Vegas Boys

We went to the bank and cashed Brendon's check, and then went back to Big Lots to use the money to buy all the furniture we'd already picked out. After buying the kitchen table and chairs set and the bed, we ending up spending well over two thousand dollars--almost half of all the money Brendon had loaned from Dad. By the time we went to Sears and picked out a refrigerator and microwave, there was a little less than two thousand dollars of the money left over for the apartment rent and other living expenses; Brendon would have to be paying all his own bills from now on, including even the most basic costs of food and clothes and school supplies. He realized all of this in the car on the way home, and his handsome face turned such a sickly shade of gray that I honestly hated his parents for doing this to him.

"It's gonna be okay, Bren," I repeated for what must have been the fiftieth time that day as I got out of the car. "You're gonna be fine."

Again, he just nodded.

And he looked so scared and uncertain and alone that I walked around the front end of the car and wrapped my arms around him, and we just stood there hugging for a while. I pulled away a little, and kissed his lips--and I was surprised when he kissed back with feeling.

"Thanks for coming with me today, Kels," he murmured, his breath hot on my face. "And for getting me that money. I don't know what I'd do without you."

I just smiled as he kissed me again.

-----

On Thursday night, I was getting ready for bed when I heard the doorbell ring.

I paused for a moment and then continued to wash my face, assuming that Dad would get the door; there was no way I was going to answer it in the ragged shorts and baggy T-shirt that served as my pajamas, with no make-up on. But I had hardly finished brushing my teeth when Dad called my name up the stairs.

I didn't want to call back to him from the bathroom, in case whoever was downstairs warranted dignified behavior, but I didn't want to come out looking like this either. Sighing, I finally decided that there was no way around it, so I walked out of the bathroom to the top of the stairs.

Brendon was standing just inside the front door, looking as uncomfortable and intimidated by Dad as ever, a weathered duffel bag hanging limply off of one shoulder.

"Hey, Bren," I said brightly, trying to sound reassuring--he looked scared and lonely and small, standing there next to my hulking father.

"Hey," he greeted me, looking slightly comforted. "I, uh--I was just--could I stay the night here?" he stammered.

I glanced at Dad, who was just smirking contentedly--this was usually as close as he would come to a smile. "Well, it's fine with me," I told Brendon, asking my father permission with my eyes.

Dad nodded gruffly, his thin lips twisting into a grim smile as he clapped Brendon on the shoulder and said firmly, "You sleep in the guest room."

"Yes, sir, of course," agreed Brendon hurriedly. He watched Dad all the way out of the room, like a small animal waiting until the predator had passed.

As soon as I was sure Dad was shut away in his study again, I moved forward and kissed Brendon briefly in greeting.

He smiled apologetically and blushed. "Sorry. If I'd known your dad would answer the door, I wouldn't have... I mean, I just thought he'd be asleep by now."

"Are you kidding me? He never sleeps."

Brendon laughed, but I was being serious.

I took him by the hand and led him upstairs to the guest bedroom, which lay right between my room and my father's bedroom. It was spacious and decorated in stylish neutrals; the bed had probably only been slept in once or twice, at the most.

I sat down cross-legged on the bed as Brendon threw his bag on the floor and promptly set about rummaging around inside of it. "So," I began, "may I inquire as to the reason for your presence?"

Brendon rolled his eyes at me, but I noticed his broad shoulders bunch up a little as he prepared to play the defensive. "I told my parents I'm moving out tomorrow."

"...So?" I frowned, confused.

"So, they got pissed at me, and we had another fight."

"But...I thought they wanted you to move out?"

"Well, they do, but..." He sighed and bit his lip as he sat back on his heels. "I think they were hoping I'd just quit the band and come crawling back to them. But I won't," he said determinedly.

I studied Brendon carefully, struggling to discover his reasoning behind all of this, since it was clear he wasn't about to explain it to me. "Brendon...are you sure...are you sure this is the right thing to do?"

He just turned and looked at me blankly.

"I mean...not going to college...that's a big decision, Bren. There's not much you can do without a degree."

"I know," he mumbled, rubbing his face wearily. "But I think it's the right thing. I thought about it for a really long time, Kels. This is what I want to do."

I sighed. "Okay. It's your decision."

"Thank you," said Brendon, and he gave me his first genuine smile in a while. "And I hope your dad's not mad at you for this."

