Dance With Me (17 page)

Ed stared at it, shivering and weary and sick and hurting, hating himself, hating his life.

“Ed.”

He heard the call distantly, and at first he thought he'd imagined it, that he was losing his mind on top of everything else. But then he heard his name again, and he turned in a daze toward the sound. He saw Laurie standing across the grass near the sidewalk.

Laurie, who looked seriously pissed off. But Laurie who looked worried and uncertain.

Laurie, who I made beautiful love to, the kind I don't even dare to dream of. The kind I still don't know, because I can't remember what I did with him.

Ed's eyes were burning now too, along with his throat, and he blinked hard to hold the emotion back. But he couldn't stop his mouth.

“What did you tell me,” he called out across the exhibit, “in the car? About your past? What did you tell me that I said I understood?”

Then he waited for Laurie. Laurie looked uncertain, but Ed knew, somehow, that he would answer. And eventually, he did.

“I said I'd had to give up a life that I loved.” Laurie, who was wearing a coat, put his hands in his pockets and hugged the panels protectively against himself. “I said that I knew that part of my life had to end, but that it hurt, that part of me died with that end. That sometimes I still miss it. That sometimes I don't know if the pain is ever going to go away.” He wrapped his arms around himself even tighter, like a hug. “I said it was my fault too, but you insisted it wasn't, that it was just something that happened to me, and it made me feel better about it than I've felt in years. It was a nice moment.”

“Sounds like it. I'm sorry I missed it.” Ed's eyes were burning again. He tried to laugh, but he choked instead and looked down.

When had he gotten so lonely?

And how the hell was it fair that he'd found someone to ease that ache and lost him without even remembering how it had happened?

A tight, choking despair caught him by the throat and made him turn away. But when he caught a look at himself in the mirror again, he cried out in frustration and tried to turn farther away, but with the mirror there, he couldn't hide, couldn't keep Laurie from seeing the tears that leaked out of his eyes when misery forced them shut.

When he felt the soft, warm touch of Laurie's hand on his arm, the despair caught up with him again. He managed—just—to turn his sob into a ragged sigh.

“I do think all those things about you,” Ed whispered, his voice rough and broken. “It wasn't just that I was drunk.” He shut his eyes tighter and shook his head, trying to smile or laugh, but he couldn't. “I'm so fucking sorry that I was and fucked this up so bad.”

The hand on his arm was hard enough, but the soft brush of lips against his cheek undid him. He went like a baby into the warm strength of Laurie's arms and pressed his face into Laurie's cheek. He waited for Laurie to say something, to tell him he hadn't fucked it up, that it was okay, but he didn't say anything. Just held him.

Did that mean they were okay?

Ed let out a ragged sigh. “You make me crazy, Laurie,” he whispered. “You fucking turn me inside out.”

The arms holding him up drew tighter against his body, pulling him closer into the embrace. “The feeling is mutual,” Laurie whispered back.

They stood there, swaying slightly and saying nothing else at all, but this time the silence wasn't a tension, just a continuation of the release. Ed let it float up around him, easing him. Supporting him.

“Where did you park?” he asked after several minutes had passed.

“In a no-parking zone. I saw you through the trees and just left my car there, not wanting to miss you in case you took off through the
Parade Ice Garden
.” Laurie nuzzled the side of Ed's neck. “It's probably towed.”

The breath from Laurie's nose was tickling Ed's skin, and he nuzzled back. His hands slid up Laurie's back, then down toward his butt. “I'll pay to get it out.”

“Forget my car. It doesn't matter.” He kept nuzzling.

The sorrow that had felt so heavy just moments ago was gone like rain clouds burned away by the sun. But even as Ed reveled in the feel of being in Laurie's arms, of touching him, of enjoying the torture of his nose and mouth against the skin of his neck, he was aware too of the impending future. “What now, Laurie? What do we do now?”

Laurie kept nuzzling and nuzzling and nuzzling, but eventually he spoke, his lips brushing Ed's skin with every word. “We go back to my apartment. You get your car. You go home, get dressed, and you go to work. I get my car back from wherever it is, and then I do the same thing.”

“And then what?” Ed pressed, still stroking Laurie's lower back.
Can I make love to you again, this time when I can remember?

