Page 101 of Paint Our Song

“I’m going to murder that guy one of these days,” Calvin says into the phone.

“Don’t. He’s hilarious.”

Calvin lets out a long exhale. Miles can imagine him—standing there with his eyes closed, recollecting himself. “I honestly don’t know how they booked us for so many things so quickly, like they were all ready to pounce. Tomorrow, before the podcast, we have to do a photo shoot for some magazine. It’s crazy.”

“Nice. Will you be wearing a shirt?”

Calvin ignores him. Typical. There’s a soft puff of air that says healmostlaughed. “So, like Chase said… the podcast tomorrow is at our record label’s studio. It’s near your place. You can come, if you’d like. It’ll be nice to see you. These things go for an hour long usually, and you can come here closer to the end, then we can hang out with everyone, and—”

“Yes!” he interrupts, much too eager.

There’s a pause. Calvin says, “I’ll let the front desk know.”

“Sure. Do we, uh… do we need to hang out with everyone all night? I mean, not that I mind. Just curious.” There’s an unspoken question behind it, and he’s sure Calvin understands.

“Oh. Well.”

That doesn’t sound good, and Miles braces himself for the rejection. This is fucking fine, he tells himself. He’s not going to be the guy who demands for time.

“We’re usually out until after midnight because the producers are usually around. I was thinking you can go with us,” Calvin says. “I can try ditching them—”

“No, it’s okay,” Miles quickly says. “I just really want to see you, and I don’t care if it’s with other people.” So much for not being needy. Even he can tell he sounds nuts. “God, I should’ve watched you play tonight.”

“I could have gotten you tickets, if you’d asked.”

“Didn’t want to abuse my privileges.”

“What privileges?” Calvin chuckles. “Are you going to sleep soon?”

What a jarring change of topic. “I will once I put my laundry in the dryer.”

Someone calls Calvin’s name—it sounds like Derrick—and Calvin tells him he needs to go. Holding back a sigh, Miles tells him to take care. The line clicks, and now very aware that he’s again alone in his apartment, there’s a familiar loneliness that twists in his chest.

***

Miles must have dozed off waiting for the washing machine to beep, because he instead wakes up to the sound of his intercom ringing. Grumbling, he saunters over to the door and pokes the green buttonon the console.

“Who’s this?” he asks, more crossly than he intended.

“Hi,” says Calvin’s voice, followed by a tense chuckle. “Surprise?”

Miles is suddenly very, very awake. “Oh my god?”

“Can I come in?”

He almost says no, just to be funny. After pressing the button on the console that will let him in, Miles rushes to unlock his door to meet Calvin by the elevator. The numbers on top of it rise, and Miles smiles like a dork until it finally opens and Calvin steps out.

“Your apartment’s on the way to the hotel,” Calvin says, shrugging. “And you said you weren’t going to sleep yet—”

Okay, he’s talking way too much.

Miles dives in and kisses him, right in that empty hallway. Nobody’s around and it’s fine, and Calvin’s eyes are wide and he’s breathless when Miles breaks away. Even if Miles keeps doing that—kissing him with no warning—Calvin always has the same endearingly stunned expression every time.

“Come on in,” Miles says, taking him by the hand and leading the way to his apartment. He’s nervous all of a sudden, realizing that this is the first time Calvin’s been here.

“Wow, your place is huge,” Calvin says, when they finally open the door to his home.

Miles doesn’t tell him that it only seems huge because the apartment is too big for one person and because he never bothered to decorate the boring, white walls. The only framed photo he has is the one with Mom and Dad, resting on the top of a mantle in his living room. Aside from that, the only other place that looks like ithas human activity is the extra bedroom he’s converted to a studio.