Seeing his parole officer because of previous murders or larceny.
Getting tested for a rare, incurable disease.
Visiting his ex.
Teddy was almost thankful when his phone beeped to remind him of his exercises. It was old hat now, nudging the coffee table out of the way so he could spread out on the padding of his area rug. He was sore, and a few repetitions made him hiss, but nothing concerning, just routine.
That was aggravating sometimes, too, the monotony of it. As a dancer, monotony was expected with exercises and warm-ups, but at least in ballet, modern dance, ballroom, everything Teddy had thrived on in his younger days, the most mundane of moves could still transform into something beautiful.
Rolling back onto his feet, Teddy wondered if he could try a few old moves, nothing insane, no extending his leg over his head, just a simple spin, a relevé, a sauté.
He stepped off the rug onto his laminate, sock-clad feet helping him slide smoothly.
Plié, step, spin.
Easy.
Plié, relevé, plié.
A slight twinge, but Teddy pressed on.
Plié, relevé, plié, sauté—
Teddy’s hip seized at the tightening of his muscles to launch upward off his toes, and he barely stopped himself from falling when he landed.
Fuck. His pride and his hip had taken a hit. He knew better, but those were the easy moves, the basics. It was like a singer losing their voice, incomplete when they could no longer do what they were born for.
Lowering himself back to the floor, Teddy lay down on the rug again to give his hip a reprieve. He was so sick of only being able to do the same moves over and over, but he was even sicker of being frustrated. He’d originally been annoyed when Finn appeared in his life, but now he longed for that distraction, because with Finn, during their appointments, the repetitive nature of the exercises didn’t seem as mind-numbing, not with long fingers alighting at Teddy’s hips or gently supporting his back.
Teddy hummed thinking about it and stretched out more comfortably. Finn’s fingers were nice to imagine anywhere.
Then he pictured them curling around the hips of someone else, and a spike of jealousy tore through him.
Finn had an ex. A long-term ex, which Teddy might not even have given a second thought to if Finn wasn’t tending to something secretive today that couldn’t be anything good or it wouldn’t have been accompanied by sympathetic looks.
“Mrrow?” Smudge voiced something akin to a real meow for once.
Teddy looked down his body to watch the cat curiously approach and proceed to walk right onto his chest to sit on his sternum.
“Do you mind?”
A more plaintive squeak replied.
“I’m fine. Just thinking.”
Smudge flicked his tail.
“I’m not fixating. If Finn does have unfinished business with his ex, that’s none of my business. Rose said he wanted to be alone today, so it might not even be that.”
It could be worse.
Maybe Teddy should cancel their date tomorrow. He was supposed to be easing into retirement, not stressing over a man he probably shouldn’t even be pursuing.
He’d really liked that kiss, though, and it had been so chaste, so promising of what a deeper kiss might feel like.
Teddy’s phone rang on the coffee table, and Smudge dutifully chirped at him, trotting off his chest but staying close so Teddy could pet him before answering the call.
“Hello?”
“You get laid yet?”
Rick.
After extracting himself from the floor, Teddy headed for the kitchen to get a glass of water—and to give Smudge, following at his heels, some treats. “Any groans you hear are only my old bones creaking.”
“Come on, Erina told me about the pretty thing next door who helps with your stretches.”
Teddy winced at the innuendo, much as he’d been fantasizing about that. “She would have just landed.”
“Pfft, told me over Facebook while she was still on the plane.”
“She—”
“Messenger, privately, relax.”
One thing Teddy could count on about his sister and best friend was that they had perfected the art of teaming up against him.
“Is that Teddy?” a distant voice asked—Rick’s husband, Dan. He came across louder as he stole the phone. “How are you? I made cupcakes. I should send you some for you and your friend. They’re gluten free!”
He always said that like it was a treat.
“I hate to break it to you, Daniel, but the local bakery may give you a run for your money.”
A gasp replied. “What a mean thing to say.”
Teddy smiled. Dan was so easy to tease. It made him miss his friends with a warm ache.
