Fault Lines Box Set

Chapter 6-2

This spot wasn’t really a club; it was more like a reconditioned barn. From the looks of things, the rollaway bins of ice and beer and the mobile lighting, the convenors probably just rented the space whenever they needed it. It might not have even been legal. It looked safe, though, and as long as the cops didn’t show up, Rory was content to stay. Besides, the floor show was great.

Rory had no doubt that Danny knew exactly how hot he looked on the dance floor. The way Danny slid his hips was sinful. His hair followed every one of his movements, slipping fluidly along his back and over his shoulders and he danced without any sense of awkwardness or self-consciousness. When a tall redhead leaned in and spoke into Danny’s ear, Danny nodded and stepped off the dance floor with him. Danny looked down the bar, his face breaking into a grin when he saw Rory. Danny poked the redhead, pointed at Rory, and the two walked over. Rory returned Danny’s smile as Danny stole his beer and took a long drink from it. Then Danny leaned into Rory’s ear and shouted. “We’re going out for a smoke.”

Rory snuck a peek at Danny’s friend, who was flagging down the bartender. “You don’t smoke.”

Danny leaned back up to Rory’s ear, cupping his hand so he could be heard above the music. “Not that kind of smoke, dumb ass. Come with?” He faked a pout when Rory shook his head, and once again went through the elaborate process of trying to talk. “Please. Just come out and hang with us. I need someone to protect me from the bears and the rapists.”

The redhead had managed to get a drink and stood patiently beside Danny while Rory drained his beer. He followed them through the doorway and into the night.

The music faded when the doors closed behind them, and even though faint renderings of the steady beat could be heard, the outside area was calm and mostly quiet. As Danny and his friend lit up, Rory lifted his head and watched the stars blink, the clouds pass, and the earth spin. It was a complete mood changer, and by the time Danny took a final drag on the tiny smoke and handed the nub to his friend to be extinguished and reintroduced to the plastic bag it had come from, Rory felt stoned on Mother Nature.

Danny looked at Rory. “I’ve got to pee. Got my back?”

“Always,” Rory confirmed. He watched Danny walk toward the back fence, then turned to the redhead. “Since Danny hasn’t introduced us, I’m Rory.”

The young man tossed him a look that bordered somewhere between utter disdain and curiosity. “Yeah, I know. I’m Scott.” There was ice in his tone and Rory didn’t think he was going to say anything else, but after a long pause, Scott said, “So, are you guys dating? Or what?”

Rory met Scott’s gaze. “We’re friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Scott gave him another ugly look. “Does Danny know that?”

Rory didn’t let Scott’s expression force him into breaking eye contact. “You might be surprised about what Danny knows about me.”

Another heavy silence fell before Scott spoke again. “He’s a nice guy, you know.”

“I do know, yes.”

They both heard Danny’s footsteps at the same time, and although Rory turned to the sound, Scott used the seconds left to him to speak quickly. “All I’m saying is, I’d hate to see him get hurt. Sometimes Danny doesn’t always think of Danny first. You know what I mean?” He turned and quickly walked back to the building.

There, his inner voice nagged. Finally, someone else said it. You’re taking advantage of this…this thing you have going with Danny, and you damn well know you are.

Danny was humming to himself when he stepped into the light of the entrance. “I think I pissed on my…” He looked up, his comment fading. “Hey, where’s Scott?”

Rory nodded at the door. “Back in.”

“Oh?” Danny frowned. “Let’s go see…”

Rory shook his head. “I’m going to go.”

Danny’s expression fell. ““What? No! It’s barely eleven yet.”

He almost reached out to brush Danny’s face with his fingers. He hated to see the smile gone—a grin belonged on that mouth—but he fought the urge by clenching his fists and holding them in place at his sides. “Still. Gabe could come back any time. Besides, I’m an old man and it’s been a long week.” He faked a smile. “I’m beat.” He moved away before his heart could stop him and went down the driveway to the road. Danny’s apartment wasn’t far, so he didn’t figure he’d get too lost doing it on his own, but as he heard footfalls come up behind him, he didn’t figure he’d have to.

Danny fell in step alongside. “It was Scott, wasn’t it?” Danny looked over, trying to read Rory’s expression. “I’m going to f*****g kill him!”

Rory paused at the cross street, unsure of which direction to take. He followed Danny’s lead when Danny went left. “He sounds like he’s a very good friend.”

“Just a friend!” Danny said quickly.

Rory shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. And I of all people would have no right to ask you that or be offended either way. What I meant was that he seems very concerned for you. For all the right reasons.”

