19. Salem
SALEM
T he game controller, like my jaw, hangs limp as Blue transports us to a symphony hall. The thing I’ve only glimpsed before expands over the room as we’re granted rare entry into the hidden scrolls of his psyche.
It’s all there—melancholy, fatigue, heartbreak, terror, hope.
The invitation only grows the itch of mystery that’s hooked me from the beginning.
More questions than answers, which might be the case with us until the end.
The need for one particular answer burns above the rest.
What is the source of his pain?
It’s the question I’ve been asking myself since I touched his scar, and the need to know only intensified after Catharine’s party.
Because of my brother, I recognize a soul altered by grief.
But with Blue, there’s something else. There are hollows.
Back erect, eyes closed, and a slight part of lips—his fingers are the only movement in the room.
I haven’t yet explained his nickname to him. Blue.
My dad used to say, “If you can’t find peace, wait for the blue hour before dawn, and free your wrestled fears to fate.”
I’m not sure Blue has ever found that hour, but when I think of it, I think of him.
Pulling from beyond a veil, each press of his fingers to the keys draws us closer.
This song isn’t for us.
Some songs are for ghosts. Locked away in rooms, preserved by its lack of exposure, and released for the haunted on their own time.
As it should be.
There’s a kind of anachronistic thinking that’s lethal to who we are.
Like the hate post I saw earlier about me and him. The drag of the past chains itself to our feet, making the present not present enough.
As the piece comes to an end, I want to wedge something through the door that’s closing.
The chills running up my arm hint that I can let go. This song will play long after other memories from today fade.
Whistles and applause sound through the room, but I sit motionless.
He opens his eyes, and a lightness radiates from his timid smile.
“Is that one of yours?” Ty asks.
He clears his throat. “Yeah. A nocturne. Still workshopping the title. For now, it’s ‘Bitter Blood.’”
Or “Burial Solitude.” It’s like a graveyard hymn.
Kieran’s face is a pristine mirror of our awe as he exclaims, “Wow!”
“Take a ticket,” Sid teases. “He has a whole team first in line to buy the album.”
Blue laughs and wrings his hands before beginning to play again. “The request line’s open.”
Tommy whistles.
“We love this song.” Kieran swoons, blanketing his shoulders with Tommy’s arms.
I force myself to move when the song ends. “Seriously?” My fingers mock-explode against my temple.
His smile deepens, coupled with the light in his eyes. God help me.
I point to my useless mouth.
He snorts. “We can’t both forget how to speak.”
I huff. “Those hands speak better than I ever could.”
He stares down at the piano keys.
He’s cute when he’s being shy.
“An album?”
“Mm…maybe. I sing and play guitar too.”
“Wow.” I lean in. “I didn’t think you could get any sexier.”
He flushes, and I want to trail his lips with my thumb.
“Wanna see my sex dungeon?” I whisper.
His gaze darkens. “We’re out,” he says, jumping to his feet.
We say our goodbyes and then pause at the door to put on our shoes and coats. As soon as Blue’s tatted hands glide across the lapel of his leather jacket, I rush him, sealing my mouth to his.
He moans. Giving as good as he gets, he sucks on my tongue.
Wrapping my arm around his waist, I press against him, deepening the kiss.
I squeeze his hand between the press of our bodies, and he latches on to the zipper of my pants.
“What are you doing?” I rasp against his lips before moving down his neck and nipping his Adam’s apple.
“One taste,” he whispers.
“Blue—”
“Please.”
I glance behind us, then move us to the wall shielded by the coat rack. He drops to his knees, unzips my jeans, then lifts me out of my briefs.
A sharp breath sends my teeth crashing into my bottom lip as he licks between the bars of my piercing, alternating latching on to the surrounding skin.
“Blue,” I gasp.
He pauses to swallow, then licks the pre-cum pooling in my slit.
We both stiffen at the sound of footsteps. I start to pull back, but his fingers dig into the backs of my thighs, the only warning before I hit the back of his throat.
“Ngh.” Streaks of white spread behind my eyelids.
His tongue massages the underside as he works me deeper down his throat. So fucking warm, the suction so tight it borders on painful.
“Fuck.” My palm presses into the wall. “Someone’s coming.”
He pulls off, gasping for air, then sucks me down to my base. The pressure between my thighs builds as he rubs his nose in the hair at my root with a wet moan. His eyes shift to an inky charcoal color, lasering into me.
“Christ,” I mutter around a ragged breath as his hands tighten on my ass, and he corkscrews me in and out of his throat.
Each glide of his tongue sends a throbbing ache through my body.
My fingers trace his sexy lips spread taut around my length, making him hum, shooting a vibration from my abdomen down to my toes.
Fuuuck. Grabbing his face, my hips snap, fucking his mouth.
The footsteps grow louder.
The pressure peaks, threatening the strength in my knees. Seconds of staring into his leaking, blissed-out eyes, and I’m biting my fist to stifle a chest-ripping grunt. His mouth tightens around me like a second skin as I tremor through my release.