“If you’re going to cheat on my husband’s cupcakes,” Rick said, snatching the phone back, “at least get laid too.”
“Those things are usually mutually exclusive.”
“Not the way we do it.”
Dan laughed in the background and audibly smacked Rick’s shoulder.
“I’m taking things slow,” Teddy said, leaning over gingerly to drop Smudge’s treats to the floor without further aggravating his hip, then continued to the fridge to get his water pitcher.
“What the hell for?” Rick barked.
“There might be… unexpected baggage.”
“Besides yours?”
“Mine is expected.”
“So what? Unless it’s not just sex you’re after.”
Teddy paused to pour his water.
“Teddy,” Rick pressed. “You like this kid?”
“He’s not a kid. He’s—”
“Shit, that was fast.”
“I—”
“Good for you, pal. Even more reason not to waste time.”
“How you figure?”
“Not like we have much time at our age.”
Teddy would have scowled and told Rick to shove it if Dan’s muted voice hadn’t said, “You’re going to live forever, shush!”
They were disgustingly cute, and Teddy hated them a little for it.
“Age is why I have to move slow,” he said, “in more ways than one.”
“Hey, you left the city coz you didn’t want to sit around counting your shoulda, coulda, wouldas, scowling from the rafters of the theater like the freaking Phantom. Don’t start adding up regrets with a beach view. Your hip is an obstacle, not an excuse.”
The more serious tone Rick had taken on brought Teddy back to years’ worth of advice they’d given each other, which tended to amount to that same phrase, whether it was Teddy complaining about a difficult dance move or argumentative student, or Rick struggling with a scene from one of his plays.
Obstacles weren’t excuses, they were something to overcome.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I am. You like this neighbor boy? You go get him.”
If only everything in Teddy’s life could be fixed that easily. “We have a date tomorrow. I promise, no matter how tempted I may be, I won’t cancel.”
“There ya go. And we want to hear all the sexy details after.”
Dan laughed again, then came across the line louder as he called, “Bye, Teddy! We miss you!”
“Send cupcakes and I’ll miss you a little more,” Teddy said, but he couldn’t be upset over their meddling any more than he was upset about Erina’s.
A QUIET night would have been nice if he wasn’t itching to call Finn, while knowing how desperate and ridiculous that was. Finn was busy, unavailable, even if Teddy didn’t know why.
The sun had long since set, and he was debating going outside to read on his cushy new beach chair when he saw a figure running near the water just down from his house.
Teddy didn’t need stupid teenagers or some cat burglar upsetting his night. Only most burglars didn’t have fluffy white shadows following them.
It was Nora, which meant the tall figure in the dark had to be Finn. What
on earth was he doing?
Opening the sliding glass door and stepping out onto the patio, Teddy struggled to get a better look at his neighbor, who was seemingly running back and forth along the beach—at night, in the dark, playing with his dog.
Teddy could only stand there staring, until Smudge snapped him to attention by rubbing against his legs. He hadn’t let Smudge outside before, but judging by the way the cat walked to the edge of the patio, tested his paw on the sand, and recoiled, Teddy wasn’t worried about him wandering off.
“Teddy!” Finn noticed him, running full tilt out of the shadows, huffing and awkward-looking until he stumbled into the light.
He was drunk, so obviously so that his shirt was misbuttoned, like he hadn’t been wearing one until he decided on his evening beach frolic and threw it on with jittery fingers.
“You look about three sheets gone,” Teddy said, stepping off the patio next to his chair.
“Yep!” Finn called cheerily, laughing as he flailed with imbalance and toppled over onto the sand.
Mrs. Thompkins was sure to yell at them in her dressing gown if he wasn’t careful.
Reaching out to help Finn up, Teddy feared Finn would yank him down into the sand with him when he grasped his hand. Thankfully, even sloshed, Finn thought better of that and tugged only gently. Teddy sat on the end of his chair instead and left Finn where he was.
“You live in a beach house and won’t even step on the sand?” Finn slurred.
