Chapter 19 Cole

"This is the life," exclaims a freshly-showered Anthony after he drops onto the couch in the middle of what I've decided to call the "guest wing lounge". He wears nothing but a robe and a pair of fluffy white slippers, palming a beer bottle in one hand and a TV remote in the other. "What're you doin' pacing around? Kick back with me, man. Shit, you're makin' me nervous."

I check my phone. No messages. "Don't mind me," I tell him. "I just can't sit still right now."

Anthony shifts on the couch to face me. It's enormous, by the way—the couch and the room. "Waiting on Noah, huh?"

"Yes, sir," I answer casually, then check my phone once again. "Any minute now."

"Come chill with me." He slaps the spot next to him with his remote-holding hand. "Plenty a' room. Baseball game's on."

The room is filled with an assortment of eclectic artwork no matter which way you look. In one corner stands a sculpture of a horse on its hind legs made entirely out of copper wire. In the other, an oddly-bent, asymmetrical vase made out of some kind of polished black stone that looks like obsidian. Right beneath the unforgivably large mounted TV is another sculpture I can't even properly identify. Earlier, Anthony and I played a few rounds at a foosball table nearby, one of a few generously provided options for entertainment in the room. Across from that is an octagonal card table lined with maroon felt, sitting near a set of tall French doors that lead out to a sprawling garden, which is impressively lit with decorative lights and sconces along the brick.

"I think I need a snack or something," I lie, earning me a scoff and a, "Suit yourself," from Anthony before I head off.

My phone stays in hand as I stroll down a long, wide hallway that leads past three bedrooms to a beautiful kitchenette with a fully-stocked fridge and pantry. Beyond the long kitchen island is a separate dining area that is enclosed like a greenhouse, with tall glass doors and exotic-looking plants in every corner. I've never been in the guest wing of the house the one or two times I was invited over here as a high schooler, so it's just my instinct to explore and satisfy my curiosities.

Also, it's killing time.

Because I still haven't heard from Noah.

All he was supposed to do is go home to get a few things and come back. He insisted on getting a ride home with Patrick, saying that his dad would then drive him back. That was hours ago.

And he's not picking up his phone.

Nor answering my texts.

Should I be worried?

"I feel like I'm at a resort hotel," comes a voice—Dean's, who quietly enters the kitchenette to help himself to something from the fridge, "and it's late at night after most of the staff has gone home. Really, this residence is spectacular." Dean chuckles as he shuts the door and brings an apple to the sink to rinse it off. "I'm sure they clean their fruit before stowing it away," he goes on as he rinses vigorously, "but you can't be too sure."

I put on a smile. "I do the same."

"I couldn't help but overhear, as I was in my room, that you're waiting on a call from your friend Noah?" asks Dean at the sink.

After a moment, I nod and wiggle my phone. "Yes, I am."

"He's not really a friend, is he? Ah, that look on your face …" He lets out a playful laugh as he shakes his head. "You don't have to hide anything around me. I knew about Tyrone before the rest of the family did. I even hosted Tyrone and Omar at my house long before they tied the knot, back when he was still with the force. Back when …" He lets out a weary sigh. "… when my dear Cherie was alive. Must be in my blood, to see young love all around me."

"You never talked about your wife around us before," I point out. "I was afraid to ask, because I wasn't sure if … well …"

"Don't worry. I've found my peace with her passing. Oh, what a sweet gentleman you are," says Dean with a bright smile. "Truth be told, I've never been sure whether I was ready for all of this. I sure know Nadine thinks I'm ready, but … I suppose my heart will have to let me know. Even though it's been four years since my dear Cherie passed, it feels like just—"

Our moment is interrupted by a shout from the other room: "Yeah! Fuckin' homerun, bay-bay! Outta the damned park! Woo, yeah!"

