by Kaye Draper
“I’ll call for pizza.” Grey bounced off to the kitchen in search of the menu for the local pizza joint. The guy always seemed so quiet and serious in public, but when they were alone, he was different, lighthearted and full of life. Deep in his secret, possessive black heart, Luca loved the thought that he might be the only one who saw this playful, relaxed side of the prickly guy.
Luca stood, but he hesitated a moment before following the singer into the kitchen. He needed to stop hanging out alone with Grey. Sooner or later, he was going to do something stupid, like he had at the dojo. But the thought of not being with Grey made Luca cringe. It was more than a physical thing, this stupid attraction. He needed Grey, wanted to be near him all the time. It didn’t matter if he was the wrong gender or whatever. He was…Grey.
Luca shook himself and headed into the kitchen. It didn’t matter what Luca wanted. Grey wanted Cameron, would be good for Cameron. And all that weirdness aside—if Luca got involved with Grey, he’d have to tell him everything. And if Grey found out Luca wasn’t even human…he might want nothing to do with him. Luca couldn’t screw this up.
Chapter 17
Grey sat at his ugly ergonomic desk in the lecture hall, trying to pay attention to the sonorous tones of Professor Whitley’s lecture on the origins of classical music theory. The class was a general one, and he was starting to think it had been a waste of money—if he didn’t start focusing pretty soon, he might as well not even attend.
He scribbled curlicues around the corner of his notebook, his mind drifting. As usual, it skipped right over the topic at hand and landed on Luca. He sketched a pair of stormy eyes on his paper, then hastily scribbled the picture out when he realized what he was doing. Geez. Pull it together, Grey. Focus. Something about minor scales.
He surreptitiously glanced to the right, his eyes finding Luca’s broad back a couple of rows in front of him. The guitarist’s dark head was bent as he wrote something down in his notebook. He didn’t seem to be having any trouble focusing. He wasn’t looking around, staring at people. Of course he wasn’t. The whole room was filled with guys. What would he be looking at?
A rush of frustration hit Grey. He wanted Luca to look. He wanted Luca to be so intensely aware of Grey’s presence behind him that it drove him crazy. He wanted Luca to be as confused and lovesick as he was himself. Yep…he was an idiot.
There was a rushing sound in Grey’s ears, like the sound of ocean waves. Luca sat up and looked over his shoulder, a bemused expression on his handsome face. The sound intensified, drowning out the teacher’s rambling and all the other sounds in the room. Luca's storm-cloud-blue eyes met Grey’s and locked there for a moment, his lean jaw flexing as he clenched his teeth. Then he turned back to his notebook and continued his furious scribbling.
Grey shook his head and put a finger in his ear, wiggling his jaw. He hoped like hell he wasn’t coming down with something. That was the last thing he needed—to be sick on top of everything else. The guy in the seat next to him was staring. Grey took his finger out of his ear, gave him a cracked smile, and faced front, pretending to listen to the lecture.
The rushing sound slowly faded. Maybe Grey was finally going crazy. He had suspected for some time now that he might actually go insane one day, pushed to the edge by all the crap that had happened over the past few years. Apparently, this was it. He had a hard time mustering up the energy to care.
He met up with Luca as the class trickled out of the lecture hall. “Hey,” he said calmly. I think I love you, his traitorous brain continued.
What? Oh God, someone kill me now.
Luca glanced at him, and his face lit up. “Oh! Hey, you’ve got to see this!” He pulled Grey aside and took out his notebook. “I wrote a song while we were in class.” We’re bandmates. Grey reminded himself. Good friends. Nothing more. My hormones are going haywire. It’s a morph thing. He’s trying to pawn me off on his brother anyway.
Grey shifted his backpack onto his shoulder and took the notebook. His eyes skimmed the page. “This is…wow, Luca this is really cool.” Beautiful, he meant. It was achingly beautiful. But a guy wouldn’t say it that way. It was a ballad. Grey could almost hear it as he read the emotion-filled lyrics. It was a love song, but a tortured one, about broken dreams and unrequited love.
