by Neal, Xavier
I can't. If I'm ever gonna get my shit back together, I can't let their judgments fucking matter.
I start a slow jog on the machine. Within the first couple of paces the familiar sensation seeps back in. Memories of military training, working out on leave, and generally being a self-centered asshole nestles back into the front of my mind. Hitting the buttons, I increase the speed straining my lungs to work harder. Before I know it sweat breaks out across my skin encouraging me to slow down, yet I don't. I increase the speed again, forcing my body to try harder. To do better.
During the run, I never let my attention drift to the muscle bound dick heads who keep crossing my path. Instead, I shut my eyes while I pour every ounce of energy I have into exhausting myself.
The military was shit. All that time I put in. All that risk I gave and when I needed something, when I needed help, what the fuck did they do? Threw me into a piece of shit system to get lost in. Make a mockery of everything we fight for. Put me on some goddamn check list demanding I qualify before giving me the aid I need. I wish I would've never survived.
Unexpectedly there's a sharp beeping sound and my machine slows down. As I struggle to catch my breath, my eyes lock onto the sight of Jaye bent over, clearly finishing up the end of yoga. With her ass in the air and her hair fallen forward, another groan comes from deep inside my chest.
That shit happened to me a few nights ago when she arched into me. You have no fucking idea how hard it was not to act on the basic instinct of pushing her against the counter and showing her why she should really wanna keep me around.
Unable to look elsewhere, I let oxygen fill my lungs as the thought of making her breathless fills my brain.
I'm basically fucking celibate and having her around isn't helping. At all.
Jaye exits the yoga studio with her towel over one shoulder and her mat tucked tightly under her other arm. Watching her strut towards me steals the very breath I had just managed to grab back.
Fucking kill me now.
“Hey!” She stops in front of my machine. “You ready?”
A guy walking by steals a glance of her ass, which infuriates me instantly. “Eyes to yourself asshole.”
He surrenders his hands in apology.
Realizing how over protective and out of line that was, I stop the machine and softly state to her, “I shouldn't have said that.”
Innocently she asks, “Why did you?”
I swallow the knot growing in my throat. “Instinct.”
Jaye smiles sweetly. “I like your instinct.”
Her reply takes me off guard.
“You ready to go?”
With a simple nod, I follow her out the way we came. After a brief drive a few minutes down the road, we're in the hardware store, her pushing a basket, and trying to understand the problem in her bathroom.
Jaye's face scrunches. “But you can fix it?”
“Of course.” I fold my arms. “Now what do you think about switching that shower head?”
“You're the one who's gonna have to use it.”
“You're the one who lives there.”
“We both do,” she corrects. “So pick one you'll like too.”
My head tilts forward. “What about that one?”
“It's got six speeds and settings.” Looking down at her expression I try to push the dirty thoughts out of my mind. “That would be able to please anyone, right?”
Can she hear herself?
I lightly chuckle. “It should.” Once the box is in the cart I ask, “Do you wanna redo the tile on the floor? I noticed it was put in slightly crooked and chipped in the back corner by the sink and toilet.”
“Really?” She sounds defeated.
“We don't have to but-”
“Do you think we should?”
“It wouldn't be a bad idea.”
“Let's do it,” Jaye agrees. “Should we paint it too?”
“If you want.”
“You're the one who's gonna be putting the work in,” she sighs. “And if you get a job then-”
“I'll do it when I get off every night and on my off days. I don't start anything I can't finish babe.” Her eyes light up at the word, so I don't undo the slip.
It just happened. It wasn't intentional. I meant it in a friendly way. Platonic.
We move over to the paint selection and the discussion continues. While it should be totally one sided, Jaye constantly asks my opinion, wants my input almost as if afraid to make a choice all on her own.
I get the feeling Chris made all the big choices. He had all the control. Here's a chance for her to take some of it back and I'll be damned if I interfere.
“Jaye,” I sternly state. “You pick what you want and I'll support it.” She bats her dark eyelashes helplessly up at me. “Whatever it is you want. I'll stand with you.”
She curls her arms around her body. “I like the steel gray. A little white trim. You know, the whole modern vibe thing.”
“Good.”
We thumb through colors looking for shades that excite her. While she continues bouncing between different hues, I observe her reactions making notes of the ones that really light up her face. As she flips back through them, they're the ones I push towards knowing she needs to the encouragement.
