Chapter 18
Caleb
“God, I’ve missed these,” I groaned, licking powdered sugar off my fingers. We were sitting by the river, sipping coffee with a bag of warm beignets between us. Theo’s black-jean-clad thighs had been dappled with powdered sugar immediately, and there were streaks now where he’d tried to wipe it away. He muttered in annoyance and held the beignet off to the right, twisting awkwardly to take another bite and nearly knocking over his coffee.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, and spread a napkin on his lap.
“Oh. Thanks.”
The late-morning air was warm on our bench in the sun, but the breeze was chilly. That was New Orleans, all extremes—and sometimes opposing ones at the same time. The sunlight sparkled amber in the dusky water and I watched the barges come round the bend and under the bridge, pass us, then go off down the river.
The earthy scent of the Mississippi, the bite of chicory, the sharp burst of sugar on my tongue. Every sense was full up with a place as familiar to me as my own bed. Only, for the first time, I’d spent the night in a jazz club, not stumbling home until three in the morning, and I wasn’t feeling like crap. I was a little tired, but not hungover, not jittery, not searching my memory for what I might have done that I shouldn’t’ve.
Also, for the first time, Theo was here with me. And that changed everything. Last night, when I’d agreed to take him to The Pearl Lounge, it had felt like holding my hand over the flame—a subtle dance to see how close I could move until I got burned. But, though seeing Dot had forced a tidal wave of memories, every time I’d looked at Theo, it yanked me back to the present. Back to the man who, I hoped, might be my future. I hadn’t let myself linger too long on that thought last night. Ghosts of the past and hopes for the future were a dangerous cocktail. But walking the streets of this city arm in arm with him had meant more to me than I’d realized it would.
“Ugh,” Theo said, tossing the uneaten half of his beignet back into the bag and holding his white-smeared fingers out from his body like they were covered in slime. “You have the rest. I am not about these things. I want a real doughnut.”
“Blasphemer.”
I grabbed the bag and happily ate the remaining beignet and the other half of Theo’s abandoned one. I knew I’d feel sick in about five minutes, but I didn’t care. The chicory coffee was the perfect antidote to the sweetness of powdered sugar, and I had no idea when I would be back in New Orleans.
Sure enough, I was vaguely nauseated a few minutes later, and I downed the rest of my coffee and leaned over, elbows on my knees, staring out at the river.
“Feel sick, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” I groaned. “So good, though.”
“Ugh, not worth it if it’s gonna make you feel like shit, though.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that.
“Babe, I’m an addict. That’s the anthem right there. So good you keep going until you feel like shit, and then you wait just long enough to forget how shitty, and do it all again.”
Theo put his hand on my back and I leaned closer to him as he rubbed up and down my spine.
“Feels nice,” I murmured.
“I’m glad because then maybe you won’t be mad that I just got powdered sugar all over your shirt.”
I felt better after a few minutes and we strolled upriver along the waterfront. Theo had on dark sunglasses and a hat, but he still got some double takes. No one stopped him, though, and only one person snapped a picture.
“Wow, New Orleans is so not New York,” Theo observed.
We turned back downriver as we reached the casino, and then headed into the French Quarter so we could change at the hotel before heading over to meet the band. Theo was holding my hand loosely, and he seemed like he was in his own world, looking at everything, watching everyone. It felt nice to be a tether. Something he held onto while his senses roamed.
And it felt important to realize that maybe he could be that for me, too.
“But when would you even do it? It’d totally ruin the drama of our entrance!” Ven’s voice was the loudest of anyone’s, but I thought the sentiment was shared by Coco and Ethan.
We were in Ethan’s suite at the Terpsichore Hotel on Canal Street, and Theo had just told Riven about his desire for us to perform the song we wrote together. I’d taken myself out into the hallway so they could talk privately, but Ven’s voice carried. I was already regretting this entire thing, from agreeing to do the song in the first place, to choosing to come with Theo to the hotel. But the idea of wandering the streets alone had filled me with anxiety, so I’d opted to stay in Theo’s pocket. Stay out of trouble.
I was irritated with myself for feeling that way, but I knew it had been the right choice. I fished my phone out and called Huey, walking down toward the stairwell where I wouldn’t be able to hear Ven anymore, and leaned against the wall.