After brushing a quick kiss to my slit, he stands, wipes his mouth, and weaves around me, leaving me with my dick out and panting.
“Hey, is there another bathroom on this side?” I hear him ask from farther down the hall.
My shoulders drop as both his and someone else’s footsteps retreat. I tuck myself in and lean against the wall.
Gaht damn!
“Good, you’re still here.”
I jump at the sound of Sid’s voice.
“My bad,” he says. “I wanted to catch you while you’re alone.”
I look over his shoulder. “S-sure. What’s up?”
“He’d probably chase me with a Smith & Wesson if he knew I was saying this to you.
” He leans against the wall. “But he’s a good guy.
I saw him struggling tonight, which means he’s into you.
He tends to give off the opposite of what he feels.
Like, his fuck-you-and-die attitude could really mean I don’t hate you . ”
I grin and nod for him to continue.
“If he seems disinterested or distant, it’s probably not why you think. Be patient with him. He’s a bit of a closed book, but I sense he hasn’t had it easy.”
“He hasn’t told you what happened to him?” I ask.
Blue rounds the corner as Sid shakes his head.
“Thanks, man.” I pull him into a dap.
“Bus leaves at ten sharp tomorrow,” he says to Blue.
“Buzzz leevs at ten sharrrp,” Blue mocks.
“So rude to his elders,” Sid replies to me.
“I’m older than you.” Blue scowls as he lifts his bag.
I open the door but pause when he turns and says to Sid, “Thanks.”
Sid nods. “Have fun. Ten a.m. sharp.”
“Say ‘ten a.m.’ again and see what time I show up,” he fires back.
Sid meets my gaze, and we both laugh.
He side-eyes me as I lead him to my car. “What’s so funny?”
“Hmm?”
“You and Sid just now. Laughing.”
I slide my hands into my pockets and shrug. “I laughed?”
“Yes. Just now.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t think I did.”
“You did. You have a habit of not knowing when you’re laughing?” he asks, voice clipped.
“Normally, I don’t. But you see, I haven’t had my dick sucked that spectacularly since…well, never. Maybe uncontrollable laughter’s a side effect.”
The crease in his brow disappears as he rolls his lips. Whatever grin he’s holding in fails to hide his dimples. “Cillian threatened to make me sniff almonds.”
I huff out a laugh. Of course he did.
“What does it mean?”
“Cyanide.”
“Ah.” He stops walking. “That’s your whip?”
“Nah, this is me.” I point to the Prius next to it.
“Oh, my ba?—”
I point my fob at my Maserati, and the matte-black butterfly doors expand. “Kidding.”
“How?” His eyes bulge. “This is the MC20 Cielo Paradiso supercar with the Nettuno V6? The final collab with Sakamoto? They only made, like, a hundred. And they sold out in under three minutes.”
“Yeah. You alright?”
“I don’t know.” He swallows. “I’m either having a heart attack or falling in love.”
“It’s love. Kairis has that effect.”
He sucks in a breath. “You watch Exosphere ?”
My middle finger curls to meet my thumb, and I turn my wrist to make a sideways E. “Animo Cursum Astra.”
“Yooo!” he exclaims as I recite the show’s slogan. “I’ve been trying to get Sid and the—One sec.” His brows furrow as he reaches into his jeans, pulls out his phone, and stares at the lit-up screen. He accepts the call. “You good?” he asks into the phone.
I start to step back to give him space but hold when he says, “Hey, hey,what’s wrong?”
My pulse kicks up as he blinks rapidly, and I step closer, resting my hand on his arm.
“I’m on my way.” He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m coming. Meet you at home or the hospital? Okay. Be right there.”
“What happened?” I ask as he hangs up.
“I need to get to Prospect Heights. Can you drop me?”
I’m already leading us to the car. “Who was that?”
“My sister, Ana?s.”
“Is she sick?”
His nod is spacey.
“Is it serious?” I ask.
“Inflammatory disease. She’s supposed to have surgery for it in a few weeks, but the monthly flare-ups are excruciating.”
“Damn.”
Once he locks his seat belt, I pull out quickly.
“We were gonna grab breakfast before I fly out tomorrow,” he says, biting his nails as he stares out the passenger side window.
“I didn’t realize your sister was in Brooklyn.”
“My mom and Carter are in New Jersey, but she moved here a couple years ago.”
He calls his dad by his first name? “Here. Plug in the full address.”
“Thanks,” he says, unbuckling his seat belt when we arrive. “Sorry we couldn’t…you know.”
“I really don’t mind waiting downstairs and driving you both to the hospital,” I offer again.
He pauses, hand on the door handle. “Maybe. It might be better for her than a random driver. Let me ask her.”
“Go.” I cut off the ignition. “I’ll be here.”
“Thanks.
He speaks to the doorman and then disappears past the glass doors.