Chapter 15 #2
“Good! He only had one thing to do for homework, so we did that, and then watched some videos and ate dinner.” I pause, face heating as I realize we ate all the dinner. Nothing left for Desmond when he gets home. “Uhm, Sue brought over a casserole, and we ate that. No leftovers, though. Sorry.”
He laughs, and the sound echoes enough to make me think he’s in a bathroom.
“No drama. I’ll grab a snack and eat on the bus.”
“We also played some Uno,” I add, just so he knows we haven’t been rotting in front of the television all evening.
“That’s great, Jacko. Thanks for doing this for me.”
I smile, blushing, and clear my throat as I walk toward Parker’s bedroom. He left the door open, so I tap my fingers against it and call out to let him know I’m there.
“Hey, Parker. I’ve got Desmond on the phone for you.”
He pokes his head out of the bathroom, brown hair frizzy as though he’s just brushed it. He’s wearing boxer shorts and his baggy T-shirt, collar stretched and graphic long-faded. There is a spot of toothpaste at the corner of his mouth. He has, in the time that I’ve known him, never looked younger.
“Des?” he asks, pressing the phone to his ear after I pass it off. He ducks his head and angles his body away from me, so I step out into the hallway, trying to at least give him the semblance of privacy. His voice filters out through the open doorway.
“Yeah…Miss Sue brought us dinner…uh-huh. I didn’t need any help, so Jack sat and folded up his laundry.
” He laughs, suddenly and loudly; I smile, wondering if the response to that was a joke about Parker’s hatred of folding his own laundry.
“We played Uno for a bit…right…uhm, okay, but you’ll, like, wake me up when you get home?
Jack said you would…okay…I’ll try, but I’m not very tired, so… ”
He pauses, longer than the others, listening to whatever Desmond is telling him on the other end of the line. I hear the bed creak softly, as though he’s sat down on it.
“Okay, I will. Do you want to talk to Jack again?”
Straightening up from where I’d been leaning against the wall, I step into the doorway.
Parker, phone still pressed to his ear, lifts his eyes to mine and smiles.
I wait, wondering if Desmond has any further instructions for me, but Parker hangs up before holding the phone out to me.
He bites his lip, expression sheepish, as though feeling a little embarrassed about needing his uncle.
“Des said he’ll text you,” he tells me.
“Cool, thanks.” I sit next to him on the bed, the mattress creaking ominously under my heavier body. Parker slides toward me, hip coming up against mine.
“Are you going to sleep, too?” he asks. I want to sleep, but the thought of trying to fold my giant self up onto the couch isn’t appealing. I shake my head.
“No, I’ll probably read and wait for Desmond.”
Parker frowns, looking at me in confusion. “You’re tired, though. You should just go to bed.”
He points down the hall in the direction of Desmond’s bedroom.
Immediately, I picture the bed in that room and my whole body heats in a blush.
The pillow would smell like him—subtle and clean, the way he always smells like a sheet pulled from the washer and hung outside to dry.
If I fell asleep in that bed, what would happen when Desmond got home?
Would he curl up on the couch? Wake me up and ask me to vacate?
Or would he slide in on the other side, body weighing down the mattress and breaths even with mine?
Stop it, I tell myself firmly, face hot and hands clammy. Stop thinking about that.
“Uhm, yeah, no, I don’t think Desmond would want me to do that,” I reply, chuckling awkwardly.
The thought of a man as handsome, put-together, and smart as Desmond wanting someone like me is laughable.
He’d probably be offended I took the liberty of inviting myself into his bed; make me leave and never talk to me again.
The thought makes me feel vaguely ill—sick with the worry of losing someone that I’ve grown pretty attached to.
Nate, Desmond, and Parker are the only people I have, and I can’t lose any of them.
“You guys are so weird ,” Parker grumbles, looking somewhat annoyed as he stands up and goes to pull back the sheets on his bed. I stand as well, watching as he crawls in, still with a frown on his face.
I retreat to the doorway, hand hovering near the light switch. He squirms around, fidgeting with the pillows and tugging the blankets. Eventually, he flops down facing the doorway, knees bent and arm hugging a pillow.
“Night,” I tell him, flicking off the switch and grabbing the door handle to pull it closed.
“You’ll be here in the morning, right?” he asks, voice soft in the dark of the room.
I nod, knowing he can still see me, backlit from the hallway light.