Dean visibly shudders, gives himself a moment, then leans in and brings down his voice. "I know Cherie would want me to move on. Nadine's said that to me time and time again. She and Cherie were friends. I have to say, I nearly dropped my jaw the other day when I went to get myself a bite and thought I saw Cherie out and about. It was after our last photo shoot at Gary's ranch, after we'd all parted ways. Sweet, kindhearted lady, the warmest eyes you've ever seen. We spoke briefly … a handful of minutes. Candace was her name." Dean clicks his tongue and shakes his head, for a moment his efforts at the sink paused. "I hope she comes to the event and puts a bid on my heart. Just one brief conversation over cappuccinos and I've been enchanted."

"That's beautiful, Dean."

"Well, we shall see how it goes. I think I had Cherie in my ear that day telling me to go after her, but to not bore the woman with a conversation about weather." He lets out a heartfelt laugh. "Isn't that something? Seems exactly like what Cherie would say. Did I end up rambling about the weather anyway? I'm not even sure."

"The weather is something we can all relate to," I point out.

"Hah, yes, well … I do hope I see Candace again. Even if I'm not ready. Perhaps I'll never think I'm ready until I push myself out there and just … say I'm ready. Isn't that the way of it?" He faces me. "All of this to say, don't fret the small stuff at the expense of your very valuable heart, young man. We cannot choose who we fall in love with … but we can choose how we love, and I am so thrilled for you and Noah and how the two of you—"

"Woo, yeah! Fuck ‘em in the asshole! Go, go, go! Run, baby, run!"

Startled, Dean drops the apple in the sink, sighs with great aggravation, then calls out: "Anthony, do you mind toning it down out there? Cole and I are trying to have a mature conversation, and now I have to wash my apple all over again because it—"

"What? Can't hear you."

Dean takes a patient breath. "I said—"

"Yeah, run! Woo, baby, fuck me, that was a close-call!"

Unable to stand another second of it, Dean sets his apple on the counter and mutters a quiet, "Excuse me," before heading off down the hall back to the lounge, where I start to hear the tense beginnings of another one of their quarrels. I consider following Dean into the room to act as some kind of mediator, but honestly, I have enough on my mind waiting for a certain someone to reply to my abundance of unanswered texts.

A certain someone I really wish was here right now.

I move from the kitchen to another short hall that leads to the main house, right near the study where we all gathered weeks ago for our first meeting with Malcolm. Next to the study is a staircase where I take a seat on the bottom step and pull out my phone. I'd already sent him several messages asking if he needed me to come get him, or needed help, or if he had an ETA. So I opt to be more direct in confronting my concerns and type simply: Are you okay?

I stare at my phone, waiting for a response.

Then: "Are you okay?"

I snap my eyes up, surprised by the question—only to find TJ standing at the banister up above, a kind and curious expression on his face. He looks unusually dressed down, his hair messy, in a loose tank top and gym shorts.

I quickly rise from the step. "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to come all the way out here."

TJ chuckles. "You're not imprisoned in the guest wing, y'know. You guys can go wherever you want."

"Thanks, TJ." I smile up at him. "What're you doing home, by the way? Don't you have classes?"

"I left campus in the afternoon to catch y'all's final rehearsal. My mom said Mrs. Strong was a bit stressed with everything, and my presence would be ‘very much appreciated'. I don't think she even noticed." He laughs. "Anyway, I don't have classes on Fridays this semester, so that gives me an extra-long weekend." He shakes his head. "You sure are impressive, by the way. I don't think I'd dare do half the amazing stuff you did out there tonight."

"It's all for fun and to put money into the town," I say with a light shrug. "I'm not sure I'd call my talent impressive or amazing, but if it entertains the crowd and gets them to throw money …"

"Well, you did have a nice talent, but that's not exactly what I was calling amazing or impressive." He gives me a suggestive look.

Oh. He's talking about the Speedo. "I'm not quite sure what's so amazing about banana-hammock swimwear," I repeat, "but if the crowd likes it, that's better for us all."

"The crowd most definitely will like it," he says with a giggle. "Hey, what's got you out here on your phone, anyway? I was in the kitchen earlier and thought I heard yelling. I almost went to the guest wing to check."