I give Jaye a little space to think over what we've selected while I stroll the rest of aisles, curious if there's anything else we need before we head for the tile choices. In the process I manage to convince a young couple to put back the wrong object for their broken toilet and help an elderly woman relocate to the right side of the store.
When I wander back over she sighs, “You know an awful lot about fixing things.”
“I do.”
“Maybe we should pick up a job application here?”
The thought, which hadn't crossed my mind, is one I can get on board with. “Yeah.” A crooked grin crawls on my face. “Maybe we should.”
Jaye gives me a wide smile, points out the paints she wants, and I grab them from the shelves.
I like this. I like picking paint. Having a purpose. I like having a plan. I like something to take my mind away from thoughts of Seth, Micah, and Randy. I welcome the distraction. Even though I know this is all temporary, I'm going to make the most of every moment. In my experience life rarely gives you shit like this without some sort of downside and until it hits, I think I'll try to enjoy it while I can.
Jaye
Leaning back in the bar seat, I give Calvin another giggle.
Don't judge. It's just one drink. After putting him off for the last three weeks straight and avoiding the topic with my mother, I finally broke on this fourth one. It seemed easier than trying to keep finding excuses not to go. To be fair, I was going to be out late tonight because of book club anyway, just extended it a little while longer.
“This was fun,” Calvin charmingly says handing the bill to the bartender.
“It was,” I agree. “It really was.”
Not bullshitting. He's sweet. Funny. A little career obsessed but the stories he weaves are adorable.
Casually, he questions, “How about dinner this weekend?”
“Hm,” I hum lightly.
There's no logical reason to say no. He fits the ideal scenario. He's attractive in a young Morris Chestnut sort of way. Polite. My mother adores him. On paper he's the perfect candidate yet....he's not the one I wish I was on a date with.
“Alright,” Calvin backs down. “I respect the need to think about it. Just promise you'll actually think about it.”
With a giggle, I nod. “Promise.”
“Good,” he replies grabbing the receipt. “Not quite ready to strike out yet.”
Maybe I should just go. I mean, it's not like Archer and I are dating, no matter how many times that thought has crossed my mind. There's no looking past the obvious vibes that bounce between us, but that's where it ends. Over the last few weeks we've grown closer than I ever have been to another person and it's terrifying. Chris and I
were close friends growing up, but we lost touch when we left for college like most old friends do. When we got involved, we got close again, but there was never a point in time where we were like me and Archer. He didn't know how much I had a strong distaste for figs or the fact I eat Skittles in the color of the rainbow. He wasn't around to bring me hot chocolate on cold late nights while I read. He never tucked me in on the couch after I fell asleep beside him as he watched Sports Center. Hell, I don't think he ever told me when he stopped believing in Santa or how if we had children he wanted to dress up like him. Yeah, that's one of the fun things Archer wants to do when he becomes a parent. If he becomes one. The point I was trying to make was our relationship was just different. Not bad. Just...nothing like the one I have with Archer. Chris and I had sex. Not frequently. Not always passionately. But we did have it. That's something that I've only had with Archer in my dreams....boy are those some good dreams.
Feeling my thighs clench together, I reach for my purse. “I really should get going.”
“Let me walk you to your car,” Calvin insists.
The two of us cross to the opposite side of the restaurant still making small talk. We walk around the building to where my car is parked in the front, which is where his hand leans against the top of my car window.
“I had a wonderful time, Jaye.” He wets his full lips. “I'm really hoping you take me up on that dinner this weekend. Or next weekend if you already have plans.” When I smile he winks. “You promised to think about it.”
“I will.”
He smiles in return, plants a soft kiss on my cheek, and backs away so I can get in. No more than four minutes out of the parking lot, my phone begins to ring, my mother’s name flashing on the dash.
As soon as I hit answer she demands, “Tell me everything!”
Puzzled I question, “How did you know it was over?”
“Intuition,” my mother coos. “How was it? Was he a gentleman?”
“He was,” I sigh. “It was nice. He's a really nice guy, mom.”
“Then why don't you sound excited?”
Archer's face flashes through my mind.
She still has no idea I've moved a complete stranger into my house. Though, he's really not a stranger any more. At the dinners I've been to since he moved in I merely avoid the topic. I don't wanna lie to their faces. And before you say it, this omission doesn't count as a lie.
“Jaye...” her voice calls to me. “What am I missing?”
“Nothing,” my assurance is followed by me switching lanes. “Everything is fine. We'll probably go to dinner soon.”