“How’re you doing, kid?” Huey asked, answering on the second ring. I smiled at the knowledge that my friend had been on alert for my call.
“I’m actually okay, I think. But I kinda don’t trust myself to walk around alone, so now I’m following Theo around like a damn groupie and I’m pissing myself off.”
“Ha, you as a groupie. Hilarious. I’ll save that one to make fun of you for later.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”
“Whitman, you know what I’m gonna say.”
I sighed. He was right. I did know. But I still needed to hear it from him.
“You’re making smart choices. Feeling a little shaky? You’re sticking with someone who keeps you on track. That’s exactly what you should be doing.”
“Yeah.”
“So then what’s this really about? Theo annoyed that you’re sticking with him?”
“No.”
“Well, then?”
I slid down the wall to sit on the patterned carpet and dropped my head back, closing my eyes against the tunnel effect of the hallway that was making me woozy.
“I might…Theo and I wrote this song. Together. And he wants to play it tonight, at his show. He’s in there with the band right now, talking about it. And they may say no, so it’ll be a moot point, but…they might say yes. And if they do…”
“Name the feeling, Whit.”
Huey was a big fan of the feel your feelings methodology. Said if you knew the feelings then it was easier to deal with them clean. Of course, it annoyed the holy shit outta me because I always felt like a kindergartner when he made me do it. But I couldn’t deny it was fairly effective.
“Fear.” Fear that they’d hate the song, that I’d fuck it up, that I’d let Theo down. Fear that I wouldn’t love performing anymore. Fear that I would.
Huey waited.
“And excitement.” Because what if? What if I could have this again?
“Hope,” I said softly, almost choking on the word. “Is hope a feeling?”
“Doesn’t matter. You feel it, it’s a feeling.”
“I really want this, man. I want it so fucking hard it’s like I’m ripping into it with my teeth. I want my fuckin’ life back.”
“Sounds like maybe the want is stronger than the fear. That’s good, kid. That’s real good. Fear is the mind-killer.”
Dune was one of Huey’s favorite books. It was one of the first things we’d ever talked about.
A door opened down the corridor and I saw Theo’s head poke out.
“Oh, hey, I gotta go. Thanks, man. Really. Thanks.”
“Hey. I wanna meet this kid when y’all’re back in New York.”
“Yeah, okay.” The idea of Huey and Theo together kind of broke my brain. “Thanks.”
Theo was striding toward me and I could tell from his smile that we were a go. As I pushed myself to my feet, I felt heavy but light-headed.
“We’re in!” he said, and threw his arms around my neck, kissing me solidly.
All I could do was nod and hope that my mouth was forming something resembling a smile, because inside the terror was so stark I could hardly breathe.
The first time I performed my own songs live, I was nineteen. I had a broke-ass guitar, a borrowed amp, and the conviction that I was going to either faint or die as I walked onstage. There were about fifteen people in the audience, and in the time it took to take the five steps to the microphone, I was certain that every single one of them hated me. I practically tripped over my own mic stand, and my hands were shaking so hard that only the strap was keeping my guitar in place.
I hadn’t felt that way since then. But right now, five minutes before taking the stage with Theo, I felt ten times worse. I was sweating so badly that my shirt was sticking to my back and under my arms, and I probably stank. My hair was a mess from running my hands through it so much. I thought I might possibly vomit at any moment. The morning’s coffee and beignets were a distant memory by now, but I hadn’t been able to choke down anything else all day.
Theo was eyeing me like I was a rabid dog he was scared to approach. No surprise there, since the last time he’d asked if I was all right—in a sweet, concerned voice, with a supportive hand on my shoulder—I’d snapped at him and jerked away. He’d held his hands up and backed away slowly, and I’d felt immediately guilty.
Washtub Prophecy had done their set, to a lukewarm response. But then, arrogance in a band that hadn’t paid its dues didn’t go over too well in Nola. It had been decided that Coco was going to go out onstage to introduce us. Ven’s argument that Theo had to make an entrance was agreed upon by the band, though Theo had clearly been uncomfortable with it, and they hadn’t wanted to all just sit there onstage while we performed our song.
