Chapter 7 #2
“Kidding. You are adorable, though. Teddy never brings home nice boys. Not like Rickey with Daniel,” she said as they walked up from making the rounds of theater people Rick had to mingle with.
“Trust me, Mother, Finn is much better than Daniel.” Teddy winked at Dan as he slipped an arm around Finn’s waist to pull him closer and let him know how much it meant to have him here. “Finn, these are my friends.”
“Rick and Dan, sure.” Finn eagerly shook their hands, then immediately leaned back into Teddy’s hold. “Playwright and… the one with the cupcakes! They were incredible.” He dropped his voice to a hush as he added, “Please never tell my brother-in-law I said that.”
It was obvious within only a few minutes how charmed everyone was by Finn, easing the nagging voices in Teddy’s mind that had been making him feel sorry for himself again.
“Edmund, there you are!”
Until Hartley appeared.
Teddy had grown lax in losing him in the crowd after Finn’s appearance, but now he strode right over, positively bursting with preemptive bragging rights. Hartley was young, handsome, talented—and flaunted all of it.
“Stewart. Didn’t realize you knew I was coming.”
“Please, did you think you could lumber in here unnoticed? People still remember you, if you can believe it.” He laughed like he’d given Teddy a compliment, while enjoying his obvious dig. “Can’t say I’m mad you retired since it gave me a chance to shine. How is the quiet life treating you?”
Teddy opened his mouth to just get this over with, grin and bear it, and admit he’d accomplished very little, only vacation, only boring retirement, when Finn spoke first.
“You must be the one trying to fill Teddy’s shoes.
I don’t envy you.” He snickered, hugging Teddy’s arm.
“I am envious of Teddy, though. So successful that he could retire this young to a house as nice as his at the beach without working anymore? You’d think he’d miss all the constant praise, but I guess even that gets old after a while.
“Oh, I’m Finn, by the way, Teddy’s boyfriend. And you? Sorry, I’m terrible with names if I don’t hear them more than once.”
Teddy’s mouth was still gaping from the words he hadn’t gotten out, but now he snapped it closed. He never would have used Finn against Hartley like that as a hot piece of arm candy, but if Finn was playing it up himself….
Teddy was loving every second.
“Charmed,” Hartley said, taken off guard enough that he sounded anything but. “As I was—”
“It really is commendable, don’t you think?” Finn cut him off again. “How it took serious injury and even surgery to take Teddy out of the game. Instead of, you know, bad reviews, stress, creative stagnation.
“Most people in high-profile jobs like this flake out after their first year, sometimes the first few months. But I’m sure you know that. This show must really be taking it out of you. All hard work, though, right, if you’re that exhausted?”
“I… well. Maybe some would find it, um…. I should…. Pleasure meeting you. Edmund.” He nodded to Teddy rigidly, usually quick with a barb or witty comeback, but clearly drawing a blank and floundering as he scurried off—probably to powder his nose after Finn implied he looked tired.
“Shit,” Rick said admiringly.
“I have never seen Stewart retreat like that!” Dan agreed.
“You naughty thing.” Laverne joined in with a chuckle.
“I know, that was awful of me.” Finn glanced at the floor, though he didn’t sound too sorry. “I’m not usually an ass, but I guess I felt inspired.” He passed Teddy a sly grin. “Plus, Erina warned me about that guy and gave me some tips.”
Erina was an angel.
The lights flickered—time for the show.
“You are dangerously close to having me confess undying love for you,” Teddy whispered as they headed up the balcony stairs to their seats.
Finn beamed, still holding Teddy’s arm.
“Although, boyfriend?” That was a word they hadn’t used yet.
“After everything it took us to get here, I figured I’d earned that,” Finn said. His bashful fumbling was adorable, but Teddy loved his confident, capable side too.
“If you hadn’t before, taking down Stewart Hartley like that definitely pushed you over the edge.”
After all, Teddy needed a win now more than ever with the show about to start. He just hoped he didn’t hate being on the outside looking in as much as he feared.
“Is that Frankie?” Finn said after they’d been led to their seats, with Finn on the end, then Teddy, his mother, and finally Rick and Dan.
Indeed, Frankie and her parents were across the theater in the opposite balcony. Teddy smiled as she waved at them, looking lovely in a magenta dress—and making him wonder if her entire room was that deep pink color. He hadn’t seen her come in and had worried they weren’t able to make it.
“Did you…?” Finn trailed off.
