39. Byrd

39

Byrd

E cho: Hi.

Me: How are you?

Echo: (laughing emoji)

Echo: That's how you're gonna play it?

Echo: I'm fine, Mr. Baardwijk. How are you?

Me: I've been better.

Echo: Because you miss me.

Echo: I knew you'd cave eventually.

Me: You did?

Echo: We have a track record.

Me: True…

Me: So how are you really?

Me: Are you as ruined as I am?

*Message deleted*

Echo: You know I saw that, right?

Me: Shit. Ignore me. I'm sorry.

Echo: More apologies? Is that why you texted me? To say you're sorry for the millionth time?

Me: If I say yes, will you actually listen?

Echo: Depends on what you're apologizing for this time.

Me: How about for making you wait? Again.

Echo: I'll accept that.

Me: And I do miss you.

Echo: I miss you too.

Echo: What have you been up to?

Me: Catching up on all the wallowing I forgot to do while I had a siren in my house.

Echo: A siren, huh? Sounds dangerous.

Me: It was. But he was worth it.

Echo: I'm glad you finally texted.

Me: I'm glad you answered.

Echo: Always.

Echo: And Byrd?

Me: Yeah?

Echo: I'm only a little bit ruined.

Echo: I went back to the gym with Asha today.

Me: That's amazing. How was it?

Echo: Epic. I got three offers to suck my dick.

Me: Are you trying to make me jealous?

Echo: Is it working?

Me: You know the answer to that .

Echo: (Winky face emoji)

Me: …

Me: …

Me: But it's okay if you want to…

Echo: Fuck. Stop.

Echo: I didn't do it.

Me: I'm glad.

"I need a job."

"I gave you a job. You fucked it up by fucking my student."

"Not a coaching job. I want to get back on the rope. I need another month to get my chops back, but then I want in on a show. Something small to start. I know you have connections."

"You have connections too. Cirque is all over the world."

"And I'll be calling them. But I want something based in Amsterdam. I'm coming home."

"Are you going to steal my student?"

"I'm not going to steal him. Although I do plan on fucking his brains out when he's not at school. If he'll let me."

"As his director, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. As your best friend, I expect details. Over wine. That you're buying."

"I don't kiss and tell."

"Bullshit. I had to hear all about Gabriel back in the day."

"We're adults now, Reggie. And Echo is nothing like his brother."

"I know, babe. I met him, remember? You think I would have pushed so hard to get him here if he was anything like that whiny prick? Or dumped him in your lap?"

"No. You've always had my back. Speaking of which, don't tell him I'm coming when he gets there, please."

"You're not going to tell him?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"I want him to focus on school and have time to get settled in."

"Really. So you're just gonna show up at his door and surprise him?"

"Technically, it's my door. And I…What if he tells me not to come? I can't risk it, Reg."

When she's done laughing her ass off, Reggie connects me with a friend of hers directing a six-week gig in Amsterdam. I have a month to pull an act together before I need to be on-site for rehearsals. Luckily, it's a cabaret-style show, so I won't have to learn a bunch of group numbers when I get there.

Packing up the cabin would take too much time I don't want to spend, so I call a realtor about leasing the place furnished and send an email to Cirque HR, letting them know my sabbatical is now an official resignation. After making me promise to catch one of their shows before I leave, Shilo tells me I can store the 4-Runner and the rig at Big Top, and that she'll send Josha to drive me to the airport in San Francisco when I'm ready.

No one tells me I'm making a mistake except Elke, who lays into me with all her scathing sisterly fury. It's only after I figure out what James meant with his final cryptic comment at Clancey's that I'm able to shut her up.

"I'm not leaving anything behind this time, Elke. Everything I want for my life is already over there."

Echo: I said goodbye to Asha and Audrey today.

Echo: Audrey gave me a new tattoo.

Me: Sounds like a good way to commemorate your departure. What does this one say?

Echo: Hot for teacher.

Echo: On my ass.

Me: It does not.

Echo: (Laughing face emoji)

Me: Are you packed and ready for your move?

Echo: Ha. I left all my favorite stuff at the cabin.

Echo: I had to make Asha take me shopping for a whole new workout wardrobe.

Me: I should have sent you your clothes. Shit. I'm sorry.

Me: I can send them to Tilburg. You're taking the apartment, right?

Echo: Yeah.

Echo: Is that still okay?

Me: Yes, of course .

Echo: Thank fuck. My parents would freak if I had to find a new place to live.

Echo: I think they're getting sick of me.

Me: I doubt that.

Echo: They weren't too happy when my therapist made them come in for a family session.

Me: You're seeing a therapist?