“And then we go home again. And then you call me, or I call you. And if we feel like it, we go to dinner. Or we just talk.” He stroked Ed's skin. “We take it slow. We just go slow and careful, and we see what happens.”

Not too slow, Ed hoped. He didn't want to upset things, though, so he just nodded. And then, because he couldn't stop himself, he added, “I want to dance with you again.”

Laurie slid his nose along the length of Ed's jaw, and when he pulled back, Ed saw his smile. “Me too.” His gaze fell to Ed's lips, and his eyes went dusky. “Try to remember this, will you?” he said, and then he kissed Ed on the mouth.

Ed shut his eyes and opened for him, taking Laurie deep inside. He shivered at the feel of Laurie's tongue against his own, stilled at the sharp-sweet taste of him, a tang more potent and alluring than any pancake syrup. Laurie, he thought and turned his head to let the kiss go deeper, and it did, Laurie pulling Ed harder against him, moving his lips over Ed's until they had a seal, and then Laurie stole deeper and deeper and deeper, and Ed took him, gladly welcoming him into that place where neither of them were alone.

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Chapter Eight

dosado (also dos-y-dos): circular movement where partners who are initially facing one another each walk around the other without turning, facing the same direction through the entire movement.

Ed got in less trouble for coming into work five hours late and hungover than he thought he would, but he still got into trouble. Tracy was too busy to read him the riot act until after the meeting, but at the first available opportunity, she dragged him all but by the ear into her office.

“You don't seem to understand how intense upper management is about streamlining the next round of layoffs,” she said. “Because the layoffs are coming. That's not a question. And much as I like you, Ed, I can't pretend you didn't come in here looking like someone recovering from a bender. This is your chance to tell me otherwise.”

Ed stared at the top of her desk. “It was a bad night.” He rubbed absently at his neck.

Tracy leaned forward over her desk, suddenly eager. “Oh, it was your injury? You should have said. And actually, that could help, because I can put you on medical leave. The compensation is less, but it looks bad to can somebody with a disability, so this might actually be—”

“
Hey
.” Ed's head had snapped up at disability, but it had taken him another second to get the outrage channeled from his brain to his mouth. He leaned forward as well, but not eagerly. “I am
not
disabled. I just have a muscle that likes to spasm in my neck. There's something about one of the nerves, but there's no real operation for it. I'm fine. I just can't play football.”

“But that doesn't matter. We can still use it.” Tracy was smiling now, a new brightness about her. “I can protect you this way, Ed.”

“I don't care,” Ed shot back angrily. “I'm not disabled. You're not putting me on medical leave.”

Tracy's smile died. “So I should put you on the top of my cut list, then?”

Ed let his forehead fall forward to the top of the desk. “I'm not disabled.”

“Fine.” Tracy sighed. “You're not disabled, and I won't put you on med leave. But I want a doctor's note from you, Maurer, by the first week in December. Have them write up your ‘difficulty’ adjusting to the neck, or give a new report of your neck. Something, Ed. Give me something to put in your file besides ‘came in to work smelling like cheap beer.'”

“Fine,” Ed grumbled as he rose.

The vision of Tracy slumped in her seat, staring at a stack of personnel files, haunted him all the way home. It lingered especially as he sat in his car on the street beside his apartment. He thought about the heavy silence and the mess that awaited him up there. He thought about the long weekend ahead of living in it.

He thought about Laurie and the kiss in the Sculpture Garden, and he thought about the date they were supposed to have on Saturday night.

He thought about heading back to Matt's and having another few pitchers of beer.

In the end, Ed plopped down onto a pile of clothes on the couch, used the phone to order a pizza, then turned on the television and stopped thinking entirely.

At least, he tried.

The first official date with Ed went better than Laurie thought it would.

He had worried it would be awkward, but if anything, things felt more as he was used to between himself and Ed. Ed cajoled and teased him at the restaurant, and Laurie alternated between flustered and flattered, which seemed to be where Ed liked to keep him. As they walked back to Ed's car, Ed captured Laurie's hand, then held the door for him as he climbed into the passenger seat.