Desmond had said I should stay here tonight, as it would be a little late to walk back to campus.
I’d floated the idea of an Uber, but he’d shaken his head and said it was unnecessary.
“I’ll be here,” I confirm, smiling. I’ll be exhausted after spending the night reading on the couch, but that’s not what’s important. I hear him sigh in relief.
“Okay. Night.”
Closing the door gently behind me, I head back to the living room, turning off lights as I go and ignoring the siren’s call of Desmond’s bed.
It was a call I hadn’t been hearing until Parker brought it up, but now I have a feeling it’ll be hard for me to think of anything else.
I desperately want to shove my face in his pillow and inhale.
Add my own scent on top, so that even after I go home tomorrow, he’ll have a reminder that I was there.
Sometimes, it’s a curse, not a blessing, to have a good imagination.
Grabbing my book, I sit down on the couch.
The room is lit by the warm light of a single lamp, sitting on a side table next to my armrest. This won’t be the first night I’ve spent awake, hungrily devouring the book I’m reading long past the time I should have gone to bed.
And at least I’m not alone, this time, with Parker in his room and Desmond arriving shortly.
I relax back into the couch, stretching my legs out in front of me and looking around the room.
The apartment isn’t anything special—plain white walls, floors meant to look like hardwood but are probably laminate, and appliances that haven’t been updated in this decade.
There are shoes left in a haphazard pile next to the front door, smudges on the windows and glass entertainment center; a sloppy stack of paper pushed to the side of the dining room table, and a junk drawer that is jammed closed with the amount of random detritus in there .
It’s not perfect, but even someone like me can recognize a home when they see one; can feel the safety and love that live here, along with the chaos.
Walking through the door is like a magical balm for the soul—I feel more relaxed, less anxious.
I feel like I’m wanted. Not even my brain has managed to convince me that Desmond doesn’t actually want me here, and that he’s just being nice.
I know —the same way I know I’m a redhead with crippling anxiety—that he likes me; likes spending time with me.
My phone chimes with a text message, drawing me out of my thoughts and reminding me that I need to put it on vibrate, just in case the noise disrupts Parker.
Desmond
You okay, Jack?
Jack
Yeah! Sorry again, I know you’re busy with the team.
Parker was just really sad. I felt bad. He missed you.
Desmond
He was fine when Anthony had him one night, but it wasn’t as late as this. I didn’t think he’d care that I was gone, to be honest.
Jack
He also asked me to pull up the livestream so he could check on you.
Desmond
Wow. Well, that’s nice to hear.
Does make me feel a bit shit, though.
Jack
Yeah. Sorry.
Desmond
Thanks again for babysitting.
Jack
It’s been fun! I love being here.
I groan softly the moment I click the little arrow and send the message.
Is it really too much to ask that I have one single human interaction where I don’t humiliate myself?
Sighing, I start typing a message that might undo the creepiness of the previous one.
He’s going to regret leaving me in charge of his kid, I just know it.
Desmond
Good, because we love it when you’re there.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I stop typing.
He means it the same way Nate means it when he says he loves hanging out with me.
He means it in the amorphous, all-encompassing way people talk about “loving” things.
I know this. But I also know that if I had my way, he’d love me for real.
There is nothing or nobody in the world quite as pathetic as me, I realize sadly, looking down at that message and rereading it a couple times.
Desmond
We’re on the bus, heading back. Probably still a couple hours, though. Stopping at Macca’s to grease up everyone’s stomachs.
Jack
Very nutritional.
Desmond
Nico is making a case for ordering salads. Not sure this is a rule he’ll be able to enforce, but I suppose stranger things have happened.
Jack
Nate is going to order four hamburgers AND chicken nuggets.
No chance of lettuce.
Desmond
To be fair, I have no intention of eating lettuce, either.
Jesus, will he really order that though? That doesn’t sound like a sound digestive decision.
I laugh out loud, before remembering I’m not alone and that I need to be quiet. I glance up at the dark hallway, listening. No noise from Parker’s room, so, grinning, I get back to my conversation with Desmond.
Jack
His stomach is lined with lead.
Desmond
Must be.
Do you have plans for tomorrow?
Jack
Nope! I never have plans.
Desmond
I’ve got to get some clothes for Parker that actually fit.
You’re welcome to join us, if you want.
Very exciting, I know.
Jack
I’d love to!!