Chapter 21 #2
“That’s great to hear. I hope it works out for her.” He focused on making a dent in the heaping pile of pasta before him.
Cosmo’s bare foot suddenly slid against his ankle and beneath his pant leg.
Micah swallowed thickly and stuffed a forkful of pasta in his mouth.
Despite what Cosmo promised about nothing needing to be sexual between them tonight, the idea of spending the night in his bed made Micah’s stomach clench.
He had no doubt Cosmo would respect his boundaries; his nerves stemmed from the idea that maybe tonight, with Cosmo, he didn’t want any.
Even if there was zero risk of Zedd showing up, Micah wanted to be as close as possible to Cosmo. He wanted to hold on and never let go.
Cosmo’s toes were still sliding beneath Micah’s pant leg. Micah pushed away his plate. “As delicious as this is, I don’t think I can eat anymore right now.”
“Am I making you flustered?” Cosmo pulled his foot away. “I’ll stop.”
“Don’t stop. But maybe we can go sit somewhere more comfortable?”
“Yes.” Cosmo stacked their dishes and hurried into the kitchen. He portioned things into containers and dumped pans in the sink.
Micah took off his shoes and sat on the bed, trying to push away the nervous ache in his stomach. At least it was for a good reason this time.
Déjà had switched the TV to a home improvement channel, and the hosts were oohing over glittery Styrofoam pumpkins with rustic bows. Cosmo stopped beside the bed and wrinkled his nose at the TV, then handed Micah a tall glass of what was probably a screwdriver.
“I don’t know how it was when you lived there, but there haven’t ever been many trick-or-treaters since I’ve lived at the complex,” Micah said, “but this year I’m going to have to shut off all the lights and put a sign on the door asking people not to knock.
Maybe I could just set a bowl of candy outside. ”
“I hate that you have to worry about those things.”
“No pity. You promised.” Micah sipped his drink. “But I’d love your help again if you can come to my place tomorrow?”
Cosmo switched off the TV, then pulled a record from its sleeve and set it on the turntable.
“Of course. I’m happy to.” He turned on the receiver and set the stylus on the record.
Funky synth filled the room, followed by Prince’s falsetto commentary on all the gossip surrounding him.
He sat back down on the bed. “You don’t mind some music, do you? ”
“You’re asking permission three years too late. No Soft Cell?” Micah slid his toes up Cosmo’s ankle and watched as Cosmo’s eyes widened slightly.
“Listen, future ghost, I was living in that studio long before you. From my perspective, you were haunting me. Always on the phone with your French telemarketers and lurking as a shadowy figure in the hallway.”
The bed creaked as Micah pressed Cosmo back against the pillows and kissed him softly. “I’m not going to complain with any earnestness because I don’t want to jinx it and have the universe take you away. I’m not letting you go anywhere.”
Cosmo’s lips parted, and he slid his hands around Micah’s waist. There was guarded hope in his voice as he said, “And what are you going to do with me now that you have me?”
“I want to be close to you. As close as I can get. It’s hard for me to pick apart exactly where that feeling is coming from. If it’s purely romantic or if there’s some low-grade sexual attraction mixed in. Maybe we can just… see where this goes?”
Cosmo’s voice was barely a whisper. “Yes. Yes, let’s. I’ll follow your lead.”
Dark curls hung in Cosmo’s eyes, and Micah swept them away. He left a peck on each shimmery eyelid, down his cheek, and kissed the lingering hint of citrus from his dianthus lips. “I want to be inside you. In your blood. Your veins. I want to haunt the valves of your heart, the way you haunt mine.”
Cosmo grabbed a fistful of Micah’s hair, tugged his head close, and hissed in his ear. “You already are. This chapel is dedicated to you.”
Micah lost himself in Cosmo’s leaded glass gaze and the warmth of his hallowed halls. “You’re my muse. You inspire me, motivate me. You make me want to put the broken pieces of myself back together.”
It had only been two months since the first message on Micah’s mirror appeared, but three years had passed for Cosmo. Micah wanted to make up for all the empty moments that had occurred before they met in person. He was intent to learn every desire in Cosmo’s heart and make sure they happened.
Sometime during the night, Micah’s eyes flew open, his pulse racing. Someone had tapped on the window.
No. Wait. It was presque vu. It hadn’t happened.
But it had on the other timeline. He hadn’t sensed anything off during the other events of the day, which meant that this moment, for whatever reason, was slightly shifted from where it was supposed to be.
Maybe it was Déjà’s butterfly effect or some other cosmic reason Micah didn’t have time to figure out right now.
Cosmo slept on his back, one arm thrown over his face and his mouth open slightly.
Snatching his glasses off the coffee table, Micah blinked in the darkness and strained for more sound.
After groping through the clothes on the floor, he found his jeans and pulled them on, then peeled the knife from under the table.
Zedd’s note was a trick to lull them into a sense of false security. It had to be. Why would someone be tapping on the window in the middle of the night? But the only thing that note had guaranteed was that Micah spent the night holding Cosmo close.
“Your plan backfired, asshole,” Micah whispered.
A soft tap-tap came at the window, and he jumped and squeezed the knife handle.
Okay, he had the upper hand here. What was going to happen next?
The doorknob would jiggle. The light from a weak flashlight would cut through the darkness outside the window, but Micah had ensured the curtains were drawn tight; there was no way for the person to see inside.
He could jump up right now and fling open the door, brandishing the knife. No, that was a terrible idea. Then the door would be wide open, and Cosmo would be exposed. Zedd would shove past Micah, walk over the threshold and inside.
That thought made Micah’s chest seize up and his joints rust. No, no, no. What happened to Micah was not going to happen to Cosmo.
The doorknob jiggled, and Micah squeaked and dropped the knife. Jesus! Even if he didn’t open the door, he should at least shout through it that he was calling the cops and scare Zedd away. But he was frozen to the spot, still imagining Zedd’s motorcycle boots clomping over the threshold.
A flashlight beam wavered outside and tried shining through the window. He held his breath, waiting for something else to happen, but after a moment the flashlight clicked off and footsteps crunched through brush. A car door slammed.
The sound broke Micah from his paralysis. He crept to the window and parted the curtain with trembling fingers, but only caught a glimpse of glowing taillights as a car pulled away.