Page 55 of Playing Dirty (Leighton U #4)

“I don’t think that even matters,” Miles says with a laugh. “Torin was crying like a little bitch by the end.”

“I think you’re embellishing things quite a bit,” Torin gripes from where he’s leaning against the wall a few feet away.

Miles does have the habit of making things more grandiose than reality, I’ll admit, but in this case—and thanks to the bit of red rimming Torin’s eyes—I don’t think that’s the case. Of course, I don’t mention it, because I’m not looking to stir the pot.

“I thought it was really good,” Theo chimes in, pulling my attention to him. “Way better than High School Musical. ”

I laugh and knock my shoulder into his. “You’re gonna give Vaughn a heart attack with that comparison.”

“No, no. It’s fine. He’s just uncultured, but I’ll change that.” Vaughn’s dark brows waggle a little bit before he says, “Starting with The Greatest Showman if he’s planning to come over tonight.”

Torin and Miles let out a simultaneous groan, and I start laughing.

“Your obsession with Hugh Jackman is unhinged,” Miles laments, and Vaughn instantly holds up his hands like he’s the picture of innocence.

“I was offering because it has Zac Efron in it. I never mentioned Hugh.”

Torin scoffs. “I’d sooner believe Madden gave up his shot at going pro than that, Vaughn. ”

“Hey, at least he’s not offering up Les Mis, ” I point out before looking at Theo. “I don’t know if you’d survive that.”

Theo just shrugs. “I mean, I liked this one. I didn’t know what to expect in terms of the music, but the story itself was great.” He pauses for a second, giving me a thoughtful look, before asking, “The myths have the same ending as this did, right?”

I don’t miss the way Vaughn shoots a glare my way, but I ignore him in favor of answering Theo’s question.

“The reasons vary. Sometimes he hears her stumble or can’t hear her at all, other times it’s more like this, and he thinks it’s all a trick Hades is playing on him.

The doubt creeps in, and he can’t help himself.

But, yeah, they always end with him turning around, sending her right back to the Underworld for good. ”

“But it makes sense that he would, right?” Vaughn says, looking directly at Theo.

Miles lets out an exasperated sigh. “And here we go. Another session of Vaughn trying to convince the world that Orpheus isn’t weak as shit.”

Vaughn gapes at him. “He’s literally going to hell and back for her because he wants her alive and with him every day. Her being alive means he can see her, touch her, know that she’s physically there with him. How is it weak for him to cave for—”

“You literally just said he caved,” Torin points out, his signature bored expression firmly back in place while he plays with the black nail polish chipping on his thumb.

An annoyed little sound leaves Vaughn, and his blue eyes slide to me for backup, the way it always does. Because I’m usually the only one who agrees with him: that Orpheus turning is more nuanced than it appears.

Maybe that’s why we’re both surprised when Theo decides to chime in again .

“I think they were doomed the moment Hades made him walk alone.”

Torin pushes off the wall and walks toward us, muttering, “That’s the whole point. It’s a challenge of trust, and he fails.”

“And some would argue that going those lengths for her should be the very reason he doesn’t turn around. Because he knew what was at stake, having already lived without her once,” Miles adds ruefully.

Theo shakes his head. “But asking him not to turn around is asking him to defy human nature. I mean, we do it all the time. We take pictures to literally look back at moments that are behind us, and those are usually with the people we love and care about most. Turning around isn’t weakness of mind or lack of trust in the other person; it’s love. ”

Vaughn’s eyes light up before pointing at him. “Exactly.”

My stomach does a little flip, and I feel my heart hammer a little harder against my ribs after hearing Theo’s summation, having been very much in line with my own interpretation. It causes an awareness in my body, not just of the way Theo’s hand feels in mine, but about who we’re with.

What’s around us.

Where we are.

Vaughn’s gaze drops to where Theo’s and my fingers are interlocked, it doesn’t take a three digit IQ to know his thoughts are running parallel to mine.

Especially when his gaze shifts from me to the mezzanine doors behind me and back again.

His brow lifts imperceptibly, a silent question in his eyes that’s as clear as if he’d spoken it aloud.

The other three are oblivious to the exchange we share, still tossing back competing arguments for their stance on what it means to turn around. But, much to Miles and Torin’s dismay, Theo remains steadfast in his views.

To love someone is to turn around .

And it has the saliva in my throat thickening to tar, becoming nearly impossible to swallow down.

“Well, now that we’re officially outnumbered, I’m getting the hell outta here.” Miles glances at Torin and Vaughn before asking, “You two coming with me?”

They nod and start toward the exit, and Theo tries to follow, but I keep him anchored in place with my grip on his palm.

“See you at home,” I call after my friends before my gaze shifts to Theo. “There’s somewhere I wanna take you.”

There’s a little grin on his face when he murmurs, “I guess you’ll be needing these, then.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his keys and hands them to me.

