too loudly, making Kellan flinch. “He’s probably back on the Frat Farm, ready to tell you about the hot girl he hooked up with.”
“God.” Kellan runs his hands through his hair. “I hope so.”
We stare at his empty cereal bowl for an increasingly awkward moment. “You know,” I say, “why don’t you take a shower and try to get some sleep? It’ll make you feel better.”
Kellan sniffs his armpit. “Do I smell?”
“I— ” He doesn’t, but if it gets him out of the room so Crosbie can come out of the closet, I’m willing to fib. “A little.”
“Dammit. That suit was wool. I always sweat when I wear wool.”
I nod sympathetically as he rinses his bowl and puts it in the dishwasher, then glances hopefully at his dark phone display.
“It’ll be okay,” I say. “Just give him some time to wake up. It’s only eight o’clock.”
“You’re right.” Kellan pats my hand. “I’m not going to worry anymore until lunch.”
The awkwardness is killing me.
“Actually,” he says, pausing en route to the bathroom. “That’s a lie. I’m not going to worry about Crosbie until lunch. You’re another story.”
“Me?”
“There’s a condom wrapper on your floor, Nora Kincaid. And we had a deal about not bringing people back here.”
“We—I—” Oh my God.
“And I know Crosbie comes over a lot, but he doesn’t count.”
I shake my head fervently. “I’m so sor—”
Kellan grins and laughs uproariously. “Are you kidding? Don’t apologize, Nora! You finally got some and I’m happy for you. And a little jealous of the lucky bastard. Did you have a good time?”
I don’t need to see Crosbie to know he’s got his ear pressed to the closet door. “Yes,” I mutter.
“Did he make you scream?”
“Kellan, go take a shower.”
He laughs some more and extends his hand for a fist bump I reluctantly return. He’s chuckling as he disappears into the bathroom, and I sit very still on the stool, listening to the water turn on, then the muffled sound of his singing.
“Crosbie!” I hiss, leaping to my feet.
The closet doors bang open and he topples out, hair tousled, wearing a pair of Kellan’s running shorts and a T-shirt that’s two sizes too small and clings to every one of his thousand muscles. He’s got his jacket in one hand and his costume and phone in the other.
“He sent me forty-one texts last night!”
“He thinks you’re depressed!”
He covers his face when he laughs. “You really want me to tell him about the hot chick I hooked up with?”
“Make something up,” I say, herding him toward the stairs.
“Maybe I’ll say I got with Miss Washington,” he says, pulling on his coat. “Not quite a lie.”
“As long as Miss Washington remains nameless, I really don’t care.”
“Hey.” Crosbie catches my arm before I can yank open the front door.
“What?”
“You really think he’s going to be more supportive of my magic?” He manages to keep a straight face for three whole seconds.
“Text him to say you’re alive,” I order, twisting the deadbolt.
“I will.” He catches my hand and backs me into the wall, holding my gaze as he lowers his head to kiss me, a couple soft swipes and the briefest touch of his tongue. And just like that, all my responsible composure threatens to crumble, ready to beg him to fuck me again, right here.
The shower shutting off puts an abrupt end to those thoughts, for both of us.
“I had a good time, Nora,” Crosbie says, opening the door.
“Me too.”
“And I want to do it again.”
If his reputation is true, Crosbie Lucas never wants to do anyone again.
“You do?”
“Yeah. Soon. After I have a fucking heart-to-heart with Mr. Sensitive up there.”
“Just text him.”
“I already did.”
I can hear Kellan moving around in the bathroom. “Crosbie, you have to go.”
“Give me your number.”
I rattle it off quickly, knowing he won’t remember.
“Got it,” he says. “Now c’mere. One more.” He taps his lips.
“Crosbie—”
But I don’t resist when he grips the front of my shirt and pulls me in for another kiss, even as the frigid air chills my legs and steals my breath.
“That’s just the warm up,” he says, finally releasing me. “I didn’t make you scream last night.” Oh God. Of course he’d focus on that.
I shove him out the door. “That’s because I’m not a porn star.”
He grins. “I bet I can get you to scream.”
“I’m very close to it right now.”
He laughs and jogs down the steps. “See you soon, Nora.”
*