User: jenish (posted by fizzyblogic) Date: 2007-11-11 14:18 Subject: Or, What You Will [4/7] Security: Public

Or, What You Will
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Tyson was late, but instead of arriving in style to be noticed, this time he just rang the doorbell and breathlessly apologised. “I got stuck in traffic,” he said, looking at Nick like he was desperate to be forgiven.

Nick’s heart ricocheted around his ribs. “It’s okay. You want to come in? I’ll give you the tour before we go.”

“Okay, yeah, that’d be great.” Tyson looked relieved and Nick led him inside.

“This is the front hall,” he said, complete with sweeping arm gesture. Tyson made ‘ooh’ noises, and Nick’s voice hitched a laugh as he said, “And through here, we have the living room. TV, Robyn’s DVDs,” he indicated the cases piled onto a shelf, “my DVDs,” indicating the neat rows covering four and a half shelves, “and our great guardian, the TiVo.” He patted the box fondly as they passed. “That door leads to the laundry room, out from the patio doors is,” he slid one of them open and led Tyson outside, “the uh, patio. Roof of the garage, really, we just keep the sun chairs and the table out here mostly. Sometimes we eat here, when it’s nice and we’re home when the sun’s setting. It’s pretty beautiful.”

Tyson looked around appreciatively. “I knew you’d have a good view.”

Nick, thinking of the way he’d said it last time, blushed. He cleared his throat, hoping Tyson wouldn’t notice, and took him back inside. “And through here is my domain, the kitchen.” Tyson took in the cabinets, the surfaces, the oven, the microwave, and the tall fridge-freezer whose surface was covered in magnets.

“Hey,” he said, leaning closer to read some of them, “I saw that When in doubt, add more wine one someplace … oh! That’s right.” He turned back to Nick. “This guy once, he was working on a shoot, he had this weird accent, like he’d been dropped in the middle of the Atlantic ocean?”

“Yeah? My sister got me that one on vacation.” He led Tyson out into the hall again. “That door’s the bathroom, that one’s Robyn’s room so we’ll leave that and here,” he opened his door, “is my room.”

Tyson stepped into it with the air of someone who is trying not to break a spell. “It’s nice,” he said, looking around. He spotted the framed picture near the wardrobe and moved closer. “Hey, this is pretty good. Who drew this?”

“Robyn. It’s uh, it’s me as a cat.”

Tyson looked at Nick, then back at the drawing. “But this cat’s wearing glasses.”

“Yeah, I uh, I wear glasses sometimes. For reading.” He pointed to the case by the bed. Tyson looked over, then at Nick and back to the drawing again. He seemed to be trying to arrange his features into an impassive expression.

“Oh.” He peered at the drawing. “You know what, this cat looks like it should be called Socks. But like – Socks McGee.” He grinned at Nick over his shoulder. “You know what I mean? Like, Socks McGee can get you anything you want, if you’ve got the right price.”

“Like he could bust you out of jail?” Nick matched Tyson’s grin and moved closer, looking at the picture again. He did have rather a mischievous air; perhaps it was the whiskers.

“Dude, he’s a criminal mastermind. The brains of the operation,” Tyson tapped his own temple, “the one you never see. He never gets caught.”

“Like Macavity,” Nick grinned. Tyson straightened up and put one hand to his chest.

“Macavity,” he began to recite in a grand voice, “Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity. He’s broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity. His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare. And when you reach the scene of crime – Macavity’s not there!” This last was delivered in hushed tones and wide eyes.

Nick tried very, very hard not to let any of the sounds rushing through him escape via his throat. When he could finally trust himself to speak again, he said, “You uh, you like that poem, huh?”

“Are you kidding me? TS Eliot is the shit.” Tyson grinned at him. “And Cats is my favourite musical. Whatever else you might think, you cannot deny that Memory is a fucking classic.”

“Uh. Uh, yeah.” Nick had to pretend he had a cough, for a minute, but when he could talk again and had stopped thinking He is so fucking cute he is so fucking cute he is so fucking cute on a loop, he said, “I guess we should –” but in the middle of the sentence, Tyson’s phone rang.

“Shit, it’s the producer,” he said. “I have to take this, sorry.”

“Go ahead,” Nick waved an encouraging hand motion.

“Hi,” Tyson said into the phone. “Well, I – I’m with a friend, we had pla- I know. Yes. I can be there in,” he checked his watch, “twenty minutes, I – I’ll be there. As soon as I can. Yes. Okay.” He hung up, looking like he wanted to hurl the phone across the room. “I’m really sorry about this, but I have to go. There’s some location we can only have today, but they just got it agreed and we have to start shooting like, now. I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. We can hang out some other time,” Nick said, feeling his heart sinking into his knees.

