Page 32 of Summer Skin

IT’S SUNDAY NIGHTand Aven is perched on a zebra-patterned barstool at Violet Moon. It’s one of his only days off from playing the bar this week, but it’s also Tyler’s twenty-first birthday, and so he’s dutifully shown up to drink whiskey and pretend he’d not rather be somewhere else.

Justin’s holding court on stage, charming the audience with a story about the first time he met Tyler and something about grades, or STIs, Aven can’t be certain. He’s holding a microphone in one hand and a gift-wrapped package in the other. Aven can only assume it’s something like a certificate to go whale watching together. Or donning skintight wetsuits to save the orcas. Something involving big fish anyway.

“They’re so cute together,” Andi says with a wistful look in their eye. “I miss having someone.”

“You have me,” Aven says matter-of-factly.

An unimpressed look is tossed in his direction. “We don’t fuck. Or cuddle. Or wake up together. Or go out to brunch and drink bottomless mimosas every Sunday.”

“We could do at least half of those things, if you’d like.”

“Which half?” Andi dares him.

“Definitely the mimosas thing. Maybe cuddling afterwards while we watch cat videos on YouTube?”

Their eyes light up. “I freakin’ love cat videos.”

“I know,” he informs Andi. “Because I’m your person.”

“Fine,” they concede. “You’re my person, but I still want a partner. And what about you?”

“What about me what?”

Their eyelids flutter in annoyance at his obtuseness. “Remember when I came to you and said I didn’t think my gender is either masculine or feminine?”

“Of course.”

“And you let me share my honest thoughts with you even though I was scared to say them out loud?”

“Right,” he agrees slowly, not seeing where Andi’s going with this.

“You”re allowed to share how you feel about Chase with me, you know. I mean, if you want.”

It’s not that Aven doesn’t trust Andi with his feelings, it’s more like he hasn’t exactly figured those feelings out.

His gaze darts around the bar, catching on Chase, who’s gleefully chortling at something Justin’s said, like he’s attending a stand-up comedy show. Aven’s mouth lifts in response.

A good portion of his day was spent thinking about the implications of a summer fling with Chase … and, okay, a great portion of his day was remembering how sexy Chase looked while touching himself last night, but he still hasn’t made a choice. He wants Chase, oh dear god, does he want him, but he’s also painfully aware of the risks that go along with that.

“And so,” Justin says, bringing his story to conclusion, “happy birthday to my boyfriend, who is now legally allowed into my dear mother’s bar to sample her absolutely vile cocktails. Here’s to you, babe!”

A happy cheer erupts across the room, Tyler’s cheeks matching the pink of his button-up shirt as Justin raises a glass in his honor. “Go on then,” he says, handing the gift off to Tyler, whose eyes leave Justin’s as he carefully unwraps the paper. Bit by bit he reveals a book, but Aven can’t read the title of it this far from stage.

“Open it,” Justin tells him with a nod, and Tyler flips open the book cover, gasping. “It’s signed? You got me a signed copy of The Perks of Being a Wallflower?”

“It’s your very favorite.”

“I love you,” Tyler tells him, and their audience awws, but Justin looks a tad shocked, and Aven realizes with easy amusement that this must be the first time Tyler’s said it. And he did it on stage. In front of all their friends. And Justin’s mom.

Justin drops the mic to crotch level, the sound of fabric scratching against foam creating an awkward noise through the speakers. “Are you serious?” he says slowly, audible even without the microphone.

Tyler nods. His eyes are wet. “Yes.”

“Me too,” Justin says with feeling, and in all his years on stage, Aven’s never seen a literal mic drop until now, when Justin forgets all about the microphone and swoops Tyler into his arms. “I love you so much, Ty.”

At first, when they start passionately making out on stage, the audience stares in a stunned sort of silence. There is ass grabbing going on. Then all at once a wolf whistle rings loud through the air and Violet Moon goes full-on bananas for the two of them.

“Take it off!” someone shouts. He thinks it’s Ellie.

“Live sex show!” That was definitely Andi.

“Ahem!” A tap to the mic. It’s Gen, rising from the crowd to stop her child from fornicating on stage. A mother’s job is never done. “You hear that? My kiddo is in love. I’m so happy for him. But Justin,” she says, shielding her eyes from the tangle of limbs that is her child and his boyfriend, “please, please continue this lovemaking session once you get back home, hon.”

A few beats go by, but, in the end, Justin and Tyler come up for air long enough to step off the stage and into a corner booth where they stare dreamily into each other’s eyes like this is a middle school dance and they’ve just held another boy’s hand for the very first time.

