Page 7

DEAN

I saw sparks coming from the socket in the wall, an electrical cord stretching from the socket into the toilet, shattered glass on the floor… blood on Harry’s hand.

“Oh my God, Harry, you’re hurt.” My voice was urgent, panic-stricken and firm. “You need to sit. Right now. Let me see your hand.”

“I’m okay. But if you know how to cut the power to your shed, that’d be great.”

I looked again at the sparks spitting from the socket. I raced around to the side of the shed and flicked off the electricity at the power board. From inside, Harry called out. “Got it! Thanks!” I turned the power back on then hurried back inside to see he’d removed the cord of my toothbrush charger from the wall.

A moment later he fished my toothbrush out of the toilet.

“Wow!” I uttered. “And here I was thinking rock stars were the ones with a reputation for trashing things.”

“I can explain.”

“Really?” I started laughing, kind of amused that he’d managed to turn my bathroom into a war zone in a matter of minutes. “I can’t wait to hear it. No, let me guess… you had visions of renovating my bathroom and couldn’t wait to get started.”

He laughed too, sighing defeatedly as he did so. “Yep, that’s it. And the first thing that needed to go was this toothbrush.” He laughed louder, caving into the sheer craziness of the situation, then winced and cradled his hand.

“Oh shit, your hand. Come with me.” I led him out of the bomb-shelled bathroom and sat him down on my bed. “Stay here a moment.” I returned to the bathroom, stepping carefully around the glass to fetch my First Aid kit from my bathroom cabinet.

I returned and sat next to Harry on the bed, opening the kit and pulling out some antiseptic swabs and a bandage. I took his hand in mine. It was cool and large, and I lingered over it as I looked for stray pieces of glass in the wound.

There was a stillness, a closeness, a silence between us that made my heart race.

As I nestled his hand in mine, I traced my finger over the bumps and creases of his big fingers. I tried not to quiver as I touched his calluses, most of which looked like they’d been there for decades, a signature of the work horse that he was. But then I noticed his fingertips, a more recent hardening of the skin. I knew those minute slices and scars. I knew them well.

Had Harry started playing the guitar?

If he had, then that man on my bed became all the more perfect in my eyes.

In that moment I wanted to push him down on the mattress.

I wanted to straddle him.

I wanted to kiss him.

I wanted what I knew I couldn’t have.

Jesus, Dean! This is Harry you’re fantasizing about! He’s… not… interested.

Of course he wasn’t interested. I was his best friend’s kid. We had nothing in common apart from my dad. And let’s not forget that Madeline seemed keen as hell on Harry, and for all I knew the feeling was mutual.

Suddenly Harry shifted awkwardly on the bed, and I realized all my touching was making him uncomfortable.

“I kinda made a mess in there, didn’t I?” he said, breaking the stillness between us. “I’m so sorry, I’ll clean it up. I guess I got kinda clumsy and—”

“Stop talking,” I said. “You move a lot when you talk, do you know that?”

“I do?”

“Uh-huh. Now keep still, this is gonna hurt.” He flinched as I wiped the first antiseptic swab along his cut to clean up the blood. It was a long thin streak that ran across his palm. “It’s shallow,” I reported. “I don’t think there’s any need to see Doc Morgan. Hopefully you’ll live.”

“I hope so too.” He took a breath, and it was shaky. Clearly, I was making him feel awkward.

I inched a little farther away from him as I began to wrap the bandage around his hand.

I tried not to look up at him, keeping my focus on the wound.

“You know,” he said in the quietness of the moment. “I’ve kinda missed you since you’ve been away.”

I stopped wrapping the bandage, if only for a second, then kept winding it around his hand. “You did? I’ve kinda missed you too.” I suddenly realized how needy that sounded. No, not just needy… clingy, flirty, infatuated. “I mean, what I’m trying to say is, I missed everyone .”

“Oh yeah. That’s what I meant!” He squirmed on the bed again. “Of course you did. Of course you missed everyone. And everyone missed you, including me. That’s totally what I meant.”

At that moment there came a heavy thump - thump - thump on the door to my shed. “Hello? You two okay in there?” Dad slurred.

“Sure, come on in.” I quickly finished wrapping Harry’s bandage and clipped it neatly in place.

The door opened, and Dad and Madeline stood there, both looking a little light on their feet.

“Hey you guys,” said Harry, obviously wanting to jump in before anyone could ask any embarrassing or suspicious questions. “Sorry about going AWOL. I had a little accident in the bathroom. Knocked over a bottle of cologne.”

“Oh shit, Harry!” said Madeline, focusing on his hand. “What have you done to yourself?”

“He’s fine,” I told her. “I’ve cleaned the cut and bandaged him up.”

“Do you need stitches?” she asked Harry again.

Again, I answered for him. “No, he’ll be fine.”

Madeline sniffed the air. “Well, you certainly smell nice. What scent is that, anyway?”

“It’s nothing,” I said. “Just a bottle of cologne I wear every now and then.”

“You were wearing it tonight,” Madeline said to me, snapping her fingers as she realized. “I love it. What is it?”

I felt myself blush. “Actually, it’s… mine.”

“We know it’s your cologne,” Dad mumbled. “Madeline’s asking you what it’s called.”

“ Dean ,” I answered abruptly. “It’s called Dean . It’s nothing really.”

Harry turned to me, wide-eyed and blinking. “You have your own line of cologne?”

I stood from the bed, waving my hands like I was trying to wave the scent away. “It’s nothing. It’s embarrassing. It’s little more than a PR stunt to make more money for Constellation Records. Can we please not talk about it?”

But Harry stayed on the bed, looking somewhat mortified. “Oh my God! I broke a bottle of your own personal cologne?”

“It’s not my own personal cologne. Anyone can buy it. It’s on sale everywhere.” I paused a moment then added, “Although if Old Man Raven stocks it, which I very much doubt, I’d probably check he hasn’t watered it down.”

“Oh wow,” said Madeline. “You seriously have your own—”

“Please. Stop. Let’s just get back to the party.”

“I think I need to clean up your bathroom first,” Harry said.

“No, please. I can do that later,” I insisted. “Let’s just all go have some fun. I know I could use a shot of tequila right about now.” I looked at Harry and gestured to his wound. “After that cut, you could probably use one too.”

He nodded and stood from the bed. “I guess you’re right.”

That’s when Madeline pointed to the stain in the middle of Harry’s T-shirt, something I hadn’t noticed in all the chaos. “What’s that?” she asked, suspicious and rather amused. She moved her face close and sniffed at it. “Smells peachy.”

Harry’s cheeks flared red. “Oh crap. I think I need to leave.”