Candy Hearts, Vol. 2

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

TYSON

Everything happening to me right now is because I’m a forgetful dumbass. I jiggle the combination lock after inputting the numbers for what might be the twentieth time—no luck. I’m sopping wet, wearing a blue towel and not much else. If my fucking lock would open up, I’d be on my merry way.

Today was supposed to be another simple weekend off. I got a new five-dollar lock and packed all my swimming supplies in a black duffel last night. I went to the new fitness center and swam some laps, cardio accomplished. But now all my gear is trapped behind a metal box that I can’t pop open. So much for a relaxing day.

I turn around, thankful that no one else is in the men’s locker room to witness my embarrassment. I lean on a counter near a mirror and check myself out to pass the time. My swim has given my body a nice bulk, and thanks to my shower cap, my dark braids are perfectly dry. Now I just need to get my gear.

“Howdy there!” A voice catches my attention, and I turn to see a rotund man approach me. He’s wearing a gray t-shirt with the fitness center’s logo and khaki shorts. “You’re Tyson?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“You went to the front desk because your lock won’t open?”

“Yeah. Are you the man who can open locks?” I clasp my hands together in a pleading motion.

“I’m yer man. Rather, your monster.” He grins and points to the red-and-blue lock on the gray locker in question. “This it?”

“Yes.” My chest almost heaves in relief. Sure, he’ll destroy my five-dollar lock, but it’s literally a small price to pay for my liberation.

“Alright, stand back.” I do as he says and watch as his skin changes color. The hues on his face morph into gray and orange, and he grows taller. His clothes mesh with his body, and I fidget, then turn away.

I’m not prejudiced against monsters. Everyone knows about the Halloween Wave over two decades ago that morphed a chunk of the human population into shifters. I just haven’t had much close contact with them, but that was before I moved to California. This county is chock-full of paranormal creatures of all kinds, and I don’t know if it’s proper etiquette to stare as they shift from human form to monster form.

But my mama always told me to respect all kinds, especially those who are just trying to do their jobs. Plus, it would be pretty fucked up of me, a bisexual black man in America, to put down anyone for the color of their skin.

Today, that color is a combination of orange and gray, as the man before me is now a giant crab. He’s hunched on six legs and has two claw arms along with a pair of black eyes jutting out the front. “Never met a crab shifter before?” he asks in a gravelly tone.

“Uh…no…” I murmur, looking at the mirror.

He guffaws. “I’m just messin’ with ya. This town is chock full of monsters. We do it all the time around these parts. Here, let me help ya.” With a quick snip and snap, my lock is done for. The remnants of the metal device fall to the floor.

“Oh, thank you?—”

“What are you doing?!” A loud noise interrupts the two of us. When I turn to my left, a dude with brown hair and wearing a red towel approaches us. He’s taller than me, with toned abs, and he’s soaking wet. I don’t have time to appreciate his physical assets before I realize how shocked and mortified he is.

“Mr. Eugene, you broke my lock!” tall dude yelps.

“Now hold on there, partner,” crab guy says. He morphs back down to human form, and my pulse picks up. His lock? I feel like I’m getting caught in a web of drama. I just wanna get dressed and get out of here. “This young man here said it was his lock.”

“But it’s not!” The dude gets on his knees and picks up the metal. His expression of anger melts into sadness. It’s just a dumb lock…wait it’s my lock! Right?

“Um…I’m just gonna go…” I mutter.

“That’s my locker!” The dude looks up, and his brown eyes look like he’s going to break into tears. “This lock was given to me by my mom before she died.”

Woah . He’s messing with me, clearly he’s lost it. “Um, it’s mine, so…”

“No, it’s not,” he whines, standing up. He points to the now ajar locker, and I try not to get distracted by his firm build. While I have larger pecs, he’s flatter, with nice abs. I try not to get focus on his hairless physique while the three of us attempt to untangle the confusion. “I always lock up at locker 41.”

Locker 41…that doesn’t sound familiar.

“Well, we can work this out, Ardsley.” The gym worker lifts up his hands in a placating gesture. “We can prove whose locker this is by one of you telling me the contents. Now step aside.”

Me and this guy, Ardsley do as he says, and the gears in my brain work overtime. Gazing around, it’s entirely possible that this isn’t where I started my workout. I may have some water in my ear, or I worked out too much, but my memory is fuzzy since all these walls appear the same. My forgetful dumbassery may have occluded where exactly I left my bag this morning.

Before I can concede, Mr. Eugene reaches into the locker. “What do you got here, Ardsley?”

“A blue drawstring backpack,” he says with an almost-shy indignant tone. “With my black jeans…”

“And you sir?” Mr. Eugene turns to me and grins. “Your name?”

I clear my throat. “I’m Tyson…sir… and uh…I have like, my black gym duffel bag. My white tank top, some sneakers…”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tyson, but that’s incorrect.” Mr. Eugene rummages through the locker as shame burns my cheeks. Fuck, did I seriously cause all the drama for the wrong location? “There’s also a hat in here…”

“Yes, my gray beanie,” the tall dude, Ardsley, says. Hope lights up his eyes despite the broken metal in his hand. “That’s all mine!”

“Including this…” Mr. Eugene turns around and holds up a tiny length of yellow fabric. Is that a… “Bright neon…jock strap?”