Three minutes. I couldn’t breathe and I was running through every single shitty thing I’d ever done, pulling my mistakes around me like some kind of armor against the hope of anything good.
Then Theo was there, hands on my shoulders, pushing me down to sit on an amp.
“Baby,” he said, low, face close to mine. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be fine.”
I nodded and told myself the thing that I knew was true: This cannot actually kill you. Sometimes it helped.
“Listen, if you’re not okay with this, we don’t have to do it. No one will know the difference.”
Theo’s beautiful eyes were dark blue in the dim backstage light, made impossibly large with the eyeliner smeared around them. He was letting me off the hook. And I could see it in his eyes: if I took the out, he wouldn’t hold it against me. He wouldn’t be angry. He wanted to do what was best for me.
Fuck, I loved him so much.
“No, I—I’m okay. Or, I will be. I’m freaking, but I’ll be fine.”
I said it over and over in the hopes that I could make it true.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Always,” I said.
Theo leaned in and kissed me so sweet. His mouth was warm and I could feel the lip balm he always wore onstage so his lips wouldn’t crack. He pulled away and rubbed the balm into my bottom lip, smiling a little.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
He threw his legs over mine so he was half on my lap, and I nodded, burying my fingers in his hair as he spoke softly, lips almost touching mine.
“I’m a little nervous to play with Caleb Blake Whitman. He’s really good. And I kind of have a thing for him.”
Out of nowhere, I felt my chest tighten and my throat seize, suddenly close to tears. In all of this, somehow, Theo had managed to remind me of who I was. Who I wanted to be. Who I could be again.
“Fuck,” I muttered, then I kissed him hard. “Fuck if he doesn’t have a hell of a thing for you, too. Let’s do this shit. Now, before I lose my nerve.”
Theo’s smile right then, in the dim light, with equipment strewn all around us, was one I knew I would remember for the rest of my life. He smiled at me like nothing could make him happier. He smiled at me like I was the best thing in the world. Now how could I possibly do anything but try my damnedest to live up to it?
Theo signaled to Coco and the techies near her while I grabbed my guitar. Theo held his loose in his left hand and reached for my hand with his right.
As the lights in the house went to black, the crowd came alive with cheers, and when a spot followed Coco as she walked onstage, they started screaming.
“Good evening, New Orleans!” Coco yelled. She was all energy and the crowd ate it up. “Now, listen, y’all. We have a special treat for you tonight. You want to know what it is?”
The crowd yelled, everyone screaming guesses at the stage. Coco cupped her hand to her ear and leaned toward them exaggeratedly. They yelled louder.
“Aw, you’ll never guess!” she teased them. “Let me ask you a question, New Orleans. Anyone in the audience a Caleb Blake Whitman fan?” She said my name clearly and slowly, and still it sounded alien to me. I hadn’t known she was going to mention my name at all, though of course that’s what you would do if you were introducing someone.
Theo squeezed my hand and I realized I had his in a death grip. I made a conscious effort to ease off. Then, to my total shock, I heard some people in the crowd start to cheer.
“That’s right!” Coco said. “Tell me again. Are there any Caleb Blake Whitman fans in the house?”
“Holy shit,” I said, as people cheered again.
Theo elbowed me and grinned.
“Well, tonight we’ve got Mr. Caleb Blake Whitman himself. He and Theo have a song they wanna play you, and maybe if you like it, you can hit us up online and let him know, okay? But remember, you’ll have to hit up Riven, not Theo.”
She paused dramatically, and the crowd laughed and cheered.
“You know how Theo is. He’s still living in the Dark Ages.” Her voice was perfectly pitched at fond teasing. Theo didn’t have any social media and it was something his fans found charming. Theo rolled his eyes.
“All right, then!” Coco said. “Give ’em a reason to come onstage, would you? Caleb Blake Whitman and Theo Decker!”
The crowd roared and Coco shot them a thumbs-up before skipping offstage.
Theo high-fived her and she smiled at us both.
“Hey,” Theo said, shoulders set. “We got this.”
I nodded, forcing myself to breathe.
Theo took a step, so I took a step. Theo took another, so I took another. I was reduced to simple mimicry, and in that way, I ended up standing down center stage of the largest arena I’d ever played in my life. The sound of the crowd was muffled, and I could almost forget they were there. My head felt packed with cotton and the lights were so bright I could hardly see.