"Oh. That was probably Anthony watching baseball." I frown as I peer down at my phone. Still nothing. "I think I just needed a bit of space from the guys. They're fighting again."

"I see." TJ frowns, crossing his arms on the banister. "I heard they're not best friends."

"You heard correctly."

"Y'know what it sounds like they need?" He slaps the banister with determination. "A party, that's what."

I peer quizzically at him as he starts coming down the stairs, practically hopping. "Uh …"

"C'mon, I'll solve all their issues. Let's go." TJ throws an arm over my shoulders and leads me right back to the guest wing.

I'm cringing at the idea of what we'll find. That TJ will witness the worst of what we've had to put up with over the course of the past several weeks. That the second we enter the lounge, we will have to dodge a very expensive piece of airborne art flung our way by a drunken Anthony. That the two of them will be squared off on opposite ends of the couch wielding artwork for weapons.

Instead, we enter to find the pair of them on the couch.

Hugging.

And sobbing uncontrollably.

"I d-d-don't know why I g-g-get like this," cries Anthony.

"It's okay, it's okay," says Dean, patting him on the shoulder. "We all have our demons, we all do."

"B-B-But my demons are so f-f-fucking ugly …"

"If my Cherie were here, she'd say we've got to have patience with each other—and with ourselves most of all."

"She sounds s-s-so sweet …"

"You remind me of my nephew Tyrone when he was young, during his formative years."

"I wanna b-b-be better … I wanna d-do better …"

"You will, you will. I'll help you, son. You've got it in you, you can fight those demons, you've got it in you. Oh, if my dear Cherie were here right now … what she'd say … what she'd say …"

"I love you, man, I'm s-s-so sorry …"

"I'm so sorry, too."

TJ and I turn to each other, completely baffled.

And that's when the sound of scuffling shoes is heard. I turn to find Noah standing at the entrance to the lounge with a striped blue-and-white backpack slung over his shoulder. His eyes reflect as much bewilderment as our own at the bizarre scene before us.

"Noah," I greet him, amazed.

"The butler let me in," he says in reply, then smiles flatly.

Of course, it's a joke. There's no butler. But the instant I see Noah, I feel deep relief. While Dean and Anthony continue to share their disturbingly adorable moment—and TJ walks over to check if he can help them somehow—I whisk Noah away.

A moment later finds us sitting in a quiet bay window at the other end of the guest wing, his backpack on the floor by our feet. "I was worried," I tell him. "You weren't answering my texts, and it's been hours, and—"

"I know," says Noah. "I'm sorry."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes." He swallows hard, then nods stiffly. "Yes, all's good."

I'm not convinced. "Did one of your mom's baked goods come to life and take over the house? Did you discover your dad's trains crashed into each other? Casualties numbering over a thousand? Mayor of Windville is in hot water with the local authorities?"

Noah cracks a smile—which was my intention. "No. As far as I know, everything is operating just fine in Windville, and my mom wasn't up to her usual baking experiments. I'll let them know you were so concerned. They'll love that," he adds as an aside. Then his eyes catch the strange painting near the window. "Is that a goose's body with the head of a horse?"

"There's a lot of weird art around here. Just go with it." I lean into him. "I'm so glad you're here, Noah."

He pulls his eyes from the painting and smiles at me. "I'm glad to be here, too. Are you recovered after today? Did you get rest?"

"Not much. But I'll get rest now that I've got you."

"It was surreal today, watching you up on that stage." He lets out a sigh of amazement. "Cole, I don't know how you find the confidence in yourself to do all of that. One of my worst memories is standing on a stage in front of a bunch of people for an audition. It haunts me to this day."

"An audition? When was this?"

"Years ago, my junior year of high school. Tamika even paid witness. She was a sophomore, I think. Now, anytime I'm in front of a bunch of people, or a social setting with a lot of pressure, I feel like I'm right back in that auditorium. I freeze up."

I frown. "You never told me about that."

"And then you go and make it look so easy, jumping onto that stage and being your amazing, talented self …" He looks the other way. "Even when you're nervous, you look so confident."

