Rocking Thin Ice

by Z. Allora

  “Is that a hint?”

  Drake Keys naked with water cascading down his— No perving on a drugged houseguest. “That or Febreze….”

  “If you don’t think your brother would mind, I’d love that. I left without my duffel bag.”

  “You okay if I leave you for a bit?” Weird, Blaze didn’t even want to go upstairs.

  “Yeah, I think I’m coming down. The highs that keep rolling over me are coming in lighter waves. I feel more even now.”

  “Good.” Then maybe Blaze would stop being enamored by the delightfulness of a stoned Drake. “Shower’s right in here.”

  Blaze trailed after Drake and gave him a tour of the bathroom to show him where stuff could be found. Drake continually kept brushing against him. The bathroom must have shrunk. Blaze needed to escape the touch before he couldn’t resist touching back.

  “You need anything else?” Where had the innuendo come from?

  Drake’s eyes glittered, and he licked his full lips. His lip ring shifted, and he raised one eyebrow in invitation to everything Blaze craved.

  Holy hell. “Um, well, I’m just going to run upstairs. I’ll set the clothing outside the door.”

  “Sure. I appreciate it,” Drake said, but Blaze heard, “I’ll bend over your bathroom sink so you can fuck me.”

  Blaze spun and knocked into the doorjamb. Well, that jarred him out of his delusion. After shutting the bathroom door, he headed up the steps to the main floor. He jogged past all the medals and awards Luke insisted they display there. Pictures of Blaze in all vivid, hideous, and possibly hilarious pastels to his early teen emo phase where only blacks and deep purples would do. A couple of the pictures of Blaze on the podium with those beside him cropped out—mainly Trent—gave him a good reminder of the importance of emotional distance.

  Never again. It simply wasn’t worth the cost.

  He paused at the most recent framed photos from the Olympics. These pictures reminded him the games hadn’t been a fantasy. As surreal as participating in his second Olympics felt, that photo showing him kissing the Olympic ice after his final performance, another of him receiving the gold, and one with Luke and Anna afterward, proved it happened.

  For the first time ever, a small voice in his heart suggested how nice it would have been to have someone other than his brother and Anna with whom he could share special moments.

  What the fuck? He huffed with annoyance. Squishing that wish, he flung open the door that led into his brother’s kitchen.

  Luke stood by the countertop, making sandwiches.

  “Um, can I borrow some sweats?”

  “They’ll never fit, or are you going to shred them and make something else out of them?” Luke might have reason to be suspicious of clothing borrowing.

  “No, um….” Why did Blaze want to avoid telling Luke he was going to have a sleepover with a stoned guitar player? “I have a friend over—”

  “A friend? Oh, is that the euphemism now?” Luke smirked. He moved his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

  “Not like that.”

  “Like what, then?”

  “Drake Keys.”

  “Drake Keys… Keys, Keys….” Luke’s eyes widened. “Wait! The guitar player Drake Keys from Midnight Shadow?”

  “That would be the one.”

  Luke stared at the closed basement door. “Holy shit. Um… how—”

  “All I know is he came to the exhibition and accidentally ate some of Donna’s brownies.”

  “No!” Shock morphed into a chuckle. “She bakes them strong.”

  “You’re not kidding. Yeah, so I just wanted to keep an eye on him.”

  Luke snorted. “Is that what you’re telling yourself?”

  “What’s with you and Anna? You two are projecting your own inability to keep it in your pants onto me.” Why did everyone make this a perverse thing? “I’m simply being responsible.”

  Putting his hands out in front of him, Luke smirked again. “I don’t doubt you are, and I know you wouldn’t do anything while he’s high, I’m simply saying you don’t usually allow strangers into your space. I find this interesting… that’s all.”

  “Nothing interesting about it,” Blaze scoffed.

  “Hey, whatever, but I think you’ve gone off your meds.”

  “Medication. Ha, I don’t even take aspirin.” Blaze glared. The Skating Federation would try to kick him out for doping if they could.

  “Maybe it’s something to consider.” Luke chuckled at his own joke. “Let me get him something to wear.”

