Learned Reactions

by Jayce Ellis

  “Let me guess,” Lawrence drawled, and Carlton could tell he was trying to lighten the mood. “That hug turned to a kiss, which turned into more.”

  A snicker escaped before Carlton could muffle it. “Sounds like a soap opera I’d watch if it weren’t me.”

  “Only without demonic possession or fucking your sister’s man for kicks.”

  That snicker turned to a full-bellied laugh. “Well, scratch getting knocked up by your sister’s fiancé, and add forgetting to lock the door and your roommate’s parents barging in bright and early the next morning to find you like that.”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Lawrence muttered. “They did not.”

  Carlton nodded. “They did, and somehow, Deion convinced them to let me stay with them for the summer. But his mom hated me from then on. Still does, if we’re being honest.”

  The mirth in Lawrence’s eyes shifted to understanding. “Ahhh. Let me see if I’ve got it. You’re in a state of despair. Your best friend comes to your aid, and you thank him by fucking him through the sheets. You believe this is a turning point in your relationship, but his parents arrive and despise you for defiling their precious child. Having just felt the pain of losing your own parents, you refuse to allow your friend to go through the same thing, and to protect him from that, you build a wall around your heart and forego any chance of a relationship, telling yourself that it’s okay to just be friends.” He clasped his hands together against his heart, then leaned against his chair.

  “I fucking hate you right now, you know that?” But Carlton couldn’t stop the laugh. Lawrence was spot-on, but Carlton would be damned if he admitted it.

  “I do, but shit was getting depressing and that emo shit is Jaq’s job.” Lawrence winked and rolled his lips in to stifle his own chuckle. Then he sat forward, and just like that, was all business again. “So y’all have history, and I can see you not wanting him to feel like you did, or wanting to run the risk of losing that friendship. But that brings me back to my question: Why the hell is he still here? How’d we get from you protecting him to wanting to play house with him?”

  Carlton closed his eyes. No way in hell was he acknowledging how nice that shit sounded. Unlike Deion, Carlton had never let himself get fixed on the idea of having a family. Not least because society and politics at the time made it seem like the most fantastical of fantasies, but he’d never imagined someone sticking by him long enough to even warrant having the conversation.

  But he’d liked coming home to Trey last year, and he’d liked coming home to Deion this past week, shit they needed to work out notwithstanding.

  Lawrence cleared his throat, forcing Carlton from his reverie. “You like that idea, huh? Playing house?” Carlton narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond, and Lawrence laughed. “Here’s the deal. Deion isn’t some rag doll, some marionette you can pull on a string. He has real feelings for you, and you need to honor and not take advantage of that.”

  “He told you he has feelings for me?” Damn, was that his throat croaking?

  “Didn’t have to. People don’t cancel what I assume is a nonrefundable flight for someone else just because they asked. They don’t agree to ferry kids who aren’t their own, cook dinner, run errands, and be emotional support systems unless they care. Deeply. Hell,” Lawrence continued, “he told me he’s on sabbatical. He could be sucking dick every night instead of doing this.”

  Carlton’s mind flashed to the picture of the guy Deion had been talking to on Friday, a face he’d caught only the barest glance of before giving the phone back to Deion. He was okay, bald, medium-brown skin, clean-shaven, but with a nose piercing that was actually kinda fly. Okay, maybe Carlton had gotten more than a glance. And he had to swallow the bile that rose up at the thought of Deion on his knees for the nameless stranger. Or on his back, or bent over, or whatever.

  The vision morphed into Deion on his knees for Carlton. He’d tangle his fingers into those locs, feel Deion’s hands roam over his ass and play with his balls. Shoot in Deion’s mouth. The thought made him harder than anything he could remember, and he shifted in his seat.

  “Just friends, huh?” Lawrence looked entirely too pleased with himself, and Carlton flipped him off.

  Lawrence rolled his knuckles across his desk and stood. Carlton followed his lead. “So, what now?” he asked.

  He walked out the door Lawrence held open for him, and waited while he gave papers to the woman sitting in a comfortable-looking desk area. She had a fancy chair too. He needed to get on that.

