The Luckiest (17 page)

During the second pass through the recording, Aaron watches David’s dad sit on the edge of a bed as David sings a bal­lad for Alex, surrounded and backed up by his old friends. David is his usual calm self, but even he is starting to crack a little, overwhelmed by everything that’s going on, and when he sinks back on the bed while Nathan fiddles with the equipment for one last take, his dad puts his hand on his shoulder and they turn to each other and smile tightly. It’s like watching two halves of one whole hold each other up; Aaron has to look away, and he meets Nik’s eyes, which are sad and a little mournful, and moves a little closer.

The final recording session goes well, and after they’ve all shared a beer and caught up a little, they walk down to the parking lot with Nathan so Nik can give him a little something for gas and thank him profusely. Then they sit in the car and listen to the master. It sounds
good
—whatever Nathan did to minimize echo worked, and their voices sound clear, sharp, but not tinny.

“You’re still in good voice,” Nik says.

“God, I’m so out of practice—I’m glad I was able to pull it off.”

“You really don’t make music at all anymore, then.” Nik looks sad, disappointed.

“I sometimes sing in the shower? It’s just… it’s not part of my life. I told you.”

“I know. But don’t you miss it? I can’t imagine.”

“Well that’s why you do what you do, and I do what I do.”

Nik grins at him, raises a brow and nods in recognition.

Aaron looks at his hands for a second and then says, “Hon­estly, no, I haven’t missed it. Not at all. But right now? I do, a little. That was fun, being part of the group. I forgot that part of it.”

“Mmmm.” Nik’s voice is smug. “We should find you an orches­tra. Or a chorus—I told you, you have a better voice than you think you do.”

Aaron laughs and shakes his head. “There’s no way I’d make it through an audition now—in either. I haven’t played my sax in… well, since high school.” He shrugs. “I don’t do music… that’s not really part of who I am anymore.”

Nik leans against the car door and looks at him, his eyes soft. “So where are you?” Aaron looks at him, his head cocked to the side, his brow up. “Because I’ve read some of your blogs, and I’m not sure you’re there, either.”

Aaron smiles at him even as he bristles a bit on the inside. “You think so, huh?”

Nik holds up his hands, instantly a bit defensive himself; maybe Aaron is just far too obvious to somebody who’s known him for so long. “Hey, wait. Don’t get mad. I didn’t say it was
bad
; you know you’re good at what you do, Aaron. Shit, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever known, and you know I love your writing.” He pauses and takes Aaron’s hand. “I still have every word you’ve ever written to me.”

“Oh, God,” Aaron groans, and Nik laughs at him and squeezes his hand.

“I do! I… I’m not even going to tell you where I keep all of it—it’s too embarrassing.”

“Tell me you didn’t print them,” Aaron begs. “Oh God, I would be horrified to know that some of that stuff made it past pixels.”

“No, of course not. But it was important to me—I was keep­ing it. I am still keeping it, and I’m not telling you where. It’s mine.”

Aaron looks at Nik, studies his face.
His mouth is still so beautiful.
He’s always liked Nik’s mouth, the curve of his top lip and the sweet fullness of the bottom, and the way they press together and curl up at the edges so that it looks as if he always has a little smile trying to grow. Thinking about the little dip just above Nik’s top lip, he’s startled when Nik speaks again.

“But that’s what I mean. Those blogs don’t sound like you, and I still consider myself something of an expert.”

Maybe—
maybe
that’s true. Aaron thinks that there was a time when Nik knew him better than anyone; they had grown together and dreamed together. The life he’s living now is according to a blueprint he drew with Nik, and not everything has worked out the way they planned it, but he doesn’t feel like a different person, not really, not while they are here together. At the same time, though, he can’t help thinking of everything his mother said on the phone, and everything that Nik still doesn’t quite understand about what it’s like to live in New York, and wonder what they don’t know about each other. It probably should to scare him; right now it feels like nothing so much as an adventure.

Still. That’s not really what Nik asked, and so he just says, “My voice is a work in progress. I might have lots of them before it’s all said and done—one for everybody who’s willing to pay me for the privilege. It doesn’t mean I didn’t make them all and that they aren’t all me.” Aaron starts the engine of his car and turns to reverse out of his parking space; he braces his hand on the back of Nik’s seat as he does and gives him a grin. “Besides, you haven’t read
everything
I’ve ever written. I can guarantee it.”

