Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

TY

Fighting through the floaty feeling that's been my companion thanks to working late nights with Slater, coupled with earlier than usual starts at the insurance office, I drag myself down the hallway of Slater and Noah's apartment building, thankful it's Friday. Their place is a home away from home, and for the past two weeks, I've been living here.

My sketchbook and tablet are filled with ideas and notes I jotted down during my lunch break. I'm longing for hours of uninterrupted sleep, but my level of exhaustion will have to wait, because I have a video chat scheduled with Craig in less than fifteen minutes.

One month has passed since we met. We've both been super busy, me with the two jobs and Craig on tour, yet we've managed to exchange texts every day, sometimes, multiple times a day. A month of talking, flirting, and I'm falling for him more and more.

Using the key the couple gave me, I let myself into their place, then toe off my shoes and tuck them in a corner. Slater's sneakers lay on their sides a few feet away from the wall, total tripping hazards. I push them under the small table by the front door, out of the way. "Slater?"

"In the kitchen."

Following the scent of coffee, I head that way. Slater sits at the kitchen island, his laptop open, huddled over the detailed spreadsheet we created to keep track of characters, plot lines, and scenes. I set my bag down on an empty stool and withdraw my sketchbook, tablet, and notebook. "I know we're supposed to be working, but Craig only had a small window of time to talk today, so he and I are chatting in fifteen minutes."

"No worries. Noah should be back from the library soon, and we'll need to break for dinner anyway."

"Thanks."

Sliding back his stool, Slater stands. He moves to the cabinet, takes down two mugs, then pours coffee into both. "I'm glad you're staying in touch. The chemistry you had in LA was intense. I think everyone who saw you guys picked up on it."

"Yeah." I smile and warmth washes into my chest. "He's great. I can't wait to see him."

He sets one of the cups in front of me, then retrieves cream and sugar. "When's he flying in? I can't remember what you said."

An extra teaspoon of sugar makes its way into my mug before I realize that I've already heaped in my usual amount. Hopefully, the increased sweetness will keep me going a while longer. Caffeine and sugar are the key combination for powering through the crazy hours I've been keeping lately. "His flight leaves after the concert on Friday night. There's a layover in Chicago, so he's due to get here at eleven-thirty next Saturday morning."

"You seem happier since you met him. "

"I am." I take a sip of the brew and my gaze falls to my notebook and the ideas that sparked into my head during lunch. "Craig is amazing. He's sweet, sexy, smart, and kind. I feel like I'm trapped under his spell, which gave me an idea for the next hero we're planning. I want to do something like that. Craig is all-consuming, and I can't get enough. But I don't know whether that should be in our hero's favor or detriment."

His head tips to the side as he studies me. "I like it, and can picture either route working well. We can discuss the pros and cons during dinner, and I'll show you the storyboard I played with today before we dive into more work."

"Good plan." And maybe we'll finish at an early enough hour that I'll get a decent amount of sleep.

Slater glances at the microwave clock. "Are you taking your call in your bedroom? Or did you want to do it out here? I can make myself scarce."

"It's your apartment. You don't have to hide away. I'll go in the guest room." Carrying my coffee, phone, and sketchbook, I head for the room I've been sleeping in for the past two weeks. They've both christened it my bedroom rather than calling it the guest room, and not for the first time, I wish I had the pair as roommates for real.

I change my shirt, comb my hair, and choose the chair by the window instead of the bed. If I lay down, the chance I'll fall asleep is too great.

A few short minutes later, Craig fills my screen. Shirtless, lounging on a bed, propped up against a pile of pillows, he smiles and his eyes crinkle at the corners. "Hey."

Just seeing his face on the screen is enough to brighten my world. "Hi. You look good, all sprawled out like that."

"You do too, with the light playing over your face. And I bet you feel even better. I wish you were here. "

"Me too." I hide a yawn behind my coffee mug. "How was last night's show?"

The purple shadows under his dark gaze are deeper than when we video chatted last week. "The crowd was great. Tons of energy. But I'm exhausted."

He still has one week to go. I stifle another yawn. "I hope you're taking care of yourself. Staying hydrated. Eating as nutritiously as possible."

