Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

CRAIG

Music echoes throughout my apartment. Head nodding to the beat of the song Patrick is playing on the acoustic guitar, I set a stack of T-shirts into one of the partially filled suitcases on the bed. Packing for the mini-tour with The Fury has kept me busy for the past hour, and I appreciate having company during the tedious task.

Sharing the stage with The Fury is a huge honor, and as soon as I knew for sure that they needed me, Ty was the first person I told. In the two weeks since the whirlwind weekend we shared, we've been texting every day, starting off by my question of how Ty's flight home had been, sent mere hours after I'd watched him drive away from the hotel.

Ty is on my mind first thing in the morning, multiple times during the day, and last thing at night. I have it bad…

Sprawled in the chair by the window, Patrick smoothly moves into the opening chords of the song we've been working on for the last few weeks. I can already imagine Cody's voice caressing the lyrics. I give him a thumbs up and turn back to my suitcase. Running through my mental checklist, I survey the contents. Jeans, shirts, socks, boxers, clothes for working out, boots, sneakers, and toiletries. And my guitar case is waiting by the front door, ready for the trip.

The strumming stops mid-way through the song. Patrick glances up from the guitar. "What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Luke said he'd pick me up at ten-thirty." I toss in the new notebook I purchased in case song lyrics strike, then zipper the black canvas bag closed.

"You have your phone charger?"

"Yeah, thanks." I double-check that it's still where I put it, in the front pocket of the bag holding my shoes. If I forget anything, one of the guys can probably hook me up, or with the major and mid-sized cities on the tour itinerary, buying whatever I need on the road will be easy.

I lift the suitcases. The corner of one case snags the blanket draped across the foot of the bed and tugs it halfway onto the floor. Muttering a curse, I set the cases aside and carefully fold the soft knit. Ty had used that blanket to keep warm during our night together. Every time I look at the blanket and the bed, memories of the time I spent there with him bombard me. The same holds true for my kitchen, the living room, and even the foundation's headquarters and the hospital.

Two weeks have passed, and yet, Ty's presence lingers.

Turning away from the bed, I pick up the cases once again and look at Patrick. "Want a beer?"

"Sure." He rises, starts playing again, and leads the way to the living room. The music continues as he walks, reminding me of an old-time minstrel.

The suitcases join the guitar case by the door. I lay my leather jacket on top of the bags. "Okay, I'm all set for tomorrow. "

"Cool." Patrick returns the guitar to its stand. "Want me to grab the drinks?"

"I'll get them. Have a seat." With the trip so close, the fridge is pretty bare. I used up nearly all the perishables so they wouldn't go to waste. Beer and water line the fridge's bottom shelf. I snag two bottles, pop the tops, deliver them to the living room coffee table, then detour back to the kitchen to grab a container of guacamole from the fridge and a bag of tortilla chips from the counter.

When I return, Patrick lifts his beer in toast. "Food too? You rock."

"I have to use this up. And I missed lunch."

The ping of a text alert fills the air.

Adrenaline spiking through my blood, I drop the container and bag on the table and dive for my phone laying on the opposite arm of the couch. The first line of Ty's latest message fills the screen's center. A screenshot of a dragon from his portfolio lays behind it, set as my lock screen and wallpaper. He'd told me I could use it, and every time I see it, I smile.

Ty: Hey, what're you up to? I'm off to Slater's for more work on the series.

An emoji of a superhero follows his text. Grinning, I type my response. Just finished packing for the tour. Patrick's here.

A bubble with three blinking dots appears. I keep my gaze glued to the screen, waiting.

Ty: Have fun. Talk to you later tonight?

My thumbs fly over the keys: I'll text you when I'm in bed.

As soon as I hit send, that blinking dot bubble pops up beneath my message .

Ty: I'm glad you told me, now I'll know how to picture you when we're talking.

A winking face emoji appears and heat flushes into my chest. For as often as we've been chatting, we haven't exchanged particularly sexy texts yet. I have a feeling that will change very soon.

Craig: You could let me know if you'll be in bed too… So I know what to picture.

Ty: I'll send you a selfie when I get there… As long as you promise not to make fun of my superhero pajamas. :-)

I'll bet anything he looks damn cute in those. I wish I could see them on him in person tonight.

Craig: Maybe we could video chat instead of text?

Two emojis, a grinning face and a high-five, are Ty's response.

The crunching of plastic being torn open rips my attention away from my phone. I swing my gaze toward my guest.

Patrick digs into the bag of chips and emerges with a handful. "What's going on? Is that Devon or Cody? We're video chatting with them in like, ten minutes."

"No." I pause and consider how much to share. But this is Patrick, one of my oldest friends. We've never been less than honest with each other, and the man is never shy about offering his opinion or advice. "I met someone."

"Dude, that's great. I'm happy for you." He gives me a hearty slap on the back.

"He lives in Buffalo."

His brows raise, then draw together. "Oh."

"Yeah." The word holds the weight of my frustrations over Ty being all the way on the other side of the country. I set my phone facedown on the table and grab my beer. "We met at the convention two weeks ago, instantly connected, spent the entire weekend together, and have been texting a ton since he left."

"Wow. That's intense. So, are you doing the long distance thing or what?"

"I don't know." I drag a hand through my hair. "It's so new."

Nodding, my friend leans into the back cushion and crosses his legs, ankle resting on his knee. He tips back his bottle and takes a long swallow. "Then I guess you have to wait and see what happens."

"Easy for you to say." My feelings are a little too explosive for that logical brand of thinking to calm them. I stab a chip into the guac. It snaps in half.

Patrick steals the second, larger piece out of the container. "Why's that? Can't you just sit back and enjoy the ride?"