My eyebrows jump and I turn to Ardsley, whose face has turned an adorable shade of pink. With sexy underwear like that, is it possible this handsome dude bats for my team? “It’s…what I’m most comfortable in…” He hurriedly snatches it from Mr. Eugene, who looks like he’s biting back a laugh.

I’m amused as well, but before I can apologize, I notice Ardsley’s skin go from pink to a deeper…purple? Tiny gills sprout from the side of his face, and it dawns on me that he’s shifting too. Crap, this hunk is a monster?

“Son, you uh…” Mr. Eugene points at his neck, and Ardsley feels his own. With a shocked look on his face, he pats down his skin, and in seconds, his fishy features are gone. After we all take a breath, the worker turns to me. “Now, Mr. Tyson, you had me claw out a perfectly good lock.”

“Yes, I am so sorry.” I turn to Ardsley. “Really, my bad, I just…” I scratch my eyebrow and shame fills my throat. “I’m…forgetful, and…new here…and I got lost.”

“Did you leave a lock here?” Mr. Eugene asks.

“Yes, I think…” I spin around, then walk away. Each of these freaking locker halls look the same, I swear. A few yards away, I arrive at locker 14. Lo and behold, it’s an identical red lock. After thirty seconds of fidgeting, the code works.

The good news is my clothes and stuff are all intact. The bad news is I had them break open someone else’s locker. And his lock apparently was some priceless heirloom identical to my five-dollar lock?

And he’s a monster. Great, I have a pissed-off paranormal shifter on my hands.

I grab my stuff and slowly make my way back to the pair of monsters. This dude, Ardsley, looks sad as hell, and I can tell Mr. Eugene is trying to console him. When I approach them, he says, “I’m sure it was a simple mistake, son…”

Ardsley looks down at the broken metal pieces in his hand, then back at me. He seems to move past the anger, and settles on resignation. “Yeah, I guess…”

“Tyson is new here,” Mr. Eugene adds.

“And I am…so sorry,” I reiterate. Even if it hadn’t been important, I’m the one who messed up his property. And now the three of us have gone rummaging around in his stuff. I spy a flash of yellow in his bundle of clothes, and my throat goes dry. Lust jolts to my groin, and I have images in my mind of him wearing the skimpy neon jockstrap. Trying to ignore my arousal is tough when we’re literally both half-naked.

“No harm done!” Mr. Eugene says with a smile.

“Tell that to my lock.” Ardsley sits down with a huff. He doesn’t look at me, opting for the whole disgruntled puppy— disgruntled fish? —routine.

“I’ll pay for it,” I say.

“No thanks,” he grumbles, hiking up his underwear under the towel.

After a beat, Mr. Eugene frowns then walks away. I know I should leave him be, throw him some cash, and get out of his life. But something about this cute, tall, white boy draws me to him. It’s like he doesn’t want anyone to look at him despite his height and perfect abs. He’s definitely handsome, and I did him wrong. I need to make things right.

Despite all logic, I sit down next to him and proceed to get dressed. I’m facing the opposite way, but we’re both on the bench, two feet of tension between us. I slowly bring my boxer briefs up, silently hoping he checks me out. From the corner of my eye, he seems to be taking his time toweling off his hair. If he’s into me, he has a weird way of showing it.

When we’re half-dressed, I can’t take the silence anymore. “I’m such a dumbass.”

“Hm?” he asks, barely glancing my way.

I wipe my face. “I’m so forgetful. And this place is so new, all the lockers look the same. And I feel awful. Like the worst dude on Earth.”

My self-deprecating act seems to work, because Ardsley turns to me with a softer face. “It’s…just a lock.”

“But you said it was your mama’s lock?”

“No, well, um…” He scratches his head and pulls his hoodie over his face. “It was given to me. By her. I kind of…latch onto all the things my mom ever bought for me.” He frowns, and I can tell he truly adores her memory.

“It’s embarrassing,” he remarks. “Being a twenty-five-year-old who still clings to trivial totems and possessions.” He waves the metal pieces then shoves them into his bag.

He’s opening up to me, so I need to capture this moment. “It’s not embarrassing. I exchange gifts with my mom every year on Christmas and I got a picture of her in my wallet.”

“Really?” For a fleeting moment, a half-smile shines on his face.

“No lie.” I beam at him, then stand up. We’re both fully dressed, but I don’t want to walk away from him. Maybe it’s because I’m the new guy in town, or perhaps because he’s hot, but I want to continue talking to Ardsley. “I’m Tyson, by the way.”

“Ardsley.”

“Well, Ardsley, I feel awful about how all this went down.”

“You’re…not awful.”

“Apparently, I am because I got your clothes and lock all fucked up.”

“So you got the wrong number locker. That doesn’t make you bad, that just makes you forgetful.” He plays with the straps on his backpack and smirks at me. His voice is a wholesome, deep tenor, an all-American boy―but also, a monster. I still want to ask him about his other form.

“Then let me prove I’m not bad. Let’s go to the hardware store and I’ll buy you a new lock.”

“Dude, you don’t have to. Besides, I have to run and eat lunch before work.”

He heads out the door and I follow. “Then I’ll buy you lunch.”

He snickers. “I have lunch at my job.”

“You work at this gym?”

“Nope.” When we step out into the warm California air, Ardsley pauses. He points at the facility next door along the coastal highway. He turns and grins at me. “I work at the Maritime Monsters Institute.”