Waiting on Life

by Parker Williams

  Pete rushed at me and grabbed me in a hug. “I’m so proud of you. Toby cares about you so much, and I don’t want to see either of you end up hurt. But….” He sighed. “What are you going to do if he finds himself a place and moves?”

  I’d talked about Toby’s dream with Pete one night, and how I might react when it happened. Sure, Tammy said it wasn’t likely, but Toby was tenacious, and he could very well surprise everyone. If that happened, what then?

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, do you think I’m cut out to be a country boy? Straw hats, a piece of grass between my lips, and drawling y’all doesn’t really strike me as being fabulous.”

  Pete stopped hugging and took a big step back. “You’ll always be fabulous. Nothing you wear can change that.” He swallowed. “Would you move to be with him?”

  The thought had been lodged in the back of my head for a while. I mean, we were brand-new, and it wasn’t something I should even be entertaining, but I honestly couldn’t see my life without Toby in it. The time I spent with him and Waldo was among the happiest of my life. I could decompress, be myself, and there was no judgment.

  “Toby put polish on my nails one day,” I said quietly.

  Pete’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, he what?”

  It had been a week ago. We were having dinner, and I glanced down at my nails, realizing how plain they looked. Normally I would at least wear a glossy coat over them so they’d stand out, but since I’d started working at the bar, I’d left them to get dull and lifeless.

  “He found me staring at my hands one night and asked if something was wrong. I shrugged, saying it was no big deal, but Toby wasn’t having that. He reached out and gave my lip a tug before he asked again. So I told him how much I missed my shiny nails. He took my hand and said he could see what I meant. He asked me to grab a bottle of polish and bring it back to him. I came home, snatched my favorite glitter bomb stuff, and went back to his place. He had me sit down at the table, then picked up the bottle. He grinned and said it wasn’t something he normally did, so if he made a mistake, he asked for me to be patient.”

  Pete sat at the table and fluttered a hand. “You can’t stop there. Go on.”

  My cheeks heated at the thought. I took the seat opposite Pete and smiled as I remembered that night. “He was so tentative and unsure, but he pulled the brush from the bottle and ran it over my index finger. His tongue was sticking out of his mouth like he was deep in thought, and I could only sit there and watch as he stroked over each nail, leaving a thick, gloppy mess. After I got home, I pulled out the remover and took it off, then added it on myself.”

  “Oh my God, that is so romantic,” Pete gushed.

  That was how I felt. Other guys seemed embarrassed at my desire to look nice. Some of them said it was fine behind closed doors, but when we went out, I needed to, in their words, rein it in. Toby didn’t care. And I admit, I thought it would last until we were in public. We were going to take a walk one day, barely two blocks to the store, but I had on a midriff shirt and these skimpy pink shorts. I told Toby I would change before we went, and he gripped my wrist and asked why.

  “Uh, because we might run in to someone you know.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t want to embarrass you.”

  “Kyle, I want you to listen closely. Those whose opinions matter to me are my parents, my sister, Waldo, and you.” He spread his arms. “Look at me. I’m big, freakish, and tattooed. What kind of looks do you think—?”

  “Don’t you ever say you’re freakish!” I’d shouted, poking him in the chest. “That’s a horrible thing to say about yourself. You’re… you’re beautiful.”

  He grinned, and there was a crimson stain in his cheeks. “How do you think I see you?” he’d asked. “You’re like a beautiful bird who wants to hide his plumage. Why would you ever settle for being less than you are? I don’t give a good goddamn what anyone has to say. I think you’re amazing, and I won’t ever have you doubting that.”

  With that, he took my hand and pulled me out of the apartment. We walked down the street, my hand engulfed in Toby’s. Sure, there were looks, but Toby only had eyes for me. It was weird, having someone’s full attention like that. For the first time in my life, I felt worthy of being me. The weirdest, wildest, and best part? That night when we got back, he sat me down on the couch, pulled my feet into his lap, and proceeded to massage them. I melted under his touch.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Huh?” Pete asked. “What do you mean?”

