CHAPTER 16 #2
He wondered if Wylie might be thinking about him too, missing him even.
He’d seemed pretty low when they’d spoken on the phone last week, but that was probably just homesickness.
He’d settle in soon enough and make new friends.
And if Wylie needed to scratch the itch, there was no shortage of men in Gainesville.
There were apps for that sort of thing now.
The thought of Wylie hooking up with someone, some strange man, made his stomach turn.
Doing those things with someone else? Tormenting and pleasuring them the way he’d done for Diego?
Made him sick to his stomach just thinking about it.
“Just so you know, I’m not opposed to having another lawyer in the family,” his mother said.
She was full of surprises tonight. Was this her way of accepting that he was gay and that Wylie was important to him? He felt a rush of warmth and affection toward his mother, hopeful for once. Maybe they could work it out after all.
He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Diego kept his phone close to him that night, hoping Wylie might call again, but the later it got, the more disappointed he felt, kicking himself because if he were a real man, he’d just make the call himself.
He was caught in his own trap. He’d set the boundary as just friends, and now he had to honor it, despite how his heart might feel.
Maybe this was a sign that Wylie had moved on.
That was what Diego had wanted, wasn’t it?
It was definitely what he’d said. But if he was honest with himself, and he was trying really hard to be, that was a lie.
Diego wanted Wylie for himself, to continue what they had started this summer.
To have more adventures together and take care of each other.
Feed him and fuck him and cuddle him in bed afterward.
To enjoy the simple pleasure of a quiet conversation on a rooftop under the stars.
By the time the next Tuesday rolled around, and he still hadn’t heard from the man, Diego decided to stop overthinking it and just make the call himself. He was a friend checking on another friend. It didn’t have to signify anything more than that.
“Diego?” Wylie asked after he’d picked up the call. He sounded like he’d been sleeping or maybe just distracted. It reminded Diego of how far apart they were, physically and emotionally, and that pit in his stomach grew a little larger.
“Hey, boss,” Diego said warmly, feeling better just hearing Wylie’s voice. “Haven’t heard from you lately. Just thought I’d check in and see what’s going on up there in Gainesville.”
“Not much,” Wylie answered without any inflection whatsoever, strange because even if frustrated or upset, Wylie always put passion behind his words.
“Well, how’s school been?” Diego asked.
“Fine. It’s…school.” Wylie gave him nothing more than that. Last time they talked he’d gone into great detail about his professor being unnecessarily mean to him and the smell in his apartment, a mix between cooked cabbage and rotten eggs.
“How’s that professor of yours treating you?” Diego prompted.
“Shitty,” Wylie said. Diego didn’t like that at all. Didn’t like that he was being mistreated or that they had to do this through the phone. He hated that Wylie was too far away to give him a hug or fix him a sandwich.
“Are you making any friends?” Diego asked.
“No. I’m trying, but I don’t really fit in here.” Wylie let out a long frustrated sigh, sounded so forlorn. So… defeated. That wasn’t like him at all. Wylie was a fighter, first and foremost.
“Give it a little more time,” Diego said, trying to be encouraging.
“Yeah, guess so,” Wylie said without much hope. “How’s the pit?”
Diego gave him the latest updates, including the fact that Frank had finally broken down and bought a new air conditioner for the restaurant.
The staff had celebrated the occasion with a birthday cake and balloons and an impromptu dance party.
Wylie made all of the necessary grunts and murmurs that said he was listening, but his heart didn’t seem in it.
“Is this a bad time?” Diego asked.
“No, I always want to hear from you.”
“Is there anything you want to tell me?” he asked and braced himself for the worst. Wylie seldom held back from saying exactly what was on his mind, but it seemed he was now.
“No. Nothing I haven’t said before.”
The hopelessness in Wylie’s tone was devastating, and Diego didn’t quite know how to combat it.
Wylie had always been the optimistic one, the one who believed everything would work out for the best. Anything Diego might say to try and cheer him up would probably sound forced or insincere.
Was this just homesickness or something else entirely? “Wylie, are you okay?”
“I don’t know. I’m just…” He paused there and Diego held his breath, waiting for whatever might come next. “I have a lot on my plate right now.”
Diego didn’t want to end the call, but he also didn’t want to take away from Wylie’s precious study time, especially if that’s what he needed. He didn’t want to be a distraction.
“Do you need to get back to it then?” Diego asked.