  “Now,” Lawrence said once he’d finished his business, “clean your house and figure out a game plan for how this is going to work long-term. You were thrown into this, and now’s the time to step back and think.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” They were quiet until they reached the door of the lobby, and Lawrence pulled it open. Deion, who’d been reading a magazine, looked over and beamed at him, and Carlton felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders.

  “Yep, boy’s in love with you,” Lawrence murmured. “Whatever you do, however this pans out, do me a favor, okay?”

  Carlton couldn’t tear his eyes from Deion’s, even as he answered. “What’s that?”

  “Don’t string him along.”

  Chapter Eight

  Deion pulled into the last visitor’s parking spot available at Olivia’s high school and allowed himself a moment to breathe. It had been a whirlwind three days.

  Day one had been spent with Carlton at the lawyer’s office.

  Day two? He and Carlton had scrubbed his condo from top to bottom in preparation for the social worker interview, which Lawrence had fast-tracked to this Friday.

  Day three, they’d been here, in the principal’s office, signing paperwork. Proving that Carlton was Olivia’s guardian hadn’t been nearly as easy as he’d imagined. In fact, it had necessitated a phone call to Carlton’s parents and them signing a flurry of paperwork giving temporary guardianship to Carlton while the legal process wound its way through. Thank goodness Lawrence had sent him a petition for temporary custody, so they could at least prove it was in the works. They’d been at the school from the time they dropped Olivia off, and by the time they’d finished, it’d been only ten minutes before the final bell, and they’d driven home exhausted.

  Then, this morning, Carlton totally forgot he had to go back to work. Which meant there was no one to drive Olivia to school. Good thing Deion’d thought of it while they were at the school, and had made sure he was listed as a drop-off and pickup person. It wasn’t even Carlton’s fault. He’d been so frazzled by the idea of having to see his parents for the first time since Carrie’s death, no one could blame him for forgetting. He’d squeezed the back of Deion’s neck this morning, touched their foreheads together, whispered, “Thank you, I couldn’t do this without you,” then hurried off to Metro.

  Deion was losing his battle to maintain emotional distance. Not that he was even a little bit surprised. He’d known some things would have to give from the moment Carlton asked him to stick around, even more after he spoke to Lawrence. But now, almost a full week in, he could tell, as surely as the sun rose, that he was going to fall in love with Olivia, as much as he already had her uncle. He just couldn’t imagine another outcome, not with those ridiculously dimpled smiles and those not-so-subtle suggestions about what to have for dinner, or the gentle way she asked him for help with homework. God, he was ready to give her the world already.

  With a sigh, Deion hopped out the car and walked through the double doors. He remembered his way to the front office from yesterday, and veered off to the right. Standing there was the same woman who’d signed them in the day before, and she smiled at him, speaking before he could.

  “You know what? Olivia was just in here a few minutes ago and asked me to give you a message.” She reached into her top drawer and pulled out a slip of paper, handing it to Deion.
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br />   Uncle D, I forgot, wrestling tryouts are today. Parents have to sign a waiver to let me try out. Pretty please can I?

  Good lord. Deion’s heart didn’t know whether to squeal with excitement, or terror, or just sit there in confusion. Olivia had written in this note as though he were a parent. As though he were someone with the authority to let her do something. Or not let her do something. Which he absolutely was not. He needed to call Carlton.

  “The wrestling tryouts? Where are they?” he asked the woman, who had gone back to her work.

  She finished whatever she was doing with a resounding clang on the Enter key, then smiled up at him again. “They’re going to be in the gym, all the way down the hall on the left. Let me get you set up with the visitor pass.”

  Deion gave her a grateful nod and smile, then pressed the visitor sticker over his shirt as he took off. It looked like, if anything, high schools hadn’t changed from the last time he’d set foot in one. Rows of double-stacked steel lockers lined either side of the wide aisles, with some single full-length lockers at the end. Horrible, slightly sticky green tile adorned the floors—the kind that never got totally clean—while fluorescent lights illuminated the way. And as always, one of them had to be flickering. It was truly the perfect setup for a horror flick.