  I drew in a breath. “If Toby asked me to go, I would.”

  It was insane, and I wouldn’t ever deny it, but… I was in love with him. He’d shown repeatedly that my heart was safe with him in ways it had never been with anyone else. He took that battered and bruised organ and held it gently in those hands that had the power to crush, but instead chose to protect.

  “I love him.”

  It was the first time I’d said the words aloud, and they seemed to echo in the apartment.

  “Wow,” Pete whispered. “I never thought I’d hear you say it.” He reached out and tugged me in for a hug. “He’s good for you.”

  And he was. Toby was the best thing to happen to me since Pete. It was weird, because I’d always believed I had to put out for a guy to keep him interested, but in the six weeks we’d been dating, Toby didn’t press me for sex. He didn’t make it plain that the only reason he was with me was because I gave good head, or that I was willing to bend over whenever and wherever.

  “Toby treats you a lot better than any of the other losers you’ve been with,” Pete said. “When I told him if he hurt you, I’d hurt him, he must have taken it to heart.”

  He snickered, and I broke out laughing. I clung to Pete, needing the contact, as the realizations rolled over me that Toby was it for me. In my twenty-four years, I believed I’d dealt with every kind of man there was, and all of them left me thinking that I needed to be worthy of them, but the truth was, they were never good enough for me.

  Toby was.

  I could only hope he felt the same way.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Toby

  “Kyle!”

  He turned to face me, his eyes wide. “Yes, boss?”

  I grinned at him, because how could I not? He was so goddamn adorable, and it was hard to try to play that I was going to be stern with him.

  “You look nice today.”

  Even from where he was, I could see his face redden. “Thank you.”

  “I need help in the back, if you have a few minutes.”

  “Sure, let me drop these glasses off, and I’ll be right there.”

  I stood at the bar and admired the way he moved. For such a small man, he took big strides. There was a fluid grace to him that I’d often thought was only something women could have, but Kyle showed me that my thinking was not only wrong—it was borderline offensive. He was beauty personified in my eyes. That was why I wanted him to go into the storeroom with me.

  As soon as the kitchen door closed, I headed for the back. A few moments later, Kyle stepped in, his cheeks flushed.

  “Can you close the door, please?”

  He did as I asked, then turned to give me a speculative glance. “Have I done something wrong?”

  “Oh, yes,” I ground out. “You came in looking so goddamn sexy and keep distracting me from my counts.” I moved in closer, crowding him against the door. I reached out a hand and stroked it across his cheek, and when he trembled, a thrill went through me. “I would very much like to kiss you. Is that okay?”

  He nodded, his breaths coming in short, frantic pants. I leaned in and brushed our lips together. He’d apparently had a Sprite earlier, because I could still taste the lemony goodness. When he opened for me, I cupped the back of his head and pulled him in tighter. He whimpered, and I realized no one else had ever had this reaction to me. I broke the kiss but stayed there, running my hand over his head.

  “Could you let your hai
r grow out a little again? I loved the style you had.”

  “Sure. Anything you want.”

  “No, if you don’t want to, don’t. It’s your hair, and I like it no matter how it looks. It was only a request.”

  He grinned. “I like my hair longer. Gives me more to work with.” He slid his hand over the far-too-short stubble. “This look? A drop of shampoo and that’s all I need. My shelf full of gels and stuff is sitting untouched, and I’m gonna guess it’s kind of lonely.”

  I leaned in and kissed his neck, which resulted in a new round of shivers. “Go with whatever makes you happy, please. If you like it, I can promise you I’m going to be thrilled.” I stroked a hand over his cheek. “Because no matter what, you’re always fabulous.”

  Kyle squinted at me. “What happened to maintaining a professional relationship at work?”

  I’d asked myself that question a dozen times already. “I thought I could, to be honest. I’ve never been in a relationship where I couldn’t keep my distance, but with you? I don’t want to do that. I want to touch you all the time. When you’re serving a table, I like to stand there and watch you work.” But, and it needed to be said, “If it bothers you, I’ll stop.”