  Blaze eyed the prepared sandwiches and put them on a tray. His perverted brother could make more for himself.

  Luke bustled back with an armful of options. “Which do you think says rock star at leisure?”

  They looked through them and settled on relatively new black sweats, a supersoft gray jersey, and a zip-up hoodie in case Drake got cold.

  “Here, take these to your rock star slumber party.” Luke added Blaze’s usual celebratory indulgent pink-frosted cupcakes to the tray laden with sandwiches.

  “I could come back up and share the cupcakes with you.” He didn’t want his brother to feel left out.

  Luke shook his head. “I have one. Go downstairs and enjoy yourself.”

  “Thanks for the sweats and sandwiches.” Once he shut the door, Blaze did something he rarely did—bolted it on his side. Weird desire, since Luke would never invade his privacy… not that he would need privacy, but when Blaze got to the bottom of the stairs, he locked that door too.

  He found Drake in the living room, standing there in a towel wrapped around his waist. A sprinkling of chest hair led down, making Blaze want to see where the trail ended. Drake’s wet hair waved down over his chest. Beads of water were left on his shoulders, making it impossible not to imagine Drake emerging from the sea as a merman taking his first…. What the fuck troubled Blaze’s horny brain? Did he need to get laid that badly?

  At that moment, he became concerned for his mental stability. Drake might drive him insane.

  “Careful.” Drake rushed forward and caught the tray in Blaze’s hands, which had started to tilt toward the floor.

  “Oh!” Blaze righted the tray.

  But a mostly naked Drake in his personal space allowed him to smell freshly showered skin. “Carpet cupcakes don’t taste as good as noncarpet cupcakes.”

  Chapter 6

  DRAKE MUST have still been high when he agreed to share the bed with Blaze. Or maybe the siren’s call of actually being stationary and lying flat on a cloud-like bed with fluffy soft lavender-scented sheets and plush pillows that—nah. After the most enjoyable meal of sandwiches and cupcakes he’d ever had, Drake wanted more of Blaze.

  Of course, this wasn’t how Drake’s fantasy of being in Blaze Parker’s bed went. Usually, there’d been the clichéd heavy breathing, accompanied by gasping moans while sheets were twisted. Add lots of fiery french kisses, some well-placed urgent thrusts, and coming to a happy conclusion together. Many condoms should be put to good use… but it was not to be.

  Blaze continued to stare at the ceiling and finally cleared his throat. “Um, you have enough pillows? I could borrow—”

  “Thanks, I’m good. Two is more than enough.” Why did he sound tentative?

  No, this chaste nervous conversation took no space in the whiplash ecstasy he played out in his mind, but as he lay there, Drake couldn’t think of a place he’d rather be.

  He’d suffer being frozen stiff on his side of the bed while trying not to get an erection, making this bizarre, and all for the chance to be near Blaze.

  Though being in Blaze’s orbit felt like existing in a constellation. Blaze was a stunning magnificent beauty who could perform, but Drake was now getting glimpses that the glitter and sparkle might be real, rather than an illusion, making his desire grow stronger.

  Thank God he’d jerked off when he showered. Otherwise, between the pot and the fluid graceful movements of everything Blaze did, Drake migh
t have died from lack of blood to the brain.

  Taylor would laugh his ass off if Drake ever told him about this.

  Should Drake make a move on Blaze? That question chased around his brain until he got back to square one. They were obviously attracted to each other, but he had no doubt one wrong move would shatter whatever spell had been cast, tethering them together. Maybe Drake should go for it. Maybe he shouldn’t….

  When no answer came, Drake stared at the ceiling. A night sky had been embedded in the panels with twinkle lights. “Are those actual constellations?”

  “Yeah. I did a smaller one as a school project, and when Luke offered to help me do it in here, I thought, why not?” Blaze pointed to a slightly brighter group of stars. “That’s Orion. Over by the bathroom is Ursa Minor, and Scorpius is next to it. Cetus the sea monster is near the door to the main space. Those two stars right there are part of Libra. And my favorite is Gemini, right over our heads.”

  “Why is that one your favorite?”