"I am." Craig's image zooms in on his face as he brings his phone closer to it. His brows draw together. "You look really tired. Just like last week."

"It's all the hours we've been pulling on the comic book series, coupled with going into work early for training on how to use the new software and claims system this week." I don't think the company should be allowed to schedule training sessions outside of our normal working hours, but the higher ups don't care, so I'm using my frustration as fuel to push harder on the comics.

Craig's brows lower and his chin raises. He tilts his head and seems to be choosing his words carefully. "Even though you're creating superheroes, remember, you're still human. Don't overdo it."

Knowing he cares gives me a soft and cozy feeling. "I'll do my best. You should take your own advice. Hanging out with that big rock band famous for getting into problems, like bar fights…" I'm not kidding, but soften my warning with a smile.

"They've mellowed out over the last several years. I think starting Furious Records was a turning point for them. No fights or problems this tour. Even Zander's in a decent mood, considering he still can't play without pain."

I wince in sympathy. "I hope he's better soon. A few years ago, I sprained two fingers and couldn't properly grip a pencil for two weeks. That's the longest I've ever gone without drawing. I hated every minute."

He shifts his position and adjusts the pillow. "How'd you sprain them?"

"I was getting out of bed and my legs got tangled in the sheets. I fell forward, hit the floor, and bent the fingers back too far."

With a grimace, Craig turns his head away from the screen. "Ouch."

"Yeah. Took even longer before I got my full range of motion back. I'm lucky it wasn't worse." I fight another yawn, but fail to hold it off.

Lines of concern etch across his face. "You keep yawning. I should let you go so you can rest."

"No!" Clutching my coffee, I widen my eyes and do my best to look wide awake. The adrenaline shooting through my system at the thought of the call being severed helps, as does gulping half of the coffee. "I want to talk to you. I've looked forward to this all day. Stay. Please. It's only some missed sleep. No big deal."

"Yeah, it's only something your body needs to function properly. No big deal," he mocks gently. "If you go for something like fifty hours without sleep, you can start hallucinating."

"Are you speaking from experience?"

Craig's rich chuckle flows from the speakers. "Just something I read recently."

"I did some interesting reading, too. Today, actually, during my lunch break. On narwhals."

"Oh?"

"I was thinking about your tattoo. Sketching it out. So I looked them up. Did you know, some people call them the unicorn of the sea because of the tusk? "

"Makes sense." He glances at the colorful tattoo adorning his biceps. "I told you I don't remember picking this out, so I don't know how I ended up with it over something else, or why, in my inebriated state, I thought permanently inking this onto my skin was a great idea."

Sympathy swirling, I shift closer to the screen, wishing I could somehow allay Craig's discomfort. "Maybe it's time to consider covering the tattoo with something else? Something that will make you happy. If you want, I could draw something for you. I've designed tattoos for one of my coworkers and for Noah."

Light comes into his eyes and Craig beams. "I could be walking around with a piece of art, a Typhoeus Allen original, on my arm?"

"I like when you put it that way." Stretching out my legs, I savor this talented man's appreciation of my work, and the way it makes me feel buzzed, like the most potent drink. "I can draw whatever you want."

"I really like that first dragon you have in your portfolio. The one I'm using as a lock screen. Maybe something like that?"

Fingers itching to get started, I set the coffee on the windowsill and grab the sketchbook. "Definitely. Think about colors you want, the feel of the dragon. How big? Will it be flying? Breathing fire? Breathing music notes? Have music notes etched into its scales?"

"I love the way your mind works. Definitely yes to music notes."

My pencil scratches over the paper as I jot down some thoughts. "I'll play with some ideas and send them to you."

"I can't wait to see them. Send me an invoice too. I don't know the going rate for this sort of thing. Whatever you charge works for me. "

My pencil pauses, mid-word. "You don't have to pay me. It was my idea, and I'm happy to do it for you."

"You are not working for free." The lift to his chin dares me to argue. "I've seen some of the comments under your social media posts, so I know too many people already ask for things and want them for free. That isn't right. I'm paying."

He's not wrong about those people. "Okay. I'll send an invoice once we finalize the design. That's how I've done it with Noah."

Craig gives one sharp nod. "Deal." And we grin at each other.

