Chapter Nine
“I suppose it seems weird I keep wanting to kiss you good night,” Michael said nervously, not really understanding why he kept asking. August was almost over and Michael was a little glad. He had been seeing a lot of Darcy in the past month, in spite of their schedules. Every time they parted ways, Michael had been unable to resist asking for a good-night kiss. Darcy never said no but never responded in any way. Michael didn’t give him a lot to respond to—a chaste brush of lips that he could not, for some reason, give up.
They had gone to dinner (Darcy’s treat) and a movie (Michael’s treat) and talked about it for hours at a coffee shop, with greater critical skills than most of Michael’s dates were capable of. Not that he dated dumb women. They just usually weren’t in the business and missed a lot of the nuances that Darcy easily caught.
It was their third date—not-a-date—that week, and they were on to watch the third episode of Shelter Cove in two days.
“I consider it one of your most peculiar quirks.” Darcy’s voice held a degree of amusement.
Michael noticed that his facial expression was less amused. The left corner of Darcy’s bottom lip was under his teeth and he touched Michael’s sleeve.
“I want to talk to you about that,” Darcy finally said.
Michael nodded, hopefully hiding how he felt. As chaste and unreciprocated as the kisses were, they left Michael in a state of arousal, something he was careful not to make Darcy’s problem. Somehow the part of him that wanted to have sex with Darcy was not getting the message that he was straight and most definitely did not want to have sex with Darcy. I’m pathetic.
“Sure,” he added aloud when Darcy didn’t elaborate.
“I have a kissing scene coming up in Shelter Cove, and I, um. I don’t have, I’ve never really…” A blush was creeping over Darcy’s cheeks and he was staring at Michael’s shoulder. “I thought if it was all right with you, I might, um, practice. With you. Since you want to kiss me anyway.”
“I don’t—” Michael broke off his denial, knowing it wasn’t true. He studied Darcy’s face. “I can teach you, if that’s what you mean. How to kiss.” He didn’t ask how a pretty man like Darcy could make it to twenty-five and not know how to kiss. If Michael was quirky to Darcy, Darcy’s disinterest in sex was equally quirky to him.
“It’s for my craft,” Darcy said defensively.
“Of course.”
“So, um.” Darcy looked up and down the street as if people might be watching them. “I guess you should come up.”
Michael nodded gravely while inside he was high-fiving himself and cheering. What is going on with me? He followed Darcy up the staircase to the second floor and waited patiently as Darcy jammed his key in and jiggled it a little. Michael knew the routine. In these older buildings, opening a lock was sometimes an arcane process of ritualistic motions.
Darcy’s apartment was tiny, and what little space it had was almost entirely taken up by a pair of ladder-back chairs and an unmade bed that clearly pulled down from the wall. The kitchen, if it could be called such, was just a row of appliances with bits of counter and cupboards between. Except for the bed and a stray sock on the floor, it was tidy, unlike his own place.
“Oh, um, sorry about the bed. I should…but I don’t really…” Darcy kicked off his shoes on a little rubber mat beside the door and darted over to pull the sheets straight and smooth the comforter over top.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s cool.”
“Right. So um. Have a seat. Would you like a beer? Orange juice? I have iced green tea.”
“Oh yeah, that sounds perfect. The green tea, I mean.” Michael thought Darcy’s nerves were kind of endearing, but he was trying to be as nonthreatening as possible. Still, he opted to sit on the bed. If he was going to teach Darcy how to kiss, he couldn’t do it on one of those hard wooden chairs.
“Okay, so, I can’t really show you the script, but I can take this page out,” Darcy was saying, as he appeared to juggle two glasses and a ring binder. He tucked the binder under his arm to fill the glasses with ice cubes and tea from a pitcher in the fridge. He put the glasses down long enough to pull a page from the binder and stuffed the script inside the microwave.
Again, Michael might be inclined to laugh, except he knew Darcy had probably signed very legally binding documents about how to handle the show’s scripts—those would be worth a fortune on eBay.
Darcy turned around with a glass in each hand and the page hanging out of his mouth. He was adorable. Michael took a glass, and Darcy dragged one of the chairs over to use as a table. “This is the scene. If you read it over, that might give you an idea of…of what I need to know.”
The sight of the script format, the courier font, and LeBaron’s name all worked together to give Michael an illicit thrill. He thought he’d be immune to the feeling of seeing something “behind the scenes” given he worked in theatre, but there it was. He wouldn’t let Darcy know, though. He was cool, calm, collected, and had no inner fanboy squee-ing as he read the page.
Then he read it again. He turned to Darcy, who had perched nervously beside him. “So your character, Dana, is bi?”
“So it seems according to the script. Either that or LeBaron is a really great kisser.” Darcy’s gaze was fixed on the page in Michael’s hand. “I personally read it as Dana being swept up in the moment, since he never experiences any kind of unrequited feelings for LeBaron. Um, I didn’t say that.”
“That makes sense too,” Michael said absently, re-reading the page for the third time. “He kisses you—”
“Dana.”
“Right, and Dana kisses him back?”
“And then LeBaron freaks out. I guess we’re supposed to be, you know, full-body contact or something. The director gives us a lot of leeway when it comes to improvising the physical action. She trusts us to be fully in character, particularly by this point.”
“Makes sense. The characters do this standing up, is that how you want to practice it?”
“I—does it matter?”
“Not really. A kiss is a kiss is a kiss.”
“I don’t know what to do.” Darcy abruptly grabbed his glass and took a long couple of swallows.
“It’s easy. You know how to make kissy lips, right?” Michael demonstrated, pursing his lips and smiling and pursing them again until Darcy relaxed enough to laugh. It also defused the sexual tension, however one-sided, simmering inside.