  Deion made his way to the end of the corridor. A group of kids walked toward him, spanning nearly the entire width of the hallway. The one in the center, tall and lanky with the smirk of youth on his face, leered at Deion. Yeah, they weren’t moving and Deion wasn’t fighting. He pushed himself into a dip by the water fountains and let them pass, then kept walking. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw the tall boy had turned around and was walking backward, two middle fingers in the air.

  Deion shook his head and kept going, and quickly found the double doors leading to the gym. One of them was propped open, and he dipped his head inside. Olivia sat on a bench, fully clothed, tapping her foot. She looked up when he entered and smiled, then sprinted across the floor to him. Her rubber-soled shoes skidded, causing that screeching sound that made his ears ping, before coming to a stop.

  “Uncle D, you made it.”

  He’d never had an honorific like this, and his heart was ready to turn pirouettes hearing it. He chuckled. “Not sure how you were going to get home without me.”

  She grinned, then her brows furrowed. “You got my note, right? I can try out, right? You’ll sign the forms?”

  He grabbed her hand and led her outside into the hallway. “I need to call your uncle and make sure he’s okay with this.”

  “He will be. We already talked about how I wanted to wrestle when I first got here.”

  Deion knew that. Fully believed Carlton wouldn’t have a problem. Didn’t change the fact that he needed to call.

  He leaned against one of the lockers, shifting when the knob of the lock poked into his back, and dialed. The phone rang once, twice, five times before the voicemail picked up. Deion left a message, hung up, and shot him a text.

  When five minutes passed, he knew Carlton wasn’t going to be answering anytime soon. If nothing else, he was pretty strict about turning his phone off at work. That might be something that needed to change. “Your uncle isn’t answering. Let me see if I can call the university and get them to patch me through.”

  Olivia nodded, but her shoulders deflated. And it was just their luck an older white man poked his head out at that time. “Olivia? Are you going to try out?”

  She looked from him, to Deion, and back to him. “I want to, Mr. Richter, but my uncle’s trying to call my other uncle to get permission.”

  Mr. Richter frowned at her, then looked at Deion. “Do you give her permission?”

  Deion had the phone to his ear, waiting for the switchboard operator who’d put him on hold immediately after picking up, and frowned at the question. Then he realized, the teacher, Mr. Richter or whatever, thought uncle meant they were related. And by the hopeful look on Olivia’s face, Deion didn’t have the heart to tell him he was wrong.

  He clicked off the phone. “Yeah, she can try out.”

  Olivia and her teacher fist-bumped, then Olivia wrapped her arms tightly around Deion’s waist. “Thank you, Uncle D.”

  Mr. Richter smiled, then said, “Go get changed.”

  Olivia reached up and pressed a kiss to Deion’s cheek, then sprinted back across the court, her shoes squeaking along.

  “You bear no blood or marital relation to that girl at all, do you?” Mr. Richter asked once she was gone.

  Deion laughed. “Not a bit. My best friend is her uncle.”

  “Figured as much.” He snagged the sheet of paper off the clipboard he was holding and held it out. “Have her uncle sign off on this tonight, and she can bring it to me in the morning. As long as it’s signed and dated today, my lips are sealed.”

  Deion nodded. “Done. I appreciate it.”

  Mr. Richter clapped him on the shoulder and walked back in, and Deion found a seat on the bleachers. He watched the action, students wearing padded helmets like amateur boxers did, along with mouth guards and kneepads. Olivia came out a few minutes later just like that, and waved at him before jogging over to Mr. Richter. Deion’s phone buzzed.

  Carlton: sorry man, I forgot to keep my phone on. Everything okay?

  Me: yeah. Olivia’s trying out for wrestling. Got some paperwork to sign tonight to make it official.

  Carlton: no prob. Thanks for doing this man. I’d be fucked if not for you. You’re the best.

  Deion sighed. Yep, that was him. The best. Friend. That was it.