Sunshiny warmth radiates through me, and I long to bask in the glow for as long as he'll have me. Craig makes me so happy. Is this love? Is this too soon to be love? I want what is best for the man, want him to be safe and content. And I want to be my best self for him too. But saying all of that only one month into knowing him could scare him off. It's too soon to share. Way too soon. There's still so much up in the air. I settle on a safe topic instead. The saga of his hotel room experiences up and down California. "How's your hotel room?"

"The A/C's working, so it's already better than the last place. And there's a piano in the lobby, which is cool. Remember the ballad I played for you? I played it for the guys earlier. They asked if I'd go into the studio and record it with them after the tour's over."

"That's amazing. Ask them if you can sing too. Your voice is so good."

Craig's head dips, and that almost shy look he'd worn while playing the song reappears. "They heard me today. Luke said he wants us to do it together as a duet."

Pride in Craig puffs up my chest and I pump my arm into the air. "Yes! I can't wait to hear it. Of course, hearing it in person, with you right next to me was really special. Like my own private concert."

"Speaking of in person and private." He shifts his position, rustling the sheets as he turns onto his side. "I know we'd planned for me to hop on a flight after the last show and come see you."

"Yes, and I can't wait." My heart skips and my pulse jumps at the thought of having him here with me for a few days of uninterrupted togetherness. I shift forward in the chair. My sketchbook and pencil slide off my lap, and I scramble to catch them before they tumble to the floor. "I already cleared it with my roommates and we'll be finished the training on the new system at work next week, so I won't have to worry about putting in extra hours while you're here."

His expression a mix of hesitation and stress, Craig drags his hand through his hair. "Thing is, the guys want to get into the studio on Monday next week, fresh off the tour, to do the recording."

"Oh."

He's not coming.

A lead weight forms in my stomach. I set the pencil down to mark my place and close the sketchbook. The sunlight filtering through the window dims, casting the room in shadows as the sun slips behind clouds. "I understand."

"I hate cancelling on you." His voice draws my focus back to the screen. Creases fan out in fine lines from the corners of his eyes and he licks his lips. "I'm really sorry."

"I'm disappointed, but it's okay." Disappointed is an understatement. I'm a few notches below painful. But I don't want to tell him that when he looks like he feels bad enough. "Recording that song is a great opportunity."

Craig's sigh is so heavy a forklift wouldn't be able to raise it. "It is. But I want to see you. I could still fly out late Friday night as planned. Arrive in Buffalo at eleven-thirty on Saturday morning. And take the eleven AM flight back to LA on Sunday."

"I want to see you. But I couldn't do that to you, not with you having to sing and be ready to record on Monday. You should spend the weekend at home, resting and relaxing."

"Twenty-four hours together is better than nothing."

Now, it's my turn to sigh. "I agree. But, you're exhausted already. Spending tons of hours stuck on planes and in airports in such a short span of time will only make that worse." My stomach tightens. "I don't want you blaming me if you're at less than your best on Monday."

With his frown, the intensity in his gaze burns brighter. "Hold on. Why would I blame you?"

The best answer I can manage is a shrug. Instances of my parents' remarks about missing out on things because of "the kid" aren't something I dwell on, but the feelings associated with them tend to surface at odd times and catch me unaware. "Just thinking."

Craig holds my gaze, unmoving. Unblinking. Studying me, and I fear he sees too deeply. "Too much passed over your face. Tell me what you're thinking about that would make you believe I'd blame you."

Silence stretches out between us as I gather my thoughts. Discomfort tickling along my spine, I hook my ankle around the chair's rung. "Let's just say I've heard the same thing often enough, drawing that conclusion is almost natural."

His brows knit together. "Not Slater and Noah."

"No. Not them. My parents. They had me really young, and a baby was not in their plans. We lived with my grandparents so they could watch me while my parents worked part-time around their college classes. My grandparents hadn't planned on the three of us interrupting their lives for so many years. As I heard them say more than once, they already raised their kids and didn't feel up to doing it again, which I understood. But my parents didn't want to do it either."

"I'm sorry." His voice is soft.

