6. Felix
SIX
FELIX
Getting Jack Hayworth out of my mind the rest of the night was like super power practice in superhero movies.
You know how the heroes with the mind powers have to really really concentrate on using their powers by clearing their minds, or calming their presence or some crap?
Well, that’s me from the minute I left the bar ‘til I got home and into bed. It’s just impossible. The guy was hilarious, intriguing and sexy as fuck. I’m probably obsessing over him because I need to get laid but I’m ignoring that elephant. I don’t need complications in my life here in Maplewood. I’ve had enough to last me a lifetime.
In order to help get him out of my mind I take my ear pods out of their case, open my audiobook app and pick up where I left off. Getting lost in wonderful fictional queer worlds where there are no problems, no homophobia, no sexism but all the drama, miscommunication, reservations, and whatnot.
Sometimes the only thing someone needs is to forget they’re so different, the whole world is against them, and just feel like their sexuality or gender expression or skin color is the least of their problems, if it even is one. I’ve wished way more than once to escape into those worlds for real. People seem happier there. Even if it sometimes feels like a soap opera. Sometimes it’s also a romcom and who wouldn’t love that kind of world where men own up to their mistakes, apologize and do everything to make their other half happy.
By the time I feel sleep claiming me I’ve already forgotten about the mysterious stranger I met tonight, a fantastic development. That lasts about…seven and a half hours, while I’m asleep. Because the minute I wake up I’m reminded of him again.
Not because I’m obsessed or in love. God, no. I might love escaping into fictional worlds but I know I’m not living in one. No. I’m reminded of him because the moment I wake, I check the Maplewood Matters blog where all the local news stories are posted and find him right there, on the top post.
“Speed-date with Mr. Trouble,” reads the headline.
I have it on good authority the troublesome Jack Hayworth, a self-proclaimed dating expert, was seen last night at The Striped Maple but if you think it’s because he’s had a change of heart and ready to meet the one, you’d be sorely mistaken…”
Apparently, Jack Hayworth has a reputation and it’s not the greatest, considering he does that every year. Something about him and love don’t click which makes sense with all the crap he was spouting last night. Although, I’ll admit some of it didn’t sound like crap at all.
I finish reading the article but even when I get up to wake the girls and start making their breakfast I’m still trying to figure out the point of the article. It’s not exactly mean-spirited but it isn’t breaking news either. If anything, it puts the poor guy in the spotlight for no apparent reason. Which only means one thing.
This is some next-level small-town gossip and any one of us can wind up in there for doing nothing so the last thing I need to do is rock the boat and get myself plastered all over Maplewood Matters .
Just one more reason why I can’t go around town sleeping with handsome strangers just for the fun of it, even if I want to. And I don’t. Or didn’t, until last night.
Maybe it’s the booze.
The girls start screaming and make me flinch, my head suddenly bursting with a throbbing pain at the temples.
Yep. Definitely the booze.
“Hey, hey, you two! What’s wrong?” I turn to them and they stop immediately, Boneless Bunny hanging between them with limbs hanging on by a thread.
“She started it!” Elsa points to her sister and Arya frowns.
“I did not. She’s trying to kill Boneless Bunny.”
The throbbing threatens to turn into a full-blown headache and I snatch the bunny from between them and set him up on top of the fridge.
“There. Happy? Now no one gets to play with Boneless Bunny.”
“Who said I want to play with him?” Elsa mutters.
I glare at her. “You, missy, need to be nicer to your sister or there’ll be consequences.”
Elsa folds her arms and huffs. “Like what? Not having to talk to her for a month? Sign me up.”
I gasp.
“Elsa Fanella Felix!” I wag my finger at her.
Relax.
Her middle name isn’t really Fanella. It’s just something I’ve learned to do to lighten up the scolding so they don’t grow up to hate me. I’m not sure if it’ll work but ah well, by the time they realize that I won’t care if they hate me anyway.
“Apologize to your sister. What happened to you two? You were thick as thieves yesterday.”
“That was yesterday,” Elsa huffs and picks up her juice when Arya pushes Elsa.
I bury my face in my hands and gather up all the courage to deal with this ridiculousness before I go back to regular programming. And what a surprise. We’re late again.
“You two better behave or I’m going to rehome you and adopt a cat, okay?” I tell them before I open the car door and let them loose on someone else for a few hours.
Before I return to the driver’s seat I lean against the car and catch my breath as well as steady myself.
How much did I drink last night? It couldn’t have been more than three glasses. No, definitely three glasses. One before Jack, one during Jack, one after Jack.
Great. Now I was counting my drinks based on him. That’s healthy, Felix. Well done.
Not that you could call it a drinking problem with three glasses. Though it could be if one didn’t drink that much and was not used to social drinking anymore. Yeah, I’m the one. Agh. I’m pathetic.
“Ahem,” someone clears their throat and I look up to find another drunk. The monitor, drunk on power, about to give me a lecture.
“I’m out of here,” I tell her and rush back to the car and back into town.