“It’s just, they’ll fire me if I don’t get there, and I need this job, it could make my career in movies.” Tyson sounded like he was pleading, willing Nick to forgive him. As far as Nick was concerned, there was nothing to forgive him for.

“It’s okay, really. You should go,” he practically pushed Tyson out of the room, stopping short of actual bodily contact. “Don’t get fired, Ty. I’ll be here when you don’t have to work, seriously.”

“Thank you, so much, I will make this up to you. I promise.” Tyson dashed out to his car, and Nick watched him drive away before sinking onto the couch, finding some episodes of Friends on the TiVo, and curling up to watch them.

He switched his cell phone on at the end of Monday’s classes and it beeped to inform him of a new voicemail message. He listened to it as he gathered stray drum sticks and music stands and put them away in the band room.

“Hi Nick, it’s Tyson.” He sounded hurried. “I’m still really sorry about yesterday, and the shooting schedule is kind of insane. I have a night off in like, a week, but that’s it. Can we do something uhm … next weekend some time? Call me.”

“You’re in a good mood,” Robyn beamed at him when he went to pick up some paperwork in the faculty room. That was when he noticed he was humming Two Steps Behind under his breath.

“I guess I am,” he smiled at her. “Ty called, we’re gonna reschedule for next weekend. He’s got crazy hours with the shooting, y’know?”

“So you guys are practically dating now. Right?” Jeff asked, sidling up behind him. Nick groaned.

“We are not dating. Tyson doesn’t date. We’re just going to hang out.” He clocked the three incredulous faces of Jeff, Toad and Robyn and added, “Maybe have some coffee. Y’know. Hang out. Talk about shit. Yeah, he does that now. It’s nice,” he said, exasperated. “What are you all looking at me like that for?”

John walked up and said, “Hey. What are we giving Nick shit for?”

“He’s not dating Tyson, apparently,” Jeff informed him, grinning rather too much for Nick’s liking.

“Because we’re just friends,” he insisted. John snorted.

“Yeah. Uh huh. Just keep believing that, Nicky.” John patted his arm condescendingly.

“Oh fuck you, all of you.” Nick shook his head, exasperated.

“No, yeah, you’re right,” Toad nodded. “Totally friends. You don’t desperately want to bang him, or anything like that. Oh no.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Nick rolled his eyes. “I’m going home, okay? Home.”

“You coming to yoga tonight?” Robyn asked him, obviously still trying hard not to laugh.

“Yeah, want me to drive you?”

“I can pick you up,” Toad spoke up. “We could have supper or something on the way back to my place.” He slipped an arm around her waist. “It’s been a while since I took you out to eat.”

“Mmm, sounds good,” Robyn smiled, leaning against him.

“Ugh, you two.” John rolled his eyes. “Nick, you’re my only single friend. Hide me.”

“Stand up to it, John!” Nick said in Coach Voice. “You’re bigger than the coupledom! Crush them like an egg!”

Jeff, John and Nick chorused, “Like an egg!” and dissolved into laughter. Toad looked at them quizzically, and Robyn shook her head.

“They saw this TV show once, with these kids playing baseball, and the coach said that to them. ‘Crush the other team like an egg. Like an egg.’ They … still quote that.”

“That will never not be funny,” Jeff informed her.

“Never,” Nick added. John just contributed a firm nod to the argument, since everything had already been said for him.

“I am out of here,” Robyn said. “I’m surrounded by guys,” she added in a sigh.

Toad nuzzled her cheek. “But you still like me, right? Even though I’m a guy?”

“I like you best of all,” Robyn nodded, and Toad beamed. “Okay. See you all tomorrow. Nick, I’ll see you at home.”

Jeff turned to Toad after Robyn had gone and said, “So wow, you two, huh? You said the big L yet?”

“Not yet.” Toad was still looking in the direction she had gone, even though she was probably at her car by now. “I have to pick the exact right moment for it.”

“The big L?” Nick asked.

“He loves her,” John explained.

“Oh dude.” Nick clapped Toad on the back. “Yeah? That’s awesome, man. She’s totally nuts about you.”

Toad ducked his head but couldn’t hide his smile. “I thought maybe I’d say it tonight, you know – take her out for something romantic, get candles going at home, and then tell her. Do you think that’s okay, d’you think I should? Is it overkill?”

Nick felt like his head might crack in two if he grinned any harder. He grasped Toad in a quick hug and said, “She would love that, seriously. So much.”