Nik watches him, gives him a little smile: those corners of his mouth curl high and tight and threaten to give way to dimples. “Fair enough. Keep the mystery alive.”

At Kinko’s, Nik heads straight for the color printers to start cranking out jewel case liners while Aaron goes to the counter to pick up the programs he emailed over for printing and assem­bly the day before. Everything looks fine, so while the guy boxes them up he joins Nik by the printers and starts ripping apart the inserts and filling jewel cases as fast as he can.

Aaron has finished not even a third of them by the time Nik is through with printing, and they gather everything into bags and set off for the car, eager to get home and finish up. The night has started to wear on now, and, when Nik offers to drive, Aaron is happy to let him so he can just sit in the passenger seat and be still for the hour it’ll take to get back to Galveston.

He means to go over his mental list, to straighten out how tomorrow will go, but instead he watches Nik drive. His face is filled with expression and energy as he sings along to the radio, which is turned down low, and his thumbs occasionally tap along in rhythm on the steering wheel. It’s so familiar, Nik driving his old car—even as Nik is this different, mature, wonderful person.

Aaron sags back into the door and stops fighting it and says, “I love you.”

Nik’s eyes dart toward him and then back to the road, but he smiles, bright and open. “Say that again.”

“I love you?” Aaron can’t help smiling back, and he feels dumb, silly, like they could get stuck here grinning at each other forever.

“Oh, now it’s a question?”

“Nik.”

“I’m sorry. Here, let me—” Nik slows and pulls off the free­way, then turns into the crushed-shell parking lot of a ram­shackle bar, throwing the truck into park while they’re still close to the road. He leaves the car running but turns to Aaron, leans back against the driver’s side door, and says, “Okay, now: hit me.” Semis continue to barrel down the highway; their lights stream behind Nik’s head in the semi-darkness.

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Well, now I just feel ridiculous.”

“I can sit here all night.” Nik pauses, and then says, with a smile in his voice, “I could go in, have a beer, make friends with the locals, and you could text me whenever you’re ready.”

Aaron looks at him, at his cheeky smile and the affection in his eyes. He looks past him at the parking lot and the brightly blinking sign, at the freeway and its Friday night traffic. None of it is remotely romantic; none of it is how he thought this might happen again. Except for one thing. “Nik, for reasons that escape me at the moment, I love you.”

Aaron feels as though he might burst with joy, and he wants to laugh.

Nik’s smile shrinks until it’s small and private. His voice is quiet and so sincere, as if he’s making every word fresh for just this moment. “And I love you, Aaron, for too many reasons to mention. Now get over here,” he says, holding out his arms.

Aaron slides across the seat, leans across the console and kisses him, long and sweet and soft. When he pulls back, he says it again and again; his mouth slides against Nik’s, as if maybe, if he spills the words out right here in the small space between them, they’ll be safe, protected. “God, I
love
you. I always did and I still do. Stay with me this time,
please,
just stay.”

“Shhh, shhh, I love you, I’m right here. It’s not so hard to say to me, is it?” Nik strokes his hair and down along his neck, so tenderly.

Aaron shakes his head and buries it against Nik’s neck. “You have no idea.” He breathes Nik in while Nik holds him—one long, shaky breath—and after he breathes out, he holds on tight until the urge to shake apart passes.

It’s eleven before they get back to the house, and they stop in the living room to say their goodnights. Alex’s and David’s parents are interspersed among the more familiar faces, chat­ting and drinking and nibbling at pizza crusts. Alex’s mom is talking to Stephanie and Jasmine about the day tomorrow, and her dad is nodding along with Mia and Nicole, talking about A&M’s chances for next football season. David’s parents are on the long sofa with Tu sitting at the other end, trying to keep up a conversation while Alex and David sprawl on the floor at their feet, holding hands and looking at each other. Maria gives Aaron a long look and a fond smile, and he feels the weight of Nik’s hand at the small of his back and winks back at her before they excuse themselves. They clamber up the stairs, plastic carrier bags bulging and bumping along the walls, and dump everything into a heap next to Aaron’s bed. And then they get to work.

