Hook, Line, and Sinker (Flirting with the Zodiac Book 1) Page 5

  But marriage?

  Dr. K nodded. “Kids these days. Look, get him to put a ring on it before you get yourself in trouble.”

  “But—”

  “How are you going to pay for having a baby? You can’t even afford anxiety medication or therapy and your contraceptive together.”

  Ty’s stomach sank. “I … hadn’t thought about that.”

  “So get on his health insurance, at least. Something. And then maybe we can get you on something for the anxiety or at least seeing someone …”

  Ty didn’t hear another word; “marriage” was ringing in his ears, ricocheting off his skull. Marriage. Him and Lawrence. Married.

  A hand landed on his shoulder. “I want to see you back in two weeks with a better plan. And for God’s sake, start some prenatal vitamins or folic acid before you do anything else.”

  The door slammed shut. Ty closed his eyes, heaved a breath.

  Seven

  Ty could have talked to Lawrence that night. Instead, he got blitzed at Val’s because Val didn’t ask questions, and he passed out on her couch.

  Really, he could have talked to Lawrence at any point during the ensuing two weeks, but he didn’t, because there was class and viola practice and oh, his mother called, he had to go to the store.

  He read over the pamphlets Dr. K had given him, looked up as much as he could find about Piscean pregnancies on the internet. He tried to quell the fear rising at the back of his throat.

  He couldn’t do this. Dr. K was right; he was a disaster. He’d be the worst parent ever.

  What would happen if he couldn’t get pregnant? Or if the baby was sick because he did a bad job, because he was such a mess? Lawrence would never forgive him.

  He couldn’t risk it; he couldn’t risk losing Lawrence. But if he didn’t at least try …

  “Nervous?” Lawrence asked as he plonked down on the sofa with a carton of sloppy chow mein noodles. He jostled Ty’s elbow on the way down.

  Ty glanced at him, then looked away. He’d been too nervous to really eat for a couple of days now. Hadn’t slept well either.

  “I mean, it’s your first time off-planet, so that’s a big deal.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ty blinked at the TV; he didn’t remember watching most of this movie.

  Lawrence paused, noodles hanging out of his mouth. He gave Ty a look, then swallowed noisily and said, “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

  Ty closed his eyes, then gritted his teeth.

  “You forgot?”

  Ty opened his mouth but just hissed noise instead of speaking actual words.

  Lawrence dumped his carton on the table and turned to him. “What’s up, fishy?”

  Ty wanted to hate him for knowing exactly how to deal with him when he got like this. He shook his head.

  A hand on his shoulder, rubbing his arm lightly. “You wanna text me?”

  Ty ducked his head, then shook it. He’d had to before, but they were just going to end up talking anyway. He knew it.

  “I saw the doctor,” he managed at last.

  Lawrence squeezed his shoulder and sat up a little straighter. “How’d that go?”

  Ty nodded, then swallowed. “I … have to not … do any weed.” He glanced at Lawrence, trying to read anything in his expression. “And, um … Dr. K asked how I was gonna pay for any of this, and I don’t know.”

  Lawrence frowned. Ty lifted his shoulders in a halfway shrug. “And look at me,” he whimpered, “I’m a fucking mess, Lawrence, I can’t parent a kid, I’m—”

  Lawrence sighed. “You get so worked up,” he murmured, the hint of a laugh invading his tone.

  Ty gritted his teeth. “This is serious, Lawrence.”

  “It’s fine, fishy. I told you before, you don’t have to do this.”

  “But I—”

  “Ty. It’s fine.” Lawrence’s smile was brilliant, and Ty hated him so, so much. “I told you I don’t want to make you miserable. You don’t have to do this for me; kids are a big decision, not something you need to rush into.”

  “I want to.” Ty’s throat was raw. “But I dunno if I can.”

  Lawrence’s smile was confident. “’Course you can,” he said lightly, like it was so easy. Like any of this was easy.

  “I just …”

  “If you’re sure you want it, then we’ll figure it out. I just want you to be sure, fishy. The last thing I want to do is drag you into this, have you regret it.”