They took another left, then a right at a stop sign that looked like it had been sprayed with buckshot, and the area began to look familiar. When Rory stopped at his car, Danny didn’t look at him. “You better come up,” Danny mumbled. “Unless you want to explain where you got the new clothes.”

Biting back a sigh, Rory turned to follow Danny up the stairs, keeping his eyes on his feet as they ascended. He stood behind Danny as Danny reached up to the ledge above the door and took down a key. While Danny fumbled with the lock, Rory resisted the urge to reach out and undo the ribbon in Danny’s hair. He wondered if the hair, so sleek and straight, would slide out and curtain at the sides of Danny’s face. Or if it would, instead, uncoil slowly from the tight little ropes into which it had been spun and hang in long ringlets at each ear. Not reaching for it, once the thought had seeded in Rory’s mind, was torturous. Relief flooded him when Danny finally pushed the door free and swung it open.

Danny didn’t turn on the lights. Instead, he grabbed the converter and lit the space with the television screen. While Danny stood and flipped through stations, Rory shed himself of Danny’s jacket. He stopped himself at the shirt. Normally he would have just traded the two shirts right there in the living room, but under the circumstances, he felt uncomfortable. He opted for the bathroom and tried to ignore the poster of s***h, convinced that s***h would be glaring at him, even behind the sunglasses. He pulled off Danny’s T-shirt and laid it on the sink, then slipped his own over his head, disappointed with the difference in scent. Rory looked in the mirror, tugging at his shirt, verifying that all thirty-three appropriate years were back on his shoulders and sitting in the right places—and he wanted to weep at his reflection. It wasn’t fair. His boring clothes, his stupid life, and this outrageous thing that he’d let himself get into. So unfair. Rory drew in a deep breath and turned toward the door, where he came face to face with Danny.

“My friends have no say in my life, you know.” Danny had unwound his hair and Rory noted that, as expected, the two pieces once twisted and fastened now hung in two tight whirls. Danny had tucked them behind his ears, and they hung over his shoulders like long ribbon curls. “As a matter of fact, last time I checked, being twenty-one pretty well means that I make my own choices.” He lifted one hand and began counting on the fingers. “I can buy my own booze, I can have my own bank account, I can join the army, get married.” He paused at the last finger. “I could even become the Western world’s next best porn star if I wanted to.”

Rory smiled sadly. “Then why do I feel like such a schmuck? I mean, we haven’t even really done anything, but I’m standing here feeling like I’m dragging you into a life of debauchery.”

Danny stepped into the bathroom. “Because you’re tired. And you’re burned out. And your novel sucks and your boyfriend is a d**k. Because you hate this town, and you hate your life here, and you miss your old friends.” Danny took Rory’s hand. He put it on his hip and moved closer. “But the thing is, none of that has anything to do with us, does it?”

Danny’s lips, when he pressed them against Rory’s mouth, felt like a blessing from a saint. Rory’s tension slid away, falling from his lips and sliding through him until Rory could imagine it dripping out his fingertips and toes, to shatter on the tile floor. Rory pulled Danny closer. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t try to make my choices for me. I know what I’m doing. I’m not a baby.”

Rory didn’t know what to do. It was true that he hated the idea of hurting Danny, but he wasn’t ready to say that he hated the idea more than he hated the idea of losing everything he had with Gabe: the house, the retirement funds, even the stupid furniture. He did know, however, that when he looked into Danny’s eyes and held Danny’s body so close, he felt powerless against the feelings that rose inside him. Was that enough of a reason to keep coming by—to keep wondering if maybe, just maybe, they might allow something more to happen?

Danny pulled away, tugging Rory’s hand. “Ugh, enough of this. Come with me. I want to show you something.”

He was led through the apartment, paused at the door of the bedroom to side-eye Danny, but let himself get pulled into it. However, he stopped at the window when Danny pointed through it. “Yeah, no, I’m not going out there.”

“Trust me.” Danny climbed through the window himself, then peered back. “It’s safe. I do it all the time.”

Rory was not a big fan of heights. The existence of Ferris wheels and the Eiffel tower were fine, as long they stayed well away from him, thank you very much. However, things like bungee jumping and roller coasters could go f**k themselves regardless of whether they wanted his participation or not. So, watching Danny scramble on to the little sloping roof outside his bedroom window made Rory nauseous.

Danny held out his hand. “Come on, you can do it.”

Of course, looking like a baby in front of Danny was also out of the question. So, as much as he hated himself for doing it, Rory reached out, grabbed Danny’s hand, and climbed through the window. And the moment Rory set both feet on the slick, gravelly shingles and tried to straighten, he slipped. He only slipped about one-fifth of an inch, but it was enough for his heart to go flying to his throat and his balls to shoot into his stomach. He shrieked.