Gen makes one more firmly delivered comment into the microphone about the consideration of fellow bar-goers by not openly fucking in her bar, and then kicks off karaoke with a fairly smashing version of some punk rock song from the 90’s.

“Gotta go sling drinks,” Andi tells him, scooting off, and Aven takes his whiskey over to where Ben and Ellie’s are sitting.

“Aven!” Ben says his name like he’s just won the friendship lottery. Ellie takes a long sip from her straw, staring at him in a way that starts to send prickles down his spine.

He narrows his eyes. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

She lifts a shoulder, stirring her drink. Her nails are painted dark blue, like a deep night sky. “You should do a-ha. Take On Me.”

It’s actually a great suggestion. 80’s classics get a crowd hyped up, scream-singing along, but tonight he’s leaving the stage to someone else.

Anyone else.

“I’m not getting up there. It’s my night off and I’m sure everyone in this bar is sick of hearing me by now anyway.”

She leans forward, her head tilting to one side. “That’s what you think? That people are tired of hearing you?”

“Yeah. I guess.” Or maybe it’s just that he’s had enough of singing in dive bars to the same regulars every night of the week. “I’m not getting up there tonight, Ellie. You go.”

She clickity-clacks her nails against the black oak table, and he’s expecting one of her classic replies, but her face slowly shifts into a smile. “Okay.”

She plucks the karaoke binder off the table and flips through it as Justin is called to the stage, where he performs a perfectly horrible rendition of Umbrella by Rihanna. At first, it’s like he’s giving the anti-Tom Holland performance to that song. Terrible noises are coming from his mouth like a cow fighting slaughter, but halfway through, he gives up on performing any sort of vocals and goes wild with his dance moves. Honestly, it’s entertaining as hell, the man knows how to put on a show. Those hips don’t lie and Aven finds his mouth hanging open by the end of the song.

“That was …” Ben’s entire face scrunches up as he tries to think of a word that encapsulates what they just witnessed.

“A clusterfuck of delight,” Ellie finishes for him.

“Pretty much,” Aven agrees.

“That was for you, babe!” Justin announces to Tyler, and then bounds from the stage to sweep the other man into a kiss. With tongue. Gen might need to get the hose out for those two before the end of the night.

One of Tyler’s friends from university is up next doing “Mamma Mia” and then it’s Ellie’s turn. The beads on the vintage little black dress she’s wearing glitter for attention in the stage lights, but her face is completely blank, like she can’t be bothered to care. Not even a little.

When the music starts, she brings both hands up to the mic. Her eyelids flutter shut and she sways to the music. If he’d had to guess, in a million years he never would have called it, but she’s doing Mazzy Star, “Fade Into You,” which can be such a near-impossible mood to pull off at karaoke that he wonders if she’s purposefully aiming for another clusterfuck.

Then she opens her mouth, and the girl who so often takes pleasure in giving him utter hell releases heaven. She’s good. No, she’s fucking amazing, and trails of goosebumps rise on his flesh.

Her voice lifts with the flight of emotion as she sings of shadows and strangers. She tips her head back and hits a note meant only for the stars, and when she holds it, the entire room roars with approval. All at once, Aven’s captivated.

It’s like he’s seeing her for the first time. Finally understanding why Ben’s so twisted around her finger. She’s a goddess, ethereal and enchanting, all eyes in the room are pinned. Ellie is a star-crossed love story, and a princess taming dragons, she’s a tragedy, and a champion. A wish for death, and the breath of life at the same time. She’s a goddamn witch of song, and Aven’s heavily under her spell, chills rolling through his body as he watches her go.

“Goddamn,” Ben mutters under his breath.

“Right,” Aven agrees wholeheartedly. “Did you know she could do this?”

Ben shakes his head, not taking his eyes off her for a beat. “Not a clue, brother.”

“She’s …” He’s hard-pressed to even find the words. He’s seen a lot of performers in his time, a lot of stars. But what Ellie’s got is something rare. Even for the best of them. His entire body can feel her song.

“Oh no,” Ben says, a note of panic edging into his tone. “Oh, fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

Ben takes his eyes from the stage, looking at Aven like a man chased by the devil. “I think I’m in fucking love.” He grabs his chest and crashes back in his seat like he’s been shot. “Holy shit, I’ve never felt anything this terrible before.”

Well, it’s not like Aven didn’t see this coming a mile away.

“What’s her story anyway?” he asks, focusing on Ellie again as she rides the song to its end.

“I don’t even know, man. She’s a mystery. Wriggles out of questions about herself every time. She just wandered into my bedroom one night and asked me to touch her. I was half-awake, like a dream. She’s so beautiful. And smart. She makes me laugh and Petal loves her. She’s like … everything. God. She’s going to completely break my heart, isn’t she.”