Laurie noticed too how many men and women noticed Ed. Sometimes Ed seemed to notice back, and sometimes he didn't. When Ed flirted with the waitress, it was kind of cute, but when he winked at the busboy, Laurie felt a stab of jealousy so hot he had to drown it in water. It was a silly reaction, though, because the casual attention Ed gave to strangers was nothing on what he gave to Laurie. He smiled, he laughed, he teased, and he held Laurie's hand.

But Laurie realized as he saw how popular Ed was with total strangers that he would never want for romantic company. And it made Laurie realize what an odd choice he was for a man like that.

Laurie was still brooding over this as he strapped himself into the passenger seat of Ed's car—and then he stopped as a somewhat familiar pop vocalist began to sing over the stereo.

He turned to Ed in disbelief. “Britney Spears?”

Ed bristled. “I don't want to hear any crap about Britney from somebody who plays La Bouche in aerobics class and goes to Barbra Streisand concerts.”

Laurie started to object to any comparison of Britney Spears and Streisand in the same sentence, then remembered how many smiles other men had given Ed and simply said, “Hmm.”

It was a full Spears album, apparently, and each song was as ridiculous as the one before. They were catchy, yes, but so was the plague. Ed, however, clearly loved the music, which baffled Laurie. How many other secrets did Ed have?

He was so distracted by watching Ed groove along that he didn't get back to sorting out his earlier dilemma at all, and the next thing he knew, they were pulling into the parking garage beneath his condo. Ed put the car in park, turned the music down, and bumped it a few songs forward, then turned to Laurie.

“So,” he said. “What do we do now?”

Laurie turned slightly in the seat and looked at Ed. His face was shadowed, but there was no mistaking the passion there. He swallowed. “I don't know.”

Ed reached over, his fingers brushing Laurie's wrist. “No classes this week, with Thanksgiving. I suppose you'll be with your family?”

Laurie had forgotten all about Thanksgiving. He nodded. “You?”

“Helping Dad deep-fry a turkey, just like usual.” His fingers never stopped on Laurie's wrist. “Can I call you later in the week?”

“Yes,” Laurie said, breathless, trying to keep his arm from twitching as Ed's fingers tickled his skin. Then he remembered. “Oh—actually, next weekend I'll be out quite a bit.” His stomach knotted, and his voice broke as he added, “For a performance. Two of them, in fact.”

Ed brightened, his fingers stilling at Laurie's wrist. “You serious? You're performing? Why didn't you say? Can I come?”

“It's just a local performance of
The Nutcracker
,” Laurie said, blushing harder, but Ed was still smiling.

“You wearing tights?”

Laurie's cheeks were now so heated he got dizzy. “Yes.”

“I'll be there.” He resumed his hypnotic massage of Laurie's wrist, squeezing it briefly. “Where do I get tickets?”

The goose bumps Ed's stroking had given Laurie turned into a low-grade heat. Or maybe it was his eagerness to come to the show.
Ed will be there
. Just the thought began to ease him. He swallowed and forced himself to speak. “I have tickets I can give away. Let me give you one.”

“Excellent.” The fingers slid to his palm, tracing circles over it. “Maybe I can call you sooner than the weekend.”

Laurie's fingers flexed—nervous, eager? He didn't know. “Sure.”

Electricity coursed through him as Ed's hand slid to Laurie's thigh. “Maybe I could walk you upstairs right now.”

Wait
. Laurie's panic rose.
Wait, we were going to go slow
—and then Ed's fingers tightened, and he leaned over and nuzzled Laurie's ear.

He wants you. Right now, he wants
you.

Laurie closed his eyes, and all thoughts shut off.

He could hear Spears singing, something about not remembering what she did last night, the music slow and sultry, a perfect complement to Ed's slow but determined assault. He was kissing the rim of Laurie's ear, nibbling gently on the skin, making Laurie shiver. He gasped when Ed's tongue stole inside, his hand sliding high on Laurie's thigh at the same time.

His tongue dipped in again, bolder this time, and Laurie sighed, opened his thighs, and gave in. His hand reached up to tangle in Ed's hair, his other hand reaching down to close over Ed's, lifting it up and placing it squarely over his rising erection. Now Ed groaned, and Laurie thrilled as they fumbled toward each another in the dark, mouths seeking, hands clutching and pulling—