6. Isaac
6
ISAAC
The noise of the saw is close to deafening, yet it’s still not loud enough to drown out my thoughts. I'm covered in sawdust, dripping with sweat, and practically dead on my feet from exhaustion, but nothing is enough to stop my mind from running circles around every moment from the last couple days.
I need to get my head on straight. None of this work is going to do itself, and I've been distracted enough already. I’d hoped throwing myself into work would help get my mind right. Every swing of a hammer, every cut of the saw, is made with the intention of driving thoughts of Tyler out of my head. It’s not working. He's there, still at the forefront of all my thoughts since I dropped him off this morning.
Something doesn't feel right. Call it intuition, call it being a nosey bastard. I know none of this is my business, but I can't help obsessing over the guy with the shy smiles and a raw vulnerability that calls to my protective nature.
I sent him a text as soon as he got out of my car, so he'd have my number once his phone was charged. I'd hoped he would send me something back by now, but there's been nothing. I look down at the message I sent, like I have every ten minutes since getting home.
Me: Hey, it's Isaac. Now you have my number.
It's still unread. Though it's possible he has read receipts turned off. Maybe he doesn't want to hear from me. He's probably happy to be home, resting in his nice apartment that has comfortable furniture instead of boxes, tools, and sawdust everywhere. He’s probably scrubbing the filth from his skin and thanking his lucky stars that he can afford a better life.
Although, there's also the possibility that he doesn't feel comfortable reaching out. He seems to focus a lot on how much space he thinks he takes up, when he could take up a lot more. Should take up a lot more . Biting my lip and second guessing every word, I type out another text, delete it, then type it out again. I rewrite it so many times I don't remember what my original intentions were.
Me: How are you holding up?
Me: Hey. I'm here if you need me, okay? Day or night. Don't hesitate to call for anything you need.
I regret it the moment I send it, even more so when I see the message marked as read, and the little dots appear telling me he’s typing pop up, then disappear. After a long while, there’s still no response.
With a sigh, I get back to work. Now that the drywall is up and the joint compound is dry, I need to sand the walls to prepare the surface for painting. Thankfully,I don't have any close neighbors, so I turn my music way up to drown out the sound of power tools, hoping to shake off the lingering feeling that something isn't right. It's probably not intuition at all, it's probably my pathetic ass being lonely or some shit. I never had that problem before. I’ve also never invited anyone to share my space like that before. For a guy who’s never had a real relationship that lasted past a few hookups, I sure got used to having Tyler around a little too easily. Maybe Mom is right, and I should start putting myself out there more. Maybe once I get my shit together and it doesn't look like I'm living in squalor, I'll join a dating app or something.That’s what I tell myself, but I know I’ll never do it.
I get lost in a daydream about what my life might look like once the gym is done and the apartment upstairs is finished. Maybe then I’ll have the time and space for dating, but no matter how hard I try to picture anything else, Tyler is the only one I can imagine sitting across from me at a restaurant, or waking up next to. If I could get my shit together, and show him more than the gruff, dirty, broke ass loser he's seen so far—would he want to date me? I'll never be a buttoned-up preppy type like that guy he was on a date with, even if he wasn’t having a good time. Despite the circumstances, there were moments over the last day or so that we were definitely enjoying each other’s company. And a few times I even thought he might be looking at me with interest. Maybe he'd give me a chance. Would I take a pity date? Yeah, I'd probably take it if it's all I could get. I could pull out all the stops, and show him I'm more than my outside appearance. More than my upbringing, or my pay grade.
The phone ringing interrupts the music, and I set down the sander, wiping sweat on my forearm.
"Hello," I say into the phone, without looking at who's calling.
"Isaac?"I nearly drop the phone when I hear Tyler, instead of my mom or sister, like I assumed it'd be.
"Hey, Tyler. Everything okay?"
"Um… yeah. Sorry. I know you're busy."
"I'm not," I lie. "Are you? I mean… Do you need something? I meant what I said, Tyler. I'm here if you need me."I can hear the uncertainty in his silence, in the huff of air on the tail end of a sigh. "Tyler, what's up?"
"Can I, um… Can I come over?"
It’s all I can do to suppress my surge of happiness over hearing from him, and that he wants to come over. "Yes! Of course. Anytime." I'm smiling, hoping he took our conversation about being friends to heart. He needs more people in his corner. Even if he’s never interested in more, just being part of his life would be enough.
