Staccato (Magnum Opus #2) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,33

of the bed and calling Damien. It had been months since he’d reached out, but something unknotted when his friend’s voice sounded on the other end of the line.

“What up, man?” It had been too long since he’d heard Damien’s voice, and the rumbling baritone helped calm him almost instantly.

“Hey.” Adam fell down onto his bed and buried his face in his pillow, turning his head just enough to talk. “I’m freaking out, and I need you to talk me down.”

Damien laughed. “The first time you call my ass in months and it’s over this?”

“I can’t help it. I’m always a mess. I met this guy, and I think…I don’t know. I think I like him. I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Oh, I think you do, Adam,” Damien warned him. “It’s not like you haven’t dated a guy before. He knows about you, right?”

Adam squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah, but…” He didn’t finish the rest of his sentence, because the idea of admitting the possibility that Nik would turn him down because he was hung up on the structure of body parts made him feel like he was being strangled.

“You won’t know until you talk to him,” Damien said after a beat.

Rolling onto his back, Adam pressed a hand to his face. “I…I want to, but he’s so…fuck. He’s hot, and he’s funny, and he’s weird, but in the best way. I just… What if he says no? What if he straight up rejects me to my face? What if…”

“Hey,” Damien told him, stopping the rambling flow of words pouring from his core. “What if you get hit by a truck tonight and never get the chance to ask him? What if an asteroid hits the earth, and we’re all dead by morning? What if the zombie apocalypse breaks out and instead of fucking him, you try to eat him?”

“You’re the worst,” Adam complained.

“But I’m also right,” Damien said. “When are you going to see him again?”

Adam rolled onto his side and plucked the concert ticket from his nightstand. Nik had dropped his off at the shop that morning, hours before Adam got in. It was a second row seat, right in the middle. And though the position usually made him claustrophobic, it meant Nik would be almost close enough to touch, and god—he wanted that.

“I’m seeing him tonight at this concert.”

“Oh shit,” Damien breathed out. “He’s in a band?”

“He’s a concert composer and pianist. Like…like a big one—like he was a big deal a few years ago before his mom died.” Adam knew the bare minimum, and that was the problem. He felt like one of those guys Nik had talked about—the guys who didn’t bother to see the person beneath the surface, and he couldn’t stomach the thought of Nik putting him in that category.

He and Nik had held each other’s hands and sat on a park bench, and Adam hadn’t felt so content, so wanted, since early days of hanging out with Damien and the band. And to threaten that by jumping the gun? He was an idiot sometimes, but he wasn’t that much of an idiot.

“It sounds like you really like this guy,” Damien said, breaking Adam’s thought spiral.

Adam sighed into the phone, then pushed himself up and straightened out the pieces of him that had wrinkled. “I do.”

“Then you need to decide what you need—not what you want,” Damien told him.

Adam looked at himself in the mirror, stared into the eyes of the man reflected there, and he knew what he had to do. He had to give it time. “Thanks. I think I just needed someone to tell me that.”

“You’re not going to lose anything if you get to know him first,” Damien said. “And you know I’m here any time.”

“Yeah,” Adam breathed out with a sigh. “And I miss you. Thanks, man.”

“Call me soon,” Damien said, in that tone that told Adam he didn’t expect it, and that was okay. It didn’t matter, because they’d always be this for each other, no matter how many months separated phone calls or how many miles separated their homes.

The call ended, and Adam slipped the phone into his pocket. He hadn’t eaten much, but his stomach was too twisted with nerves to bother. He swiped his water bottle from the table, then headed out the door without popping into the kitchen to say goodbye to his sister.

He had the ticket clenched in his sweaty hand, and he laid it on the seat so he