"He's not," I reassured him. "He doesn't really care about stuff like this that much. Plus, he likes you a lot, I think."

Satisfied, Brendon nodded and pulled his shirt off over his head. For a moment, I was completely confused, and I felt my face heat up rapidly--then he pulled another shirt out of his bag and put it on, and I realized that he was just changing.

...Right in front of me.

It shouldn't have freaked me out, but I wasn't expecting it. I turned away to hide the fact that I was blushing furiously, and suddenly I was nervous, jumpy, fidgety. I desperately hoped Brendon didn't notice.

When I snuck a glance at him, he had gotten to his feet and pulled his pants off, which was even worse than than the shirtless-ness. It felt like hours had passed before he finally produced a pair of flannel pajama bottoms from his bag.

He didn't say anything, but I could see him smirking at me out of the corner of my eye as he pulled his pants on.

"You're an ass," I told him as he zipped his bag shut and kicked it under the bed.

"Well, yes, I am a hot piece of ass, if that's what you mean."

"No." I glared as he sat down on the bed beside me and slipped his arm around me, still with that obnoxious self-satisfied smirk on his face. "You're not, actually."

Brendon just laughed and nuzzled his face into my neck in a way that was completely and utterly adorable. He wrapped both arms around me and leaned over so that he pushed me down on the bed, and then he was lying halfway on top of me, at my side.

"You're either really brave or really stupid," I said matter-of-factly as he started kissing my neck.

"Why?" he mumbled, his voice muffled against my collarbone.

"Because you're making out with me in the guest bedroom with the door open while my dad's still home."

He just laughed again and kissed me harder.

"Brendon," I grunted, pushing him off. "Stop."

He sighed dramatically and rolled away from me, onto his back, throwing his arm across his face. "Okay," he groaned.

I rolled my eyes at him and hit him with the pillow.

He grabbed it and sat up, preparing to throw it back at me; I ran out of the room, and he threw it right out the open door and over the hallway railing overlooking the foyer below.

Dad must have heard the pillow hit the floor a good twenty feet below, because I heard his office door open and his deep voice call, "Kelsey?"

"Sorry, Dad," I yelled down to him, hoping and praying we hadn't irritated him too much. "We're going to bed now."

After I had heard the door shut again, I raced back down the hall to the guest bedroom and stuck my head in the open doorway just long enough to give Brendon the finger. He threw the other pillow at me, and missed again--but this time it just landed on the floor and skidded across the hallway until it ran into the railing and stopped.

I ran back to my room and hovered in my doorway until Brendon came out of the guest bedroom to retrieve his pillow. He gave me the finger in return when he saw me looking, and I blew a kiss at him sweetly. His mischevievous grin softened and he pretended to catch the kiss and hold it close to his heart for a moment, and I tried hard not to blush as I went back into my room.

-----

That night, I tossed and turned restlessly in bed, thinking of nothing but Brendon in the next room, until the clock on my bedside table read 3:07. I decided that Dad must have gone to bed by now--and even if he hadn't, it was clear that I was going to get no sleep unless I took a chance on it.

I slipped out of bed and padded quietly down the hall, wishing, for once, that we couldn't afford hardwood floors: carpet would have been so much quieter. The door to the guest bedroom was still open, and I eased it shut behind me as I stepped inside, noting with relief that the light under Dad's office door downstairs was out.

Brendon lay on his side with his back turned to me, the full moon casting a long shadow behind him on the bed through the wide window on the other side of the room. He didn't move, or say anything, but his body continued to rise and fall rhythmically with heavy breathing--so I assumed he was asleep. I hoped he was a heavy sleeper as I pulled the sheets back and slid into bed beside him, lying on my side and facing the window as he was.

When he still didn't stir, I moved closer and gently draped my arm around his waist. It was funny how much bigger than me he was; his broad shoulders shielded mine completely from the moonlight, and I couldn't see much of anything except for his dark hair when I lay my head down on the pillow beside his.

We lay completely still like that for a long time. And then I felt Brendon take my hand in his, and I gasped a little in surprise.

"Kelsey?" he murmured sleepily.

"Hmm?"

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Brendon."

I still didn't fall asleep for a long time, and then I woke up again at 5:30. I wouldn't let myself go back to sleep, because I wanted to lay there with Brendon and savor the time I had with him for as long as possible. At 6:00, I finally got up to go get ready for school, before Dad could come in and find us like that.