"Would now be okay?" His voice is barely audible, and I pause to process the words.
"Now?" I look around at the mess that's worse than it was when he was here this morning. "I mean, yeah, of course. Want me to come pick you up?"
"I'm sort of… already here."
"You're what?"
Running over to the front door, I pull up the shade and see him standing outside in the dark, looking pale and small. He's wearing colorful pajama pants with comic book print, unlaced sneakers, and my hoodie. There's a small duffel at his feet.
He looks around, as if checking that the coast is clear. "If this is a bad time…"
I snap out of my shock, realizing I'm staring at him through the window, still holding the phone to my ear.
"No no no, come in. Sorry. You just surprised me, that’s all," I say, still talking into the phone even once I've hurriedly unlocked the door and let him in. Then I shake my head at my brainlessness, chuckling as I hang up and put my phone in my pocket. He grins up at me, at least a little amused by my dumb ass. I’m tempted to gather him into a hug, pick him up and carry him inside and never let him go again.
My eyes trace over him from head to foot, sensing something is off. He looks the same, still bruised from the other night, but there's something in his posture that's setting off alarm bells. "What’s wrong?"
"I'm fine. It's stupid, but…" He looks down at his phone, which is buzzing loudly in his hand. He presses the power button on the side, still staring at the screen even after it turns black.
"Tyler."
"I don't want to be alone," he whispers.
His defeated tone breaks my heart a little, and I pull him into me on instinct. He melts into the hug, letting me know he needs the contact just as much as I do.A sense of peace settles over me, having him back here where I can see he's safe. But that same intuition that something's off pokes at the back of my senses.
"You can stay here as long as you need or want to."
"Are you sure? Because I might never leave. I'm like a stray cat that you fed one time, and now I'll be at your doorstep every time I get hungry."
I laugh out loud at that, and muss his hair. "I’ve always wanted a cat."
* * *
Well, this was a terrible idea.
"I'm not going to stay here if you're not going to sleep in your own bed," he said.
"And I'm not going to be able to sleep worrying you're uncomfortable," I said.
"This is fine," I thought. "What's the worst that could happen?" I told myself.
"I'm not really a cuddler," he said. "Me neither," I said.
Liars, both of us.
Mostly me.
He was fast asleep by the time I got out of the shower and pulled on some sleep shorts and a tank top last night. True to his word, he kept to the far side of the bed. It was me that crossed over the boundary of the pillow wall. At the first sign of a whimper in his sleep, I'd pulled him against me. He settled immediately, so I let him sleep there like that, his back against my chest.
That was bad enough. Now it’s worse. So much worse.
At some point in the night, we shifted, and now we're tangled together, legs intertwined. One of my hands is under his shirt, my palm flat against the warm, bare skin of his stomach. And of course, my morning wood is rock hard, pressing against the small of his back. When he shifts, stretching his spine and pushing his ass back into me, I have to choke back an entirely inappropriate groan.
Eyes still shut and mumbling, Tyler turns his body, wrapping his arms around my middle. His thigh is nestled between my legs, dangerously close to a dire situation. He hugs me close, nuzzling his face into my chest. Despite being afraid he'll wake up and be horrified, I can't help but chuckle. He's cute as shit, even if I'm extremely uncomfortable.
I lay there, completely transfixed, for a long time before he stirs again. His sleepy eyes blink slowly as they open, deep pools that look more blue than green in the dim morning light. I can't help but to fall into them, drowning, almost forgetting everything else. The air between us is heavy, and my eyes fall to his lips when he angles his face to look up at me fully. Before I can do anything stupid, like roll on top of him and kiss him breathless, he must remember where he is, and his body goes stiff with horror.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry."
My chest shakes with laughter. "Why are you sorry?"
"Uh, I basically forced you to share your bed with me, promised I'd give you your space, and then attached myself to you like a koala."
He wiggles to extricate himself, but I tighten my grip on his waist, not wanting him to shift the wrong way and notice my pre- dick -ament. His thigh brushes against me, and I hold my breath. A small gasp falls from his lips, and they form into an "O" of realization. Or maybe that's the horror I was expecting. With a pained expression, he tries to move again, but the sheets are tangled around our legs, practically tying us together. The more frantically he tries to escape, the worse it gets.