  “What?” He grabbed my apron and dragged me down into another kiss. “Don’t you dare.”

  This man was going to be the death of me, but I couldn’t think of a better way to go.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I told him.

  “Oh? About what?”

  Sex for me was something that I needed time to process. I had to look at every permutation, every possible outcome. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy getting laid, because I totally did, but my mind was always filled with a whole host of what-if scenarios.

  “You’re shift is almost over, and you’re off tomorrow. It’s a slow night, so I’m planning to leave soon. What do you think about spending the night at my place? We can cuddle up and watch a movie. I’ll make popcorn, and we can take turns fending off Waldo.” It was silly of me that I had this notion of domesticity already. “I mean, no pressure or—”

  “Pete has some vegan cheese-flavored salt that tastes pretty good on stuff. I could bring that with me.”

  Was he saying what I hoped? “You’ll stay?”

  A sheepish grin was my answer. “I’d love to. Where will I sleep?”

  That brought me up short. “Well, I was hoping with me, but—”

  “No! With you is great. I don’t want to push.”

  Usually it was me that had that problem. When I finally settled on a course of action, I went all in full steam ahead.

  “I would love it if you slept with me. We don’t have to do anything, but if you don’t mind, I would very much like to cuddle with you.”

  Yes, I was a big snuggler. Most people hated being wrapped in someone’s arms or having anyone touch them while they slept.

  “I do enjoy a good cuddle,” he said. “And I’d love to try it with you.”

  I leaned down once more and kissed him gently on the lips. “Then it’s a date. Now, get your ass back to work. And stop distracting me from my counts.”

  He cracked up laughing. “Yes, boss.”

  And with that, he was out the door. My hands shook when I pulled out my phone and dialed Tammy.

  “What did you do?”

  “Is that any way to greet your brother?”

  “Yes, it is. Is something wrong?”

  “Maybe?” I really wasn’t sure. “How do I have sex with a man?”

  And then she cracked up laughing. “Let big sis talk to you about oral and anal with a guy. Get comfortable, because master class is now in session.”

  I regretted asking already.

  Kyle

  “Pete? Pete!” I called out, as I slammed the door. “Peter Robert Jenkins, where the fuck are you?”

  He came scurrying out from his room, clad only in underwear. “What? What’s wrong?”

  My insides quivered, because I still couldn’t believe what I was about to say. “I’m going to be spending the night at Toby’s.”

  His jaw opened, then shut with an audible clack. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. He asked me before I left work.”

  Pete rushed over to me and threw his arms around my shoulders. “Oh, honey. I am so happy for you.”

  “And he kissed me in the storeroom and told me how difficult it was for him to keep his hands off me.”

  Pete frowned slightly. “Isn’t that weird?”

  I went to the refrigerator and got a beer for me and one for Pete. He met me at the sofa, and we took a seat.

  “Not for Toby. Tammy, his sister, says he has to process everything, but once he does, he moves at full speed.” I reached out and patted his knee. “This is a good thing, because it means he’s made up his mind about me. Us. Him. Well, whatever.”

  “Hey, I like Toby. He’s a ton better than any other loser you’ve ever dated.”

  At this point, I should have been offended, but I wasn’t. What Pete was saying wasn’t untrue. I had shitty luck with men. Too married. Too straight. Too not into anything more than a quick fuck. My longest relationship—if that’s what you could call it—was a month and a few days. He invited me to dinner at his place twice, and both times it was nothing more than canned soup and some crusty oven-baked rolls. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with that. I’m a diva, but not the kind who thinks you need to wine and dine me at restaurants with hundred-dollar price tags. Soup and buns would be great, as far as I’m concerned.

