Grayson's Body

Subtle

Chapter 4: Subtle

subtle

[suht-l]

adjective, sub·tler, sub·tlest.

fine or delicate in meaning or intent; difficult to perceive or understand

I thought he must've said "I feel hot" or, maybe, "I am hot."

I couldn't hear over the music, and the noise of the bar goers, and my own heartbeat as his eyes, relaxed but a bit glazed, met mine. The purple danced against the highlights in his hair as he looked back at the stage again.

"'Cause I'm still here breathing now, I'm still here breathing now
I'm still here breathing now and I'm still here"

I did too.

Nikolai Wolf.

I don't know why I looked back up at him because Grayson was obviously drugged, and I didn't know what the hell to do. I knew he hadn't done it to himself. Alcohol, sure, but the athletic department did drug testing on all their players.

My hand went to his sleeve and stayed there because I was ready to get his attention, or, at least, try to, when the song ended.

Nikolai Wolf was looking at me.

There was a moment when his mouth was against the microphone, and then his eyes went to Grayson if not for a second.

I mean, we were at the front and he was singing.

But something felt off.

And I glanced at Grayson quickly to see him staring at the singer as well, looking as though he was in a complete and utter daze. It was like he was the only person in the whole room, the only sound in existence was the sound coming from the guitar thrown over his body, the strings being plucked from his fingers.

Then I saw it.

Nikolai Wolf's eyes were moving up to something, a smile pulling at his lips subtly, and I knew that it was only because I was paying attention completely that I saw it. I turned my head to the little patch of space between Grayson's large arm and the woman standing behind me.

Because part of the unused stage light in the corner of the bar was on fire. It was on the slick blackness of it, moving upwards, a startling bright orange.

I blinked and felt my throat tighten involuntarily.

Because it was moving to the red curtain that they had on the wall, and it licked at one of the flags, and then it went up, and then the one beside it was doing the same thing.

Because the fire was suddenly spreading. I looked up as it hit the beam on top of the ceiling, and it licked at the wood, and I knew then that there was no way fire could spread that fast.

Unless someone had splashed gasoline up there, unless it had soaked into the wood and had stayed there. It was moving in a straight line right across the beam.

And then I looked back at him, feeling my eyes widen.

He was smiling as someone began screaming harshly, and then he gave a confused look. He stopped singing and his band members were stumbling on the stage.