“Never been to a real ballet, she said. Securing extra tickets wasn’t difficult.”
“But plane tickets? Hotel? Her parents have had a lot of expenses lately after the accident.”
Teddy shrugged. “I had frequent flier miles and hotel points to spare. Just like Erina, apparently.”
Finn looked away with a light chuckle. “Here I was coming to help make it a good night for you, and you’re still surprising me.”
The lights started to come down, Laverne gently squeezing Teddy’s arm as she settled into her seat, not eavesdropping but giving that subtle sign that she liked Finn.
Lowering his voice to a whisper anyway, Teddy said, “I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to surprise me back.”
“Well,” Finn answered playfully, “Erina didn’t get me a separate hotel room.”
The heat that flooded Teddy’s stomach definitely helped his remaining nerves. Even if watching the ballet proved miserable, he had something to look forward to.
Of course, he couldn’t call any of the show miserable. Don Quixote was one of the best and most well-known ballets for a reason—it was breathtaking, and Erina most of all, even if he was biased thinking that.
She floated, entrancing in every step, conveying emotion in her face and her body that moved Teddy more than he was prepared for, combined with the emotions stirring in him over how much he missed this.
How what every dancer on that stage could execute so beautifully he would never experience again.
Teddy didn’t notice the wetness on his cheeks until he felt Finn’s hand slip into his.
He looked down at their fingers entwining and couldn’t help feeling guilty for being so torn up over what he’d lost when he knew how much more Finn had lost. Still, the camaraderie in Finn’s expression, letting some of his own sorrow through to let Teddy know—I understand—alleviated the heaviness of his heartache.
Teddy would never again experience what he once had, but there were new things he might not have opened himself up to if he hadn’t first known loss.
Act I culminated in an eruption of applause.
The show had two twenty-minute intermissions.
Teddy would have preferred to stay in his seat for this one, given the dampness in his eyes, but Dan and Rick slipped away to chat with other theater contacts, and he couldn’t simply sit there when Frankie waved at them once more and dashed out for the lobby.
“I think we’re being summoned. Be right back, Mother.”
With Finn as his shield, Teddy hoped Hartley would keep his distance, but he still pulled Finn into a corner of the balcony to ask if his eyes looked too obviously red or puffy before traipsing down the stairs.
“You look gorgeous.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“It’s the only answer I got,” Finn asserted, reaching up to hold Teddy’s face tenderly.
“Don’t worry, no one will be able to tell.
If the other acts are this difficult for you, just think about the after-party we’re going to have.
” He leaned in to whisper those last words, and his lips brushed the shell of Teddy’s ear.
That helped the tears but didn’t bode well for future problems.
While Finn grinned impudently, Teddy grabbed his hand to drag him down to the lobby before they got too distracted to face Frankie.
“This is amazing!” Frankie gushed as soon as she saw them, hurrying over to hug Teddy. She didn’t have her crutches but seemed to be managing well enough.
“Frances,” her mother chided, but Teddy didn’t mind her bold greeting.
“It’s important to instill good culture in the next generation,” he said after Frankie had released him and turned to hug Finn too. “I’m glad you were able to make it.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Scofield,” her father said, both parents looking honestly grateful.
“My pleasure. Now, get your bathroom breaks in while you can,” he said to Frankie. “The best is yet to come.”
When they parted and Finn grasped Teddy’s hand again for their trek upstairs, Teddy couldn’t help noticing how closely Finn walked in line with his body, their hips bumping, arms nearly flush. The cold shower of their time in the lobby was instantly counteracted by that warm proximity.
Then Teddy’s throat closed, and his face grew hot as the lights dimmed, because this was difficult, but Finn still had his hand and looked at him with a smile.
The start of the second act was where the classic scene of Don Quixote mistaking a windmill for a giant took place, which relaxed Teddy somewhat, imagining Frankie enjoying the exaggerated humor, but the dream sequence focused more on Erina again, filling him once more with warring emotions.
He squeezed Finn’s hand, maybe too tightly, because the next moment, Finn pulled away—but only to splay his fingers over Teddy’s thigh instead.
Teddy side-eyed him, catching the hint of Finn’s wicked grin.
His mother was at his right, yet the gentle massage of Finn’s hand and subtle drift inward up his thigh made it easy to ignore everything around them.
Teddy turned back to watch the ballet, but the dream sequence appeared like, well, a dream, still riveting but less focused, which made it easier to enjoy.