Echo: A couple of times, yeah. It was Asha's idea. She thought I should talk to someone about all the Gabe stuff. Probably had something to do with the hole I punched in her wall.

Me: Is it helping? The therapy?

Echo: I think so.

Me: Am I allowed to be proud of you?

Echo: Always.

Echo: I'm kinda proud of myself.

Me: How are you liking the apartment?

Echo: You should have warned me it doesn't have air conditioning.

Me: There are fans in the back hallway closet.

Echo: I know. Reggie already showed me.

Me: Shouldn't you be calling her Ms. Blake or something?

Echo: She also showed me the David Bowie video .

Me: I'm not sure I like this new friendship between you two.

Echo: I didn't know you were into karaoke. ;P

Me: It was Halloween. In Amsterdam. There might have also been tequila.

Echo: And a bathroom blowie, apparently. With a tongue ring.

Me: Have you ever had an appropriate relationship with an authority figure in your life?

Echo: What are you wearing?

Me: Sweats and a band tee. And you're proving my point.

Echo: You don't have any authority over me anymore. Tell me about the sweatpants. Are they gray?

Me: ;)

Echo: Send me a pic.

Me: I'm not taking a selfie of my dick outline in the grocery store.

Echo: Mendoza's or Big Harvest?

Me: Mendoza's.

Echo: Ask Julie to do it. Tell her it's for me, and she'll get the framing just right.

Me: Absolutely not.

Echo: Spoilsport.

Me: Brat.

Echo: You love it.

" It ."

My heart trips over the word. I imagine him hesitating, thumbs suspended over his phone as he chooses the two little letters. For all his brash, familiar flirtation, he hasn't said he loves me since the night he left.

I haven't said it either.

I don't want to assume or pressure him into a declaration he might regret. Ironic, considering how he baited me with his first confession .

Underneath the caution, I'm also terrified it might not still be true. That my altruistic determination to give him this time to move on will actually work, and he'll choose someone else to claim the chaos of his affection.

Maybe he never hesitated. Maybe he'll start to slip away, and these texts will become perfunctory before fading into a distant memory I'll cherish alone.

Or maybe it's my turn to say it first.

Echo: I've started taking straps classes.

Me: Straps are fun. Great cross-training for flares and roll ups, too. It never hurts to widen your skill base.

Echo: And the coach is hot.

Me: You do know I recruited Gale Shepard?

Echo: I don't think he likes me much, though. Probably because I hit on him at a party during auditions last year.

Me: Isn't he married?

Echo: Something like that.

Echo: His husband is hot too.

Little shit. Two can play at that game.

Me: So is his wife.

Echo: Gross.

Echo: Are you awake?

Me: I am now. What's going on?

His schedule and the time change between Tilburg and California mean a lot more of our texts go hours between answers these days, but I still sleep with my phone on his pillow and jolt awake at the first vibration. Even in sleep, even eight thousand miles away, my heart is attuned to him.

Echo: We have a day off for some administrative bullshit, and the gym is closed. I need something to do with myself.

Me: Don't you have friends?

I know he has friends. I spend half of every day trying not to be envious of the time they get to spend with him.

Echo: Fuck off. It's 10 a.m. Everyone's still sleeping off their hangovers.

Me: Except you?

Echo: I came home early.

That shouldn't make me as happy as it does, but I can't help the smile that breaks across my face.

Me: So you're not hungover?

Echo: I'm horny.

My sleep-addled brain is no match for the images the message conjures, and one hand drifts to my dick as the other taps out an instant response .

Me: Show me.

The picture comes through half a second later, like he was anticipating the request. Tangled sheets in morning shadow, Echo's long fingers wrapped around the arc of his erection, one toned thigh displayed in the background.

Fuck. Me .

I've been so good, so careful, trying to give him his space. Walking the treacherous tightrope of his flirtation without letting myself consume his fledgling life. But my thumb finds the video call icon without any direction from my rational brain, and after a single ring, I'm looking at his face, haloed in the light of a sun half a world away and so immediate, my breath stalls in my chest.

"Hi."

His voice is husky with sleep, and he's cut his hair again. The blue tips are gone, only raven strands falling across his forehead to kiss the dark wings of his brows.

"No fair," he pouts. "I can barely see you."

He's so fucking beautiful, it hurts.

"Turn your camera around." Before I break down completely.

"Turn your light on."

"Turn your camera around, Echo." This time, it's a command rather than a plea. He huffs, half-pained, half-amused, and the image of his hand idly stroking his silken cock rips a growl from my throat.

" Oh ." His fingers tighten, then quicken their pace. "I missed that sound. Do it again."

