Des heaved a sigh. "Look. We all get you"re upset. I don"t know what went off between the two of you but you can"t let it break you. There"s plenty of others out there."
"Not like Haris," Tyler muttered.
"Then f.u.c.king make up with him."
Tyler grabbed his backpack and stalked for the door. "See you later."
"Good luck."
"Thanks."
Des had completed his final exam two days ago. Tyler was the last in the house to finish. He never wanted to sit another exam as long as he lived. He pulled open the front door and saw a bright blue balloon floating above the path, attached to a stone. On the balloon was written "Good Luck, Tyler." He laughed. Haris"s work? He walked past it and then went back into the house.
"Can I borrow your penknife?" he called to Des.
"It"s on the table."
Tyler grabbed it and cut the balloon free, keeping hold of the tape. It had to be Haris"s good luck card. But when he emerged onto the road, he gasped. A line of blue balloons floated along the route he took to college. He gathered them as he walked along, gripping the lines tightly, wondering if Haris was watching. Pa.s.sersby smiled at him and a few wished him good luck as he collected the balloons. They continued through the college grounds to the steps of the building and now Tyler had them all, he didn"t know what to do with them. He was too early for the exam so he walked back to an open spot next to the Thames and let them go.
They swirled away into the gray sky, caught by the wind. Two balloons stayed together, their strings tangled and he watched them float up until he couldn"t see them anymore. A sign he and Haris were meant to be together or a final goodbye?
Haris didn"t think he"d ever been so nervous in his life. If Des hadn"t helped him, hadn"t managed to persuade Tyler to go out tonight to celebrate finishing his exams, he"d have had to come up with another plan, but this was the best and in some ways the worst he"d had. No one but Des and Wilson knew what he was going to do. Benny, the manager of The Room, had agreed to put Haris on part way through the evening.
Now he cowered backstage, knowing if this failed, he should probably give up. Yet even the thought of it made his chest ache. When Des had texted to say Tyler was there, Haris had rushed to the bathroom and thrown up. The irony didn"t escape him. Now all he could do was wait his turn while a large part of his brain hoped he dropped dead before it came.
Another round of applause died away and as the band that"d been playing shuffled past Haris, Benny began to speak.
"We have a new act tonight, folks. It"s his first time on stage, first time with an audience and he tells me it"s his last. So for one night only, I give you Haris Evans."
Haris tugged the Peruvian hat onto his head and somehow his feet carried him out on the stage. Benny patted him on the back and then he was on his own, his knees knocking, staring at a sea of dim faces, looking for one that would always shine for him-a guy whose jaw had dropped. Haris swallowed hard and nodded toward the wings. The prerecorded music started of Des playing the guitar. Haris counted under his breath and began to sing.
Everything was going right A perfect man, a perfect night I should have known but failed to see No place I"d rather be, you feel like home to me Your smile alone could warm my heart I didn"t think we"d ever part But like a fool I couldn"t see No place I"d rather be, you feel like home to me And now you"re gone, the price I pay Is more than words could ever say I miss your touch, and I can see No place I"d rather be, you feel like home to me Only reason I go on Is hope that you aren"t really gone And trust that I can make you see No place I"d rather be, you feel like home to me Haris was dimly aware of applause he didn"t deserve. He"d done his best, but he wasn"t a singer, or a poet. He pulled the hat off, suspecting he was bright pink with embarra.s.sment, but he"d have stripped naked and danced if it meant Tyler would give him another chance. He bolted off the stage and smacked into Tyler"s arms. When Tyler didn"t let him go, but tightened his hold, a lump formed in his throat.
"I didn"t know you couldn"t sing," Tyler said.
Haris let out a choked laugh.
Tyler smiled. "Actually, you sounded good to me."
"I wrote the lyrics. Des put them to music. I wanted to play "Jingle Bells" but he persuaded me not to."
Tyler let him go and Haris felt his heart lurch as if it were trying to reach Tyler"s.
"Any point me saying I"m sorry again?" Haris asked.
"Only if you stop needing to say it." Tyler"s hand brushed his and he threaded their fingers together. "Thank you for the balloons. They made me smile. The exam was still b.l.o.o.d.y hard though."
Haris"s breathing quickened. "I know I"m an idiot but I"ve learned. I don"t want it to have to cost me everything." He wet his lips. "Wilson"s barely spoken to me for the last couple of weeks."
Tyler"s eyes widened. "Isn"t that a plus?"
"I"m used to him babbling. He keeps giving me these looks and the b.l.o.o.d.y dog growls when I"m in its vicinity. They want you back too." He took a deep breath. "But I need to know if I should keep trying. I don"t want to end up as some freaky stalker."
"Just a freaky singer."
Haris groaned. "I knew I was c.r.a.p. Des b.l.o.o.d.y lied."
Tyler laughed and squeezed his fingers. "You weren"t c.r.a.p, but the hat maybe wasn"t a good idea."
"I thought-"
"I know and I liked it," Tyler said.
"I wasn"t trying to say I wanted you to...though..."
Tyler laughed.
"I love you," Haris said quietly. "And I"m sorry."
Tyler nodded.
"So," Haris whispered. "With me or without me?"
"No more walking away when we"re arguing," Tyler said.
Haris nodded.
"No more jumping to conclusions."
"No." Haris tightened his mouth.
"Trust me."
"I do."
"No one comes between us."
A sob burst from Haris"s lips and Tyler pulled him into his arms.
"Ever," Tyler whispered. "Because there"s no place I"d rather be. You feel like home to me."
About the Author.
Barbara Elsborg lives in West Yorkshire in the north of England. She always wanted to be a spy, but having confessed to everyone without them even resorting to torture, she decided it was not for her. Vulcanology scorched her feet. A morbid fear of sharks put paid to marine biology. So instead, she spent several years successfully selling cyanide. (Try saying that fast) After dragging up two rotten, ungrateful children and frustrating her s.e.xy, devoted, wonderful husband (who can now stop twisting her arm) she finally has time to conduct an affair with an electrifying plugged-in male, her laptop. Her books feature quirky heroines and bad boys, sometimes two bad boys for each quirky heroine, and more recently two bad boys all on their own. She hopes her stories are as much fun to read as they are to write.
You can find out more about Barbara and her books at www.barbaraelsborg.com, catch more of her scintillating wit at her blog at barbaraelsborg.blogspot.com.
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