  Ty was going to regret not doing it, because then Lawrence would drift away.

  “Okay?” It was a whisper, softer than the cool brush of Lawrence’s fingers against his cheek. “Fishy, you’re my best friend. I want you to be happy, no matter what.”

  Ty met those blue eyes, then let his gaze drift down, sweeping across the coffee table, piled high with chip bags and take-out cartons and cartridges, controllers and headsets.

  “Dr. K suggested we should get married,” he managed.

  “Married?”

  Ty nodded minutely. “So … I could use your health insurance.”

  Lawrence actually had the audacity to laugh at him. Ty glowered, and Lawrence cupped his cheek. “That makes sense. Can’t believe I didn’t think of it. I should take care of you, right?” His gaze burned Ty. “The hypothetical both of you.”

  Ty felt his cheeks heat, his shoulders lift. He looked away hastily. “Ah, well—”

  “And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be married to,” Lawrence whispered.

  Ty drew back. “Val says we’re practically married already.”

  They paused, eyed each other. Something—a word, an idea, a feeling—hung in the air between them, heavy and pressing, and Ty couldn’t name it, just felt it there.

  “Let’s go pack,” Lawrence suggested. “I bet you haven’t done anything yet, have you? Been so up here …” He tapped the side of his head. “You totally forgot we were leaving … What am I gonna do with you?”

  He hopped onto the couch, practically sprang over the back of it, because although he’d just turned twenty-nine, Lawrence sometimes acted like he was ten.

  He hurried off, feet slapping on the tiles. “Bring the noodles!” he hollered, and Ty sighed, grabbed up the carton. He meandered down the hall, pausing in the doorway.

  Lawrence, ever efficient, was already fluttering around the room, grabbing Ty’s clothes haphazardly out of the closet, the dresser, the laundry pile (damn, they needed to do laundry). Lawrence grinned at him, and Ty slowly grabbed a mouthful of noodles with the chopsticks.

  “There’s a good start,” Lawrence enthused, “bet you haven’t eaten today either.”

  Ty shook his head, stuffed his mouth full of noodles so he didn’t have to speak.

  ***

  Ty hardly slept. Even with Lawrence’s reassurances, his mind was still awash with worry. What if he couldn’t be treated? What if he was a terrible parent? What if he screwed all this up and made Lawrence hate him?

  He focused on going through the spaceport instead. He’d never been off-planet before. He’d never been on a shuttle. His family had embraced borderline poverty like it was some kind of badge of merit. Ty sometimes didn’t understand how they kept the shop running. Vacations weren’t a thing; traveling anywhere beyond New Martia had never really seemed like an option.

  He should have brought his viola, he thought as they waited in line for the security check. He had a midterm when he got back, and his solo was only six weeks away now. He needed to practice. A lot.

  Lawrence hadn’t said anything to him before they left the house, and now that Ty thought about it, the viola case wasn’t where he usually left it.

  Bastard had probably hidden it on him, trying to get him to actually relax and not think about school or getting a job or tests or solos or whatever.

  Joke was on Lawrence—he’d had to leave his stash too, so he wasn’t sure what he was going to look like by the end of the week. Maybe they could find something a
t the resort …

  Dr. K was right; he really was a mess.

  His heart hammered in his chest, his breath short as he met the border guard’s gaze. She lifted her brows, then went back to digging in his bag. Another guard gestured for him to move through the metal detector.

  Silence. He relaxed fractionally.

  His bag slid down to the end of the counter. He waited for a gloved hand, for someone to stop him, but nothing happened. Nobody even spared him a glance.

  He could hardly hold the bag, he was shaking that bad. Lawrence joined him a second later, smiled at him. “Pretty easy, right?”

  “Y-yeah.” Ty felt like he might toss his cookies.

  Lawrence gave him a look, then glanced around the port. “Let’s find breakfast. You hungry?”

  “Sure,” Ty agreed. He let Lawrence lead the way to a small restaurant, the scent of fresh-brewed coffee saturating the air. Ty choked down bile as they slid up onto the high stools at the bar.

