Cass cocked his eyebrow at me. “Waste her time? Hell no. She’ll be lucky to read it first, Shawn.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “A reward?” I asked softly.
Cass grinned. “I’ll make it really good, if it helps you stay motivated. You just have to promise you’ll read me a few excerpts, too, once you’re ready.”
I went over my work schedule in my head. It would be hard, but it was definitely possible to get some chapters to Dr. Freeman in a couple weeks, and I needed to give her a decision about the job anyway. Plus, I was reaching the point where I needed the objective opinion of someone in the field. If she were open to glancing at it, she’d be the perfect person.
Looking to Cass, I just wished I could offer something similar to him. I knew he had a lot of questions about his own future and his drumming career, and I wanted to be the person there helping him figure it all out. I wanted to cheer him on and bounce around ideas together and stand by his side when things weren’t going his way.
But those were all boyfriend things, the kind of stuff you’d do after making a real commitment to someone else. And I reminded myself again that a fun summer hookup was not the same as an actual relationship.
“Okay,” I said with a sharp nod. “It’s a deal. Thanks, Cass.”
He grinned down at me. “Good. Now get that writing done. I still want plenty of recreational breaks.”
Chapter Eighteen
Cass
The weeksafter Leo took off, things were like a dream around the house. Summer heated up, and I got in a habit of working in the early part of the day and in the evening, when the air was still cool. After noon, I’d make a big lunch to share with Shawn, and the two of us would take a long break. Almost always, I’d end up undressing him and finding new ways to play with his pretty body and to tease new whimpers and moans from his lips.
The rhythm we shared was easy and steady, like drumming along with a perfect guitarist. We just fell into place beside each other. I was especially happy to help support him while he worked on his book. After Monica and Leo and everyone else in my life doubted my choice to leave the band, he was the first person to believe me and trust that I knew how to make the right choice for myself, and I wanted to give the same to him.
Shawn just had a way of doing that, seeing who I was and not judging me for it. It was like with my parents. Sure, I knew they were shitty before Shawn told me. I’d made peace with that fact a long time ago. But no one had ever looked in me eye like he did and told me that I deserved better, and as the days passed by, I realized how much that mattered.
Tearing down the old insulation from the studio and shoving it in trash bags, driving back from town with new flooring in the bed of the truck, drumming along to those weird space sounds—it seemed like no matter what I was doing, it was all part of the life Shawn and I were living for that summer. I knew that he was going to be there at the end of the day to make dinner together, and that when the stars came out, he’d show me whatever had caught his imagination that night.
One night, he showed me Jupiter, so bright that I could see the blue and white bands around the giant planet and Saturn, with big white rings circling it. And on the night of a full moon, we spent hours passing the telescope back and forth and staring up at the gray mountains and craters as we shot the shit, just talking about life.
It only felt natural that I wanted to make sure he felt as good as I felt around him. I had started wrapping my arms around his belly while he did the dishes and inviting him to sleep in my bed more often than not. I was addicted to touching him, and the way he pressed his body into mine, I knew that Shawn liked it just as much.
I did start to wonder what it all meant for me, though. My relationship with Monica had been like all my other relationships—it started off with great sex and fun nights and then puttered out like an old motor, running out of gas. But even in the early days of hooking up with a new girlfriend, I never was very affectionate. Sure, I’d be sweet in my own ways, and I always tried to show the people I was with that I cared. But with Shawn, I wanted to slide my hand into his back pocket while we walked through the trails behind the house and wake him every morning with kisses down his chest.
Was that because Shawn was a guy or just because Shawn was Shawn? Outside of the one drunken night when I’d made out with that stranger, I’d never felt attracted to a man before. I didn’t doubt for a second that my relationships with women had been real and that the sexual charge was there. Everything just felt so different with him, like the satisfaction just from touching was enough to light my whole body up.
If I were rubbing cocks with anyone else, I would have called Leo right away. He’d be able to give me the straightforward advice that I needed. Since that was off the table, though, I was left to figure out my new bisexuality on my own
For that summer, anyway, I could just let it be, happy that Shawn and I had found our way back to each other. After thinking I was going to spend the months alone, nursing a breakup and drinking way too much beer at night, I’d gotten something so much better.
* * *
The night of Shawn’s deadline, I stood in the bathroom, checking myself out in the mirror. My shave was decent, with just the start of a shadow on my jaw, and my hair was hanging back in the way that I liked. I splashed some water on my face, bared my teeth to the mirror, and nodded.
I grabbed a bottle of wine in a couple of glasses, then headed upstairs. Shawn was sitting at his desk, scrunched over his keyboard and typing with a furrowed brow. I stood there a minute, watching him. I could practically see the sparks flying out of his ears, he looked that focused, and it impressed me the same as it sent a jolt of desire down my body.
“Hey,” I said, breaking the spell.
Shawn turned to me with an open smile. He was wearing his old NASA shirt, and he adjusted his glasses as he met my eyes. “Oh, hey. Is it dinner time already?”
“Not quite.” I lifted the bottle of wine. “But you said you might meet your deadline this afternoon, so…”
Shawn laughed, his arm draped over the back of his chair. “I’ve been done for two hours. I just keep rewriting the email to Dr. Freeman over and over again. She really probably doesn’t have time—”
“Hey,” I cut him off. “It’s part of the deal. You want a reward or not?”
Shawn half-smiled. “Yes, I really want a reward.”
“Good,” I laughed, then dropped my voice. “Then send the damn email.”