Despite my own discomfort, I can't help the way my unhinged laughter shakes the whole bed. My laughter is cut off by a choking sound when our attempts to get out of the sheets push Tyler nearly on top of me, and it becomes clear I'm not the only one with a situation this morning.
My eyes widen. "Shit, sorry."
"No, it's fine," he chokes, blushing furiously—which is not making the situation any better.
I practically lift him off me, kicking the sheet away to put space between us.
Sitting up to hide just how much worse my raging boner has gotten, I try to laugh it off to make things less awkward. "Good morning, I guess."
He groans loudly, his face buried in his hands. After a couple of slow, deep breaths, he reaches over the side of the bed and grabs my hoodie he’s claimed as his own. He yanks it on, pulling it down to cover his crotch and jumping up from the bed.
"I'm really sorry," he says in a high-pitched voice, then shuffles off, presumably to use the bathroom.
I fall back on the bed, looking up at the drop ceiling, categorizing whatever dust or watermarks I see. It helps me to settle myself, and by the time Tyler comes back from the bathroom, I'm standing in the kitchen, morning wood mostly deflated, picking through what's left of the pastries. I suggest we go to breakfast once we're dressed, and Tyler closes himself in the bedroom while I take a turn in the bathroom.
Wearing my usual beat-up jeans and the same tank top I slept in, I emerge from the bathroom to find Tyler wearing a pair of fitted blue pants cuffed at the ankle, a button-down white shirt, and a grey cardigan. I don't know how, but he dresses like an old, retired professor and manages to pull it off really well. He notices me checking out his outfit and gives me a questioning look.
"You look nice," I tell him. "I feel like I should make more of an effort."
His eyes roam up my body, from my jeans to my exposed arms. "You're fine," he squeaks, and I hide my grin by pulling a hoodie over my head. Maybe, just maybe, he's not completely unaffected by me after all?
I pass him his coat and pull my leather jacket on, then open the door and gesture for him to go ahead. Once I've locked up, I start to walk next to him, tempted to hold his hand. Considering he can barely look at me after this morning, I hold back. If I don't want him to run for the hills, I should probably slow my roll a little. The hand holding should have come before the boner, at least.That warrants a few steps back, I think.
When The Nook is within view, Tyler begins to look worried, and I take the chance. Threading my fingers through his, I tug him towards the door. "Hey, it's okay," I assure him, although I'm unsure what exactly he’s worrying about. Is he uncomfortable because of their playful teasing when we were here to pick up his jacket and phone? Or because they know what happened? Or is it whatever he had to discuss with Anders in private?
Before I can give him a chance to back out and go somewhere else, he opens the door and we're greeted like old friends, just like always. Anders, beyond thrilled to see us together again, gestures to a table and calls for Mac to start something special for us to snack on while we look at menus.
Brenna, rolling her eyes at her dad's antics, brings Tyler his usual iced chai, and a coffee with exactly the right amount of cream and one sugar, just the way I like it. "Look, if he starts setting up candles or changes the music, please know I had nothing to do with it."
Tyler laughs, but looks confused. "What is she talking about?"
"Like you don't know," I say sarcastically, but then notice his bewildered expression. I narrow my eyes.
"What?"
"I'm trying to figure out if you're just adorably oblivious, or if they truly haven't harassed you anywhere near as much as they have me.”
"I mean, I feel like something is happening here that I definitely don't understand. Do they think we're together, or something?" He snorts, as though it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard, and I cover my own disappointment with a joke.
"Yeah, or something. Let them down easy though, okay? I'm pretty sure they already started making plans to cater our wedding."
He laughs, his face turning beet red."Why though?"
I shrug, amused despite myself. "They've been trying to push me to ask you out since the day I nearly mowed you over."
"That's hilarious."
"Is it?"
"Well… yeah. Don't they know…"
He trails off, eyes darting around the room, then back at me. I lift an eyebrow, and both of his shoot up to meet his hairline. He shakes his head like he's trying to rid himself of a thought, then reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small leather case. He pulls a pair of wire-framed glasses from the case, putting them on before focusing on the menu.
I gape.
"You wear glasses?"
"Um, yeah. Normally I wear contacts, but it's too hard to get them in right now." He flushes again, uncomfortable at the mention of his injuries. "I can still see well enough to walk around and stuff, but to read or drive, I really need them."
His nose scrunches adorably, and I can't think of anything to say to fill the silence. "I like them."