Grey looked up into Luca’s face and saw it written there, the longing, pain, and frustration of a broken heart. Oh. He must have been thinking of his ex, Christine, when he wrote it.
“That girl was an idiot to just walk away from you like that,” Grey said fiercely, then winked in an attempt to lighten the mood. “But she is going to make Lucifer famous if you keep writing stuff like this.”
Luca rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the ground. “What? It’s not--” A guy bumped into them on his way out, and they moved on down the hall to avoid getting run over.
Grey had embarrassed Luca. What guy would want to stand around and talk about how he'd just spilled his guts over a girl? He took pity on the poor guy and changed the subject. “I think I’m going to stop over at the clinic and have them check me out. I might be late for practice tonight.” He was getting a dull headache, and he felt exhausted all of the sudden.
Luca reached out and brushed a hand over Grey’s forehead, his expression concerned. If I were a girl, Grey thought, I would take his hand and plant a kiss in his palm like some cheesy romance movie, thank him for being worried about me, and flirt for all I was worth. He stared up into Luca’s dark blue eyes…and smelled the distinct, briny scent of the ocean.
Right. As if Grey knew the first thing about flirting.
Grey backed away, his head pounding. “I’ve gotta go,” he mumbled. “I…” think I might be hallucinating. “I don’t feel too good.”
Luca frowned. “I’ll drive you,” he said firmly.
Grey shook his head. “I’m not some helpless maiden in distress. I can make it down the street to the doctor’s office.” He rolled his eyes.
Luca didn’t look amused. A deep line had appeared between his brows. “Just call me if…if something weird comes up and you need to miss practice. The guys will understand,” he called as Grey hurried away.
Grey felt ill. His feet carried him across the small, leaf-strew campus and down the street toward the clinic. Joy wouldn’t be there today, since she only came for the study. The woman was on the mainland right now, probably just getting of work. Maybe going on a date or out with a group of girls. Like a normal female.
The breeze ruffled Grey’s hair as he stumbled along, bringing with it the scent of the chilled sea and the call of a gull. The news this morning had said something about the unseasonable cold disrupting the sea life around the island. Some species seemed to be migrating out of the area earlier than usual in search of warmer climes. Grey let the biology major in him focus on migration patterns and climate change, rather than his own messed up life.
He lifted his face to the sky and breathed deeply. His head seemed to be clearing a little. Maybe he didn’t need to go to the clinic, after all. He glanced down to make his way around a puddle of rainwater that stretched across the sidewalk. As he stepped over it, he sucked in a quick breath. There was a face staring back at him from the water—and it wasn't his reflection. Both feet on firm ground, he glanced back from the other side of the puddle, but there was nothing there. The breeze lifted his hair again and a whisper of high, bubbling laughter drifted to him. The sidewalk was deserted.
Grey sped up. Maybe he did need to go to the clinic after all.
About a half an hour later, the doctor sat there frowning at Grey’s chart. He was stumped, not that he was ever going to admit it. Grey felt fine now, despite the doctor’s insistence that with his low body temperature, he should technically be in shock.
Grey had refused the CT scan the doctor had ordered when he heard Grey had a bad headache and might have been hallucinating. Grey was starting to think there was something going on here that medicine couldn’t explain. Maybe somethin
g to do with whatever science or black magic had caused The Change.
The doctor sighed. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what is causing this low temperature.” He narrowed his eyes at Grey, as if his patient was withholding information. Maybe he thought it was some sort of prank. “None of my other patients with your condition have these particular symptoms.”
Grey shrugged. He could tell by the way the doctor said the word “condition” that he didn’t like morphs. It had been a mistake to let him access Grey's full medical history. “Maybe it’s just stress,” Grey said calmly. “I feel much better now. I think I was just freaking out about the big exam coming up.”
There was no exam. He was just done here. He stood and grabbed his coat. “Sorry to waste your time.”
The doctor looked up, surprised. “I really think you should have the CT done, Mr. Thorne, but I can’t force you to follow my advice.”
Grey nodded and left the exam room. The doc was right. It was Grey’s decision.