  Blaze dropped his arm and glanced over at Drake. He hesitated but then said, “They’re together. Not alone. I guess… I don’t know, it’s dumb.”

  “It’s not.” Drake wanted to reach out and hold Blaze’s hand. Instead, he added, “I’m a Gemini.”

  “I’m a Libra.”

  Drake smiled. Hmm, the pot really must be leaving his system if he could actually smile beyond a perma-grin. “That fits you.”

  “What do you mean?” Blaze rolled to his side so he faced Drake and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “You’re fair, charming, and diplomatic. Libras are driven by love but can hold grudges. And you, I mean a Libra, can be a bit of a flirt.”

  “What about Geminis?” Blaze’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Geminis can be sociable and are always ready for playtime, but we can get serious and sometimes restless. And we enjoy a good flirt.” Did he say that? Taylor would be proud.

  “So you’re into astrology?”

  “Nah, there’s just a lot of time on a tour bus. I earned the title of King of Useless Facts.” Drake turned onto his side to see Blaze better. The twinkling lights highlighted the various shades of brown and gold in his hair, making it sparkle.

  Gone was the confident badass skater who had given a figurative finger to the judges more than once, replaced by the real Blaze—someone who seemed lonely and in need of love and friendship. Or maybe Drake was projecting his wants and needs.

  Whoever this was, he smiled at Drake, making the awkward silence become a little easier and the space between them lessen.

  Blaze took a hunk of Drake’s still-damp-from-the-shower hair and twirled it. “I’ve always loved long hair.”

  “It’s practical. When I get too hot during the shows I can tie my hair back.” Drake kept still so he didn’t break the magic that fostered Blaze’s touch.

  “Plus, it’s rock and roll. I love the waves.” Blaze chuckled and started to use the ends of Drake’s hair to paint invisible swirls over his palm. He sighed. “Mine is pin straight, which is why my stylist cuts my hair like this.”

  Drake found the courage and followed Blaze’s example. He combed his fingers through Blaze’s hair and let the strands sift back into place. “Your hair is extremely soft. I’ve always loved the color. This asymmetric style looks perfect on you.”

  Blaze raked his fingers through Drake’s hair, fanning the strands out over the pillows. The gentle movements translated into a Zen-like contentment within Drake. He wanted to preserve the fragile bubble they floated in.

  Their gazes held and then locked. In that moment they were more than just two almost-strangers sharing space. Drake could taste the potential of what could be if….

  He scraped his fingernails over Blaze’s scalp.

  Blaze’s breath hitched, and he let out a soft sexy moan. He pressed his lips together, dropped Drake’s hair, and muttered, “Sorry.”

  Trying not to feel the loss, Drake went with no regrets. “Don’t be.”

  The twinkling lights didn’t hide the pink tinting on Blaze’s cheeks when he cleared his throat. “Um… Anna told me you’re no longer in the band.”

  “Yeah.” Drake rubbed a hand over his heart. Misery seeped in as some of the weed drifted out of his system.

  “What are you going to do?” Blaze’s words were gentle but to the point.

  “No clue. After it happened, I drove straight to see you… um, the exhibition, and then accidentally got high. And now I’m in bed with the Blaze Parker, Ice Dragon.” His chuckle shook his body but got stuck in his throat. “I haven’t had a chance to figure out my next move.”

  Blaze gave him a sad smile and tucked the piece of Drake’s hair that fell across his face behind his ear. He brushed a finger across Drake’s ear, making his earrings click together.

  The tentative touch broke something inside him. Maybe he should ask Blaze for a healing kiss. Even if his mouth worked, he didn’t think his brain would know the right thing to say or how to ask.

  “I guess I’m not ready to deal with life. Music is… was… my life.” How could Dixon and Frank kick him out? He should probably turn on his phone or at least charge the thing.

  “Who you make music with might change, but you didn’t lose the lyrics or your melody. They’re still right here.” Blaze pressed his hand against Drake’s chest.

  The shattered pieces started rejoining themselves at Blaze’s tender words and touch. Drake caught his breath. He took Blaze’s hand and pressed a tender kiss to his knuckles.

