How to Repair a Mechanical Heart - By J. C. Lillis Page 0,59
out.” He walks his fingers under the covers. “On the other hand, I discovered your inner thigh is especially—”
“Ooh! Stop.”
“What? It’s cool. Next time I’ll bring some feathers and we can—”
I kiss him to shut him up. We are both imperfect in so many ways right now—his hair sticking up like angry-rooster hackles, the fuzzy morning taste in my mouth—but I don’t care. We smile when we break apart.
“So be honest: what’s going on in your head right now?” He crooks Plastic Cadmus’s arm tighter around Sim. “Good stuff? Bad stuff?”
“Good. All good.”
He cocks his head.
“I mean it.” I lean over the action figures and kiss him again. And again.
“Okay, ‘cause if you’re going to cry or drop to your knees and pray or whatever, do it now so I can—”
“Did he do that?”
“Who?”
I roll my eyes. “Him. Jonathan.”
Abel picks at his thumbnail. “There was definite weirdness. Yeah.”
“Well, I am completely fine.”
“Really? Hundred percent?” He reaches over and hooks my pinky with his. “I’ll also accept ninety-five. Or ninety…”
I consider my answer. Bad thoughts still creep around in my subconscious; I’m not dumb enough to think one night with Abel’s blasted them away. But for now I’m too happy to let them get close. I’ve got a force field around me made of Abel’s kisses and hey_mamacita’s evangelical ranting and the steady blue thrum of my mechanical heart.
Thank you, I venture. Thank you thank you thank you. I send it out to the universe, to Abel’s loving creative higher power that wants everyone to be happy. Right now that seems so incredibly possible.
“Okay, you’re pausing way too long,” says Abel.
“Well. I do have one confession,” I tell him.
“Sure. Sure, get it out.” He unhooks our pinkies and shifts under the sheet, bracing for full-on Catholic-boy freakout.
“It’s about Cadmus and Sim.”
“Oh!”
“I might sort of…” Say it. Get it over with. “…thinkit’salittlebithotnow. Just a little!”
I bite my knuckle, awaiting judgment.
Abel lets out a deep relieved laugh. He pulls a pillow over his face and crosses his arms over it.
“You too?” I tug the pillow.
“Uggggghhhh,” he moans.
“Since when?”
“Dunno. I guess since the coffee shop marathon?” He shoves the pillow away and props himself up on one elbow. “The stupid cave scene felt different. I like, watched you watching it. Watching him. And I started…” He sighs.
“Feeling things?”
“To my horror. Yes.”
“There were twinges?”
“Definite twinges. Oh my God, Brandon.” He shakes his head at our spooning action figures. “Are we turning into…Cadsim shippers?”
“It’s possible.”
“What about the dumb bet?”
I shrug. “Call it off.”
“Just like that?” He does a low whistle. “Miss Maxima would—”
“Who cares?” I twist Plastic Sim’s waist and tweak his legs so he can cuddle Cadmus with maximum efficiency. “Why waste time feuding with the Cadsim girls? I’d much rather hang in the Church of Abandon.”
Abel studies me. A grin sneaks across his face.
“What,” I say.
“What? Nothing.”
“You’re plotting.”
“Is it that obvious?”
I shove at him with my foot. He rolls off the bed and goes for his big black bag, humming that Blondie song about hearts of glass. I pull on my boxers from last night.
“Don’t look,” he says. “Close your eyes.”
I hear the contents of the bag shift and clink; he’s got enough souvenirs and truck-stop junk and retro shirts in there to fill a Goodwill. A plastic pop: a marker uncapping? I wait till I feel light cotton whap my face, and then I pull it off and unfold it.
A white v-neck undershirt, ABANDON Sharpied across it. He’s got one to match.
“What are these for?”
“We’re making a vlog post.”
“Here?”
“Yes sir.”
“What for?”
He whispers in my ear, even though no one else is in the room.
“Oh no. No no. We can’t.”
“It’ll be epic.”
“They’ll die.”
He slips the shirt over my head and kisses my nose.
“In a good way,” he says. “Trust me.”
***
He turns the camera on.
“’Morning, Casties. It is now…five a.m., Pacific time, and Brandon and I can’t sleep. We have a very important announcement that will be of great interest to quite a few…”
He keeps talking. I barely hear a word; I’m just watching his lips move, mystified that I kissed them and can do it again whenever I want.
“…so first of all, to Miss Maxie and the rest of the Cadsim girls: We’d like to call a truce with you. It deeply, deeply pains us to admit this, especially since we’ve seen better writers in the 7th Heaven archive on fanfic.net, but whatever: Cadsim is kiiiind of hot. Okay? We said it. So I guess we’re all playing on the same team now. Miss