Midwinter Night's Dream (9 page)

"It would be," Micah agreed. He stood in the middle of the space and watched me with a small, private smile. "Do you have any ideas for a stage? We have a bunch of old wood stored out here. It might be challenging to get something built in time, but maybe we could jerry-rig something quick."

"I don't think we need to be elevated. But we'll need something to box in the stage area. And we'll need a way to hang a big curtain, so we can put it down between scenes and have a little privacy backstage."

One of the side doors banged open and a bulky male shape was silhouetted against the cold December day outside.

"Hey, Hank, you guys made good time," Micah said.

"Yeah. Sloane got me up at noon, the sadist."

"Oh my God! Are you still complaining about that?" Sloane pushed Hank into the barn so he could get inside too and shut the door. With the bright sunlight blocked, I could see that both Hank and Sloane were dressed in work clothes—old sweatshirts and jeans and farm jackets. Sloane rubbed his hands and shivered. "I didn't want to miss anything exciting. So! How's it going? How can we help?"

I looked at the three expectant faces and felt a stab of guilt. "It was enough for you guys to find me the space, you don't have to help me clean it up and furnish it too. Helen's coming tonight, and I can do a lot of this on my own."

Hank looked at Sloane. "He doesn't want our help. I feel rejected."

"And with your muscle mass too. You're worth three or four skinny guys."

Hank raised both arms and flexed. "Strong. Like bull."

Micah laughed. "I can vouch for Hank's ability to drag heavy shit around. And it's way too cold for you to hog all the manual labor, Leo. Come on. We need to clear cobwebs, pigeon crap, and sweep before anything else. Then we've got all kinds of wood and old furniture in the back. We can see what you can use."

Micah's attitude was so positive that I could hardly refuse. Not that I wanted to. I really could use the help. "Thanks. You guys have been awesome. I'll take you all out for a beer when I get the chance."

Sloane smirked. "Let's see if you still feel that way with about a pound of dust up your nostrils."

Four hours later, Micah and I were rigging up a frame for the stage area using two old, very tall ladders and some extra-long wooden posts. The stage curtain, when I procured one, would drape over the posts and have tie backs on the ladders so they could be easily opened and closed. It was simple, but it's minimalism had a boho flair that suited the production. We were way, way off Broadway.

The barn was, if not clean, clean
er
, and we'd all gotten so warm working that the doors and large wooden windows were propped open to air the place out. The day outside was cold but clear with a winter blue sky. Sloane and Hank were outside hosing off some usable furniture and props we'd discovered, which meant I was alone with Micah.

He was easy to work with. Micah wasn't the type to argue over everything I suggested, unlike a certain short, redheaded friend of mine. He seemed to understand what I was envisioning without a lot of discussion. It was even more surprising that we chatted as we worked. I had a strong introvert streak, which wasn't all that unusual for actors. I felt uncomfortable around new people, and I'd expected it to be weird between Micah and me given that whole he-asked-me-out-and-I-said-no thing. But Micah was so mellow that he put me at ease. He seemed like a happy guy, no angst or baggage. Having met his parents, I knew it was genuine. Hank and Micah were honestly good people.

"I know you're in environmental science," I said, as we finished straightening the second ladder, "but how does that translate to a career? What do you want to do?"

"I'm studying waterways, so I could get work around here, dealing with the Susquehanna or Chesapeake Bay." He hesitated.

"But?" I prompted.

"But what I'd really like to do is work with the ocean, ideally out in Seattle or California." Micah gave me a wistful smile. "We'll just have to see what the job options look like when I finish my masters next year."

My mind immediately went to the idea of Micah in California—working on some ocean research project while I was also living and working in L.A. I forced myself to put the idea aside. That might not happen. And even if Micah did end up there, there was nothing to say we'd ever see each other.

"How'd you get into that?" I asked. "The waterways angle?"

Micah paused to wipe his face with the hem of his sweatshirt. He was wearing a T-shirt underneath, but it got rucked up too, revealing a flat, natural stomach—no six pack in sight—with a lovely dark treasure trail that disappeared into Micah's jeans. At the sight of it, my hands itched to grab his waist and my tongue wanted to taste that fuzzy path. I looked away and studied the beam overhead, trying to rein in my body's reaction. Jesus, was I twelve?