  He put the phone down just as Olivia stood up and smoothed her hands over her bike shorts. Her eyes were closed, like she was saying a little prayer, then she rolled her shoulders back, accepted a mouth guard, and looked ready to pin the first person who got close to her.

  She did. And the second. And the third. And Deion knew these were just tryouts, but every fiber of his being wanted to scream for her. She looked so relaxed, so in her element, and he loved it.

  “That your girl?” a man sitting a few risers away asked.

  Deion fumbled over the words. He didn’t need to explain their relationship with everyone he came in contact with, but describing it succinctly eluded him, until he remembered Olivia’s words. “My niece.”

  He nodded. “She’s a beast out there. You must be proud.”

  Deion watched Olivia pin her next opponent, then help her up and give her a hug. “I am.”

  * * *

  Carlton was growing to hate work. Which in itself was nothing special, but god, he didn’t know how parents did it. He’d missed Olivia’s wrestling tryouts, and had been lost in the ensuing conversation about it at dinner. That was like, a first for them. Being able to cheer her on and celebrate her accomplishments and stuff, and he’d missed it.

  It’d been different with Trey. He wasn’t into extracurriculars like that, so his celebration was getting into the schools he’d applied to, that sort of thing. Trey wasn’t outgoing, didn’t like getting caught up in the mix, minded his own business. Hell, knowing him, he’d used homecoming as an extra study weekend.

  Carlton’s phone rang, startling him. He was trying to do better about not turning it off, in case Olivia or Deion needed anything, but this was the first time it’d actually rung while he was still at work. He looked down and, speak of the devil, it was his nephew.

  “Hey, Trey. Everything all right?”

  “Unc! I heard from Pops that Livvy is staying with you?”

  God, did none of them call this poor girl by her first name? “She is,” he said with a grin.

  “When did that happen?”

  “About a week ago. Showed up on my doorstep.”

  “Holy hell. Can I come see her?”

  “You know you never have to ask that.”

  Trey breathed out, lon
g and slow, and now Carlton wondered. There’d only been a few times while Trey was living with him that he’d gone over to see Olivia, and Carlton had been blasé in assuming it was because he had no interest in hanging out with his baby sister. Kind of like him and Carrie all those years ago. But from the way Trey sighed, like he hadn’t been sure of Carlton’s answer, it wasn’t a far jump to assume his parents had kept them apart. And Carlton didn’t know how to handle that. If it was even worth it to try.

  “Can I come over for dinner tonight?” Trey asked.

  “Sure. I don’t have anything planned, but Deion is here. Between the two of us, we’ll whip something up.”

  “Oh, bet? Uncle Deion is still here? That’s great. I’ve got class this afternoon, so is seven thirty cool?”

  “Of course.”

  They clicked off and Carlton sank back against his chair. It was five, time for the day to be over anyway, but he paused for a minute. Things had been going at warp speed for a week, and he’d honestly be lost if Deion had gone back to Chicago. Carlton owed him, more than the “thanks, bud” celebratory beer and wings or some shit. He owed Deion honesty.

  Deion thought Carlton had this amazing relationship with Carrie and a shit one with his parents. Maybe Carlton had played it up that way to make himself feel better, or maybe it was that, after losing Carrie, it was easier to focus on the good instead of the rest. But the reality was, although he was two years older than Carrie, she’d always fancied herself the more mature one. For a while, that’d probably been true, especially when she got married and had Trey almost immediately. But she’d kept Carlton in that “carefree playboy” box throughout adulthood as well. She joked about it, but she thought he was a ho. So yes, she’d invited Carlton to the big events, made sure he received an invite for the holidays, that type of thing, but he was never alone. Never really trusted. Never with anyone but Deion.

  He walked the few blocks to Metro, getting used to taking it regularly, and his mind drifted back to Olivia. The past few days had been tentative, him and Olivia trying to find some semblance of a groove, and Deion looking like the only one who was remotely comfortable. Maybe it’s because Deion knew his role, whereas Carlton had no clue what was expected of him.