Toad exhaled nervously. “Okay. Good. Do you – do you think she loves me? I mean, you’ve known her pretty much forever, right?”

“Since we were kids,” Nick nodded. “And yeah – I think she does love you. She hasn’t said it, not in so many words, but I’ve never seen her like this.” He felt like hugging him again, but refrained. “Aw dude, I’m so happy for you.”

Yoga class that night seemed to speed by, and Nick waved Robyn and Toad off after it and drove home, stopping to rent a DVD and get some wine on the way. He was half way through the movie when his phone beeped with a text message.

It was from Robyn, and it read Kevin loves me!! We’re IN LOVE!! Nick typed back Congratulations!! That’s awesome xxxx and on the TV screen, a bridge blew up.

Nick decided the next day that he would spend his planning period at Kim’s. He bought coffee and some ingredients on the way and when he rang the doorbell he heard her call out, “Just a minute!” The sound of crutches on wooden flooring came closer and closer, and she opened the door. “Nick, hey! What are you doing here?”

“Tuesdays I finish early,” he said, holding up his grocery bags, “and I bought some stuff for making lunch. Can I come in?”

“Of course, yes –” She opened the door wider and edged aside so he could get past. He put the grocery bags on the kitchen counter and took a few things out of them that needed chilling. He found places for them in the fridge, and went to join her in the living room. She was sinking back into an armchair, slow going with the crutches. He rushed over to help, and arranged the nest of cushions so she could have her leg propped up. “Thanks,” she said, when he’d finished.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked. “Tea, or something?”

“Ty has some tea in the cupboard over the sink. That’d be really great, thank you.”

He spread his arms out. “For the next couple hours, I am yours. Figured I could make myself useful and entertain you while everyone’s at work, right?”

“You’re an angel,” she sighed, visibly grateful. “I’m starting to work my entire day around the Cartoon Network. Save me.”

“Just wait there, I’ll be back in a minute.” Nick found the tea, and made it as quickly as he could. He took it in to her and said, “Okay, and I’ll be back in another minute. You haven’t eaten yet, right?” She shook her head. “Okay, good. I’ll be right back.” He darted back into the kitchen and made sure the toaster was plugged in.

Ten minutes of watching bagel halves sit in it, grilling salmon, and slicing vegetables later, he grabbed the cream cheese and made the bagels, arranging a crisp, leafy salad around the edges of both plates. He took them into the living room with a small verbal-trumpet fanfare.

“I give you,” he announced, grandly, “bagel a la Wheeler.” He handed her the plate and a napkin and settled himself with his own on the couch.

Kim bit into her bagel and moaned, “Oh God this is incredible. Mmnf, please come over all the time, you are very welcome.”

“Maybe food is the secret,” Nick observed once he’d swallowed his mouthful. “If I could just cook for a bunch of guys and the one who makes the best noises gets a date. Or something.”

Kim laughed. “That might work. Tyson won’t stop talking about that dinner you made for us.”

Nick tried hard not to blush or burst out into a grin, and hid behind his salad. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Kim looked at him for a moment, and then laughed again. “You may as well have a huge flashing sign over your head, Nick.”

“Not you as well,” he groaned. “They would not shut up about it yesterday, I swear. We’re just friends.”

“I know.” Kim smiled at him, opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. “Nick, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He picked a few crumbs up from his plate with the tip of one finger.

“Did you always want to be a music teacher? Like, did you just know?”

“Yeah,” he said, slowly. He looked at her. “That or a guitarist, and that didn’t happen, so. Yeah. Why?”

“Well, it’s just – I mean, I’ve kind of talked to Ty about this, and Brit, but not really like.” She turned to him, earnest, and said, “Nick, if I tell you something, will you promise not to repeat it?”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” he nodded.

“It’s just that I – the weekend before the accident, I slept a lot, and Ty said my head was hot, like I was coming down with a fever or something, but I never did. And I – I’ve had these sort of,” she paused. “I don’t know, like just these moments, I guess, ever since I got fired.”

“What kind of moments?” he asked, careful. She was worrying at her shirt, twisting and untwisting it between her fingers.

“It – I don’t even know. Like one minute I’ll be fine, the next I’m crying and I feel like everything’s falling apart. They don’t last long, they’ve mostly been at like, four in the morning or something, but I’ve had a couple in front of Tyson and I think he’s worried. And – and I’m worried. I didn’t have any in the hospital, but I’ve had them every day since I came back.” She looked at him, helpless. “I don’t know what to do, and I really don’t want to worry Brit or Ty, y’know, but I. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Nick put his plate on the table, moved over and put his arms around her. She didn’t cry, but her breath hitched a little and she hugged him back. “What was it about getting fired that upset you?” he asked into her hair, taking a chance that it was the right question. He’d had practice with crying women, since all his best friends had been female; he was the only guy he knew who’d learned from the age of fifteen when to shut the fuck up and hand the chocolate over, and when to stick around and just wait for the inevitable talking.