  It was dessert I had the problem with. He figured because he went all-out and made me dinner, I owed him. So I did what any self-respecting gay man would do. I put out. And it was awful. He wasn’t bad-looking, but all he wanted was a place to stick his dick. Mouth. Ass. Whatever. He grunted and groaned, and tried to set the mood with cheesy dialogue from porn flicks, like “You like that big cock?” and “Take it, bitch!” the whole time. Sad thing was, he had like five inches hard.

  And he was the longest relationship. The shortest weren’t even relationships. They were one-offs, quickies, and the like. Guys I’d blow, or would let fuck me, and then I’d never see them again. Yeah, I admit, my track record wasn’t the best.

  Still, Toby wasn’t those guys. He treated me great, and he did something most of the others didn’t. He smiled at me.

  “You got a goofy grin on your face.”

  I was pulled back to the present by Pete’s teasing voice. “Thinking about Toby,” I admitted.

  He smacked me on the thigh. “Well, get ready and go! Don’t make him wait for you to show up.”

  That got me in gear. I hurried to the bathroom and started the shower. While it warmed, I went back into the kitchen and grabbed the popcorn salt and a few other things and put them in my overnight bag. Once I was certain I had everything I needed, I went back to the bathroom and stepped into the now not-quite-hot-but-no-longer-cold shower. The water cascading on my body was a feeling I always enjoyed. I cleaned everything, every nook and cranny. I wasn’t sure what would be happening with Toby tonight, but I wanted to make sure I couldn’t ruin the evening.

  When I was done, I turned off the shower, then stepped out to dry off. As I ran the towel over my body, I slipped back into thinking about what we’d be doing. It was so weird, because even the idea of simply snuggling in bed with Toby made my knees weak.

  “Kyle? Toby knocked and asked me to tell you he was ready when you were.”

  I glanced at myself in the mirror, taking in the red hair, the brown eyes, the… ugh. I needed my hair back. The bald look was awesome on Toby, but not so much on me. I pulled open the drawer and took out the razor and shaving cream. I was, in layman’s terms, follicly challenged. The best I could manage was peach fuzz, and even that took a long while to grow in. I lathered up my face and ran the razor over it. When I was done, I thought maybe I didn’t look too bad.

  At least I hoped Toby would see it that way.

  I hustled to my room, yanked open
the drawers, and dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants. Yes, I know it wasn’t date material, but I wanted something that could be taken off easily, if we did move our relationship to the next level. When I came out of the bedroom, Pete was standing there, staring at me.

  “You are so adorable,” he gushed. “Toby’s going to eat you up.”

  “Well, here’s hoping to that,” I replied. I grabbed my bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As I made to move for the door, Pete reached out and caught me by the arm. “No matter what, remember that he obviously cares about you, okay?”

  That seemed an odd thing to say, but I nodded. I leaned in and gave Pete a quick kiss on the cheek. “Love you.”

  “You too. Now go.”

  I gave a snappy salute, then marched out the door and across the hall. I took a steadying breath and knocked.

  “Come in,” Toby called.

  I stepped into his apartment, and the first thing I noticed was a subtle hint of vanilla scenting the air. On the kitchen counter, I spotted a candle, flame flickering in the dimmed lighting. My heart sped up. Toby’s place had been transformed. The dining table, normally a wooden one with more than a few dings and scratches, had been adorned by a spring bouquet of flowers—daisies, daffodils, and tulips with a baby’s breath spray—and what appeared to be some very nice china. Beside it sat a bottle of red wine, open and breathing.

  “What did you do? This place looks amazing.”

  “Thank you,” he said from behind me.

  I turned around, and for a half-minute, I was confused as hell. “What the fuck did you do?” I blurted out.

  Gone were the beard and mustache, and in their place was baby-smooth pink skin. Toby still looked beautiful, but that beard had given his face such character, and now it was gone.

  He cocked his head and gave me a confused look. “You don’t like it?”

  I realized that he’d done it for me, and what was I supposed to say?

  “It’s nice. I like it, but I also thought you looked amazing with the beard. You didn’t have to change for me, like you tell me I don’t need to do anything different.” I swept a hand toward the table. “You did all this for me?”