I must sit at the parking lot in front of the gym and stare at the sign for an hour trying to find the energy to get out and walk in. I should really go back home and sleep off this silly hangover but I’ve been finding excuses since the first of January.
“Stupid New Year, Felix with your stupid New Year resolutions,” I mutter and force myself inside.
It’s now or never. At least if I go in once I can say I did it and it wasn’t for me and walk out with my head held high. Of course my flabby arms and stomach wouldn’t, seeing as they’re flabby, but that’s a cross I’ll have to bear alone at home in bed.
After I deal with the person at reception they show me the way to the changing rooms and once I’m left all alone with all the other men in different states of undress around me I remember the other reason I hate gyms.
Changing rooms. The epicenter of comparison and envy, where I don’t know if I want to be them or be with them or simply not be there at all. I know no one is looking at me but I feel like all eyes are on me so instead of torturing myself I sneak away into one of the private changing rooms and get into my fitness attire in there.
And when I say fitness attire I mean a baggy, thready T-shirt that miraculously survived all my wardrobe purges since I started my transition and a pair of gray sweatpants that make my butt look absolutely divine.
I start with the treadmill and work my way around the room through all the machines that look like they don’t hurt too much and that I can figure out how to use and I’m not gonna lie. I’m getting into it.
So into it that I don’t even notice when a tall, sexy man approaches me from behind while I air-walk the heck out of the Air Walker. One minute I’m focused on counting, the next he shows up next to me and I almost jump out of my own skin.
“Hello there,” he says.
Jack Hayworth smiles at me.
His forehead is beaded with sweat, his hair all slick and the skin that’s showing looks sticky, and here I thought his composed troublemaker act was sexy yesterday.
Turns out I love me a sweaty, primal man because I can’t stop drooling. Erm…I mean staring. Oh, who am I kidding. If I wasn’t afraid of eternal embarrassment there’d be a puddle of my drool right at my feet.
“H-hi,” I say and I’m about to get off the machine when I decide it’s probably best if I keep on going and look at him through the mirror in front of me.
Less chance of saying or doing something stupid that way. Right?
“Fancy seeing you here,” he says.
“I look anything but fancy but thanks.”
“Not from where I’m standing,” he mutters and I narrow my eyes at him but he’s too busy staring at my butt instead of my eyes’ reflection.
“How is it possible I’ve never seen you here before?”
I shrug.
“Do you live here?”
“As a matter of fact I do.”
I roll my eyes but he doesn’t notice. He’s too busy staring at everything but my eyes. Like I’m a piece of meat. I like it!
“Was there something?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything further.
“I…I just wanted to introduce myself after last night.”
“You mean after your failed sabotage of the speed-dating event?”
“Ah!” He turns to look me in the eyes and my body lights up like a Christmas tree. Or something less cliché but equally visual. “I see you read the blog post.”
I bite my lip and nod. “Even if I wanted to avoid it, everyone’s talking about it,” I say, trying to shake him.
“They are?” He smirks, as if he’s proud.
Of course. He’s not only a gym rat, he’s a narcissistic bad boy. A recipe for disaster. And yet…my body doesn’t care if the goose bumps all over my arms and back of my neck are anything to go by. Or the throbbing in my groin that’s desperate for attention.
“Of course. Everyone loves a clown,” I say and he gasps dramatically before cracking another arrogant smile.
“Clown huh?”
I nod with a smirk and he purses his lips.
“Say, I’ve been watching you work out all morning and I’m curious. Do you need a workout buddy?”
I stop walking and turn to him.
“A workout buddy?”
What is he talking about?
He nods with narrowed eyes and a sneaky sideways smile makes its debut.
“Yeah, you know. Someone to get…sweaty with?”
I raise an eyebrow and get off the Air Walker.
“Are you asking me to be your fuck buddy? I thought love is bullshit and I should run away.”
“Well, love is bullshit and you should run away from it, but sex is wonderful. Want to do it with me?”
I can’t help but laugh. A, because it’s funny and very very forward and B, because if I don’t laugh I might do something stupid, like say yes.
“Wow. I really must be a clown if I’m making you laugh that hard.”
I stop and control myself before I answer. “Don’t flatter yourself, Jack.”
“All my friends call me Hayworth,” he points out.
“Like I said, don’t flatter yourself, Jack. You’re not that funny. And I don’t have time for those kinds of activities. I’ve got kids.”
“I didn’t know parents didn’t have sex.”
“It’s widely known. Have you not watched any movies or TV this century?”
“Nah. I’ve been too busy having sex,” he answers and damn it he’s making it really really tempting to say yes. I don’t know what that says about me if that kind of talk is making me horny and needy but, whatever.
“Great. Then you won’t miss me!” I say and tap his shoulder before I walk away from him.
I’ll probably regret that, but I’m here, in this town, for the girls. I can’t risk it by doing naughty things like sexy hunks as if I have no care in the world and no responsibilities.
I’m a dad first and foremost. And the only thing that matters right now and for the next twelve years until they’ve both become adults is my kids’ happiness.
Ergo, no fun for Felix. And that’s a promise.