  Blaze’s eyes widened and his gaze skittered around the room, most likely trying to focus on something other than the affection Drake’s expression must be showing. Blaze snatched back his hand and muttered, “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Drake had obviously overstepped, though he hadn’t misread the longing in Blaze’s eyes. His tongue found the lip ring and wiggled the circle.

  Blaze licked his lower lip and didn’t take his gaze off Drake’s lip ring until he cleared his throat and asked, “So you write music too?”

  “I don’t write music well. I can hear the melody when I put down the lyrics, but usually someone else puts the notes on paper. I can’t distinguish all of them.”

  Blaze nodded. “Yeah, I get that. I don’t put together all the parts of my routines alone either. I can see the big picture. I hear the jumps and step sequences in the music, but I need someone to show me how to connect them.”

  Drake took the opportunity to fan-gush a bit. “I think what you do is nothing short of magic.”

  Blaze chuckled. “Why are you so nice? Are you, like, campaigning to be the mayor of Nicetown?”

  Drake belly-laughed. “What?”

  “I know stereotypes are bad, but I didn’t expect a rock star to be kind.”

  “How am I supposed to be?” Not the first time he’d heard that. Sad commentary on his fellow musicians.

  Blaze shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess rockstarish—arrogant, full of yourself. Instead you’re sweet.”

  “Thanks, so are you.” Drake needed to get that out there. For some reason, he felt Blaze might not have heard that a lot. Part of Blaze was the confident Ice Dragon, and the other part Drake imagined hiding in a tree, throwing as many rocks as kisses. Drake didn’t mind ducking.

  “Ha.” Blaze bristled. “I have two moods. I’m glittery sparkle when I perform, but my usual is what Anna calls dark death mode.”

  “I don’t believe that. You’ve been nothing but a wonderful host,” Drake pointed out.

  “You’re easy to be around.” Blaze sighed. “I don’t usually do people.”

  Drake wasn’t sure what to say, other than to ask, “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I guess given enough time, people will disappoint and use you, if they can.” The bitter edge to Blaze’s words told tales on how much hurt he still carried over the wrongs done to him.

  “That’s a bleak take on the world.” Drake wanted nothing more than to change that opinion
, but for now he simply tucked the slipped blanket back around Blaze’s shoulder.

  “See, dark death does fit, but let’s not tell Anna. I hate that she’s usually right about everything.” Blaze gave him a crooked little smile.

  It might be crazy, but Drake longed to reach for the stars. His dad said the only regrets are the chances you don’t take.

  “Are you dating anyone?” Hopefully the fact Drake lay in his bed would mean no, but after Brenda, who knew?

  “Nope. I don’t date.” Blaze rolled onto his back and put his hands under his head. “I mean, why bother? There’s hookup apps for my next mistake.”

  “Next mistake?” Drake frowned.

  “Why spend months to figure out it’s not going to work? Hookup apps jump to the reason anyone ever gets into a relationship, and you can move on before you hate each other.”

  The words were harsh, but the tone sliced into Drake’s heart, making him determined to prove Blaze wrong. But maybe…. “Are you aromantic?”

  “You mean not in need of romantic relationships? No, I just think most people are terrible, the worst, actually. So why bother?”

  “But not everyone.” Not me.

  “How about you? Are you in a relationship or looking for your next ex?” Blaze lightened his voice.

  Drake shifted to lie flat, folding his arms over his chest. What had he expected? That the guy he’d been jerking off to would want to marry him? Not that he…. He exhaled hard. “I’m not as fatalistic as all that. I’m looking for someone to kiss and—”

  Blaze opened and closed his mouth and then snorted, “Kiss?”

  “What?”

  “If you said you’re looking for someone to fuck, I’d have believed you, but to kiss?”

  Taken aback by the negativity, Drake needed Blaze to understand. “Kissing can be everything. The last girl I saw wasn’t into it, and I missed making out.”

  “What’s so great about kissing? Okay, I guess maybe as foreplay—”

  “Kissing is connection. When you press your lips to another’s, it’s more than just pleasure—you’re giving part of yourself to that person. You’re sharing yourself with them.” Did that make sense?