by R. Cayden
I yawned and rotated my neck. “I should probably get to unloading the truck already, huh? Will it bother you if take care of that now?”
“Not at all. I’ll just be out here if you need me.”
“Sounds good. Glad you’ll be around this summer, Shawn.”
“Yeah,” Shawn answered quietly, then smiled. “Me too, Cass.”
Chapter Three
Shawn
“He’s hotter!” I declared as I threw my arms in the air. “He’s somehow magically even hotter than he used to be!”
I was pacing around the living room, unable to sit still while I video-chatted with Audrey over my laptop. Cass had gone to run errands about an hour earlier. After hiding in my bedroom all morning, I had a ton of energy to shake off.
“What kind of hot?” she asked. “Is he still the troubled, brooding type?”
“Exactly. His eyes are this dark, rich brown that I’ll never forget, just a shade darker than his hair. It’s like I get swept up every time I look in them. He’s a lot stronger than he used to be, and he’s all tatted up, with these chains and snakes on his arms.”
“Yum,” Audrey answered.
“But he looks just like high school, too,” I declared. “He has the same high cheekbones and the same long hair.” I glanced at the laptop. “He wears it tucked behind his ears, hanging down to his shoulders,” I tried to explain, like I could possibly capture what was so hot about Cass in words.
“I don’t know,” I sighed, then plopped down on the worn purple rug that filled the living room. I fixed the laptop so I could face Audrey. “It’s like he’s just perfectly chill all the time. Like everything is easy for him, and it makes it easy for you to be around him, too. It’s so nice, I almost forget I’m such a weirdo. But then he smiles at me, or he indulges me and acts like he cares about my telescope, and I just turn into a nervous fourteen-year-old kid all over again.”
“You’re not a nervous kid,” Audrey scolded, then sipped from her pink coffee mug. Home on her day off, the bookshelves behind her were filled with as many plants as books. “You’re delightful, Shawn. You’re a twinkling star, you know that.”
“Delightful!” I exclaimed. “Delightful is like pretty little pink cookies you dip in your tea or the ending of a really good cartoon. Delightful is not hot, Audrey.”
She frowned and tilted her head, sending a pile of curly hair cascading to the side. “I’m not sure about that.”
“At least he’s straight. That means nothing can happen, so hopefully, this whole thing will fade on its own.” Cass was my first crush, but since then, I’ve only ever been interested in queer men. I fell backward against the rug and sprawled my arms out. “At least I don’t have to torture myself over whether or not he thinks I’m cute.”
“What was the high school crush like?” she asked, and I leaned my head up to catch her raising her eyebrows. “Did you, like, pine over him every night and write about him in your star journal?”
I groaned loudly.
“Oh my god, you did!” she laughed.
“Not exactly,” I answered, sitting back up. “But maybe, a couple of times, I might have put a heart in my log on the days that I saw him.”
“I’m dying,” Audrey said, pointing at her face. Her cheeks were curled up in a comically wide grin. “Do you see this, Shawn? This is how happy I am to hear you express an actual romantic interest in a human being.”
“A straight man,” I complained. “And it’s not an actual interest. It’s a high school crush with a strange second life. Like the crush of the undead or something.”
“It’s a start,” she pointed out.
I grabbed the laptop and shuffled to the kitchen, tossing it on the counter. “He really did save my ass in high school, though. I couldn’t get a break that year, except for whenever Cass was around. He only had to shove a couple guys, and after that, it was like people knew I was his. Because he was always skipping school with Leo and smoking in the parking lot, I guess the other kids thought he was tough.”
“He sounds tough.”
I laughed and started to make myself a coffee. “Yeah, he kind of was. I didn’t really see him much outside of school. Mom wasn’t his biggest fan, considering she met him when he and Leo got picked up trying to buy beer. And the few times I was in the driveway when he dropped Leo off, they always had the music blasting so loud in the car, I couldn’t hear what they were saying anyway. I didn’t forget him after he graduated, though. I must have thought about him when I jerked off like a thousand times.”
Audrey laughed. “Wow. The many pornographic adventures of Shawn and Cass.”
I let out a puff of air. “I just need to stop thinking about all of that. We’re living together for the summer, and I need to not embarrass myself every day like I did last night.”
“I’m sure you didn’t embarrass yourself.”
“He found my framed picture of Carl Sagan. Like, immediately. And I tripped into his arms when we were saying goodnight.”
“Well, he’s already seen you at your dorkiest ten years ago, right? It doesn’t sound like he’s going to be judging you or anything.” She chuckled, then leaned back in the chair. “Poor Shawn. I’m sure you’ll adjust soon.”
I nodded, then turned to the stack of books, waiting on the end of the counter. “I hope so. This book isn’t going to write itself.”
While Cass was in town, I managed to relocate my working area. Even though the back of the house was pretty separate, I knew that I would be totally useless at writing in the dining room or living room with him there. I’d spend my afternoons staring at the door frame and worrying he was going to show up and catch me playing with my asteroids.
So to speak.
Instead, I transformed the landing at the top of the stairs, which was actually quite perfect. A high window looked out onto the sky, and Grandma’s old wooden vanity where she used to do her makeup made a perfect writing desk. With my research neatly stacked around me, I even preferred the spot to the downstairs.