  “Hey, barkeep. A couple of scotches?”

  “Starting early,” the barkeeper said, then set down the glass she was polishing and walked off.

  Ty glared at him. “Really?”

  “You look like you could use a drink.” Lawrence didn’t even meet his gaze, but he was grinning.

  Ty stared at his reflection in the polished wood of the bar, the chips and chinks in the counter.

  “Besides,” Lawrence drawled as he slid a glass across to him, “we should be celebrating.”

  “Celebrating what,” Ty muttered, and Lawrence clinked glasses with him.

  “Us,” was the simple answer, and when Ty looked up, Lawrence’s expression was inscrutable, intense, and Ty squirmed in his seat.

  Maybe that was the nausea wriggling around in his gut. “I—”

  “Sip it slow,” Lawrence said, “it’ll help.”

  Ty didn’t believe him, but it was nicer to think about the burn on his lips, his throat, than the burn pooling low in his belly.

  Fuck. His hormones were completely out of whack. Dr. K had warned him about that when he’d seen him for his follow-up shot (and his “parenthood plan review”) yesterday. The stupid ring had been out for two weeks now.

  Lawrence brushed some hair out of his eyes. “The lighting in here is really shitty,” he murmured. “You look like you’ve got a bad spray tan.”

  Ty laughed high and nervous, because he was horny and he was changing colors to signal that to potential mates. Fucking seahorse biology; he shut his eyes, remembering cruel laughter and taunts, Preston Wasserstein calling him a rainbow trout and spitting in his face that one time after they’d made out for thirty seconds behind the gym.

  “I’m gonna throw up,” he croaked as his feet hit the floor.

  He clapped a hand over his mouth and booked it to the bathroom.

  ***

  “I’m surprised we didn’t miss our flight,” Lawrence muttered as they stepped off the shuttle, into the clear tube running through Lunar Spaceport One. Overhead, they could still see the stars and Earth, plain as day.

  “Not my fault my body’s a mess,” Ty murmured.

  “I know,” Lawrence offered dryly, and Ty huffed.

  They stepped through some sliding doors and continued through the crowded spaceport. They headed outside, into the artificial heat of the simulated day. There was even a breeze.

  Most of the moon was domed in, creating an artificial atmosphere that mimicked Earth’s closely.

  The Sea of Tranquility had been transformed into an actual sea at some point, and, Earthlings being Earthlings, they’d turned the area into the premier tropical vacation destination in the solar system.

  Ty squinted and dropped his sunglasses over his eyes. Lawrence gave him a tight smile. “Can we please just try to enjoy ourselves?” he asked, and Ty glared at him from behind the darkened lenses.

  They crowded onto a bus that smelled vaguely like chlorine and sweat. They were squashed in with too many other people, Ty almost pressed flush against Lawrence as they dipped and swayed with the motion of the transport crawling along the sun-bleached asphalt.

  It was better than New Martia, that was for sure.

  The transport took them directly to their hotel, which was almost hidden among leafy palms swaying in the breeze. The building itself sprawled across acres, brightly colored flowers springing up everywhere to accent its yellow exterior.

  The interior was marble, their footsteps echoing across the floor, archways soaring above their heads in some neo-neo-classic style. Ty hastily caught sight of himself in a mirror, then looked away.

  His skin was less orange now, fading more to yellow, but still brighter than the average human.

  He milled about as Lawrence checked them in, then followed his friend through one of the long, winding corridors, pausing only to peer at birds in the overgrown bushes that lined the windows.

  Lawrence shoved open the door to their room, and Ty was greeted with a view of the beach, a long strip of white sand running right down to the water, which glinted in the afternoon sunlight. The door opened to a small patio, and the sand was right there.

  He looked at Lawrence, who shrugged. “Figured you might like a room with a view.”

  Ty snorted; Lawrence was clearly banking on Ty enjoying something else—whether the tide or the motion of a different sort of ocean.

  The door slammed shut; Lawrence dropped their luggage with a sigh. Ty marched across the way and threw open the doors, letting the stiff ocean breeze rush into the room, whipping the drapes about.