"What?"
"The glasses, I like them." Understatement. I'm now in danger of sprouting a bigger boner than I was this morning. "They suit you."
He rolls his eyes, the blue-green orbs even more vibrant behind the wire frames. "Yeah, yeah. Because I'm a giant nerd. Very funny."
"I'm not making fun of you," I say, cocking my head to observe his discomfort. "Although, I have to admit, I kind of dig the whole sexy professor vibe you've got going."
He drops his menu and stares at me. Then excuses himself to go to the restroom.
Anders comes by with a plate of mini quiches. "Tell Tyler these are goat cheese. If he can't eat that, I have something else." He looks to where the person in question just disappeared to. "Is he okay?"
"I'm not sure. He's acting weirder than usual," I say, quirking my lips. "I'm probably not helping by teasing him." I don't want to make him uncomfortable, but I admit I get a little kick out of seeing him flustered.
"If it's none of my business…"
"Like that's stopped you before?"
"Oh, hush. It's all in good fun. But I'm worried about that boy."
"He'll be okay. He's uncomfortable with people seeing him like that,” I say, vaguely gesturing to my face. "And I suppose being mugged would make anyone jumpy for a while."
"Mugged?"
"He didn't tell you what happened?"
"I didn't ask. Figured he'd say something if he wanted me to know."
"Oh, so you do know how to mind your business?" I say, loudly enough so Tyler can hear me as he makes his way back to the table.
"Bah!" Anders brushes me off, tells Tyler about the goat cheese, and takes our orders.
The silence is awkward and tense. We both open our mouths to speak at the same time.
"Tyler, I'm sorry if–"
"Can I ask you a question without you getting offended?"
"Pretty sure, yeah."
He stares at the table and takes a deep breath before meeting my eye. "I should know better than to assume, and that stereotypes are harmful, but… well… you realize I'm gay, right?"
I snort a laugh. "Uh, yeah."
Tyler purses his lips. "And you are…"
"Also gay…" I answer slowly. "Did you think I wasn't?"
He shrugs, and I gape at him in surprise.I'm not sure how he hasn't caught on to any of my attempts at flirting with him. I mean, I've been trying to catch his eye since the first day we ran into each other. I just thought he wasn't interested. Did all of that really just go over his head?
"I've been trying to flirt with you for weeks," I tell him.
"You have not!"
"Uh, yeah, I have. Why do you think Mac and Anders and Brenna are so invested?"
"You let them think you're interested in me?" he squeaks..
My eyebrow quirks, and I give him a very pointed look. "Yes, Tyler. Because they could tell that I was. Am. But there's no pressure. If you're not interested, it’s okay."
" You are interested in me ?"
"Why is that so hard to believe?" I don’t want to jump to conclusions, because Tyler doesn't seem to be the type to throw class in my face or make light of the obvious fact that I'm not good enough for someone like him.It’s more likely that he’s having his own issues with self-confidence, which I am very ready to squash.
"Because I'm me ," he says, gesturing to himself. "And you're…." he blows out a breath, and I see it. It's something that I've thought I've caught here and there, but thought it was wishful thinking because he completely ignored all my attempts at testing the waters...
Attraction.
Maybe.
Hopefully?
I lean forward, hoping I don't go overboard. I’ve always been a very forward person. Much like my fighting persona, I’m all in, because what is there to lose? After what he's been through, I know he's self-conscious. And since everything else has gone over his head, he might need me to be blunt, but also gentle. Calm. Slow.
"What part of what happened this morning made you think I wasn't attracted to you?" There was nothing subtle about that.
"I just thought it was a normal stimulus response, and it was, you know, morning. I felt awful because I assumed you'd be very uncomfortable about the gay guy in your bed with an erection," he whispers, looking around to make sure no one is listening. "Especially because it was the second time I’ve done that to you."
The blush creeps back up his neck, and I want to show him just how much of a stimulus response he gives me, but I refrain. Gentle. Calm. Slow.
"Because you assumed I was straight."
"Well, yeah. You give off very… I don't know… macho vibes. Like I said, I shouldn't stereotype, but I assumed."
He keeps his eyes down when our plates get dropped off. As soon as Anders walks away again, I get his attention.
"Tyler?"
He looks up shyly. "Yeah?"
"For clarity, I’m very much gay. And very, very much interested."