Standing there, quite satisfied with myself, I heard the rumble of Cass’s truck, which drew me to the window. There was lumber sticking out the bed, and after Cass jumped out the driver’s seat, he casually grabbed a few of the long boards. Swinging them on his shoulder, he sauntered back toward the art studio.
My heart thumped. Now the image of his ass was seared into my mind, hugged tight by denim as he reached into the truck.
There was a flood of warmth behind my balls as I felt my cock stiffen. Whimpering, I adjusted my pants. I really, really wanted to walk into my bedroom and jerk off. Feeling like a teenager again, I knew it wouldn’t take me long to finish off.
But I needed to extinguish those thoughts as soon as possible. Cass was straight, and he was my roommate for the summer, and if I went and embarrassed myself in front of him, Leo would find out, too, and probably everyone else we had in common.
I took a big gulp from my water. Damn Leo. He used to tease me about having a crush, and now here he was a decade later, basically rubbing it in my face.
Turning to the desk, I managed to grit my teeth and write for a while. The words came slowly, and my attention went to the window anytime I heard a noise from the driveway, but I scribbled down some thoughts on the Orion Nebula anyway.
Soon enough, though, a banging noise from the direction of the art studio caught my attention. It wasn’t too loud in my workspace, but it wasn’t silent, either. There were a few quick bursts, then a stretch of quiet, and then a few more quick bursts.
I let out a slow breath. It wasn’t as bad as I expected, and it might even be possible to ignore it after a while.
A screech pierced the air, much louder than the banging. Rubbing my hands over my face, I grumbled, then headed down the stairs. The noise sounded about the same from the living room, and I wandered for a minute, pointing my ear in the direction of the studio and judging the volume in different parts of the house.
When I reached the kit
chen sink, the house went quiet. I stared out the window toward the back, listening for the racket to start up, but Cass emerged from behind the trees instead. His eyes went straight to the window, and he nodded his head back casually, greeting me.
“Damn it,” I whispered. He was going to think I’d been staring the whole time.
“Hey, Shawn,” Cass called from the back door. I smoothed down my T-shirt, then straightened my back as he walked into the kitchen. Sweat dotted his forehead, and the muscles on his biceps popped. “Was that too noisy up here at the house?”
“Oh no,” I answered quickly. “Not at all!”
Damn it.
A voice in the back of my brain, my voice, screamed that I should tell him the truth, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Like it would be uncool to complain about the noise or something.
“Great,” Cass answered. “Glad to hear it.”
A V of sweat darkened his black T-shirt. I took in a breath, and his pheromones hit me like a wave. I was instantly soaked through, the scent of musky sweat and dirt tingling me in just the right way.
I wanted to bury my face against his chest and taste him on my lips. More than wanted. It was a need, and I had to tighten my hands behind my back to get a grip on myself again.
“Are you going to work long today?” I asked.
“For a while, yeah,” he answered. “But since you’re here, maybe we could see how the drums sound? I hauled them to the studio this morning and found a place to set up. I can give them a quick bang, and you can let me know if it’s too loud?”
I nodded. “Sure, Cass.”
He pushed his hand through his hair, then headed back out. I stood at the window and watched him saunter across the yard, and a minute later, an even louder banging hit the house. The rhythm was fast and fun, almost light, but the shock of it made me jump.
Cass jogged back into the yard, then waved at me as I stood in the window. I pushed it open and stuck my head out.
“How’s it sound?” Cass hollered.
I gave him a thumbs up. “No problem!” I yelled.
He pointed at me. “Beautiful,” he hollered, his voice full and warm, then turned back around the bend to the studio.
When I pulled my head in, I considered running it under the cold water for a minute, just to see if that would snap me back to reality. What the hell was I thinking? Did I hope to impress him by my high noise tolerance or something?
I grabbed a half a sandwich I had left over from lunch, then headed back up to my desk.
Maybe I’d turn into a night owl. The nights were quiet, and that was the best time to see the stars anyway.
And if Cass was going to be all sweaty and hot on top of everything else, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out in the daylight anyway.
Chapter Four
Cass
The old art studio was exactly the kind of summer project I was looking for. There was one main room, with wall-sized windows that flooded the interior with light. Behind it, a second room hosted some storage and an old sink. Around the side, a narrow porch stretched out, and beyond it, the hill rolled gently into its decline. Leo and Shawn’s grandma hadn’t remodeled since the 1980s, as the wood-paneled walls and pink drum lampshades proved. But when I poked around the foundation and roof, it seemed in decent shape. With Leo’s vision of a guest house in mind, it was the perfect job to fill up a summer.
And with the view the Appalachian hills afforded me, I couldn’t imagine a better spot. The trees were so lush and green, the colors dazzled me, and bright wildflowers of all different kinds sprouted along the earth. The clean, refreshing air cleansed me with every breath, while birds called from the distance.
I’d worked carpentry on and off after high school, when I was still getting my start as a drummer, and it felt good to have the knowledge come back to my muscles. A couple of the short posts under the porch needed to be replaced, so I started there, measuring out the posts I’d grabbed in town and appreciating the warm sun as the day crept toward noon.