“So when I press my lips to yours, you just make that face. It won’t be nearly so silly, I promise.”
Darcy promptly closed his eyes and assumed what Michael thought of as the waiting position. He rolled his eyes and leaned in to press his lips to Darcy’s. As usual, he kept his eyes open a crack, hoping to see some reaction. Not expecting, just hoping.
This time, Darcy did as Michael had instructed, pursing his lips against Michael’s. It startled him and kicked his sex drive back on. Michael brought his hand up to stroke Darcy’s jaw lightly with his fingers. His breath quickened as Darcy’s kisses became more natural, drawing back a little each time to see if Darcy would follow. His heart skipped a beat when Darcy pushed his head forward to kiss Michael back.
Abruptly, Darcy opened his eyes wide and pulled back with a startled oh!
“What?” Michael asked anxiously, letting his hand fall away from Darcy’s cheek.
“N-nothing. I’m just surprised. It’s, um, nicer than I thought.”
“Oh.” Michael schooled his face to hide his elation, in large part because he didn’t understand himself. “That’s good, right?”
“Um. Yeah.” Darcy jumped to his feet, all nerves again. “So I think we can, um, practice more later? And”—he snatched up the page of script—“maybe like how it will be in the shoot? Even tomorrow if you’re, you know. Or whenever.”
Michael finished his iced green tea in two long gulps and got to his feet. Smiling, he said to Darcy, “I think you should take me to dinner before you bring me back to your place to make out.”
Darcy’s blush was worth it.
“I won’t tease you if it bothers you,” Michael said.
“No, it’s all right,” Darcy replied, his face still flushed. “It’s not that.” He smiled. “I don’t mind.”
That was a relief. He might be teasing Darcy, but he was also easing into his self-recognition as not-so-straight. He’d never had a relationship like this and it was, well, kind of magical.
And strange. Because most of the time, Michael still felt straight. But at Dave’s urging, he’d done some research online and found out what he was feeling wasn’t so odd. Love didn’t always line up with one’s sexual preferences. Although Michael had very sexual feelings around Darcy. It hurt his head trying to make sense of it all. All he really understood was that hanging out with Darcy to be his friend hadn’t worked at all. He was just falling in love all over again, only this time those cinnamon-brown eyes belonged to a real person, a funny, interesting, adorable person who just happened to be male.
“Why don’t we match our schedules for the next week or so, fitting in some kissing practice every night?” Michael suggested with no ulterior motives. At all.
Darcy looked relieved. “Thanks, Michael. I really appreciate this.”
“No problem. It’s, you know. Not entirely unpleasant.” He offered a broad wink.
Darcy rolled his eyes.
Kissing Carlos Bowe for the Dana/LeBaron kissing scene wasn’t anything like kissing Michael Eden. Darcy thought it should be. Michael’s constant stressing that “a kiss is a kiss is a kiss,” whatever that meant, must have given him the idea that all kisses were the same. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. Nevertheless, Darcy felt he performed credibly and so did Carlos and the director, so that was good enough.
It wasn’t remotely the same. Not just because sometimes, after kissing Michael for a while, he found himself wanting to kiss Michael other places, and possibly feel Michael’s bare skin against his, and desperately wish Michael would touch him, especially his cock. Darcy hadn’t ever had feelings like that for another person before. He was glad that hadn’t happened with Carlos. He was still freaked out that it happened with Michael.
Even when it didn’t, kissing Michael was a worlds-away different experience. Like a warm blanket on a cold day. Maybe that was why Darcy didn’t say anything to Michael the day of the shoot. Or for a week after.
It was guilt that made him finally speak out. He didn’t like deceiving Michael. They had gone to see a movie based on one of their favourite video games, and after talking excitedly about it afterwards over yogurt fruit parfaits at Merla Mae’s, they’d walked back to Michael’s.
“Practice kissing” at Michael’s often felt safer because Michael’s bed had its own room. Darcy’s sometimes seemed to invite them to lie down on it, and more than once Darcy had been inclined to accept that invitation. Tonight, long before any wayward desires could arise, Darcy stopped Michael, pulling away from a second kiss before they went so far he’d feel too guilty to say anything.
“Is something wrong?” Michael sounded so genuinely concerned that Darcy smiled in spite of himself.
“Yes, but not what you think.” His smile vanished. “I have to confess something. It might sound kind of strange. We, um…that kissing scene. We shot that.”
Michael tilted his head slightly, a ghost of a smile on his mouth. “Today? How’d it go?”
“It was good, it went well. Um, but not today.” Darcy stared at the wall behind Michael. “Last week. So, we don’t have to keep um, practicing. Right.”
“Hmm.”
Darcy laced his fingers together, rubbing his palms with his thumbs, still not looking at Michael. What would he say when Michael asked why he hadn’t said anything sooner? He didn’t have a good answer for that.
“Well, if you did so well on Shelter Cove it’s not inconceivable that you might need to do it again, right? You wouldn’t want to get out of practice, would you?”
Darcy checked to see if Michael was teasing. He appeared thoughtful and serious enough that Darcy replayed his words to check the suggestion for merit. It sounded sort of plausible, and he could keep kissing Michael, which he found almost comforting.
“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” he said in a low voice, looking down at his twisting fingers.
“I don’t mind,” Michael said airily. “It’s not unpleasant and it keeps me in practice too. Not that dancers have a lot of call for kissing in our line of work, but with musical theatre, you never know.” He grinned unexpectedly. “You should know, though, once that episode airs, Dave is going to want to grill you on what it’s like to kiss Carlos Bowe.”
Darcy sighed out a deep breath and grinned back. Just like that, everything was normal again. Michael had a way of making everything seem easy, ordinary, yet special too.