Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Randall
I stacked the wood and quickly got the fire started before running up to my room.
I rummaged frantically for an old pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt that David had insisted I purchase so that we could jog together in coordinating outfits.
I preferred my treadmill to jogging outside but had made the effort for a week or so before David let me know that my pace was too slow for him, and he was going to go back to jogging by himself. We were both happier that way.
Why hadn’t I realized sooner that “happier” didn’t mean happy?
“Water under the bridge now, Randall. All in the past,” I said aloud. “Martin was in your past too.” I scoffed. “Or so you thought.”
My bedroom was one of the two separate landings that comprised the second floor of the cabin. I had turned the other landing into my office, but I had a futon couch there. At least my first houseguest would have a place to sleep.
Linens were stored in the laundry room, and I almost went out to the car to grab that laundry bag of his but understood that would be too much of an invasion of privacy.
Instead, I pulled out a few fluffy towels, a set of sheets, and a blanket and marched over to the bathroom.
It was right before I tapped on the door that I thought about the fact that the shower door was made of glass, and that Austin would be exposed under the water I could hear running.
I tried not to think of the handsome young man, naked in my space, focusing instead on how he was Martin’s son.
Martin, my best friend from college and, truth be told, my first crush.
But Martin had been interminably straight and had fallen for Stephanie almost as soon as I’d introduced them.
I had been truly thrilled for my friends, but when the opportunity to move away—so far away that there’d be an ocean between us—presented itself, I happily took it. Happily, not happy.
And when a charming, handsome, larger-than-life British man swept me off my feet, I settled into my life in London, secure in my job, in my fancy home, and, I thought, in my future.
“Well, at least you’re not thinking about the naked man in your shower anymore. Fuck.” I was talking out loud again. I made a note to myself that I had company and really shouldn’t be verbalizing my thoughts. I really had spent a lot of time alone in my cabin in the woods.
I tapped on the door and yelled to be heard over the shower. “Hello, hello. Not looking, just dropping off towels and sweats.” I dropped them on the counter quickly, my head facing out the door, and shouted as I closed it, “Take your time!”
“Thanks, man.”
I took the sheets upstairs next and made up the futon for him.
I was back in the kitchen and rooting around in the refrigerator when my phone rang.
“Randall Glenn.” I couldn’t help it; much as I could see Martin’s name on my caller ID, it was comforting to me to answer the phone consistently. I never knew what to expect on the other end of the line, but I knew how to comport myself when I answered.
It made Martin chuckle. “Martin Lessand,” he returned. “Home safe and sound, then? Steph said Austin texted her. Are you guys going to be okay up there in the mountains?”
“Local reports are saying it may be a few days, but I don’t want you, or Steph, to worry. We stopped for groceries, and I have a generator and a fireplace. We’re settled in until it’s safe to head your way.”
“You’re a good friend for doing this, Randy.”
No one called me Randy anymore. My mother had, years ago—and so had Martin and Stephanie—but the nickname had died during my time in London.
Martin was continuing to thank me for being such a good friend when his son walked out of the bathroom, shirtless and wearing my sweatpants, his hair wet and slicked back, a wad of clothes and towels under one arm, and I thought to myself that Martin and Steph might not consider me much of a friend anymore if they knew what the sight of their son was doing to me.
“I …” Austin had begun before seeing me on the phone.
He put a finger to his lips to shush himself and walked right past me toward the laundry room.
As he got close, he performed another little spin to look at the fire.
He’d done a few of them when we’d first arrived, looking adorable and comfortable as he took in my cabin.
“Wow,” he mouthed before pointing to the laundry room door and heading that way.
“We’re just getting settled, Marty,” I said a little louder than was likely necessary. “Then we’re going to start dinner. We’ll be fine, and we’ll stay in touch. … Good night to you, old friend.”
It had been a long time since I thought of Martin as anything but a silly crush, a fantasy perpetrated by a lonely college student who’d projected feelings on the first guy who was nice to him. David had been nice to me at first too, and I had been too quick to call it love.
I scurried to the laundry room to find Austin, now clad in a tight black T-shirt, dumping clothes directly from his bag into the washer.
My eyes wandered to Austin’s backside, clad in heather-gray sweats that hugged a high, tight ass.
The black shirt fell about halfway down his backside, clinging to him from his ass to his shoulders.
Austin noticed me as he reached to the shelf above to grab a laundry pod. If the smirk on his face was to be believed, he may have caught me staring. I could feel the back of my neck flush at the thought.
He diplomatically ignored our little exchange as he turned and tossed the pod in the machine. There was a small, atrocious-looking maroon-and-white Christmas tree decoration set atop the dryer.
“I did bring a few clean clothes, including an undershirt”—he tugged on the tight material—“but I figure I should get this over with before we lose power. I think I’ve got this machine figured out, but if it starts to talk back to me, you’re going to have to deal with it.
Okay, Artoo, here goes nothing,” he joked, gently closing the lid and tapping it like it was a beloved pet—or a beloved droid, for that matter.
Next he pressed a few buttons until the machine started to fill.
Then he turned. “Thank you again for …” I was staring at the holiday decoration that had manifested on my dryer. He followed my eyes.
“Horrible, isn’t it? It was on sale in the campus bookstore, and I thought it would be a funny little gift for my parents. I pictured it on the coffee table in our family room, where it would totally be in the way. My parents really love HU, though, so who knows, they may love it! But …”
He pulled the label off it. “It can be our Christmas tree for the time being.”
“Okay?” I hadn’t meant it to sound like a question. At least he wasn’t focused on how I’d been ogling him in that tight shirt. I changed the subject, nonetheless.
“I just got off the phone with your dad and let him know we’re safe and settled.”
“Really, Randall, I can’t thank you enough.” Strange, how I loved the way he said my name. Another thing I would need to ignore over the next few days.
“Between you and your dad, you have both already thanked me about a hundred times. No more. Me casa es su casa, okay?”
“Gracias.” He nodded with a smirk that zigged through me, lighting me up even more than hearing him say my name.
Though perhaps both ranked just below my first glance of him shirtless.
We exited the laundry room, Austin hugging the little Christmas tree to his chest before placing it on the kitchen counter. We shared a smile and I shook my head.
“Lovely.”
“Merry Christmas!”
I laughed before encouraging Austin to relax.
“The washer will buzz my phone when it’s done, so you can go relax by the fire if you’d like, and I’ll start dinner.
Feel free to turn on the TV, or there are books both down here and upstairs, on your side.
” I pointed to the loft. “I’ve made the bed up.
Well, it’s one of those futons, not quite a bed, but it’s all yours, that side. ”
He looked up at the loft, then over toward the fireplace. “There’s a TV?”
“Oh,” I said, embarrassed. I fished out the remote control from its drawer in the end table and pushed the button that triggered the wood panel to retract, exposing the TV and then handing the remote to Austin.
I hardly ever watched TV; it had come with the house, but occasionally in the morning I would put the news on, and that’s what popped up when he turned on the set.
I moved to the kitchen and watched as Austin scrolled through the guide until he found what he wanted. A festive image adorned the screen as bells jingled and music played.
He left the remote on the end table. Polite host that I was, I didn't run over to put it back in its spot in the drawer.
When I emerged from bending down to find a frying pan, Austin was right there.
“I’ll help.” He smiled a relaxed and happy smile.