Joey’s face softens into a surprised, easy smile. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
It’s not the same as sleeping over or actually being in a relationship. But five minutes later, Joey and I are lying with our legs tangled, each holding a book. I catch little glimpses of him when I turn away from the page, and I think he’s doing the same. Everything is quiet and still, easy in a way I can’t explain.
And honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt as good as I do reading in bed with Joey.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
JOEY
“Hey, Kris, what’s up?”
For once, it’s my sister calling me, instead of the other way around. I’m in the shop, sketching out some work for a client at the desk, and I stand up to talk to her. There’s no one up front, just a couple people working in back as the day winds down.
“Not much. You at work?”
“Yeah.” I turn to the schedule, checking to make sure I didn’t miss transferring her some money when I said I would. “I had a couple appointments this morning. What are you up to?”
“I just realized I don’t have your address.”
“Oh, are you mailing me something?”
She laughs. “No, Joey. I just thought I should have my brother’s address. Is that so weird?”
I realize that no one from Milwaukee knows where I live, which actually is kind of weird. “Sure, I’ll text it to you. You holding up okay?”
“Yeah, just busy,” she tells me. “Anyway, talk later.”
She rushes off the phone, like always, but I’m kind of touched by the call. It would probably seem like nothing to most families, except that Kris doesn’t really think of me like that. She doesn’t text me on my birthday or invite me over to her apartment or anything, so just asking for my address is meaningful.
Hell, maybe she misses me. What a concept.
“Yo, Joey,” Stone says, emerging from the back and pulling me from my thoughts. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his denim jacket, and his long arms kind of stick out. “You coming to that art opening tonight?”
Stone has only brought up Milo a couple of times. It’s not like I deny I’m hanging out with the guy or anything, but I don’t spill my guts, either. I figure Stone’s probably just checking in on me because his boyfriend and Milo are good friends, and he wants to make sure I’m not treating him wrong. It makes me appreciate Stone even more than I already do, knowing that Milo has another person looking out for him when I can’t be there.
“Art opening,” I say. “Not sure I can make it.”
Instead of dropping it like usual, though, Stone hesitates there. “That’s too bad, man. You might like the work. Rafael is a pretty amazing illustrator.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, art shows aren’t really my thing, unfortunately,” I tell him.
Stone nods. “I didn’t used to go to that kind of thing, before I got together with Matty. Now, it’s like afuck youto everyone who thought I couldn’t be a tattoo artist. I can do whatever I want, you know?”
I drum my fingers on the desk. It’s nice that he’s encouraging me, kind of. It means that he approves of me and Milo hanging out. Not that I need his approval, or that I should be mixing up my work life and my sex life at all.
I try to steel my heart and build that wall I usually build, but then I remember how Milo sounded when he invited me. I could feel how much he wanted me to go, like an ache in his voice, and it pains me now all over again.
“If you want a ride,” Stone offers with a slight shrug.
I sigh. “Like afuck youto everyone who said you couldn’t be a tattoo artist,” I say. “Yeah, I guess I could go for a little of that.”
* * *
The art show is in a little gallery not far from downtown, in a building that looks kind of like a shop. Milo’s friend Rafael is showing his work, and from the way Stone talks about it on the ride over, most of their friends are going to be there.
It’s not until we actually walk up to the place, though, that I fully understand what I’ve gotten myself into.
We’re on another fucking date. And now I’m about to meet his friends, too. It’s one thing to torture myself like this, but I’m sure this must be confusing for Milo, and that’s not right with me. It doesn’t matter that Milo is always happy when I’m with him. And it doesn’t matter how good it feels just to lay there with him and read together.