“I’m stepping on it.” Teddy wiggled his feet, which were in slippers now. “Dry sand on skin is the worst feeling in the world.”
“You live at the beach!” Finn cried again.
“Because I like the solitude and the view.”
“Yeah?” Finn said slower, leaning back on his hands to better display his own view, teasing a bit of abs with how his shirt hitched from being buttoned wrong.
“You’re more lit than one of your bonfires,” Teddy joked. “And here I was thinking whatever you had to do today was somber. Clearly, you’re celebrating.”
Finn snorted a sloppy laugh just as Nora bounded over to him. She noticed Smudge on the patio and tried to get him to play, but Smudge batted at her to go away.
“If the anniversary of my parents’ deaths is worth celebrating, then yes, I am!” Finn chortled, only for his expression to drop like the pit in Teddy’s stomach.
“What?”
“That’s not funny.” Finn shook his head at himself.
“Anniversary?”
“Mm-hm.” Lounging there in the sand, Finn stretched out his long legs. “Same day, too, just not the same day.”
Teddy blinked, unsure how to steer the conversation when Finn wasn’t in his right mind. “I’m not following. I know you said they passed.”
“Car accident when I was ten. I was at Rose’s, playing. Mom died. Dad didn’t. Not right away.” He looked off toward his house rather than at Teddy.
Finn had gone on that day in the grocery store, saying he was fine with the loss of his parents, past it, but this version of him tempered how dauntless he usually acted, younger with the rosy glow in his cheeks, and far more honest.
Now Teddy understood why that girl’s car accident had made him sound so stilted.
“He held on for six years but wasn’t ever the same. Head trauma, blind, in a wheelchair. Sometimes he forgot things too. You could have an afternoon with him, talk, be there for him, but it was harder than he’d admit.
“When he died, Rose’s dad told me it was a dosage error.” Finn grimaced at the words. “Said Dad got the wrong amount of medication that day. But it was the same day, the day of the accident, the anniversary, like today. I know it wasn’t a mistake.” He scrubbed across his eyes with the back of his hand. “Fuck. It’s been over a decade, and I’m still a fucking mess.”
Teddy was close enough to reach for Finn, but a hand on his shoulder seemed too minimal. “Here I was concerned you were perfect. You never let on to any of this.”
“I can’t.” Finn turned to him with rawness Teddy was certain he wouldn’t allow if he was sober. “I can’t. I have too many people counting on me.”
“You don’t have to put on a smile for me,” Teddy said.
“Yes, I do. It’s my job.” Finn’s pout, exaggerated and ridiculous though it may be, made Teddy smile.
“Not here.”
With the light from Teddy’s house spotlighting Finn and the dark water behind him, his eyes looked especially teal, maybe because they were damp and hazy from alcohol, but still, they drew Teddy in.
Nora tackled Finn with a flourish of sand, knocking him over and licking his face. Finn giggled as he accepted the haphazard affection.
Noticing the commotion, Smudge hopped from the patio onto the chair and came up beside Teddy with a buck of his head into Teddy’s arm. He petted Smudge in one long stroke.
“I get it now! You’re the cat, and I’m the dog!” Finn exclaimed, words slurring worse than earlier, like everything he’d drunk hadn’t quite caught up to him yet. He nuzzled his forehead against Nora’s, and when he released her, she bounded back to the chair, jumping at Smudge, who bopped her on the nose in fear of being toppled onto the beach.
Finn giggled harder, then rolled onto his front to push up on hands and knees and crawl through the sand toward Teddy. He placed his hands on Teddy’s thighs, saying playfully, “Here kitty, kitty.”
Teddy grabbed Finn’s wrists before he could part his knees like he seemed to want, much as he would have welcomed it under soberer circumstances. “I wondered why I didn’t remember your parents, but I’ve only had this place for a few years. Guess you weren’t using it after they passed.”
“No,” Finn said, slumping back on his ankles. “Until I moved here, I hadn’t been to that house since I was a kid. It was paid off, so it just sat empty.”