Just keep looking at Theo.
Theo was addressing the crowd, but I didn’t hear a word he said. Then he bumped my shoulder with his fist, a friendly, affectionate gesture, and smiled at me. And everything came rushing into focus. I could hear the audience yelling, I could feel the heat of the lights blazing down on me, and I could see the front rows of people pressed against the rail around the stage, the broad shoulders of security guards with their backs to us. I could see the people in the balconies, and the sound booth nestled into the middle of the crowd.
It was real, suddenly. It was all real.
“So, uh,” Theo said, seeing I needed a second. “We wrote this together. And writing with Caleb was an honor. But, uh, don’t do what Coco said and tell us what you think on social media, because then we’ll get all nervous to play it for you.”
Laughter, cheers, and awwws from the crowd.
Theo had a way about him that got people in the palm of his hand. He was human but glamorous; effortlessly cool but vulnerable. Watching him, before he’d even sung a note, it was absolutely clear to me how he’d become a star.
He raised an eyebrow at me and I took a deep breath. Then I closed my eyes, and started to play. The opening was intricate, and I was thankful to have something to concentrate on. But then Theo joined in, strumming along, and it all went away. I was right back to how it had always been. This swanky arena might as well have been a dusty bar; those thousands of people might as well have been the fifteen people I’d first played for. Because I was in it.
When Theo started to sing, people began to cheer, and I opened my eyes because I couldn’t not watch Theo Decker sing our song onstage. I’d heard him sing it before, of course, but I’d never heard him perform it, and he wrapped his velvet voice around that verse in ways that tied me up in knots.
The chorus was a harmony and when I added my voice to Theo’s, the crowd cheered more. Then it was my verse, and I opened my mouth and prayed to a god I didn’t fuckin’ believe in to just let the notes leave my throat.
And they did.
With every note, every word, every chord, I was building something that I’d feared was lost forever. And when we hit the final note, and our voices rang out into the arms of the auditorium, I felt as strong and alive as I had ever felt. Theo grabbed my hand and the sound of the crowd cheering—cheering for us, for our song—blew through me, inflating me like a balloon.
“Caleb Blake Whitman!” Theo said into the mic. Then I followed him offstage the same way I’d followed him on, only this time, I wished I could stay under those lights, held in the crowd’s embrace all night.
We might have teleported back to the hotel for all that I was aware of what happened between the time we left the venue and when we stumbled up the stairs and fell against our door, kissing like we could swallow each other whole. As I watched Theo perform, pieces were shuffling into place: in my head, in my gut, in my chest—all of it forming me into a different man. A man who had been ruined and remade so many times he should have been dust, but instead was luminescence. I stood backstage, glowing with the warm certainty that my life wasn’t over. That I hadn’t screwed up irreparably. That maybe—just maybe—I could have this. Give myself what I wanted, and still have the ability to give Theo what he wanted, too. Give us a life. A future.
Theo’s mouth was on mine, and he pressed me into the door rather than opening it. I slid my hand up the back of his sweaty shirt to feel the raw heat of his skin, and he latched onto my neck, sucking hard. I groaned at the knowledge I’d board the plane the next day with the evidence of his desire etched on my skin.
“Get inside,” I muttered, about four seconds away from dropping to my knees in the hallway.
“Oh fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck yes, I will.” His eyes raked me, and it was clear what he wanted. He grabbed my ass and shoved the key into the lock, pushing me inside as the door swung open.
“Get your clothes off and get on the bed,” Theo said, struggling out of his own clothes. He watched me so intently I felt myself flush, like he could flay the clothes right off me. I stripped out of my sweaty clothes and sat on the bed, legs spread wide, stroking myself lightly as Theo stood transfixed.
He shook his head, hair messy around his face. “You were amazing tonight.” His voice was low and sincere. “You’re so good, Caleb.” He took a step closer, forcing me to look up at him. “You’re so beautiful.” He reached out a hand and ran his knuckles over my cheek. I felt my eyes flutter shut, then open again, not wanting to miss one moment of him. “You’re perfect,” he said, eyes unfocused, like he didn’t even realize he had said it. My throat tightened at the praise. It wasn’t true. I didn’t deserve anyone to say that to me.
