grabbed onto Logan’s arm and said in a strangled sounding voice, “I don’t need it and neither do you.”
Logan stood baffled at the reaction for several seconds until the reason slotted into place. He’d said Foremost, a liquor store, and not a half-dozen other places around here where he could get soda pop. His brain went there without even thinking about it. His eyes began to burn and his throat suddenly felt clogged. “Pizza and beer.” He laughed bitterly and put his hands on top of his shaved head. “What’s more natural than that?” Unconsciously, his brain was already waiting in line with money in hand.
Caleb moved in for a sneak attack. “Let’s pretend we don’t have penises.” He wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist and hugged him hard. Logan dropped his arms, letting them hover for a moment before returning the embrace.
“Do me a favor and don’t freak out,” Caleb said. “I can’t deal with that shit.”
Logan laughed. Caleb was damn good at it. It made Logan wonder why he was so determined to deny himself any comfort when he fell apart. Reluctantly, he pulled away and walked stiffly toward the door.
Caleb followed him, slipping money into his hand. “Call me if you need help… finding the place.”
W HEN Logan returned with the famous pie in hand, he found the door unlocked again and he noticed a baseball game on the TV with the sound turned low. Caleb sat on the leather couch. It looked like it was taking every ounce of his will not to pounce like a starving jackal. Logan set the pizza box on the coffee table. Seeing Caleb’s barely contained glee, he decided Klass had to be wrong in denying him something that made him so happy. Disgusted by his own sappiness, he flopped onto the couch.
Opening the box, Logan said, “Eat before you drool all over the carpet.”
Caleb took a deep satisfied breath before snagging a slice.
Logan started in on his own piece. The crust was crispy, the cheese thick, and the pepperoni spicy enough to make the roof of his mouth tingle. He preferred deep dish, but it had been forever since he’d had pizza anywhere close to this good. The floorshow wasn’t bad either.
Caleb really could charge $9.99 a minute just to listen to him eat the pizza, let alone watch him. Logan had to adjust himself as Caleb’s tongue went hunting for a stray dollop of sauce on his bottom lip. He hadn’t realized someone could purr and chew at the same time, but Caleb was pulling it off. He needed a distraction before he was tempted to find out whether the tangy sauce tasted better on Caleb’s tongue. Tilting his head toward the TV, Logan asked, “Did you ever play in high school?”
Caleb dropped the piece of pizza in his hand back into the box. “I wanted to, but… uh… I needed to get home right after school and help my mom with the housework and stuff.”
Logan was wishing he hadn’t asked when Caleb’s expression brightened again. He retrieved the slice of pizza and said, “The track coach, Mr. Connors, used to let me run on the track in the morning even though I wasn’t on the team. It was always the best part of my day. After about ten minutes, I would hit my stride and everything else would disappear and it would just be me and the sound of my feet pounding on the asphalt.” He hunched forward and focused on eating the slice in his hand. “Did you play any sports?”
“I played football, but I was more interested in the after-game party.”
Caleb accepted this answer without comment. “I doubt I would’ve been very good if I’d had the chance to play baseball. I’m a better spectator.”
Logan faithfully watched the Chicago Bears, but he’d never had much interest in baseball, not seeing the appeal. Too much slow-moving strategy and not enough violence. Caleb’s eyes kept returning to the game, watching with rapt attention and Logan found himself wanting to know more. “What is it about baseball you like?”
Caleb tilted his head
Logan stood baffled at the reaction for several seconds until the reason slotted into place. He’d said Foremost, a liquor store, and not a half-dozen other places around here where he could get soda pop. His brain went there without even thinking about it. His eyes began to burn and his throat suddenly felt clogged. “Pizza and beer.” He laughed bitterly and put his hands on top of his shaved head. “What’s more natural than that?” Unconsciously, his brain was already waiting in line with money in hand.
Caleb moved in for a sneak attack. “Let’s pretend we don’t have penises.” He wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist and hugged him hard. Logan dropped his arms, letting them hover for a moment before returning the embrace.
“Do me a favor and don’t freak out,” Caleb said. “I can’t deal with that shit.”
Logan laughed. Caleb was damn good at it. It made Logan wonder why he was so determined to deny himself any comfort when he fell apart. Reluctantly, he pulled away and walked stiffly toward the door.
Caleb followed him, slipping money into his hand. “Call me if you need help… finding the place.”
W HEN Logan returned with the famous pie in hand, he found the door unlocked again and he noticed a baseball game on the TV with the sound turned low. Caleb sat on the leather couch. It looked like it was taking every ounce of his will not to pounce like a starving jackal. Logan set the pizza box on the coffee table. Seeing Caleb’s barely contained glee, he decided Klass had to be wrong in denying him something that made him so happy. Disgusted by his own sappiness, he flopped onto the couch.
Opening the box, Logan said, “Eat before you drool all over the carpet.”
Caleb took a deep satisfied breath before snagging a slice.
Logan started in on his own piece. The crust was crispy, the cheese thick, and the pepperoni spicy enough to make the roof of his mouth tingle. He preferred deep dish, but it had been forever since he’d had pizza anywhere close to this good. The floorshow wasn’t bad either.
Caleb really could charge $9.99 a minute just to listen to him eat the pizza, let alone watch him. Logan had to adjust himself as Caleb’s tongue went hunting for a stray dollop of sauce on his bottom lip. He hadn’t realized someone could purr and chew at the same time, but Caleb was pulling it off. He needed a distraction before he was tempted to find out whether the tangy sauce tasted better on Caleb’s tongue. Tilting his head toward the TV, Logan asked, “Did you ever play in high school?”
Caleb dropped the piece of pizza in his hand back into the box. “I wanted to, but… uh… I needed to get home right after school and help my mom with the housework and stuff.”
Logan was wishing he hadn’t asked when Caleb’s expression brightened again. He retrieved the slice of pizza and said, “The track coach, Mr. Connors, used to let me run on the track in the morning even though I wasn’t on the team. It was always the best part of my day. After about ten minutes, I would hit my stride and everything else would disappear and it would just be me and the sound of my feet pounding on the asphalt.” He hunched forward and focused on eating the slice in his hand. “Did you play any sports?”
“I played football, but I was more interested in the after-game party.”
Caleb accepted this answer without comment. “I doubt I would’ve been very good if I’d had the chance to play baseball. I’m a better spectator.”
Logan faithfully watched the Chicago Bears, but he’d never had much interest in baseball, not seeing the appeal. Too much slow-moving strategy and not enough violence. Caleb’s eyes kept returning to the game, watching with rapt attention and Logan found himself wanting to know more. “What is it about baseball you like?”
Caleb tilted his head
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