CHAPTER 17 #2
Wylie blinked in surprise. It was actually pretty accurate. His plan as of late had been to waste away and become one with the dirt, but maybe he shouldn’t abandon all hope just yet. “Maybe I should revise my plan,” he said to Diego.
“Or we can make a plan together. Tell me what you’ve got going on, and let’s see if I can help.”
Wylie listed out all of his upcoming deadlines.
That paper that was due tonight was mostly written, but it was barely coherent, and Wylie knew that his torts professor would tear him a new one if he tried to turn it in, in its current state.
They decided to send it off to Nancy for editing because even if she didn’t know the material, she’d still know where it needed more evidence and how to organize the information.
The next thing Diego wanted to tackle was food.
Diego claimed to be starving, but Wylie suspected that, like the shower, this was more for his own benefit.
Diego inventoried his kitchen while Wylie worked on an analysis of a judicial opinion for his contracts class.
Amazingly, Diego was able to scrape together a meal of pasta with jarred sauce and toasted garlic bread with a side of cooked baby carrots, which had to be the best thing Wylie had eaten in weeks.
By the time they’d finished with dinner, Nancy had sent back his paper, red-lined with edits, and Wylie got to work revising.
Vaguely, he was aware of Diego moving around his apartment–loading the dishwasher, vacuuming the floor, and taking out the trash–as if it were another closing shift at the pit.
The main difference was that Wylie wasn’t helping him.
“You don’t have to do all that,” he said, feeling ashamed of his own incompetence.
“I want to,” Diego said with those thick eyebrows firmly set and a fierce resolve in his eyes as if daring him to stop him.
Nearing midnight, Wylie finally turned in his paper while Diego was refitting his bed with clean sheets, fresh from the dryer.
They smelled so good that Wylie felt like crying again, this time from gratitude.
He came up behind Diego and wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling his face into the back of his neck to savor the scent of him.
“This okay?” he asked, not wanting to infringe on whatever boundaries Diego may have set.
“More than okay,” Diego said.
He hadn’t kissed that spot at the nape of his neck in forever, but he did so now. Friends, lovers, whatever, Wylie didn’t care and he wasn’t going to question it. He just wanted to savor every single moment.
“Thank you for coming,” Wylie said again.
“I’m glad I’m here.”
He may have fallen asleep for a second while leaning against Diego because he startled to find the other man in front of him, propping him up. “Let’s get you to bed,” Diego said.
They undressed to their underwear and climbed into bed.
Without having to ask for a cuddle, Diego backed up toward him so that Wylie could hold him like the little spoon, skin-to-skin, warm and toasty with the smell of him so familiar and right.
Wylie wanted to talk more, to catch up properly, but he was so damn tired that he could barely keep his eyes open.
“Goodnight,” Wylie said, though what it sounded like was, I love you.
“Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well.”
The next morning, Wylie crammed for his test while Diego made him breakfast then lunch and inventoried his kitchen cabinets, only to determine it was severely lacking in spices.
In the afternoon, Diego dropped him off on campus while he went grocery shopping, then picked him up again once the test had concluded.
Wylie estimated he got a B minus, which was a hell of a lot better than a zero.
He wanted to take Diego out for dinner as a thank you, but Diego had already made a plan to cook for them, which was honestly more delicious than going out anyway.
Chicken and rice or arroz con pollo, as Diego insisted it was called, and the meal just reinforced the fact that Wylie needed to marry this man, pronto.
Afterward Wylie borrowed one of his neighbor’s bikes, and they went for a bicycle ride around town with Wylie pointing out the various bars and landmarks, including Ben Hill Griffen stadium where the Gators played football.
They turned in for an early night, both of them beat from running on empty for so long.
Then it was the weekend, and Wylie was caught up enough with his assignments that he could dedicate that time to Diego.
They hung out, ate delicious, home-cooked meals, and explored the city of Gainesville, doing some of the touristy things Wylie had wanted to do since he’d arrived there.
He’d just needed a companion, a friend. They were affectionate but not sexual.
Of course, Wylie wanted it—always—but he didn’t want to complicate things between them or risk Diego pulling away.
Throughout their time together, Diego caught him up on what had been going on in his life–his cousin coming out to him, him and his mom finding common ground, a bit about his therapy sessions with Dr. Bob, including some of the patterns Diego had recognized in his own behavior and was working through.
Wylie was proud of all the progress Diego had made and especially for opening up to his family.
When he told him that, Diego only smiled shyly and shrugged, always so modest.
What Wylie didn’t talk about were his feelings or make any attempts to define their relationship.
And when those thoughts began to creep in, he simply had to remind himself to be grateful for the fact that Diego was there with him, supporting him and loving him—as a friend.
He wasn’t going to ask for anything more.
On their last day together before Diego had to head back, the weather was bad, so they watched a movie indoors while cuddled up on the couch.
Diego’s head was in his lap and Wylie was absently stroking through his thick hair, trying not to glance down at him too often.
The plot of the movie was completely lost on him because he was too busy memorizing Diego’s face for later when he wouldn’t have him right there in front of him.
“I just want to thank you again for coming up here,” Wylie said to him once the movie had concluded.
Diego had dragged him out of his self-inflicted misery and set his house to rights, cooked him delicious food and even washed his bedsheets so that Wylie could focus on catching up on schoolwork. He wasn’t back to full health just yet, but he was getting there.
Diego grabbed his free hand and laid it across his chest. Wylie could feel the beat of his heart and the gentle rise and fall of his rib cage, could smell his skin and the hair product he used to style his hair. Wylie wouldn’t be washing his sheets anytime soon.
“So, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about,” Diego said, glancing up at him from where his head was still cradled in Wylie’s lap. His eyelashes looked even longer from this angle—thick and black and a little bit curled, framing those beautiful, brown eyes.
So pretty, Wylie thought absently.
“About us,” Diego said.
Wylie shook himself to attention. “Us?” he asked, shocked that Diego was the one to bring it up.
“You seem surprised,” Diego said, still eyeing him from where he lay.
“I am surprised,” Wylie said honestly. “I was just thinking about how I wasn’t going to bring it up.”
Diego sat up on the couch so that they were facing each other and searched his face. “Why’s that? Has something changed?”
“No,” Wylie said to reassure him. “I mean, my feelings for you haven’t changed. If anything, being away from you has only reinforced what a good thing we had.”