He made his way back home, confused. There was a pull, like something tugging at his insides, when he crossed the street and lost sight of the ocean. It was a wrenching sensation that made him feel like something was about to burst out of him—like that guy in the Aliens movie.
Chapter 18
When he got home, Grey peeled off his coat and sneakers. Then he flopped face down on the couch, immensely glad his father wasn’t home. His dad was staying on the other side of the island tonight, negotiating some business deal like the good old days. Grey sighed and sank into the quiet.
It wasn’t five minutes before someone was pounding on the freaking door. He levered himself up off the couch and dragged himself to the kitchen. He felt fine now, but he was exhausted to the point of stumbling, and the noise went right through his head like he had the world’s worst hangover.
He opened the door to find Luca there, his stormy eyes filled with concern.
“You never called to let me know what was going on,” he said as he came in. “I was worried.” He sounded like a fussy mother hen.
Grey laughed at him and Luca frowned. “What?” His deep voice was petulant.
Grey yawned. “Nothing. I’m fine. Just stress, probably.”
Luca narrowed his eyes at Grey, and he knew the guitarist wasn’t buying it. “Okay,” Luca said slowly, obviously unconvinced.
Grey flopped back down on the couch while Luca rummaged around the kitchen and made him dinner. He had to admit he was lucky Luca had shown up, because otherwise he’d probably have woken up in the wee hours of the night ravenously hungry and confused. About a quarter of an hour later Grey was polishing off the remains of a mile-high toasted sandwich. He hadn't realized just how hungry he had been.
Luca brushed off Grey's attempts to send him home, and before Grey knew it, they were lounging on the couch watching Accidental Spy. The last thing Grey remembered before he lost consciousness was the sound of Luca's deep chuckle at Jackie Chan’s naked street fight scene.
Grey jerked awake, confused by the lingering shreds of some vague nightmare. He slowly realized that his head was pillowed on Luca’s thigh. He sat up self-consciously, darting a glance at Luca. The other guy was sound asleep, his head thrown back against the couch. A shock of black hair had fallen across his forehead. Grey drank him in, guiltily giving himself license to enjoy the view. Luca's high cheekbones and strong jaw looked softer in sleep, as if the gentleness in him was shining through. His wide mouth begged to be kissed. Grey wondered, not for the first time, if his lips were as soft as they looked. A strange sound came from the TV, and he dragged his eyes away from Luca.
The movie had long since ended, and some mockumentary had taken its place. A sketch of a mermaid was displayed on the screen. A supposed history buff yammered on about mermaids, sirens, and other mythical creatures that were often associated with island locations.
Grey had always had a mild fascination with mythical sea creatures. The inner geek in him, he supposed. A sketch of a siren flashed on the screen, long, clawed hands and red eyes peering out from behind tendrils of seaweed-like hair.
Luca sighed and pulled his long legs up, falling sideways to sprawl across the couch, still sound asleep. He curled around Grey unconsciously, shoving him to the edge of the couch. Grey smiled at Luca’s ability to sleep anywhere. He slipped to the floor and sat with his back against the couch, idly rubbing his cheek to get rid of the textured patch left by sleeping against Luca’s jeans. He stared sleepily at the TV where the show, Monster or Myth, had come on while they napped.
Grey had to question the motivation behind luring sailors to their death by singing to them. What was the point? The legends about sea folk had never made sense to him, but living on the island, he had been bombarded with stories about the mythical denizens of the sea ever since he could remember. His mother read him stories about the sea when he was little. She had loved The Little Mermaid—but not the Disney version. No, his mother insisted that Grey hear the original story. The one where the poor mermaid got turned to seafoam at the end thanks to her unfaithful human boy toy. Most fairytales didn’t have happy endings.
Something touched Grey's hair and he turned his head to find Luca’s dark blue gaze regarding him from a few inches away. “So soft,” Luca sighed, drawing his fingers through a curl again. His deep blue eyes were heavy-lidded, and Grey doubted that Luca was really awake. He steeled himself not to overreact.
Grey smoothed his hair down and tried for a casual, you’re crazy type of tone. “What?”