“I guess so. Thanks for calling. It’s…it’s good to hear your voice.”
“Yours too. I…” He stopped there, not knowing if he should continue. Maybe it’d be better if he stopped calling, if he truly let go so that Wylie could move on.
“You what?” Wylie asked.
Diego took a deep breath, summoning his courage. “I think about you…and us…a lot.”
He could feel Wylie, across the hundred or so miles, taking in that information, turning it over in his mind, deciding what to do with it.
“Me too. I didn’t think it would be this hard,” Wylie said.
“Yeah, same.” How could Diego express to him that he had regrets without making any promises or sending mixed signals? He still had some things to work through, and he didn’t want to make Wylie responsible for healing his own trauma.
“We’ll figure it out, though, won’t we?” Wylie asked after that long, awkward pause.
“I hope so,” Diego said, grasping for a glimmer of hope. “The door is open, right?”
“For you, always.”
Diego texted his cousin Arturito, as he’d promised his mother he would, and they agreed to meet up for lunch that same day, since Diego didn’t have to be at the pit until evening.
Diego splurged and paid for a ride to the automotive shop on Starkey where his cousin worked, thinking he should probably start looking for a car soon and that maybe Arturito would know of someone selling something cheap.
Arriving at Wilson’s Automotive, he was temporarily relieved of the blistering midday heat by a blast of cold AC. The guy behind the counter glanced up at the jingling bell. About Wylie’s age, he sized Diego up from head to toe and said, snippy-like, “Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Arturito—I mean, Arturo,” Diego replied.
“Is this for professional or personal reasons?”
Such a weird question. Was this guy, like, the owner or something? “Um, is that any of your business?”
“Yes, it happens to be my business because these are work hours.”
“Okay, but don’t workers get a lunch break?” Who did this guy think he was, anyway?
“Personal then.” His eyes narrowed peevishly and he rose from the squeaky desk chair. He walked over to the back door, taking his sweet-ass time about it, and yelled into the shop area, “Arturo,” while managing to sound like he was pissed off at him.
“Are you his boss or something?” Diego asked, disbelieving the guy’s attitude.
“Something,” he said, then sat back down with a flounce and started typing furiously on the keyboard.
Arturito slunk through the back door a few minutes later and smiled broadly at Diego, then gave the kid at the computer a tiny up-nod. “Chill, Elliot, this is my cousin, Diego.”
“I don’t care who he is,” Elliot said like he was incensed.
“You want me to bring you back something from Jenny’s?”
“No,” Elliot said tersely. “And let me remind you, your lunch break is precisely one-hour long.”
“A’ight then. Don’t miss me too much.” Arturito winked at Elliot, who only glared back at him with a thunderous expression. No love lost there. Diego opened the glass door for them both to exit and they strolled back out into the oppressive Florida heat.
“Are we walking?” Diego asked because he didn’t want to end up a sweaty mess.
“It’s right over there.” Arturito pointed to the diner that sat catty-corner across the street.
“Elliot’s wound a bit tight, huh?” Diego asked.
“Most def,” Arturito said with a sly smile, as if that were a good thing.
“He doesn’t seem to like you too much.” Not according to Diego’s observation.
“Yeah, we went to high school together. Middle school too. Apparently, I was a dickhead to him, so he makes my life hell now. He’s the boss’s son, so I gotta play nice.”
That seemed like an impossible situation. “Were you a dickhead to him?”
Arturito shrugged innocently. “I mean, no more than anyone else.”
“Well, good luck with that.”
Arturito nodded like he was completely unbothered by it. “Not gonna lie, I kind of like his bitchy attitude.”
From what Diego knew of his cousin, he did like to stir shit up, and Elliot seemed like the type to take the bait.
After ordering their food, they chatted a little about sports, always a safe topic.
Their family was extremely invested in a young phenom quarterback who was about to start his rookie season in the NFL.
The kid came from a nice Cuban family in Miami and was a first-draft pick.
Yet another example of Cuban-American excellence and a shining example of what they could all accomplish if they simply put their mind to it.
They commiserated about the impossible expectations set by their family and then, once their food arrived, Diego dug into it.
“How’s living on your own going?”
“Mid, if I’m being honest. Miss my mom’s cooking, and Carolina isn’t around to bug me. Kinda miss that too.”
“Why’d you move out then?” As far as he knew, it was Arturito’s choice.