By two a.m., they’ve finished burning two-thirds of the discs and have stuffed all the jewel cases. They’ve been peeling off clothes since everybody else turned in, and Aaron has given up and stretched out on his belly in his underwear, watching iTunes burn each CD as if his life depends on the completion indicator crawling across the screen. Nik brewed coffee an hour ago, and Aaron wants another cup but he can’t get up—he’s just too tired. He gives up, pillows his head on his arms and watches Nik.

Nik is in the desk chair with his bare legs sprawled out in front of him. He’s lost his pants and is sitting there in boxers and a T-shirt, illuminated by the glow of his laptop and the bedside lamp. The light bounces off his hair where his head is bent to the guitar in his lap. The window is cracked open so he can hear the water and the cicadas singing into the night over the hum of the ceiling fan. Nik plays soft and low, nothing Aaron recognizes, but a more technically complicated piece than he remembers hearing him play before.

“You’ve gotten better,” Aaron mumbles drowsily.

Nik looks up at him with sleepy eyes as his fingers continue to work the strings. “Yeah. There was no piano in the dorms, and the guitar always went over better than singing. I played a lot.”

“It’s nice. What is that?”

Nik glances up through long lashes and tosses off a casual shrug. “Something I’ve been working on a little bit. Just play­ing around.”

“I like it—it’s pretty.”

“I’m glad.” Nik looks up, gives him a gentle smile and keeps playing. Aaron keeps watching, and the light is soft and the night is quiet and Nik is right there, so beautiful.

“Baby, wake up a little.”

Everything is fuzzy, darker, quiet, and Nik’s hand is sweep­ing up and down his bare back. When Aaron opens his eyes, his laptop has disappeared and Nik is perched next to him on the bed. He startles, lifts his head and says, “No, wait, I need to—”

“Shhh, don’t worry about it. You can do it in the morning. Come to bed with me now.”

Nik shoves him gently and he rolls over a little so that Nik can strip the bed of its blankets, down to only a sheet and a light summer quilt. Then Aaron flips around and crawls under. Nik curls up behind him, sliding one arm around his waist and pulling him close.

“Did you finish the CDs?” Aaron asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Just a handful left—it’s fine. I’ll take care of it in the morn­ing. Now shhh, we have a big day tomorrow.”

Nik’s broad hand is stretched across Aaron’s belly, and the fan spins on high, leaving the cool, sweet air washing across his face. He just lies there for a few seconds as Nik shifts against him, settling in and tucking his feet between Aaron’s ankles, and Aaron hangs suspended and ready to slip back into sleep until, suddenly, he knows he won’t. He still feels lazy, cozily tucked away from the aggressive air conditioning that is a feature of Texas summers, but Nik feels warm against him, and the delicious contrast of textures and temperatures reminds him that there’s something he wants a little bit more.

“Roll over,” he whispers, and when Nik does he follows, ready to be the big spoon. Nik cuddles into it, sliding his ass back to wiggle into Aaron’s lap like he’s made to fit there. If Aaron had more energy, if tonight weren’t just so easy and comfortable, he might take it as a hint. Instead, he nuzzles into Nik’s hair until he can kiss the back of his neck and slides his hand into Nik’s boxers.

Nik hums his satisfaction when Aaron curls his hand around him, and Aaron hums back when he finds Nik’s cock soft, lying against his thigh, his balls loose and low and so warm. “Hi,” Aaron whispers, and hears a huff of a snorted laugh from Nik. He buries his own lazy smile in Nik’s hair, thrilling with the intimacy of this perfect, perfect moment.

He rolls the whole package in one gentle hand, and Nik sighs and yawns, tipping his head so Aaron can get to his neck more easily. “God, that feels good. I wish I weren’t so tired.”

Aaron tastes his skin, presses kisses against the side of his throat and around to the back of his ear. “You wanna try anyway?”

Nik hums one more time and then says, “Will you be upset if I say no?”

Aaron considers it. “No, not really. I had a nap; have you been up all this time?”

“Yeah.”

“So get some sleep. Sleep is good—so good.” Aaron starts to withdraw his hand to give Nik a little bit more space to drift off to sleep, but Nik makes a noise in his throat and puts his hand on Aaron’s wrist.

“No, it’s… do you mind? Just leaving your hand there?”

Aaron grins, because he gets it immediately. “You want me to play with you until you fall asleep?”