Page 33 of Rent: Paid in Full

And why does he have to look so beautiful when he’s happy?

I’m doing my best to keep my head on straight. Well, not straight exactly, but you know what I mean. I know who Miller is. Temptation. Trouble. A pretty smile designed to lure you in. I know people like him better than I know myself. I made a vow to myself that I’d never trust anyone like him again. And I won’t.

I brace myself and open the door to our room. He’s on his bed, shirtless as usual, and he pulls himself up by his core, causing deep lines to splinter down his torso.

Damn.

Low-hanging fruit never looked so good.

The good news is I’ve managed to pay for the repairs to my truck, and I’ve paid off a set of badly needed new front tires.

The bad news is my throat is sore, and I haven’t been able to taste anything other than Miller fucking MacAvoy for forty-five minutes. My lips are tingling, and he’s talking incessantly.

“…just one thing, then I’ll go to sleep.”

“Fine, but make it quick.”

“Okay,” he hums softly, the way he does when he’s thinking or plotting. “What kind of music do you like?”

He’s already covered food, movies, and a plethora of other things I’d rather he didn’t know about me.

“I like weird stuff. Old stuff. Not cool stuff. Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan, that kind of thing.”

“No way, I love Leonard Cohen.”

“You do not.”

“Do too.”

“Fine, name one song by him.”

“Um, ‘So Long, Marianne, ‘Sisters of Mercy,’ ‘Famous Blue Raincoat,’ ‘Chelsea Hote’…”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, fine, I get it.”

“Why Cohen? Your mom a fan?”

“No, my dad. He plays him on Saturdays when he washes my mom’s car for her. You?”

“Uh, my grandma. My folks used to send me to her place when things got bad between them, so I was there a lot growingup. She had this old CD player in the kitchen, and she loved playing his stuff. I was always trying to get her onto Spotify, but she wouldn’t have it. Said she didn’t know how she’d find her music if she couldn’t see it.” He laughs. Not his usual laugh. A softer sound that sends a chill down my spine. “What else?” he asks.

“I dunno. Random stuff. There’s this guy on Instagram who shreds on the guitar, and I kind of like that.”

“The guy or the guitar?”

I smile, but only because it’s pitch dark, and I know for sure he can’t see. “Both, I guess.”

He laughs again, his usual laugh. “Been there.”

Obviously, I’d never admit it because I’m talking to Miller, but it feels kind of amazing to say it aloud to someone who feels the same way.

14

Ryan

I’m at my desk,and even though Miller is on his side of the room, it feels like he’s in my space. “Don’t you ever study?” I ask without turning around.

“Not really, no.”