"Well, Mom and Dad are into conservation and buying local and all of that. In high school, I did a paper on how the run-off from farms and factories in Pennsylvania affects the Chesapeake Bay. I got really into it. The amount of garbage and chemicals that ends up in the ocean is obscene."

"You sound passionate about it."

"I am. I can't imagine anything more important to do for work. Plus, hopefully I'll get to be outdoors most of the time."

"I can see that. I mean, you aren't the desk type."

Micah smirked. "No. Though I do like sitting. Sitting is my second favorite position after 'laying down'."

His tone was flirty. I laughed as he plopped onto the barn floor, sitting with his legs out and his hands propped behind him. I was tired too, so I sat down where I stood. We hadn't been standing all that close together, but my stretched out tennis shoes nearly touched the bottom of Micah's boots. I shivered and told myself it was because my body was cooling down and the barn air was cold.

"You're into activism," Micah said with a nod. "Gay rights. How long have you been involved in that?"

"Since my freshman year. I believe we have to act, you know? We can't just wait for someone else to fix things, especially at our age. The older generation isn't going to care about the things that are important to us."

"That's cool. So you can fix the human problems and I'll take care of the earth." Micah smiled teasingly. His eyes were half-lidded in humor and maybe something else.

"Deal."

"What about you? Where do you want to go after you graduate?" Micah asked.

I felt my usual sense of discomfort when it came to telling people about my plans. But I wasn't going to lie to Micah, even to impress him. I took a deep breath. "I want to move to L.A. Work on an acting career in films. I know it's a long shot, but I have a back-up plan. I've been taking pre-law classes and I'll continue with those after I graduate. There's a school that has a good online program in human rights law. If the acting doesn't pan out, that's what I'll go into, something like the ACLU."

Micah scooted back against a post and cocked his head, looking at me curiously. "I bet both of your parents have pretty high-paying white collar jobs. Right? Is one of them a lawyer?"

I gave a small, confused laugh. "That obvious?"

"Yeah. Because that sounds like a speech you've given to them. You'd be an amazing human rights lawyer, but your passion is acting. You should absolutely go for that, all the way. You've got a gift."

I didn't know what to say. Not many people were able or willing to see it in such a positive light, whether they thought I was talented or not. It made me itch to talk about it.

"I know I have talent. But there are so many factors that are out of your control, you know? I agonized over it for a long time and finally came to the realization that I have to try. I have to take that risk. And I have to go for it 110 percent. Because if you aren't willing to take the risk, then you've already failed."

Micah gave me a strange look. "I couldn't agree with you more, man. Play it safe, and you just might pass up the best thing that could ever happen to you."

I knew exactly what he was thinking.
You're willing to take a risk for the career that you want, but you won't take a risk on me?

He was right. I could be passing up something incredible with Micah. I'd been burned in the past, but suddenly that didn't seem important. Micah looked so good sitting there, even dusty and tired. And he'd been so gracious over this whole thing, almost… gallant. It was doing a number on my head. My stomach got fluttery and my mouth went dry as we stared at each other.

Wanting to break the tension, I leaned back on my hands, but pain shot up my arm. I sat up and looked at my palm. I'd developed a nice big bluster using the push broom.

"Lemme see," Micah said softly.

In a heartbeat, his head was over my hand, his fingers warm on my wrist. His dark eyes looked worried. "Ouch. That looks painful. I'll run in and get some Bactine and a Band-Aid."

I didn't have a chance to protest before Micah was heading out the door. While I waited, I decided to shut some of the open barn windows. Now that we weren't working, it was getting chilly fast.

When Micah came back, he was wearing his parka. He had mine over his arm and a first aid kit in his hand. "It's fucking freezing in here." Micah tossed the coat at me.

"Thanks." I put it on and let Micah examine my palm. It was only a blister, but it would be awkward to treat one-handed. So I didn't argue as Micah opened up the first aid kit and tended it gently. He wiped it clean with an antiseptic wipe, put on some ointment, and wrapped a bandage around my hand.

"You're going to have to be careful with that. You don't want it getting worse before the show."

