Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
“Cas!” But Caspian was nowhere to be seen, so Gunner jumped out of the bed and pulled on a pair of shorts.
The bedroom door was open, and the sweet scent of frying batter pulled him into the hallway. He stalled, wondering whether Caspian’s parents hadn’t returned home already, but they wouldn’t have driven all night without letting them know that something had cut their weekend trip short. So he took a deep breath and looked down the staircase, feeling naked. A part of him wanted to run back for a shirt, but they were alone, and the sound of sizzling oil lured him onto the steps. Once the cool wood touched his bare feet, he walked all the way to the first floor.
Dingo spotted him first and got up from his spot at Caspian’s feet with a short bark that got Caspian’s attention. To Gunner’s bewilderment, Caspian smiled at him, grabbing the front of his black T-shirt and fanning himself with it to cool his broad chest. The kitchen was quite hot, due to the sun shining in through the windows, and the steaming pancakes on the stove.
He was once again in Gunner’s body.
“Morning.”
Gunner’s heart rattled when he entered the kitchen. “Why are you so calm about this? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Caspian cupped Gunner’s face and leaned in, kissing both of his cheeks before claiming his lips with a soft groan. “It’s all right. You needed the rest.”
“What do you mean?” Gunner’s shoulders relaxed, and he reached for Caspian’s hands as the dog sniffed around them, tapping its paws over the tiles.
Caspian pulled him into a warm hug that smelled of soap and the maddening cologne he liked to wear. “Why don’t you play for me, hm? I’m almost done with breakfast.”
Gunner stilled in the warm embrace, overwhelmed by being back in the form that allowed him to be so small next to Caspian. But most of all… “You did this? You just asked Dingo?”
Caspian’s teeth rolled over his tongue, but he ended up nodding. The rays of sun made his brown eyes brighter, and his features were so relaxed even the stark lines of the tattoo on his face couldn’t have made them look threatening. “I did. You can change back, if you like, but I wanted to surprise you. Needed to see if it works when I’m the only one to make a wish. Didn’t want you to be disappointed if it didn’t work out.”
Gunner bit his lip, glancing down at his elegant hands when he stepped away from Caspian. “And you… want to hear me play?” Joy filled his heart already. Maybe once a month or so, they could take the risk and swap for a day? And he could play? Also, they could play together, but that was a different ball game.
“Whatever you like. Beethoven. Mozart. Chopin. Or improvise,” Caspian said and unexpectedly pulled on Gunner’s pierced nipple while the air heated, dense with fumes of fried dough and love.
Gunner laughed out loud and returned the favor. “How does this body feel in the aftermath, huh?”
A flush climbed Caspian’s neck, and he turned around to flip the pancakes. “Well... I’m quite sore, actually. You sure I wasn’t too rough?”
Gunner stalled for a second, then laughed out loud when he realized Caspian wasn’t talking about his nipples. “I like it rough!” he yelled, walking off, because the piano was calling to him.
“Duly noted,” Caspian said, but Gunner was already in the music room and lifting the keyboard cover. His gaze swept over the collection of sheet music gathered on shelves close by, but he didn’t need any of them today and gingerly sat on the bench, placing his hands on the white and black keys.
He inhaled the sweet, sun-spiced air and looked at his thighs, dusted with faint, golden hairs, his chest, marked with the tattoo he’d put on Caspian’s body in an act of thoughtless revenge, and at the blue veins at the tops of the graceful hands he’d missed every day since he got back the coarse, meaty paws given to him by nature.
But the boy he so loved being was back, and he let his inner voice come out in a series of fast, joyful chords. He jumped between one melody and another, between composers decades apart, and then added his own little twists with the same ease he improvised in the boxing ring.
Caspian’s generosity took his breath away, and he fought the tears of happiness while his fingers danced across the keyboard. He’d never felt more loved, and let the instrument boast about his happiness. The piano he’d barely started making any progress with, was once more an extension of him, not an object of wood and string.
His whole body moved as he played, and by the time he froze, finishing his improvised mashup on a strong note, warm hands gently squeezed his shoulders. “You have such talent. It’s amazing.”