  He glanced over his shoulder, noted that there was only one bed in the room. He met Lawrence’s gaze.

  The other man glanced away. “We honestly don’t have to,” he said.

  Ty considered for a long moment, then said, “It’s what we’re here for, right?”

  A long silence dragged between them, punctuated only by the howling of the wind.

  “I’m going for a walk,” Ty said, then stepped out onto the patio.

  Eight

  Ty didn’t walk far; he strolled to the water’s edge, kicked off his shoes, and waded in.

  He didn’t appreciate the view so much as the sound of the surf crashing on the shore, the feel of the water around his ankles. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes.

  He’d never been to Piscea, but he’d seen it in picture books, dreamt of it when he was a child on the rare occasions Dad had told him stories. (Those stories were always of places, never people; Dad would talk about the sand and the surf, but never his family. It was so strange.) Piscea was a sort of magical fantasyland that didn’t exist for Ty, not outside his head.

  But when he got close to the water, then it was real—somewhere he knew, deep down in his bones. Somewhere he belonged.

  Much as he belonged anywhere, really; he belonged on Earth as much as he did Piscea, and so Mars was the perfect place for him—somewhere in between, somewhere not quite right. Lucky for him most of the denizens of New Martia agreed, even if Pisceans weren’t exactly the most common alien in the population. Ty had never really understood why Dad wanted to be on Mars, of all places.

  Maybe something to do with Mom. Then again, she was a transplant too.

  He plonked down in the surf, let the water crash over him. It didn’t matter if he got soaked; he’d go back to the room and change.

  It took him a minute or two to realize he was being watched, and he peered cautiously over his shoulder. Lawrence was still a few yards away, hands jammed deep in his pockets, toes curled into his sandals. He’d unbuttoned his atrocious floral-printed shirt, and it flapped in the breeze, his white undershirt rippling against his skin.

  Ty extricated himself from the surf. Lawrence ran a hand through his hair, then ambled forward to meet him. He kicked at some sand.

  “I made dinner reservations,” he yelled over the crashing waves when they were close enough. “For six o’clock.”

  “Okay,” Ty called back.

  Lawrence landed a hand on his s
houlder. He looked down at him, then traced a finger down the side of Ty’s nose—apparently chasing a water droplet.

  His mouth moved, and for a second, Ty thought he couldn’t hear him over the wind and the water.

  “I got you something,” he said, and Ty glanced down, stared at the black box in his roommate’s hand.

  He glanced up for confirmation, frowning. Lawrence’s expression was totally unreadable.

  Ty looked back down at the now-open ring box, the ring resting inside it. It wasn’t much—a thin band of silver, a very small diamond recessed within the metal, two pieces of aquamarine framing either side of it, four in total.

  He looked up at Lawrence again. “There’s a chapel not far from here,” he said said. “Figured we could go tie the knot, then make it back for dinner.”

  “Wha—”

  Fear was suddenly in Lawrence’s eyes. “Did you want a wedding? I mean, we can totally do a wedding, I just thought you wanted to get it over with, wouldn’t want the hassle—”

  Ty looked down again, then reached for the ring. “I mean,” he said, “this is fine. Great. Can you imagine my parents?”

  A grin broke across Lawrence’s face. “Or mine?”

  Ty laughed. “All of them together?”

  “We couldn’t do that to them. Putting them in the same room with each other—”

  “I bet my parents would make your parents go out back and smoke; they’d be totally fucked.”

  Lawrence laughed again, then held out his hand. Ty deposited the ring in that outstretched palm, and Lawrence picked it up, fumbled it a little. He grabbed Ty’s wrist, then slid the ring onto his finger.

  It promptly slid back off, landing with a thump in the sand. “Oh, crap,” Lawrence spat and dove for it.

  Ty rubbed at his wrist. Lawrence’s hands were clammy.

  He was … nervous?

  Lawrence handed him the ring. “Put it somewhere safe? We’ll get it sized when we get back. Sorry about that.”

  “How long have we been together? Seven years, Laz, and you don’t even know my ring size? Are we even really friends?”