Wylie
“Those sweats are doing too much.”
“No, just do something less dangerous,” he said and waved him off, now focused intently on not letting the bacon burn.
“All right. How do you like your eggs?”
“Scrambled is fine.”
“Cheese?”
“Yeah.”
Wylie added a few slices of bread to the toaster oven, then set to beating the eggs.
They worked well together in a domestic setting, same as the pit.
Making breakfast together like it was any other day?
Wylie fucking loved that. He warmly recalled last night when Diego had put his full faith in Wylie to deliver, and after a brief bout of nerves, Wylie had taken care of business.
Seeing Diego fall apart like that had been a memorable experience, one he wanted to revisit again and again.
Now, all he had to do was lock it down. Diego would be on board with that, wouldn't he?
“Add a little milk to the eggs,” Diego instructed. “Makes ‘em fluffier.”
“Yes, sir,” Wylie answered, happy to comply. “Salt and pepper?”
“Yeah, you got any hot sauce?”
“Sure do. Condiments are my jam.”
They plated the food and sat down at his little table and chairs by the window.
A lot of the decor had belonged to his mother or one of his neighbors before him.
The space was cramped but cozy, enough for one person and possibly one more very special man.
Wylie would certainly make room. He let Diego get a few bites in before he broached the topic.
“So, I really enjoyed what we did last night.” Wylie tried not to smile and failed. You never knew how sex was going to go with a new partner, and Wylie felt as if they’d both struck gold.
Diego glanced up from his food, a suspicious look on his face, but that was pretty much standard for him. “Me too,” he said cautiously.
“And I wanted to make it clear, in case it wasn’t already, that I’m not talking to anyone else or even trying to.”
“I should hope not,” Diego said with a frown, looking put out by the mere suggestion. A good sign, wasn’t it?
“And, are you?” Wyle asked.
“No. Obviously,” Diego said and raised one hand as if offended.
Wylie was heartened by that response because it seemed that they were on the same page. “Cool. So, I thought maybe we should make it official?”
Diego set down his fork and leaned back in his seat, strong brow furrowing with consternation. He looked exactly like Frank in that moment, whenever Frank was about to argue with one of Wylie’s excellent and transformational ideas. “Official, how?” Diego asked.
“Be my boyfriend.”
Diego blinked and didn’t say anything at first, only wiped his mouth with his napkin and stared back at Wylie with something like bewilderment. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Well, that stung. Wylie had expected an enthusiastic yes. Had he misread the situation, or was Diego simply afraid of commitment? Did he think it was too soon? Rather than continue to spiral, Wylie decided he’d just ask. Growth and all that.
“What’s the hold-up? I mean, we’re dating, exclusively. Seems like we have a pretty strong connection. Unless I’m imagining it,” Wylie said.
“You’re not,” Diego said slowly.
“Okay, then…”
“You’re going to law school soon.”
That wasn’t the reason he’d expected Diego to give, like some kind of pre-emptive breakup. “I mean, I’ve applied to law school, and I’ll probably be going somewhere, eventually, but nothing’s concrete yet.”
“I’m not going to be the one who fucks up your future,” Diego said staunchly and crossed his arms over his broad chest, a bad sign. His body language told all. And that bullheadedness, like it was some kind of certainty, was completely uncalled for.
“First off, I don’t understand why us being together, officially, is going to fuck up anything, especially considering I haven’t even been accepted anywhere yet.
And I don’t appreciate you making decisions for me like I’m some kind of child.
Is this about the conversation you had with Nancy?
” Wylie searched the man’s stony face for any signs of remorse.
Diego looked a little chastened by that but was no less rigid in his response. “No, but she’s right. You’re brilliant and you deserve better than what this town can offer.”
Was this about the town or about what Diego, himself, could offer?
After another beat of silence during which Wylie tried to interpret the things not being said, Diego added, “I like you. I like what we have. I don’t want to put a label on it.
We said we’d take it one day at a time, so let’s just… do that.”
Diego’s attention returned then to his food as if that settled it, and he picked up his fork and started moving his scrambled eggs around the plate without actually eating them.
This wasn’t how Wylie had expected this conversation to go, especially after last night.