"No more brooms or mops for me, damn it," I joked.

"And it's your right hand too," Micah tsked.

We both made the connection at the same instant. I felt my face flame and Micah looked surprised at his own words for half a second, then he chuckled. He took my wrist again and surveyed the blister, as if checking exactly where it was. His fingers were tan and long and their touch made my palm tingle. "Yup, that's going to limit all sorts of activities. You may need to recruit some help." He looked up at me from under his lashes, flirting hard.

Lust bloomed in my stomach. My blood pooled heavy in my groin and, suddenly, the barn wasn't cold anymore. Micah's thumb rubbed my wrist, a touch that went right through my my diaphragm and into my core. My eyes dropped to his mouth.

"Oh my! This place looks great!"

I jerked my hand away. Lilith, Micah's mom, was standing in the barn doorway, looking around at our progress. "I don't think it's been this clean since Hank got the idea in tenth grade to make it his workout space. He spent an entire weekend cleaning it up, then decided that lifting weights without air conditioning was no fun at all." She laughed fondly.

I took a step away from Micah.

"Hey, Mom," Micah said in a pleasant tone, as if she hadn't just interrupted us. Had I imagined that moment of sizzling lust?

"Kar said you'd hurt your hand, Leo. Can I take a look?"

I held it up. "It's, um, just a blister. Micah already cleaned and wrapped it."

"Oh good. I'd hate to see anyone get hurt out here."

"It's fine, Mom." Micah leaned back against one of the massive beams that held up the roof. He looked so posed with his long dreads draping over his blue shirt that I wished I had a camera. Of course, my aesthetic was probably a little colored by the arousal that was still humming in my veins. I wished Lilith would—

"Also, Micah, your girlfriend called. She needed directions, so she talked to your dad. She should be here in fifteen minutes or so."

As quickly as I'd heated up moments before, just that fast a chill rushed through me. Micah had a girlfriend? Maybe it was a girl who lived around here, an old high school flame or something. Shit. What had I been thinking?

"I'm gonna go get cleaned up." I headed for the door with a determined stride.

"Help yourself to the shower, Leo," Lilith called. "I put out fresh towels."

"Leo, wait," Micah called out behind me. "Mom, what are you talking about? Who called?"

I didn't wait or look back. I broke out into the winter sunshine and made a beeline for the wreath-bedecked farmhouse and my assigned room.

So much for 'fool me once.' Apparently, I was willing to be fooled again and again.

~7~

Micah

I was incredibly frustrated as I watched Leo go. I put my hands over my face and groaned. I managed to refrain from stomping or hitting a post or doing something equally childish. I wasn't used to such strong emotions, and my third eye wondered at how angry and upset I felt, even as I had to deal with the emotions themselves.

"Micah?" Mom sounded worried. She came up and put a hand on my arm. "What's wrong, honey?"

I lowered my hands and reminded myself not to take my anger out on her. "Mom, I don't
have
a girlfriend."

"Oh." She looked confused. "Well… the way she sounded on the phone, I thought… Didn't you mention a Yasmine to me? I'm sorry if I misunderstood."

I blew out a calming breath. "It's not your fault. It's just… I'm hoping to get a
boyfriend
, actually. But Leo is skittish because he doesn't think I'm serious. So that thing about my 'girlfriend' didn't help."

Mom's mouth dropped open, but she recovered quickly. "Oh
. Oh
. Oh, hell. Guess I stuck my foot in it. I'm sorry, baby."

I tugged on a few of my dreads, taking my frustration out on myself. "God, Mom. It's never been this difficult before."

She smiled and put her arm over my shoulders, gave me a squeeze. "No one said love was easy, pumpkin. Maybe that's how you know when it's real. You must really like Leo, because I've never seen you get so worked up."

"That's what Sloane keeps telling me."

"So I have
two
gay sons? Is that what you're saying?" Her tone was teasing, but also genuinely confused.

I released the last of my anger,
whoosh
, and really looked at my mother. She'd had dreads like mine when I was young, but now she wore her brown-and-gray hair short and naturally curly. She never had been the type to wear makeup and she wasn't exactly slender, but she was beautiful to me. God, we were all getting older, weren't we? It made me feel melancholy.