“What were their names?” Teddy asked.
“Abigail and Phineas.”
“You’re Phineas Junior?”
“That’s why I’m Finn! I can’t be Phineas.” He wrinkled his nose.
“Another thing we have in common.”
“You’re a junior too?”
“Why do you think I never go by Edmund? I’m not particularly fond of my father.”
“You’re not? Was he also an asshole?” Finn whispered with a grin, but Teddy couldn’t echo him.
“A far worse one.”
“Oh.”
“He never hit us, but emotional blows can be just as damaging.”
“I know,” Finn said quietly.
Teddy wanted so badly to touch him then, but he was afraid to disrupt the uneven ground they wobbled on. “Is your father why you chose physical therapy?”
“Look at you, all interi… no. Intuition? Um…. Intuitive! Ha!”
He was adorable—and very sad, drunk, and sitting in the sand.
Nora came over to sniff him, but when he didn’t respond, she jumped onto the chair with Smudge and lay down behind Teddy, which prompted Smudge to begin grooming her as if she were his kitten.
Finn smiled at them, lopsided but genuine. When his eyes shifted back to Teddy, the way they darkened with want trapped him in place.
“Finn.”
“Room for one more up there?” he asked, sliding his hands onto the chair on either side of Teddy’s hips and patting the cushions.
Teddy couldn’t resist licking his lips as Finn started to climb onto his lap. “Wait, I—” He hissed almost immediately, unable to support Finn’s weight with those strong thighs clamping down on his incision site.
“Oh shit, sorry!” Finn scrambled off him. “Shit. Fuck, I am so drunk.”
“Yes, you are.” Teddy had to laugh because it hadn’t hurt that badly.
“I’m sorry,” Finn said again, steadying himself by clamping his hands down on Teddy’s shoulders.
“It’s okay. We just need to save this for another night.”
“You don’t mean that. I ruined it.”
; “No, you didn’t.” Taking one of Finn’s hands from his shoulder, Teddy brought the palm to his lips and kissed it, charmed by the owlish gaze that blinked down at him. “If I didn’t by being an ass, then you didn’t by having a bad night and needing someone to listen to you.”
“I don’t let people listen to me on this night. Ever,” Finn said, a smile quirking at his lips as he nudged between Teddy’s legs, which parted for him willingly this time; he couldn’t help it. “I just wanna be left alone so I can get drunk and not think about it.”
“Then why are you letting me listen?”
“I don’t know. Maybe coz it’s the first one since I moved, and I’m supposed to be better. I wasn’t as better… as good, in the city. That’s why I had to leave. New beginnings. Like you.” He smiled dopily, twining his arms around Teddy’s neck. “You know what was the last straw that got me to leave my ex?”
That didn’t sound like something to smirk about while wrapping arms around someone else, but Teddy was too riveted to care.
“He said I was never gonna be happy if I didn’t learn to move on. He meant coz I get like this every year thinking about Mom and Dad, but it’s like I suddenly woke up and realized I was miserable and playing it safe, coz I was too afraid to move on from him.
“Not anymore. No more not taking chances or not going after what I want. Which probably sounds pathetic coming from a drunk.”
“No.” Teddy tentatively reached for his waist to hold him steady. “It doesn’t sound pathetic.”
“I’m only this bad once a year. I’m allowed once a year, right?”
“You’re allowed whatever you need. Like you keep preaching to everyone else, Doc.”
Finn crowded closer to press his forehead to Teddy’s like he had with Nora. He smelled like beer, but Teddy didn’t care. “At first I thought you were pretty and interesting, and I just wanted to kiss you. But I really like you, Teddy.”
“I like you too,” Teddy said, thumbs circling at Finn’s hips.
Their foreheads were still together, Finn’s eyes dropping to Teddy’s lips. He was going to kiss him, and Teddy wasn’t sure he had the willpower to stop him.
Then Finn pulled back before their lips could touch. “Urg… the beach is kinda spinning.”
No kisses tonight.
Interpretive Hearts Page 7
