“Go, go.” Evander pecked him on the cheek. “That’ll give me time to toss out all your stupid, stretched out underwear that I’m sure you’restillholding onto.”
“They cover my ass.”
“Technically.”
And once again, when Aras pushed through the anxiety…nothing happened. Nothing bad, anyway. Bunny handed him a plastic cup filled with ice and Aras made himself a gimlet—a strong one—then screwed the top back on the gin and offered it around. Jake and Mason laughed. Robinson smiled at everyone as he handed around food. Evander and Ozzy continued to needle each other, but without any of the vitriol that had marked the end of Pine Point Fixer-Uppers the first time, or that had informed their first couple jobs for the show.
When Robinson finished distributing food, he sat down next to Aras. The others were talking back and forth, joking, reminiscing, and of course drinking. Which Aras was happy to see, and happy to take a backseat in for a little bit. But he turned enough to give Robinson his attention.
“You happy you went after him?”
Aras braced himself for his own body’s reaction. Direct questions about the relationship, and how things were going. Nothing terrible happened. The frustration and sadness in his middle twanged, but that was all. Then, as he sat in that same hotel room, he remembered showing Dane carnival glass. Opening up to him about his own nerves. Telling him to take the damn job because Aras wasn’t about to let him pass up a chance over whatever they had going on. Watching anime and eating junk and swimming in that overwhelming calm that came from being with him.
Which, when Aras stopped and thought about it, wasn’t so different from the way he felt there, with everyone in pajamas, getting drunk and eating Chinese takeout. This was a louder, more forceful calm. It was like all of them wanted to focus pure lasers of calm energy on Aras, rather than Dane simply exuding it, but could he blame them?
Aras sighed and leaned his head on Robinson’s shoulder. “I don’t regret a bit of it. Just miss him. Feel bad that you all are putting up with me.”
“That is in fact what we signed up for.” Robinson patted the back of his head. “Sucks balls that you two had to separate like this so early on. Has to feel like it’s a huge setback. But until you two can line your schedules back up again, we’ll fill the hole.” He pushed Aras back a little bit and grinned. “Metaphorically. We’ll metaphorically fill the hole.”
“Until he can fill it physically.” Mason raised his cup in a toast, and it was only then that Aras realized the others had all been listening.
His insides squirmed at the attention of so many, but these were his friends. His oldest, best friends. He raised his gimlet—which went surprisingly well with the kung pao chicken, he noticed—then took a sip. “I wouldn’t let any of you near my hole, so metaphor is all you get. Perverts.”
Chapter forty
Dane
Assoonashelanded in Atlanta, it was constant go-go-go. Nadiya, the producer for Interior Commotion, rode with him from the airport to the little housing complex they had on the shooting lot, and gave him the run down just so he would know what he was getting into. It was purely a competition show. No actual houses involved. They would build a pair of identical rooms on a sound stage, then send amateur or up-and-coming interior designers into them. They would have two days to get the rooms put together within a given budget, and to fit a specific brief. The lack of travel was why they just let crew stay at housing on the lot. Her final goal was apparently to prove the concept so she could go after a big team competition. Two completely identical houses, redone one room at a time in a big competition until there was one winner left at the end.
Any other time, Dane would have been down to talk about that. It sounded like a logistical nightmare, but a fun watch. Instead, he gave the best platitudes he could and tried to keep it from being too obvious he was checking his phone. He and Aras were texting back and forth, and since he’d had his phone off the entire flight, he had messages to catch up on there. Krissy also told him she’d found someone to sublet his half of the apartment, and he was arranging to send her a little extra money for her trouble…and to pack up all his models so they weren’t in danger of getting broken or stolen or whatever.
Once Nadiya dropped him off at the front desk, and a production assistant showed him where to go, Dane was basically on his own. He’d been given the phone numbers to call if he needed help, but frankly, he just wanted to get settled in and…well, not be around anyone for a minute.
