11. Day eleven
Day eleven
“ I hope today’s gift isn’t even smaller than the violin,” I greeted Peter with a raised brow.
“It’s standard sized,” the man reassured me and tossed me a box.
I caught the gift and had to resist the urge to shake it, to guess what was inside just by feel and sound.
“Have fun with it,” Peter said before the door closed behind him.
I stood there for a minute, rooted in place. Have fun with it? Not ‘I hope Leo has fun with it’ or anything along those lines? Did he really imply the gift was something for the both of us to enjoy? Maybe it was something Leo could share, like the gumball sweets or the chilies.
Yes, that had to be it.
With only two days until Christmas, the roads were packed and my motorcycle was a godsend, but even with fitting between the cars stuck in the traffic, I was at Leo’s a bit later than usual. When I knocked on the door, I heard shuffling before the door was flung open.
“Come in!” came Leo’s voice and when I peered inside I saw he was already vanishing into a room I presumed was his bedroom.
Before I even finished taking off my shoes, I heard the sounds of the piano. Oh, Leo was playing? I stalked to the open door. The music cut off, replaced by Leo’s muttering and the sound of furious scribbling. Then the man’s slender fingers reached for the black and white keys of the grand piano once more. An energetic tune filled the room.
I leaned against the doorframe, not wanting to interrupt the creative madness Leo seemed to be in the grip of. The blond man switched between a notebook and the piano keys, until, to my surprise, not only music but singing filled the room.
So entranced I was by the beautiful cadence of Leo’s singing and how the notes rolled smoothly from his tongue, it took me a minute to actually register the words.
“Unattainable, ungovernable, unforgettable.
The heat, the heat, the heaaat is starting.
I’m your bitch, darling.”
What in the seven hells?!
I had to cover my mouth to not blurt that out, but Leo spared my sanity by giving a satisfied sigh and putting a last squiggle on the paper before he turned to me.
“Sounds hella sweet, doesn’t it?” he said proudly.
“Sweet isn’t quite the word I would use,” I responded weakly. “But certainly… uh… unforgettable.”
Leo laughed.
“Just you wait for the rest of the song,” he teased.
“This is what you do? Create songs?” I asked, as my eyes roamed the room, catching on different instruments that were crammed into the bedroom. There was a violin, the grand piano, a collection of flutes, a guitar, and a lot of electronic equipment I only vaguely knew the purpose of. In the center of the organized chaos was a small bed. It looked like Leo sacrificed his sleeping space to have more room for his… work? Hobby?
“Nah, bro. I just do the lyrics.” Leo stood up and stretched his arms over his head, drawing my eyes to a tantalizing strip of bare flesh at his midriff as the shirt rocked up.
“Just lyrics,” I said with sarcasm. “Oh, no biggie. Man, you are putting the soul into the songs. That’s impressive! And even if you aren’t creating music… I want to hear you play all of those one day!” I gestured at the musical instruments. “Did Peter have the privilege of hearing you play any of those?”
“I would say so.” Leo cocked his hip and lifted a mischievous brow. “Seeing as I was a piece of entertainment at some of those galas where we met.”
My mouth fell open in an O of surprise and, as Leo explained, a few things slotted in place.
He came from a family of musicians and was one of those child piano prodigies that have been shown around far and wide. In his adulthood his proficiency and family contacts meant he was invited from time to time to provide live music or perform a showpiece for high-brow events. Leo used the presented opportunity to talk to rich people with fingers in the music industry pie and soon made a contact who gave him his first properly paid songwriting gig. And the rest was, as they say, history.
“I mostly write for rising pop stars now,” Leo confessed. “Not the soulful ballads I imagined I would create, but I like it. Cracking a genre open and seeing what makes people tick, which words get a reaction is fascinating.”
“I bet ‘I’m your bitch, darling’ will get those reactions you want. And rising pop stars? Does it mean you are filthy rich?” I gave him a nudge to the side.
“That really depends on your definition of rich. Do I have a mansion and a yacht? No. But I can afford to rent a flat in New York by myself and, honestly, that’s more than I ever expected and what would be considered filthy rich by many New Yorkers.”
“I think my three roommates would agree with that last line,” I said dryly. The prices in NYC were insane but, at the same time, this was where work for people like me was. “But how about we bemoan the trap of capitalism at some later date and focus on your gift now?”