I take hold of his hand, bringing his attention back to me. "I'm only confident because you're out there watching me. Who do you think I was performing for earlier? It wasn't for anyone out there in that audience. Couldn't even see them, anyway. It was your face I had in my mind the whole time. That pep talk you gave me in the dressing room? You're the one who gives me confidence."

He averts his eyes. "Cole …"

"I don't know when it'll happen, but someday, you'll let go of that audition nightmare. It won't haunt you anymore. You have to make the choice to let it go, or fight it, or forgive yourself, or turn it from something that crushed you into something that made you. Have you ever asked Tamika about it? I bet the last thing she'd say is how scared you looked. She"d probably tell you how courageous you were to get up on that stage in the first place."

"You think …?" he asks halfheartedly, still gazing away.

I touch his face, stroking his cheek. "Babe, I think you're one of the most courageous people I've known. The people in that high school auditorium in your brain, they don't matter. Just like all the people who will fill that pavilion in a couple of days don't matter to me. You're my inspiration, every second I'm on that stage. You are the only person who matters."

He stares back. I want to say his eyes look happy, but I can't help noticing the same persistent edge in them. Is my pep talk not helping at all? Is he still affected by my stage fright earlier in the dressing room when I could barely button my shirt?

If I'm being honest with myself, despite everything I'm telling him, there's a part of me that is nervous about the show. A part of me that totally lacks confidence. Things could go wrong. Lighting instruments could fall on my head. My clothes could magically fall off, exposing me to the insurmountably large audience that will no doubt fill that pavilion from end to end.

Do I even believe my own words about confidence?

"What are you guys doin' way over here?"

Noah and I turn to find Anthony at the mouth of the hallway, his eyes red from crying, his robe hanging open to reveal that he's wearing nothing but a pair of tight white boxer-briefs.

I realize belatedly I'm still caressing Noah's face. For whatever reason, I don't drop my hand.

Anthony looks back and forth between us. "So you guys gonna finish makin' out or whatever the hell y'all are doin' and come join us? Dean and I are takin' a dip in the pool. TJ's with us."

Noah and I glance at each other.

"Or don't. Y'know, whatever." Anthony leaves.

After a second, Noah smirks. "You did say you wanted me by your side until ‘all of this madness is over with' … I believe were your exact words."

"I trust the guy who quotes people for a living," I say.

"Then I … guess I'll stay here with you," he decides with a nod. "I'll stay and be the person you can depend on. And when this is over with, we can …" He nods again with more certainty. "… we can go back to being ourselves."

"You promise?"

"Yes." He lifts his backpack off the floor and sets it between us. "So which one of these twenty rooms is yours?"

I fling his backpack over my shoulder. "I'll show you."

The room I took is down the hall a little from the lounge, right across from Anthony's. It was the only room that lacked a view of the pavilion. Something about it being out of sight helps me relax more, which is the purpose of us staying here. I help empty Noah's backpack into a couple of drawers, though he didn't seem to bring much with him. Just before we leave the room, I can't help myself and tackle Noah onto my soft, springy, oversized bed, surprising him. After just one kiss, we become lost in each other, and soon, we're grinding against each other's bodies, our hands all over each other as we lose our breaths, making out.

"I'm so happy you're here," I moan against his lips.

"Me, too," he moans right back.