A chill creeping over my skin, I fold my legs up against my chest and shift toward the slowly forming sunbeam filtering through the window. "My grandparents are gone now. I don't have a relationship with my parents. I got tired of hearing how I was the reason their lives didn't turn out the way they'd planned."

Craig sighs and shifts, tucking one arm behind his head on the pillow. "I hate when people blame others for situations they put themselves in. I'm sorry you went through that. So sorry."

I don't know what to say, so I nod.

He pulls his phone closer to his face and his gaze is serious, locked in on mine. "Let's be clear. If I choose to do or not do something, that is on me. I don't blame other people for my actions and reactions."

The words soak in, soothing old wounds. "Noted."

"Good."

I really don't want to argue with him, and as much as I want him in my arms, putting aside what I want is the right thing to do. "I still think you should stay in LA and get some rest. Please? For me?"

Softness flickers in his eyes. He rubs his hand over his face, and when he focuses back on the screen, I can see his resolve has weakened. "Saying I'd do anything for you isn't much of an exaggeration."

That surprises me. And makes me hope. And realize there isn't much I wouldn't do for him. "Same here. "

The softness continues in the smile shaping his lips. "Good to know."

My gaze falls on the color-coded calendar of comic book tasks I printed out, poking from the sketchbook. "Slater and I still have more to do to prepare for our launch. So while you're in the recording booth, I can focus on that."

A line forms between his brows. "I thought you said you were ahead of schedule."

"I am." Busting my ass and getting things squared away so I'd have time for Craig put me there. "But we're almost done. The only other thing I have on my calendar is the party Noah is giving us on launch day to celebrate our series going live. You're welcome to come."

He nods. "I want to be there, celebrating with you. I have meetings with a few artists later this month to talk about songs they want. Maybe I can fly out after those are finished. Come to the party. Stay for a while."

New tendrils of hope bloom and unfurl, though the wisps are thin and difficult to grasp. "I'd love that."

"I'll do my best to make it happen." Incessant beeping interrupts his voice. His muscles flex as he leans over the mattress and silences the alarm clock. "Sorry, but I need to get going. The band has an interview."

I bite my lip to hold back saying I'd hoped we'd have a longer time together. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Don't overwork yourself."

Despite the pit in my stomach, I manage a smile and lift my hand in a wave. "Right. I won't. You either."

The spark twinkling in his gaze at the call's start isn't as bright now. He brings his fingers to his lips, then his hand comes forward, to the screen. Almost like a kiss goodbye. And then his screen goes black.

Unsettled, I stare at the phone, replaying our conversation. Exhaustion limits my brain from firing on all cylinders. Everything feels muddy and uncertain. I'm afraid to get my hopes up that he'll be able to attend the party. Something else could come up, like another gig. He's already had another band reach out to see if he could join them for a special project and the details for that are up in the air.

I fight through another yawn and stand. My socked feet shuffling across the wood floors, I return to the kitchen. The oven is on and the scent of roasted chicken and potatoes fills the air. The papers and laptop still clutter the island, but Slater's coffee cup and the man himself are gone. A peek into the hall confirms Slater and Noah's bedroom door is closed. The stack of library books by the couch means Noah is home. He's probably in the bedroom, changing clothes, with Slater keeping him company.

A wave of exhaustion washes over me once again. Clutching the island's edge, I squeeze hard, willing it to pass. Another massive yawn overtakes me.

Despite the tiredness and the stress over Craig, I have work to do. I open the drawing app on my tablet. The superhero I created dominates the screen. Pencil in hand, I pause over the panel, unable to concentrate on his battle with the villain. My thoughts fly back to Craig.

The sound of a door opening is followed by Slater and Noah's voices, then footsteps in the hallway. They enter the kitchen. Noah meets my gaze and stops in his tracks. "You look upset."

"I'm okay." I glance at my coffee cup, debating another refill.

"No you're not," Slater says, crossing his arms over his chest. He moves toward me like a bodyguard intent on providing protection. "How was the call with Craig? "

Shrugging, I push off the stool. "All right. Well, no. Let's change that to not the best."

Noah and Slater exchange a glance, and Noah inclines his head before continuing to the fridge. He removes carrots, celery, lettuce, and a yellow pepper, then places them next to the tomato resting on the counter. "What happened?"