"Doing that would be easier if I knew he and I wanted to head to the same destination." My gaze flicks to my phone. The feelings I have for Ty overwhelm me. I've never had that happen before.

"Where did you get that sketch of yourself?" Beer in hand, he gestures toward the framed picture hanging on the wall over the piano.

I can't help smiling. Every time I sit down to play, my own likeness, sketched by Ty's hand, reflects back at me. "The guy I met is an artist. He sketched it the day we met."

Patrick stands, then wanders closer to the image. He tucks his hands into his back pockets as he leans in to study the sketch. "Looks just like you. He's good."

A warm mix of happiness and pride fills me, welling deep in my chest. "His name is Ty, and he's amazing. His portfolio is impressive. I'll send you a link if you want to check it out."

"Sure. I'll take a look." He strolls back to the couch. After reclaiming his seat, he studies me, his hazel gaze intense. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, gentler. "You really like him, don't you?"

"I do." So much.

He nods. "I hope it works out the way you want."

"Thanks, man." I reach over and clink our beers together.

We dig into the chips and guacamole. Then, Patrick laughs and smacks me on the arm, dislodging a chip from my hand. His serious expression is gone, replaced by a smart ass smile. "I've never seen you so giddy over text messages."

Embarrassment wars with indignation as I brush the broken chip pieces off my lap. "I was not giddy." I had been smiling, that much I know. But giddy? Highly doubtful… Right?

"Buddy, which one of us had a clear view of your face?" That smile grows to a grin and he settles against the cushions, clearly enjoying himself. "If you don't like giddy, how about besotted? Smitten? Enamored? Enthralled? Beguiled?"

Laughing, I wing a chip at him, scoring a direct hit to the center of his chest. "Fuck you."

"No, thanks." His eyes gleam as his lips twist into a smirk. "I'll leave that for Ty."

"You…" Sputtering, surprised and amused, I hurl another chip. I have to give credit where it's due—Patrick is fast with a quip, and always has a witty comeback. "Bastard. But that was pretty funny."

"It was, but I can't take all the credit, you did feed me an easy setup."

"Well, I am also now not feeding you an actual dinner."

With a shrug like he knows my threat carries no weight, he raises his bottle to his lips. "It's probably my turn to buy anyway. Let's get the guys on video. Then we'll put in an order for food."

"Sure." I reach for my phone. Trepidation over the possibility of Ty sending another text and it popping up on the screen for Patrick to see stops me halfway. "Let's use yours instead. I'll put the pizza order in on mine."

That smart ass smile returns and Patrick slowly pulls his phone from his pocket. "I'm so onto you. But fine. I don't have anyone interesting texting me anyway."

While he opens the app and calls, I order our usual from the pizza place then clean up the chip crumbs. Cody and Devon's familiar voices fill the room. Patrick props his phone against the stack of magazines on the coffee table. He and I sprawl on opposite ends of the couch. Our friends on screen are positioned the same way, lounging in Devon's living room.

"Hey, boys." Cody beams a megawatt smile. "What's good?"

Patrick smirks and pokes his foot into my calf. "Craig met someone."

"You did?" Cody and Devon ask together, then look at each other and laugh.

Damn, I wish we were all in the same room. Settling deeper into the cushion, I pick up my beer then pass Patrick's over to him. "I did. His name is Ty. He's an artist and is deep into comic books, too."

"Ooh, he must be something." Cody leans into the screen with a sigh. The most dramatic member of our friendship quad is a total romantic. "Even your eyes are smiling."

Fingers steadily tapping out a beat on his thighs, Devon confirms Cody's words with a nod. "I'm expecting to see cartoon hearts popping out of them."

Patrick snorts a laugh, I scoff, and Cody grins.

And Devon continues with a wave of his hand, "Tell us about him."

I dive in, relaying everything that's happened since I rescued Ty from the table disaster. My friends are enthusiastic and sympathetic, and want to see photos of Ty and of the sketch he made me, and Patrick takes too much pleasure in me needing to use my phone to accommodate their requests. Luckily, no messages pop up from Ty.

Our pizza arrives, as does Cody and Devon's. We talk, laugh, joke, and catch up on everything that's happened since our last group chat, and talk about the song we've been working on. Patrick plays the melody for them again and I share new lyrics I wrote this week. We may only occasionally put out a single, but I'll take that over nothing.

Eating the same food is almost like having them here with us like they used to be, all of us crowding around a pizza box, starving after a hard night of playing, or more often, a hard night of working shit jobs that didn't pay nearly enough. The fierceness with which I miss my friends, miss the four of us being together, hits like an unexpected punch to the solar plexus. In addition to Ty, I have two other very good reasons to make a trip to Buffalo soon.

After the call ends, I walk Patrick to the door. "We should visit the guys soon."

"And Ty?" The smirk I'm expecting of him doesn't surface.

"I hope so. I really want to see him."

He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. "We'll figure something out when you're back. Good luck with the tour. Keep me posted on how it goes. And Craig… Back to Ty, listen. I know I don't know what you're going through, but I can imagine. These next few weeks away will be busy, but I hope by the time you get back, you're closer to receiving the answer you want."

"Thanks." I hug him hard, holding on a second longer than usual. "You're a good friend. "

"Keep that thought in mind if you find stray chip crumbs in the couch cushions." He's smiling as we draw apart. "See you, bud."

I lock up behind him, then turn and stare at the living room. In the absence of four voices talking over top of each other, the silence seems so loud. My gaze lands on the sketch. Then on my luggage by the door.

Maybe getting on the road for a few weeks, the change of scenery, the change of focus, will help take my mind off of the situation with Ty. Though I doubt it.

I am well and truly hooked. But if Ty ends up not wanting the same things… I lay a hand over the icy shard lodged in my stomach. If that happens… then on top of everything else, I will also be thoroughly gutted.