As I measured and marked the posts, I remembered those early days, happily working as a carpenter on small, local projects during the day and pulling in extra money playing shows on the weekends. After high school, I’d had a couple of crappy metal bands with friends, but that shit was just a way to pass the time, more joking around than anything else. When I moved to Nashville and answered an ad on a gut instinct, though, I’d picked up a paying gig in the house band at a dive bar. A couple years after that, when the lead singer of Twice Shattered caught me on stage, I got invited to join the band. Our hyped-up blend of punk and metal was popular with some Nashville crowds, and before I knew it, we picked up enough regular gigs to pay my rent.
I hauled a post over to the porch, then dropped it with a bang. I sure felt like I was living my dream back in Nashville. It was just too bad the rest of Twice Shattered couldn’t feel the same way.
Grunting, I warmed up the circular saw, anchored the post, and carefully sliced off the end, the blade whirring and screaming the whole time.
It wasn’t even worth it to be mad at Mario and June. Twice Shattered was their band to start with. If they wanted to try to go big and sell out, I wasn’t going to stand in their way.
But that’s exactly what they had decided. Live music at local venues wasn’t going to cut it for them. They wanted radio hits and world tours, the whole rock star experience. And they invited me to come along for the ride, too.
I just didn’t want to play that game myself. Living by someone else’s schedule, playing music the label says you should play, and all that without any sort of guarantee you’d even go anywhere. Even after signing, most bands just flatlined anyway. That life wasn’t me, and I never really was able to pretend to care about bullshit I didn’t actually care about.
It was my best and worst quality, I thought, part of the reason I was always such a loner. The only problem was this time, it had cost me a job because the second I told Twice Shattered my decision, they’d cut me off from all the upcoming gigs, saying they needed to find a replacement who was going to stick around.
Hauling some more tools from the truck a minute later, my thoughts drifted from the band to Monica. She hated that I had left Twice Shattered. She already thought I was a drifter without any real goals, and maybe she was right. Maybe I should have been more ambitious, but that didn’t give her the right to kick me when I was down. And some of the things she said about me, they were just cruel.
Lazy bastard. Spineless. Good for nothing.
I could still hear her cursing me out that last night, both of us drunk as skunks.
The fight didn’t really matter. We’d been together for a little over a year, but Monica had never approved of me, not really. She always just wanted me to be someone else, the drummer god of her fantasies.
I dropped a crate of tools onto the porch with a grunt. Monica had tried calling me a couple of times the night before, and in the light of day, I decided I owed her a call back. We didn’t end on a good note, but we had given a year of our lives to each other. I grabbed my phone, then squatted at the edge of the porch as I looked over the lush green hillsides.
“Cass, I didn’t know if I’d hear from you. Thought you might have drifted away already.”
I brushed over the comment. “How’s the salon?”
“Busy,” she answered. “I’ve got more regulars than I can handle all of a sudden.” Monica and her best friend co-owned a hair salon that was popular with some of our music scene.
“That’s good,” I said, bouncing in my squat. “The business is growing even faster than you expected.”
She sighed. “Thanks, but I’m not calling to catch up, Cass. I wanted to give you some news before you heard it another way.”
All my muscles tensed as I stood, my brain on high alert. “What’s up?”
“Twice Shattered signed a contract a couple of days ago. The official announcement is coming this week, but the label is all in, Cass.
”
“All in?”
“Major publicity budget, big tour, and lots of zeros.”
“Oh,” I said, blinking. “Well, good for them.”
It took a minute to fully hit. Monica filled me in on some of the details and let me know that Mario and June would be leaving town in a month and bringing the rest of the band with them.
But then, slowly, I started to fill in the blanks. With the contract they’d been offered, they weren’t going to struggle for years playing the studio game. Twice Shattered wouldn’t have to go on shitty, underfunded tour after shitty, underfunded tour, playing empty venues and scrapping by on even less than they had now.
If the label had chosen to invest in them, they were going to be loaded. Set for life, probably, and treated like royalty on the way.
And I could have been right there. I could have had it all, the dream that everyone else strived for, if only I had wanted it.
I could have been fucking rich.
“Cass, you there?” Monica asked.
“Yeah, sorry,” I grunted. “Just taking it in.”
“You could try to go back, you know. Mario and June would almost definitely take you. You’re one of the best drummers I’ve ever heard.”
“No,” I answered quickly. “That’s fine. I made my decisions already.”
“Typical Cass,” she sighed. “Just doing your thing, totally unbothered by the rest of us. How’s Kentucky, by the way?”
“Good,” I answered, turning my eyes back to the old studio as I ignored her comment. After how bad her words had stung me when we broke up, I didn’t fucking feel unbothered. “Should be a nice summer. Leo’s little brother is here, too, so you don’t even have to worry about me being alone.”
We did our best to play nice and catch up for a few more minutes, and after Monica said goodbye, I headed straight for my drumsticks. She was right that I was always happier when I was doing my own thing, but still, the news rattled me. Here I was with no plan for my future, drifting like Monica warned me I would.