I chuckle while I pocket them. “I don’t, actually.”

If anything, I’ll use them as a bargaining chip to get him to come back home with me tonight—where he’ll hopefully stay until morning.

Tightening my hand around his, I tug him toward a set of stairs off to the left and start climbing them with him in tow.

“Okay, now I’m confused as to where the hell you’re taking me,” he says, his words laced with amusement.

I don’t respond, knowing he’ll get his answer a few moments later when we walk through the doors of the mezzanine level.

It’s small, consisting of fifteen or so rows, and the entire area is empty save for the two of us. From the looks of it, no one was up here for the show at all; not a discarded playbill or forgotten drink in sight as we slowly descend the stairs toward the front railing.

A quick glance over the balcony railing reveals the orchestra level is empty too, now that the show is over. Theo must take note of the vacancy as well, and from the filthy grin spreading over his face, the lack of people is giving him ideas.

“Is someone looking for a public quickie in the theatre?”

“What?” I ask with a laugh.

He turns around and shoots me a knowing look. “I mean, if watching a tragedy unfold before your eyes turns you on, I’m not gonna judge. But I should warn you, I don’t have any lu—”

All his playfulness dies just as quickly as his words when his gaze adjusts from my face to over my shoulder.

To the exact spot I was hoping he’d look.

His attention is still fixed there as I slowly reach up, resting my hands on either side of his neck. My fingertips brush soft strands of his hair, and my thumbs skate over his jaw while I do my best to push down the anxiety welling inside me like a dam about to burst.

“No lube? Is that what you were gonna say?” I ask, keeping my tone light and teasing. “I thought I taught you better than that, baby.”

I don’t get a laugh or any response at all. He’s too awestruck to do anything besides stare past me.

“Is that…?”

He pauses and shakes his head, blinking a few times before he finally looks back at me.

I see about a thousand unspoken questions in those ensnaring light-green eyes, melding with at least that many emotions too.

It’s not often he’s been at a loss for words, but from his deep intake of breath, he is right now.

But I wait, allowing him to voice them whenever he’s ready.

He visibly swallows and motions over my shoulder, to where I know the orange and black pennant—emblazoned with the Blackmore logo—hangs on the back wall of the mezzanine, directly next to the exit.

Right where I put it .

“It’s the pennant,” he finally manages, the statement coming out barely more than a whisper.

I don’t even turn around, just nod and utter an equally soft, “Yeah, it is.”

Theo’s gaze darts between me and it, not knowing where to look. So I solve the problem for him, taking his hand in mine and leading him back up the stairs until he’s only a few feet from it.

I release him as we get closer, and he keeps walking as if being pulled in by gravity or some kind of magnetic force. As I watch, I’m once again hit with a sharp pang of fear, but I don’t stop him from approaching, nor when he reaches out to run his fingers across the stitching.

“I can’t really take all the credit,” I find myself saying, the need to fill the silence too great to withstand. “It was Vaughn’s idea to put it somewhere in the theatre.”

“Did they all know?” he asks, clearly referring to my friends.

“Just Vaughn. He said their shows aren’t usually full enough to use the mezzanine, so the only people who’d come up here are horny theatre kids with the same idea you just had. And the stray theatre employee.”

He shakes his head a few times, still fiddling with the fabric where it hangs on the wall.

“It’s genius,” he finally whispers.

Swallowing hard, I correct, “It’s yours.”

Those two words snap him out of his reverie, and he drops his hand to his side when he turns to look at me over his shoulder.

“Are you serious?”

My lips pull up in a smirk, despite the unease still curdling my stomach like sour milk. “I might love to edge you, baby, but I wouldn’t bring you here and dangle it like a carrot, only to snatch it away.”

I’m more than aware bringing him up here still may end up backfiring on me in spectacular fashion, but it needs to be done. I need to put any shadow of a doubt I have to rest, once and for all.

Because willingly handing over the pennant? It’s a test of trust.

Just not for him.

For me.

Trusting that everything between us is real. That every word he’s ever said to me is because of how he feels, and has nothing to do with that piece of fabric hanging on the wall.

And trusting that, even with it in his possession, he’ll still want me even a fraction of the amount I want him.

I wait for him to pull it down from the wall—officially claiming it for himself and for his team—yet all he does is stare at me in a way I’ve never seen before. Like I’ve lost my mind, absolutely. But as his gaze traces over my face, it’s also like he’s seeing me for the very first time.

Just when I think he might finally do just that, he surprises me by descending the stairs again, closing the distance between us.

I motion back toward where he left it hanging, feeling my face contort in confusion. “You can take it, Theo. I promise, it’s not a trick.”

“I know it’s not.” The words leave him instantly while he shakes his head.

Then he’s stopping in front of me, sifting his fingers through my hair and dragging my mouth to his. And it’s a kiss I’d travel to the fucking Underworld for, over and over again.