"Kick the sheet off and plant your feet on the bed," I say instead. The camera jostles with his sharp intake of breath .

"Mmm. Bossy Byrd. You know how hard that makes me." His thumb swipes over his crown as he follows my instructions, and I free my own leaking dick from my briefs.

"I missed that sexy cock of yours," I confess.

"It missed you too. Look at how it weeps for you."

"I see it. What are you imagining right now, dirty boy? Tell me what you missed. Am I tonguing the precum from your slit and teasing that thick vein running down your cock? Or am I taking you straight to the back of my throat?"

" Jesus ." He arches into his hand, hips thrusting off the mattress, and pumps furiously, breath ragged in my ears.

"Do you miss the way my hair spills over all that sensitive skin while I swallow you whole?"

"Unggh. Shit. Yesfuckgodyes ." His toes curl in the sheets, and the camera trembles as spurts of cum jet over his rippling abs. "Fucking holy fuck." A breathless laugh escapes him, and I squeeze the base of my cock with a rough grunt, unwilling to let this dream end by following him into his climax.

"Sorry," he gasps. "I told you it missed you."

Like watching him come after ten seconds of my voice isn't the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen.

"Show me that beautiful mess you made, baby."

With the lingering tremors of his orgasm spurring me on, I fumble for the bottle of lube in the nightstand while he drags his fingers over his torso and holds them up to the phone.

"I bet you wish you could taste it."

"I want you to pretend it's mine and rub it all over your hot little hole. I bet it's clenching gorgeously for me right now, all aching and empty."

The screen goes dark, and he curses.

"Shit. You made me drop the phone. "

"I'm gonna make you do a lot more before I'm finished with you." I snap the cap on the lube and squeeze a generous dollop over my cock.

"Was that lube ? This is totally unfair, you know. You're getting a show, and I can't see shit."

"You get to listen to me get myself off while I think about stretching your pretty hole around my cock. And I know you can give me one more with that famous college-boy stamina. Now show me what I'm fucking, Echo. I need to see you come again with your fingers in your ass."

Christ , I've missed turning myself loose on him. I was an idiot to think I could give this up. The wasted weeks condense to nothing as my greedy gaze devours him, and I tell myself I won't regret it in the morning.

He flips himself over, and I get an intoxicating kaleidoscope of sinful skin and blue-black ink as he shoves the phone between his legs.

"That's it. Ass in the air for me." Delicious shivers race up my spine, and my own ass curls off the bed, chasing his phantom heat.

"Yes, Mr. Baard— Oh shit ." His bed creaks, and with another dizzying flash of flesh, I'm left staring at his ceiling with my dick protesting in my palm. "Someone's at the door."

"Don't answer it," I growl.

"I didn't lock it last night and— fuck ."

A dresser drawer slams as he scrambles around the room, and I bite back a whine, squeezing my balls to vent my frustration.

"Echo…"

He snatches the phone up, eyes wide with mischievous mirth and not nearly enough remorse. "I'm so sorry. It's Gia and PB. I completely forgot I promised I'd hit the climbing gym with them this morning. "

"Seriously?" I flip my phone around to show him the state of me, ruddy and swollen and slick. His answering groan sends another drop of precum pulsing from my slit. "Tell them to fuck off."

What am I saying?

This is exactly what I've been trying to avoid—muscling my way into his life in Tilburg before he's ready. Filthy midnight video sex is not part of my plan. Make a new plan , my body begs. Heaving a sigh, I release my poor erection and scrub a hand through my hair. Unfortunately, it's the one currently coated in lube. I guess I'm finishing this in the shower.

"Who the hell is PB?" I thought I knew the names of all his friends.

"He's— I'll be right there —It's what Gia and Shepard call Lyot. They won't tell me what it stands for, but they all think it's hilarious when I use it, so…"

The manic image on my screen goes still as he sucks in a steadying breath. One side of his loose tank top is twisted, clinging to his muscled shoulder, and I want to bury my face in the naked slope of his neck and suck my claim to the surface of the pale skin.

Soon . I can be patient a while longer.

"Coen." The ache in his voice tugs on all of my carefully packed dreams. "That was…we can do it again, right? I mean, now that we've started, we don't need to…Fuck." A rueful smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "It's the middle of the night for you. Go back to sleep."

"You know I'm going to finish jacking off first." The thought of letting him go with that uncertain look on his face has my chest burning .

He breaks into a breathtaking grin. "Will you film it and send it to me later?" He darts a glance over his shoulder. "In, like, three hours?"

My time is up.

"I'll even turn the light on first. Go have fun with your friends."