It must be half an hour later before the pair of us arrive at the swimming pool behind the guest wing. Considering the size of the entire estate, the pool is proportionately quite small, but circled by a lot of large paved areas with coverings, lounge chairs, sofas, and even a tiny dining section complete with a grill and outdoor sink. Dean looks like an actual king seated in the circular hot tub attached to the pool, a wineglass in one hand with a bottle sitting next to him on the edge of the tub. Anthony floats in the center of the pool on an inflatable lounger, arms behind his head, chatting away about something to do with Reverend Trey's most recent advice to him and how it's helping him "manage his unaddressed anger", with Dean interjecting a word of wisdom now and then. TJ swims around casually, appearing relaxed and content, now and then floating on his back. He looks over upon our arrival and calls out for us to join them. Noah and I end up sitting by each other near the hot tub with our legs dangling in the pool. TJ and Anthony gravitate toward us, and before long, all of us become engrossed in relaxed conversation under the stars. Dean tells us some funny anecdotes about babysitting Tyrone "centuries ago". TJ tells us all about life at his university and the odd (and slightly self-entitled) peers and professors he deals with, about whom Noah seems to be particularly intrigued. One of his professors has the last name of Myers, which sends Anthony into a venting spiel about his own parents and how they've been putting so much pressure on him to make something of himself, which in turn only makes him feel like "more of a loser". Dean, who has come up to the front of the hot tub where it meets the pool, shakes his head in pity and says, "I'm telling you, Anthony, you'll find your right time, you'll find your moment to shine. Don't you dare give up." And Anthony, who has apparently become Dean's apprentice and number one fan, nods at once and says, "You better bet I won't give up. I'll prove them all wrong about me. Fuck yeah, I will."

I catch Noah's eyes several times, and when he looks my way, he smiles, appearing happy.

I think we both needed this.

"What about you, Teej?" asks Anthony from his inflatable lounger, giving TJ a nudge with his foot. "You got yourself a chick hidden away on campus?"

TJ flicks his eyes at me once, then shrugs at Anthony. "No, I'm too busy to date."

"C'mon, we're all friends here, we're all bonding. Tell us. You are one good-lookin' young guy. I'm sure you got a chick's number in your phone you're gonna call the second you go to bed."

TJ laughs him off. "No, really, I don't."

"Don't lie."

"And what about you?" TJ suddenly retorts, adopting a funny smirk and crossing his arms on the edge of the pool. "You have so many jobs around town. Don't you get hit on by girls all the time?"

Anthony bristles and shrugs. "Sure, yeah, can't keep them off of me. What about it?"

"Why don't you have a girlfriend yet?"

He blows air out his lips and shrugs again. "None of them can keep up with me. I'm a lot to handle."

"So you think the special one is gonna appear at the pageant and bid on you?" asks TJ. "Y'know, the one who can keep up?"

"Dunno, guess we'll see," he mumbles.

Dean, peering up at the stars in wonder, asks, "Can we even still properly call it a pageant if the real purpose is to auction each of us off for a date?"

"Is it even a real pageant without judges?" asks TJ in return.

"There aren't judges?" asks Anthony, his face wrinkled.

"Nope," confirms TJ. "Just the lovely emcee Frankie Lopez and Mayor Nadine herself."

Dean starts to laugh. "Then what in the world did we actually sign up for?"

"A circus," mumbles Anthony, then reaches for his beer—and the whole inflatable flips over without warning, dumping him into the water. Dean bursts into laughter, soon followed by TJ, Noah, and myself. After Anthony clambers his way out from underneath the giant floating lounger—which in and of itself is a hilarious scene to witness, inspiring even deeper laughter from all of us—he shouts out, "Fuck y'all!" before joining in the laughter, wiping water out of his eyes.

Our time at the pool is followed by an hour lounging on the couch watching TV and carrying on with conversation. Soon, Dean tires out and says goodnight before departing to his room. TJ is the next to head off, leaving the three of us on the couch to enjoy the rest of our night. Anthony doesn't even make it to his room, nodding off on the couch during a commercial break and snoring. I shut off the TV, tuck a blanket over Anthony's snoring body, and head off to my room with Noah.

It's well after midnight when we're lying on my bed. "Brought it with me," I tell Noah when he asks about a colorful nightlight I plugged into the corner of the room by the window. "Just in case you did follow through in staying here with me."

Noah's eyes warm as he gazes at me. "You're so thoughtful. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"I could say the same damned thing." I put my arm around him on the bed and pull him close to me. We're both wearing just gym shorts, otherwise shirtless and barefooted on the bed, which has a fluffy comforter and sheets that feel like liquid silk against our skin. "You're my favorite thing in the world, Noah."

He cuddles against me, his head on my chest, remaining quiet.