Luca closed his eyes again, his long, graceful guitarist’s fingers falling heavy on Grey’s shoulder. Grey shook his head, exasperated. Luca wasn’t like other guys. He said and did the strangest things sometimes. Grey wiggled free of that warm hand, then stood. He pulled the old afghan off the back of the couch and draped it over Luca, pausing to tuck in the outstretched hand. He was surprised when Luca’s hand slipped from his, skimming up his arm and around his shoulder, as if he would pull him close.
“…love you.” His voice was a whisper, his eyes still closed.
Grey looked down at Luca, and his chest clenched at the look on the guy’s face. He's dreaming about Christine, Grey thought. He had never seen such a look of intense, painful longing on Luca's good-natured face.
Without thinking, Grey brushed the silky hair back from Luca’s brow. Luca's arm slipped to Grey’s waist, drawing him closer in his sleep, and Grey moved with it, leaning in to kiss his forehead. It was a soft, glancing touch, an unthinking gesture. Grey told himself that he would have done the same for anyone in pain. He was surprised when he drew back and found Luca looking at him with wide, alert blue eyes.
Grey jumped to his feet as if he’d been stung, mumbled something about going in to work late to help with inventory, and scrambled out the door.
Outside, he leaned against the trailer door, his coat clutched in his hand, oblivious to the cold as he berated himself. What the hell was wrong with him? Was he hell-bent on losing one of his precious few friends? And after Luca had been so encouraging with the whole Cameron thing. Clearly, he wasn’t interested in Grey himself. Grey stuffed his hands in his pockets and hurried down the street, hoping Luca had woken up after he freaking kissed him. Maybe he would just excuse Grey’s odd behavior as morph mood swings or something. All that feminine need to nurture or some shit.
A seagull dive-bombed him as he neared the end of the street and Grey cursed, his heart pounding. “What is with you freaking birds?” he demanded of the plump gray body that went winging away toward the ocean.
Chapter 19
The next day at practice, Grey managed to avoid Luca’s questioning gaze, and he was relieved when the guitarist seemed to shrug off the whole weird encounter and treat him the same as always. They had enough to worry about with the upcoming performance—the first since Grey’s addition to the band—without adding to the mix.
The day of the concert, Grey watched the other guys while the stylist poked and prodded him.
Royson and George had insisted that the guys make use of “professional help,” for their first gig with their new lead singer. Mat took the whole thing with a sort of stoic forbearance. Ethan watched the girl doing his hair like she was a unicorn. And Luca kept refusing to let his stylist touch his hair. Grey smirked at that one. The guitarist put up with the eyeliner, but this was where he drew the line?
Grey’s own stylist was a guy named Brian. He was medium build with warm brown skin, spiky brown hair and way too many accessories. He pinned Grey’s hair back and started sponging foundation on his cheeks, bracelets clinking away merrily as he worked. His soft golden-brown eyes met Grey’s in the mirror. “Your bandmates are going to give my little minions a workout,” he said with a grin.
Grey smiled back. Brian was the one in charge of the beautification process. The other two were just his flunkies, interns working for free. “Sorry,” Grey said, without a lot of feeling.
Brian winked. “I was smart to choose the newbie.”
He moved on to powder and Grey shut his eyes. It was strange. The whole process of applying makeup was familiar, and yet unfamiliar at the same time. He had never felt these particular sensations on this particular face. He opened his eyes when the stylist put the brush down and hurried over to his niece—a pretty girl with a temporary pass to train with her uncle, and who was currently making an absolute mess of Ethan’s baby-fine hair. “Tut, tut! He’s an up-and-coming idol sweetheart, not a drunken clown!”
Grey laughed. Ethan didn’t seem to care what she did to his hair, so long as the lone woman's attention was fixed solely on him. Normally, Grey would just chalk it up to horn-dog tendencies, but that look in Ethan’s eyes wasn’t lust. It was softer, something wistful that Grey didn’t understand, but that made him want to go to the drummer and pull him into a big, crushing hug. Brian came back to Grey, clucking and fussing. He picked up the liquid eyeliner, his eyes still on the other two.