Since the first night Veena brought Ellie home and Aven saw the way Ben looked at her, he’d thought the exact same thing. But tonight … a woman who can make her soul sing that loudly, well. She might have the right heart for Ben after all.

When her song is over, Ellie weaves through the crowd towards them and ends in Ben’s arms as he holds her face in his hands and kisses her so sweetly that Aven has to look away.

“That number do it for you, Aves?” Ellie asks when they break apart, an impish grin on her face that tells him she knows exactly the type of power her voice holds.

“Ellie.” He can’t keep the awe from his tone. “You’re fucking … you’re fucking phenomenal.” A sudden thought screeches into his head. “Would you want to sing for me while I play sometime?”

He sits up straight in his seat. It’s been an eternity since he’s felt exhilarated by his music. A thousand years since he’s experienced the hook that pulled him into playing in the first place. Watching Ellie, he feels inspired, he feels alive, he feels—

“Maybe,” she tells him with a bored expression, digging around in her purse for lip gloss.

Well, that’s not a no.

The last person he’d been so hyped to connect with musically was Chase. Hours upon hours spent composing music, co-writing lyrics, dreaming of what if they somehow made it? What if music was how they got to spend their lives?

Aven’s eyes quickly travel around the room, wondering if Chase got the same chills as he did watching Ellie perform.

Eventually, he clocks Chase in a corner of the bar, leaning back against the wall with a neon green drink in his hand. He’s surrounded by a group of college-aged girls, stars in their eyes. A hand on Chase’s forearm, someone leaning in a little too close.

He forgets, sometimes, that Chase has fans. That if you google his name, you’ll find websites dedicated to everything from his guitar solos to the small mole on his wrist that Aven’s traced with a fingertip a thousand times. People go to bed dreaming of Chase Matthews from Paranormal Romance at night, his picture pinned to their bedroom wall.

As he watches the blatant attention paid to Chase, a warm glow spreads through Aven’s chest. All this time, he’d been so pissed at Chase for leaving that he hadn’t considered what a name he’s made for himself in the music industry. How respected he is, how hard he’s worked, and how exhausting it must have been spending so much time on the road playing someone else’s songs.

Everything they’d imagined when they were young, Chase has that now. He made it. He made it.

Aven’s shoulders drop, the remaining ice in his heart melting away, leaving only warmth for Chase—an admiration of everything he’s accomplished that Aven’s never celebrated up to now.

All this time, Aven’s been certain Chase left because of him. Something he was, or wasn’t. Something Chase needed to find in another person that Aven could never give him.

But it hits him all at once, Chase leaving was never about Aven. It wasn’t even about them, even if Chase might think so. Joining Paranormal Romance was Chase clawing his way out of the shitty childhood he’d grown up with, and growing into the sort of man he felt deserved respect. Aven can’t hold anger over him finding what he needed to heal from his past.

He’s spent hours questioning whether or not it’s a dangerous idea to continue having sex with each other. So worried over guarding his own heart that he didn’t realize this could be a way for both of them to heal. To make up for lost time. They can be open with each other this summer and get the closure they’ve needed all along.

Chase is leaving, and nothing can change that, but this time, they can both be okay with how it ends.

A guy slides in next to Chase. Tall, dark, too big and burly to be what Aven would consider handsome, but attractive enough to catch a few eyes. He places his hand, casually, underneath Chase’s elbow to grab his attention and Aven slowly sets his whiskey down.

“Chase is impossibly good-looking, isn’t he?” Ellie says.

No doubt she’s poking at him, but Aven doesn’t want to waste a second playing around.

“Yes,” he agrees easily, pushing up from their table. “And he has no idea.”

A sense of urgency fills his body and he pushes his way through the crowd.

He wants Chase.

Wants to touch him, hold him, finally kiss his mouth again.

God, he needs to kiss his mouth.

Filled with determination, he’s nearly reached Chase’s side when the burly guy places his gigantic hand on Chase’s hip, and hell. Fucking. No.

There’s no more question in his mind. Everything Chase has been asking for, Aven’s going to give it to him.

Tonight.

His eyes dart down to where this man is touching Chase and then up to his eyes. “Chase,” he says. “Let’s go.”

“Okay.” There’s a touch of fondness there, and Chase blinks up at him. Gen’s cocktails making stars of his eyes. “Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“You gonna tuck me into bed?” A suggestive grin.

His eyes flick to the guy who’s removed his hand and is looking on with interest.

“Something like that.”

“Whatever you want,” Chase promises him, and Aven holds out his hand.