I shove my hands into my back pockets and pace from one side of the room to the other, studying the pattern in the wood grain. "The band asked him to record a song with them as soon as the tour ends. So he can't come for a visit like we'd planned. That's getting pushed back for a while."

"I'm sorry." Noah's voice is as soft as the comforting hand he lays on my shoulder.

I wish ditching my disappointment was as easy as releasing a breath or rolling my shoulders. But instead, it lingers, as gray as the clouds forming in the sky outside the window. "We're busy working on the comic anyway, and he has some work lined up later this month, so I guess waiting might be smarter for us. He said he'd try to be here for our launch party."

Slater plucks my coffee cup from the counter and brings it to the pot. "I'm sorry his visit got postponed. We know you were looking forward to it."

The dark brew flows into our cups, and the rich scent drifts on the air. Inhaling deep, I drag my hands through my hair. "He offered to fly out anyway, but we'd only have about twenty-four hours together between his flights. I can't put him through all the waiting at airports and being stuck cramped in a seat on those long flights for hours and hours. He needs to be at his best for recording."

He sets the coffee in front of me, along with the cream and sugar. "What if you went to see him? I know you said you don't have any vacation time left at the day job this year, but you could go for the weekend. Fly out on Friday late afternoon or evening and fly home on Sunday night. It's not a ton of time together, but you won't have to worry about him dealing with the airports and flights."

Stirring in the sugar, I watch the swirling liquid. "That's a nice idea. Maybe in a few months."

I need to wait until I've rebuilt my bank account, replacing the money I spent on the trip to LA. As professional hockey players, the amount of money Slater and Noah earn is so high above what I make it's not funny, though they never flaunt that fact or make things awkward.

Noah picks up his laptop from where it rests on the side counter. "You said Craig's last show is in LA?"

I pass Slater the container of creamer. "Yeah. The band has shows there Thursday and Friday. They booked hotel rooms so they don't have to worry about driving home in between shows. But he'll be back in his house on Saturday."

"Cool. Then that's where you'll be." Slater lays his hand on my shoulder. "Our treat."

Shaking my head, I back away, whipping my gaze from him to Noah. "No. I can't let you do that."

"Sure you can. We want to." Busy typing and clicking away, Noah gives me a brief glance before returning his focus to the screen. I spy the website of the airline we used when flying to LA for the convention. "You're helping Slater realize his dream of having the comic book series come to life. That's huge, Ty. We both appreciate you."

"Yeah, but that project is helping me. Slater brings great ideas and an audience. And you two have been so good to me." I doubt I'll ever be able to thank them for welcoming me into their lives and giving me a place in their circle of friends, not to mention that most of my friends now have come from knowing the pair. They've changed my life .

Noah steps back from his laptop and faces me, placing his hands on my shoulders. "We're friends. We can do things for each other. Now, I've booked the flights. You fly out Friday afternoon at four o'clock. The return flight is Sunday night at six-thirty. Direct flights, no layovers. We can take you to and from the airport so you don't have to worry about leaving your car, or dealing with ordering a rideshare. Since you're staying here anyway, it makes the most sense."

Overwhelmed, I clutch hold of his wrist. "I don't know what to say. Thank you doesn't seem like enough, but thank you."

Slater joins us and slips his arm around Noah's waist. The pair lean into each other, fitting perfectly. "You're a good guy, Ty. We've got your back."

"I know you do." They've more than proven so. I'll have to think of something nice to repay them.

"Good." Noah releases his hold, then beckons me toward the island and the mess of papers. "The chicken and potatoes will be ready by the time we finish chopping up the salad veggies. They're already cooked, I picked them up on the way home. We're just reheating."

I gather the sheets into a pile. "I'll help with the chopping. And I can set the table."

Slater grins at me. "For a supervillain fan, you're awfully conscientious about helping out."

Laughing, I chuck a balled-up piece of paper at his chest. "What can I say? Like the best villains, I'm a complex character."

The guys crack up, and I join in. I can't wait to tell Craig I'm coming out to see him. I'm itching to call him now, but I don't want to interrupt the band's interview.

An entire day and a half with Craig sounds like another whirlwind, and I can't wait to get swept up in it.