He bore me back on the bed, kissed my neck again and whispered, “You’re perfect,” into my ear. Not an accident, then. He flicked his tongue into my ear and I shuddered at the shivery sensation it shot up my spine. “Perfect,” he murmured again. Then he kissed me hard, our tongues tangling, our hands grappling as we rolled around on the bed.
“I wanna fuck you,” he gasped, squeezing my ass and thrusting his rock-hard dick against mine.
“Yes, fuck yes.” I grabbed the lube from the bedside table and practically threw it at him. He grinned at me.
“Eager much?”
“Uh-huh.” I’d dreamed of Theo’s dick inside me, of watching him take exactly what he wanted, of feeling him fall apart. “Get in here.”
Theo groaned and slapped my knees open. It was dirty. He was feeling dirty and I was feeling raw, and I could already tell that’s how this was gonna go.
He sucked at the base of my erection and tugged my balls, making me clench up. I threw my head back, on fire with the power of letting Theo do whatever the fuck he wanted to me. I loved his demanding side, loved when he told me exactly what he wanted me to do to him. And I loved making him beg for it.
His stubble electrified the sensitive skin on my inner thighs, and he bit at the flesh there. “Fuck, I love your thighs,” he groaned. Palms keeping my knees open, he delivered bite after sucking bite, until the skin burned and my muscles trembled.
“Okay?” he asked distractedly, but he reached a hand up to me. I grabbed it and squeezed.
“I want you to do anything you want, Theo. Fucking do anything to me.”
“Oh fuck,” he groaned against my thigh. “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot. Roll over.”
He pushed me onto my stomach and shoved my thighs apart again. He rubbed his face between my legs and palmed my ass, holding me open. I must have made a sound because he mm-hmmed against my skin. I only had a moment to register what that meant before Theo stuck his tongue in my ass and we both groaned. His mouth was hot on my hole and he licked me loose like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted. Pushing my ass up, he feasted on me until I was incoherent with lust, grinding my ass back against him.
“You taste so fucking good,” he muttered against my ass, and his fingers were so tight on my hips I knew I’d have bruises.
“Theo,” I groaned, not sure if I wanted him to hurry up or never stop.
“You said I could do whatever I wanted,” he said, voice flirtatious and teasing. “I want to eat your ass for the rest of my life, so…” He dropped back down on me and licked over my hole again, tracing my rim with the tip of his tongue, then flicking it inside. All I could do was press my cheek into the pillow as jolts of heat stirred my arousal higher and higher.
Finally, after I wasn’t sure how long, Theo slid two fingers inside me and pressed against my prostate as he licked me. My hips jolted off the bed so hard I almost broke his nose. In that momentary reprieve from sensation, he giggled like he was delighted to have caused such a reaction, and I turned around to see his lips puffy and wet, and his eyes dark blue with lust. His cock was leaking, he was flushed, and his hair was a wreck. Fuck, I wanted him.
When his eyes softened a little, and lingered on mine, I turned onto my back, and his smile told me it was what he wanted. He nearly collapsed onto my chest to get at my mouth, kissing me passionately, feeding me my own taste on his tongue.
“Now, now, now, please,” he was murmuring against my lips.
“Whatever you want, baby. Anything.”
“Oh fuck.” He palmed his cock. “I want inside you now.”
“Get the fuck in here, then.” I’d been going for light, but Theo shuddered and dropped his head like he couldn’t stand it. When he looked back up at me his eyes were blazing. He swiped some lube carelessly onto the tip of his leaking erection, and then he was right there, sliding inside me as smooth and insistent as a boat cutting through water. I couldn’t breathe as he filled me for the first time, then I could only gasp as the pleasure shot through me. Theo’s lips trembled and then he started to fuck me like he wanted to climb inside. It felt like he’d doubled in strength, shoving my hips up to get a better angle, and slamming into me. It was messy and fast and so perfect I felt like I was coming apart from the inside out.
“Oh, fuck, baby,” I groaned, when he nailed my prostate, and he kept that angle, hips rocketing into me as the tendons in his neck strained. He wanted to kiss me but he couldn’t reach, and neither of us was willing to give up the perfect position, so we breathed the same twice-heated air and Theo fucked me harder and faster, as we looked into each other’s eyes.