“Oh,” Leo blinked at me. “I… forgot about the gift.”
Something inside of my chest was too warm at the thought that the conversation with me entranced him so much he forgot about the daily surprise from Peter.
Our hands touched briefly as I passed him the gift.
“A Polaroid camera!” Leo exclaimed when he unearthed the gift. Judging from the colorful plastic exterior, it was one of those disposable ones. “Come here, RayRay. Say cheese!”
An arm was thrown over my shoulder, and Leo took the first photo before I was mentally prepared. A few minutes after the camera spewed out the Polaroid and it developed I narrowed my eyes at Leo.
“You are not keeping that. I look like an idiot.”
“Of course I am keeping that photo,” Leo huffed, planting his hands on his hips. “I look glorious.”
“I’m literally a blur with an open mouth. You are not keeping it.”
“I am. Unless…”
“Go on,” I said warily.
“Unless you go out with me and we take more photos!” Leo beamed.
Go out. Go out. Go out , repeated like a mantra in my head. Stupid brain. Leo didn’t mean that as ‘go out on a date’.
“Hmm, I can give you a ride on my bike?” I offered.
“Yes!” the blond man jumped with excitement.
That’s how I found myself with Leo’s arms wrapped tightly around me, his body pressing into my back as I navigated through the streets of New York to a less congested area where the bike ride would be more fun. We made stops to take photos whenever a unique element caught Leo’s attention. The growing collection of polaroids included a funny modern statue we looked tiny in front of, Leo with a cat he just had to stop to pet, a selfie of us both with the helmets off sitting on the bike, and various other random photos, like the one I took, capturing how messy Leo’s hair got immediately after taking off the helmet. After all, I needed some fun blackmail as well.
“I know this area. Can you go left next? The restaurant over there makes delicious hot chocolate,” Leo piped up when we were waiting at the traffic lights and I obediently followed his directions.
The chocolate was good. It was even decorated with those tiny marshmallows. But the desserts we let ourselves be tempted by were even better.
And by gods, the sounds Leo made when he enjoyed food were indecent.
“You… you have a bit of strawberry sauce… over there…” I gestured to his left cheek with my hand, a bit dazed by the tempting display.
“Here?” Leo repeatedly missed the spot and sighed. “How about you help me?” He leaned forward, towards me, his eyes hooded.
Swallowing hard, I tried to quickly swipe the offending sweetness away, but Leo caught my hand and pressed it to his cheek, keeping me trapped not with strength but with gentleness, which was even worse.
“You know, I had enjoyed those eleven days. Getting to know you. Going on this date,” he said and nuzzled into my trembling hand.
“It’s—it’s not a date,” I choked out.
“But do you want it to be?” Leo asked intently.
I was hopeless under that stare. I could not lie, but neither could I tell the truth.
So, I let the panic take over and chose the third, worst possible option.
I kissed him.
And Leo kissed back.
He tasted like vanilla ice cream and the insidious strawberry sauce, and his skin was so soft under my fingertips. I wanted to kiss him forever. Burrow myself in his embrace. Bring him gifts just like Peter—
Fuck.
Peter.
Suddenly I felt cold.
Because this couldn’t end well. I was sure Peter would take this as a betrayal, and I didn’t want to lose him. Nor did I want to lose Leo. They were both important to me and I hoped they would be my friends if nothing more. I told myself I would be content looking at their happy relationship from the side.
But now I had fucked everything up.
Did Leo even want me as a boyfriend? Or was I to be a quick one-night stand before he tried to make it work with Peter?
I stumbled to my feet, my chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“I… I have to go,” I said woodenly.
I had enough presence of mind to take some bills out of my pocket and throw them on the table before I bolted, Leo calling after me.
Was it a bitch move to leave someone without a ride? Undoubtedly. But I only thought about that when I was already riding away, full throttle.
I was a mess.
Halfway to my home, I stopped long enough to write a message to Peter.
RayRay:
Can’t make it to the debrief today. Sorry.
Peter/Boss:
Don’t worry about it. See you tomorrow.
I hid my face in my hands.
Right. I had to finish this. One last day of my contract. One last gift. One last chance to make it right.