Page 92 of Septembers

And Dae kicked him.

“Hey!” His chair screeched against the floor as he scooched back, watching with shocked indignation as Dae held back a smile.

“You were saying obvious shit, so I thought you needed something unexpected.” Then, miraculously, he stuck the toothpick into a meatball and popped it into his mouth, holding Theo’s gaze as he chewed. “Okay, fine, these are actually satisfying.” Theo just stared at him, still poised in shin-defence, and Dae gave him a sardonic stare. “It was barely a tap.”

That was true. It hadn’t actually hurt. But still, he kicked him! “What kind of monster⁠—”

Dae laughed outright, flashing his dimples, which should’ve been an illegal move. “What’s with the grand declaration? Of course this is forever, and the fact that you feel you need to keep reminding me is, quite frankly, insulting.”

Keep reminding him? How many times over the years had Theo said it?

Dae stuck the toothpick into another meatball but then snatched his hand away as if the meatball had made him do it. “Can we get the hell out of here? My body is betraying me.”

Theo knew the feeling.

“Fine.” He stood, weirdly comforted by Dae’s refusal to take his intensity as anything other than ridiculous. It was ridiculous. They were forever, and regardless of what his body was trying to do, he wouldn’t forget it. He picked up the plate of meatballs, shooting Dae a sassy glare. “But we’re taking these to go.”

EIGHTH SEPTEMBER

My Dae

Theo licked the taste of lime from his lips and watched Becks shamelessly flirt with a woman whose hair was so shiny, he could practically see his reflection in it. He didn’t know who she was, since they’d only booked the bar for Jordan’s album launch until ten. The place was fancy: leather chairs, candles on the tables, and everything accented in browns and gold. It was a bit too ‘gentleman’s club’ to celebrate Jordan’s first full-length album, but the head of the agency had requested it, so what could they do?

Jordan had been passed around from group to group, schmoozing, smiling, and selling herself. She hated every second, Theo knew, but he was powerless against it. All he could do was lend silent support and butt in if anyone got inappropriate, which happened increasingly as the booze flowed.

Finally Jordan excused herself to the bathroom, and Theo had a minute to down his fifth vodka soda. He shouldn’t have, but Hanna Gardiner had escaped hours ago with the head of the agency, and Theo was left to entertain the producers, reviewers, bloggers, and anyone else deemed important enough to get their asses kissed. And now Jordan’s supposed love of her goddamn life was grabbing the arm of the magical mermaid-hair woman, laughing as if whatever she was saying was the epitome of true comedy. The mermaid leaned in to whisper something in Beck’s ear and Theo huffed into his drink.

Thankfully the buzz of his phone distracted him.

Dae

It’s a bust. She talks with her mouth full. There are currently flecks of spinach on my shirt.

prety?

Spinach, Theo. On my shirt. It doesn’t matter how pretty she is.

alwayys matter

Your texts are more atrocious than usual. How drunk are you?

beckss flirting with a mermad

Oh dear.

a producer touched my bum

I’ll come get you.

donnt stop date

This date was over the moment she took a bite.

I’m on my way.

Don’t go near that producer.

Theo watched the thinning crowd, making sure there weren’t any more asses he needed to kiss before he got too drunk to pucker up. Luckily everyone important was gone, and he had a sixth drink to irresponsibly order. Jordan slid into the stool beside him, gorgeous in a long-sleeved green dress, her auburn hair rippling down her back, her fake smile screaming that she was done with everything and everyone.