“What do you want?” I gasped. “Tell me.”
“Touch me,” Theo ordered. “Keep touching me while I fuck you. I want to make you come, just me.”
We both groaned at his words and I touched every bit of flushed skin I could reach. I rubbed his nipples and trailed rough fingertips over his throat until he cried out brokenly. I could feel his cock swell inside me as he got close, so close. Then he dropped his forehead to my chest and wrapped one arm around my neck, hand snaking up to pull my hair. The sharp tug sent a jolt through me and I clenched around him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, like it was the only word he knew besides my name.
He was everywhere, weight on top of me, cock inside me, hand in my hair, eyes on mine. I could see how close he was, from the tremble in his lips, the way his flush darkened. He made gorgeous broken sounds as he fucked me, and then he curled his hand around my leaking erection, and my eyes rolled back in my head.
“I want—ungh,” he groaned as I tightened around him.
“What, anything, anything.”
“I want you to come on my cock,” he gasped, and he stroked me harder, faster.
“About to,” I groaned, and I felt my orgasm gathering together in the small of my back, the tremble in my thighs, the tightness in my belly. Theo ran his thumb over the tip of my dick and fucked me hard, raking over my prostate until it was almost too much. The pleasure climbed higher and higher, and Theo saw all of it. He bit his lip in determination. Then, with a twist of his hand on my dick, a tug on my hair, and one last deep thrust, I was coming so hard I yelled, every muscle tightening, my eyes squeezing shut as my ass convulsed and I shot into Theo’s hand.
I couldn’t tell his groans from my own, but a moment later he froze inside me, flooded me with heat, and then whimpered as he kept thrusting while he came down from his orgasm.
“Oh my fucking god,” he muttered, plastering himself on top of me, cock still inside me. He nuzzled his face into my neck and wrapped his arms around me and groaned. I grunted in agreement, found one of his hands, and squeezed.
After we caught our breath, I said, “Remind me to let you do whatever you want to me more often.”
He nodded against my chest and his stubble scraped my nipple, making me clench up.
“Oh fuck,” Theo said, and he shifted his hips. “Do that again.” I clenched around him and he moaned, hips thrusting. “Again,” he whispered, and I could feel him harden inside me.
“Are you kidding me,” I said. He moaned incoherently into my chest. “That’s some refractory period, kid,” I said. “You want to…”
He shrugged, muscles loose, clearly exhausted. I clenched around him again, experimentally milking him, and his hips surged. He looked at me with shocked eyes as he swelled inside me. “I don’t think I can.”
I ran a finger over his swollen lips, the flush over his cheekbones, shoved sweaty hair back from his face.
“Does it feel good?” I asked.
“So fucking good,” he slurred.
I did it again and again, until I was sure my muscles would give out, and Theo writhed against me, getting harder and harder until he was panting and scrabbling at my chest.
“I need to—fuck, can I—?”
“Do anything you want to me.”
Theo moved inside me gently. I wasn’t sure if either of us would come. I had gotten hard again, too, but my arousal wasn’t urgent. We were both exhausted, but vibrating with energy, and I saw the moment Theo committed himself.
“I want to feel you come again,” he muttered, voice so wrung out it was a rasp.
“I don’t know if I can, baby,” I said. “But you feel so good, don’t stop.”
We fucked like mercury, like we were in a dream. I was sore, and he was tired, but as he moved wetly inside me, I closed my eyes and just let myself feel it. No goal, no end, just Theo, touching me everywhere.
“Oh my god,” he murmured, like he couldn’t believe what was happening, and then I felt him shudder, pressing himself deep inside me as he came. This time his whimper was almost tortured, and his cheek against my neck was blood hot. “Please, baby,” he muttered into my ear, and he stroked me off gently, like I could stop him with a whisper.
But he was Theo, and everything about him got to me. The little sounds he made in my ear as he worked me, the heat inside me and wetness between us, the sweet way he pressed his mouth to my skin as I started to tremble. Then good turned into holy fuck, and I was coming for him again, spilling into his hand like my body would give him anything, even the things I thought were impossible.