Even after our fun night with the guys, he still seems like part of his mind is somewhere else. I stroke his hair and decide to tread lightly. "What're you thinking about?"

He doesn't answer.

I keep stroking his hair. "Noah …?"

"I'm counting your heartbeats."

"Oh." I can't help this uneasy feeling. Something is wrong. Yet still, I treat him with sensitivity and patience. "How many are you up to?"

"It's beating fast."

Must be my anxiety, wondering what's wrong with you, I'd say, but instead I just chuckle. "Guess my heart rate always picks up when you're near me."

"Hmm. That doesn't sound healthy."

"Oh, it's very healthy," I insist. "Cardio does a body great. If I keep you in my life, I won't ever have to touch a treadmill again."

He lets out a halfhearted titter, then draws quiet.

I lean my head against his and close my eyes. In a quiet, gentle voice, I tell him, "You know I care about you, right? More than this pageant? Oh, sorry, I mean circus we're part of." He remains silent. Even the joke doesn't land. "Remember, I even wanted to drop out of it several weeks ago. The only thing that matters to me is you."

"You know what's strange about the paladin?"

I open my eyes, confused by the random question. "What?"

"The paladin was so focused on his mission, the movie never showed the bigger picture … that there were other demons all over the realm, and sorcerers who practiced illegal magic … all of them needing just as much of the paladin's attention …"

I'm so lost. I don't know where Noah's going with this. "Okay."

"But he kept his eye on that one demon sorcerer, just that one, the whole time. Why did he do that? Didn't he realize there were other sorcerers? Other demons?"

"I don't know. I think because he had feelings for him."

"But what if he put all his attention on the wrong sorcerer? I think if he'd taken the time to see how many demons really were out there in the world, he might've chosen a different sorcerer … and maybe things wouldn't have turned out that bad."

I peer down at his head still on my chest. "Things turned out bad for them, you think …?"

He draws quiet. "Well, maybe. I … I don't know."

After a moment of silence, I'm back to stroking his soft hair—and feeling more confused than ever. "Maybe you're overthinking it. They were falling in love, weren't they? You could totally tell. The hunky paladin and that cute-as-fuck sorcerer … it was destiny they'd end up together in the end. We don't even need to see the rest of the movie to know that."

Noah remains quiet.

I move my hand to his back, rubbing his bare skin. "Noah?"

"I care about you, Cole. I care about you a lot."

"I care about you, too."

"And I want you to be happy."

"I want you to be happy, too." My hand stops. "Are you happy right now, Noah? You can be honest with me. If something's—"

"I'm listening to your heartbeat, and I'm with you tonight … and I'm happy," he says, "… right now."

I close my arms around him. "Good. That's all I ever want you to be. Just listen to my heart. It won't lie. They're the most honest creations in the world. Second only to the eyes. Hearts and eyes can't lie."

I feel him smiling against my chest.

At least I'm pretty sure it's smiling.

Then his arms wrap around me, too, his face still pressed to my bare chest. Nothing more is said. The two of us remain just like that for quite some time, embracing each other, as the walls of the room slowly meld between the colors of the rainbow from the soft nightlight in the corner.

There's no one I'd rather be with than this guy right here.

"I love you, Noah," I whisper into his hair.

His slow breaths are his only reply.

He's fallen asleep.

I smile, satisfied with my confession anyway, as I hug his body even tighter against mine. I don't know what my last thought is before sleep finally takes hold, but I imagine it has something to do with the sweetness in his voice when he said he was counting my heartbeats.

I feel so happy right now.

When I wake up, bright morning light is pouring through the window, eclipsed slightly by the edge of the drapes. The nightlight is still on, but its vivid colors are drowned out by the sun.

I sit up to find I'm alone. I rub the sleep out of my eyes, then slip to the end of the bed. That's when I notice Noah's backpack is gone. "Noah?" I call out, then rise to my feet and pull open the drawers by the bed. Empty. I leave the bedroom and glance down the hall either way. I check the nearby bathroom, the lounge, the den with the bay window, and the front of the whole estate itself.

Where did he go?