“Good! I'm really glad you're finally doing something about your love life. Finally refilling it. It's been so long since Chris' death. ”
Hearing his name causes a low, uncomfortable groan.
Part of me thinks the reason I've had such a hard time leaving Chris behind is because of her. Because she says shit like that. Because instead of just letting me wander away from him all on my own, she pushes or tugs or whatever the hell you call this. I know she means well, but sometimes it doesn't feel that way.
“Mom, I have to stop at the mailbox-”
“In the dark?”
“I still need to check my mail,” I protest as I pull into my neighborhood entrance. “I'll give you a call tomorrow, alright?”
“Sure,” she sounds pleased. “Are you coming by for dinner this weekend?”
“We'll see.”
The false hope seems to be enough for her. “Sleep well.”
“Thanks mom, you too.”
After ending the call, I make my way home, making sure to stop and actually grab the mail since I haven't in a few days. As soon as I stroll through the front door, I see Archer wiping his hands on a towel.
Seeing him in a white tank top and gym shorts, healthy muscles on display like they're waiting to be worshiped, has me frozen in place.
Give him another look and tell me you blame me. Tell me you don't wonder a little bit what it would be like to have him wrap those around you, to pin you down while he rocks into you. Wow. Sexually frustrated doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling. It's been a few years. Is it obvious? Do you think he knows?
Archer folds his arms across his chest.
Impulsively I ramble, “You're covered in paint.”
In a proud tone, he states, “I finished the bathroom.”
I drop my bags, excitement hard to hide. “All of it?”
He nods slowly. “Wanna see?”
“Hell yes.” Rushing his direction, I follow him down the hall towards the area, shocked at first glance.
The sharp gasp is followed by him leaning against the wall behind me. “You like it?”
“This is beautiful,” I gush at the remodel. “Like, can I shower down here instead?”
Archer chuckles. “It's your house, babe. Do what you want.”
My bottom lip slips between my teeth.
He calls me babe sometimes. I don't even think he realizes he does it, but God do I love it. Chris never called me anything other than Jaye, even when we got engaged. I like the simple, sweet nickname.
“We can redo your bathroom if you want,” Archer starts. “We can redo any room you want. Just tell me when and we'll plan a trip to Harry's.”
“Too bad they weren't hiring.” I turn around and lean against the door frame. “We could get a discount.”
He tries to smile but it fades into a frown.
Not a single yes, yet I haven't given up hope. I can't. We can't. He'll get work soon. Besides until he does, I'm totally okay with him fixing my house, grocery shopping with me, helping cook, and vacuuming. It seems like little shit, I know, but it's a big help.
I try to change the subject, “Hungry?”
“Are you?” he counters. “Did you eat at book club?”
“Not typically. I only serve light snacks anyway. It's only about an hour give or take.”
Bafflement crosses his face. “Then why are you home so late?”
“Um...” Archer watches me closely, waiting intently for an answer. Pulling my hair to one side I finally sigh, “I um...I had a date.”
“A date,” he echoes, his body stiffening.
“It was just a drink,” I quickly inform.
“A drink.”
“My mom has been trying to set me up with this guy for weeks and finally our schedules matched, so we went out for a drink and-”
“You don't owe me an explanation,” Archer cuts me off.
“But-”
“I'm not hungry,” he continues and removes himself from the wall. Instead of allowing me any time to answer, his body turns to head for the garage. “I'm gonna head to bed early-”
“You're covered in paint, shouldn't you-”
“I'll shower in the morning. Night, Jaye.”
The garage door slams harshly seconds before I whisper, “Night, Archer...”
Frustrated, I turn around, heading back for the kitchen.
Was it wrong to go out with someone else? I mean, we're just friends right? He hasn't even given me a hint that maybe he'd be interested in anything more. We shouldn't be anything more because that would make this complicated situation even more complicated . , H h owever, it doesn't stop me from wanting it. Besides Calvin would be the more logical route to go. He has his own job. Car. Place to live. He's set in life. He wants kids. He's everything that a normal person would look for in a significant other while Archer...Archer is a work in progress. Sure, he was technically homeless. Has no job nor any offers. No car. No idea what he wants to do with his life, but knows exactly how to make me smile. How to make my heart speed up. He knows when I want extra salt on my fries and when I need to have a bubble bath because work was too much.
Leaning against the counter, I reach for my house phone and dial a number that I know will probably make me feel better.
“Sugar,” my father's voice fills the phone inserting a tender feeling throughout me.