He’d expected Diego to be one hundred percent on board, and if not that, then at least they could have a conversation about it, weigh the pros and cons, and work it out together.
He hadn’t expected to be so thoroughly stonewalled.
“So, that’s it?” Wylie asked, not bothering to hide his irritation. The other man glanced up but didn’t say anything. “Not even a discussion?”
“We discussed it.”
Had they, or had Wylie suggested something and then been shot down categorically? Rather than argue semantics, he tried a different approach. “I’m serious about you, Diego, and what we have, it’s special. I mean, it’s new, yeah, but I can’t be the only one feeling it.”
Diego’s expression softened a little to Wylie’s heartfelt appeal. “I like what we have too, and that’s why I don’t want to add any pressure or expectations to it. I mean, I’m still figuring out my life here, Wy. I can’t handle anything too serious right now.”
To be fair, Diego had told him in the beginning that Wylie would need to go slow with him, let things develop at his own pace. This was his first real relationship, with or without a label. And Wylie didn’t want to push Diego too far and lose him completely.
Still, it hurt like hell, and it reminded him of his past relationships, where he wanted more than they were willing to give. And why was he always the one doing the asking? Why wasn’t Diego begging him to be his boyfriend?
“Hey,” Diego said and reached across the table to grasp his shoulder. “I like you a lot, and I respect you. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are, and I want to support you in any way that I can.”
“You sound like a fucking guidance counselor,” Wylie grumbled.
Diego smiled as if indulging him. “Maybe that’s what you need right now.”
No, what Wylie needed was a man who’d stick by him and have his back, one who would commit and shout it from the rooftops.
And what did it say about Wylie that he needed this assurance?
It probably had something to do with his abandonment issues–absent father and his mother’s sudden passing, both traumatic experiences in their own way.
He tried to channel the teachings of Dr. Bob.
His fear of impermanence couldn’t be solved by some verbal oath, as if that alone could prevent anything bad from happening to him.
Something to work out in his next therapy session.
Wylie would find out one way or another where Diego stood, hopefully not after investing his whole heart.
All in all, this conversation was putting a damper on his memories of last night.
Perhaps the sex had clouded his vision, or maybe Diego was just looking to get off.
Either way, it was a total bummer. So, as soon as they both finished eating, Wylie stood and cleared the table.
“I should get you to work,” he said.
“Yeah, you probably should,” Diego said in response, a little bit sadly, as if it were Wylie who had rejected him. The nerve of this man.
They got ready in silence. While Diego changed into his work uniform, Wylie grabbed a t-shirt and waited out front, vape in one hand, keys in the other. He hit the vape a bit too aggressively and almost coughed up a lung. Diego patted his back and asked if he was okay.
“I’m fine,” Wylie snapped, still stewing in embarassment.
The ride to the pit was quiet. They were stiff with each other, and there was a different sort of tension between them.
Wylie didn’t know what to say to make things better, and he didn’t feel like it was his job anyway.
He was pissed, quite frankly, and he was hurt.
The morning after wasn’t at all what he’d hoped for.
“Text me later?” Diego asked as he climbed out of the car. Brown eyes searched his face like he was looking for clues as to where they stood, but Wylie only gave him a blank look in return.
“Sure,” Wylie said, feeling the need for the first time with Diego to hide his heart.
Wylie watched as Diego skulked toward the pit, shoulders tense and posture at the ready, glancing both ways as if there might be threats lurking on either side of him.
Why did Wylie always fall for these big, tough guys with emotional baggage who liked to wear their ball caps pulled low and walk with a slightly menacing swagger?
Guys who thought the world was out to get them and didn’t trust a good thing when it landed right there in their lap.
Especially men like Diego, who were so soft and sweet on the inside once you peeled back their many ironclad layers.
When all Wylie wanted to do was love and worship and take care of their ornery asses.
“Fuck my life,” he muttered as he pulled out of the parking lot.
One thing was for certain, he and Nancy were going to have a talk about boundaries, pronto.
Wylie found Nancy outside her trailer, misting her newly planted pentas with a garden hose while humming to herself. Wylie stood there until she noticed him and turned off the sprayer.