It was a different setup than he would have imagined, though Dane wasn’t a hundred percent sure what it was hehadimagined. The housing was basically just a series of those portable classroom looking things, two doors each. The interior was furnished well enough to be livable. Not quite as nice as a hotel room, but there was a double bed, a desk with a remarkably comfortable armchair, a TV, and a much better kitchenette than most hotel rooms. He had a little induction burner, a sink, and a half-sized refrigerator, plus the ubiquitous coffee pot and microwave. Someone had even left him a welcome basket. Nothing crazy, but some chocolates, some sodas and sparkling waters, a few bags of chips and crackers, and some dried fruit and nuts. It was nice enough, and he grabbed an orange soda from the basket before flopping back on the bed.
Thenhis full focus went to his phone. No new texts from anyone, other than a thumbs up from Krissy to let him know she’d gotten the money he sent. Aras was probably still busy, and it wasn’t as if Dane hadn’t left him on read for hours. He wasn’t worried about them…all right, that wasn’t totally true. Both of them were worried about the relationship, and for fair reason. But that wasn’t the catalyst for him checking his phone three hundred times a minute.
Dane was bored and alone and didn’t have any other outlet. So he didn’t let himself bug Aras to no end, but he had…nothing else. Not until the next day, when he got the rundown of his actual duties and the structure of the crew. And it wasn’t even dark out yet, so he had the rest of the day to kill.
Dane snacked and drank a couple sodas and searched the Atlanta area. He wouldn’t be working all day, every day, and without Aras to give him settled plans every night, he’d need something.
His eyes landed on a shop in a nearby mall. Well, they landed on a specific product in the shop’s pictures. They were some non-chain game shop, and he saw a model displayed on a shelf. A familiar model, with lots of legs. The Blinding Seraph from Ancient Protectorate of the Holy Garden. The one Aras had clocked that got them watching the damn show together. It was stupid to admit it, even to himself, but the relationship they had, however tentative it might have felt at times, was tied up in that show. It gave them the excuse they needed to spend all that time together. Without Ancient Protectorate, there wouldn’t be any concern or worry or boredom.
And somehow, this shop in the same city as Dane had a model available that was basically impossible to find in the states. He may not have put much stock into fate, but this felt too significant to ignore. Dane called up the store almost without thinking, and he placed an order with the guy on the other end of the line. Pickup in fifteen minutes, which would be just enough time for Dane to get himself a ride set up and get over there.
Dane was stripped down to his underwear so he didn’t get paint and glue on anything he might have to wear the next day. He’d gotten a full supply kit—not the same quality he had at home, but it would do—while he was at the store, and he’d even impulse-bought a couple other models. He needed something to do with his hands and his brain, and building plastic robots was his safe place.
He was assembling the last leg of the robot when his phone buzzed. He wiped his hands on a scrap of paper towel, then grabbed it. Aras, sharing a picture of the finished collection room. It was utterly stunning, Dane had to admit, and though he’d never tell Aras, it might well have been the first time he’d really appreciated how pretty carnival glass could be. He liked the way it looked enough, and hereallyliked how invested Aras got talking about it and explaining it. His face was totally different when they were watching that auction place go through glass, and when he was looking over Caroline’s collection.
Dane drafted a whole response, then stopped and looked at the setup around himself. He couldn’t help but smile at the idea, no matter how stupid it seemed, and before he knew it, he was flipping his camera around and pointing it at himself. He held a paintbrush in his teeth and leaned back to show off his torsoandthe desk covered in little plastic parts and pots of paint at the same time. It took a couple tries to get a picture that looked good enough, but once he did, he sent it.
Thinking of you.
After a few seconds, Aras sent back a little face with its tongue out, then a breath later, a picture of his own. Not nearly as unclothed, but he’d pulled up his shirt all the way to his collar bone and posed against the multicolored lights and glass of the collection display room. The way the colors played over his skin looked like he was inside an aurora. Reds, blues, purples, greens all splotched his torso and reflected in the whites of his eyes.
And his smile. His smile was everything. Reaching through the phone to give him some warmth from a thousand miles away or however the fuck far they were.
Then a third text came through from Aras.