She laughed slightly damply. He pulled back to see that her eyes were wet, so he hunted around for a box of tissues and handed it to her. “Well, there’s the getting fired part,” she said.

He didn’t reply, just kept on looking at her and waiting. She sighed.

“I guess it was … I’d worked there for almost two years, you know? I liked it there. My bosses were nice, the work wasn’t bad, it was something to – it was a good job.”

“And?”

She stared at him. “Shit, you’re good at this.” When he didn’t say anything, she added, “And I didn’t have to go to any stupid auditions.”

“You already had a job,” he suggested, slowly, watching her closely just in case he was wrong, “so it didn’t matter that your career dried up?”

She was perfectly still for a minute, and then she sort of crumpled right in front of him. He thrust a tissue at her as she started to cry, and moved round to hug her again. “Sorry,” she said between hiccups, “sorry, I just.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “Is that what’s wrong?” He was at a loss, but hoped his voice at least sounded reassuring.

“No, not the – not the career dying, no, that –” She curled up and blew her nose, so he went back to the couch. “I loved my job. It wasn’t what I wanted to do forever, but when I got fired I thought, now I can audition more, but – but I don’t think I want to be an actress any more, Nick. I don’t want to be a model, I don’t – I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, what I want to do with my life, but I – I don’t want that again, I don’t.”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to do that shit, it’s okay.” Nick wished he could do something with his hands, anything to at least feel more useful.

Kim blew her nose again. “I’m sorry, I know this is – it’s all stupid, but I’d feel like I was letting Ty down if I told him. We started out together, you know? I met him on his first job, I helped him out when I was doing okay, he helps me out now. We have each other’s backs, you know? And we’re kind of … in it together. So if I’m not – if our lives go so different, I just.” She wiped at her eyes with the tissue, crying subsided now. “I’d just miss it, you know? It’s us against the world, it’s always been that way, partners in crime –”

“You won’t lose Ty, Kim, no way. I don’t even know him and I know that.”

She smiled weakly at him. “Thanks, Nick. I guess I just, I know I’ve been worrying over nothing, but. I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

“Well.” Nick thought for a minute. “What do you like to do?”

“Paint,” she replied instantly. “I mean, I – I’m not great, and I can’t draw like Rob can, but I like playing with colours and patterns and textures. It’s kinda – comforting, I guess.”

Nick nodded. “Art therapy? My sister did that in college. There’s probably a centre somewhere here, there’ll be classes. Maybe you should try that, teaching it some day?”

“Huh.” She considered. “Art therapy. Yeah, I’ll – I’ll think about it. Thanks, Nick.”

“Hey, any time. Just glad I could help.” He patted her hand affectionately. “And talk to Ty and Brittany, okay? Tell them what’s been going on.”

“Okay, I – yeah, I will.” Kim looked up at the clock and said, “Brit should be getting home soon, her boss said he’d only need her until three.”

“I’ll leave you two to talk, then,” he said, standing up. He took the plates into the kitchen and stacked them in the dishwasher. “Are you okay now?” he asked, when he returned to grab his jacket from the chair he’d flung it over.

“Yeah. Thanks, you’ve been amazing today.” She kissed his cheek when he leaned over to hug her.

“You’re welcome. Um, say hey to Ty when he gets in, okay?”

Kim snorted. “If he gets in tonight. He was out with this dolly grip from the set yesterday, said they might hit a bar tonight after work. I’m not expecting him back.”

Nick blinked. “Oh. Right. Uh. Well, when you see him.”

“Sure. I’ll see you soon, Nick.”

“Yeah. Right, yeah.”

He closed the front door behind him and walked to his car, feeling a little like he was sleepwalking. He drove home to find Robyn and Toad making out in the kitchen, despite it being three thirty and usually by that time they were heading over to Toad’s.

“Oh – uh, hi Nick,” Robyn said when she finally became aware of his presence. “We figured you were out, so –” She stopped, and looked at him properly. “Are … you okay?”

“Tyson, uh.” Not much sound was coming out, so Nick cleared his throat and tried again. “Tyson’s seeing this guy, the uh. The something grip, some crew thing on the movie I guess.”

“Are – do you want us to leave you alone, do you need –”

“Wafers,” he interrupted her. He said it quietly, but she stopped like he’d yelled. “Do we have wafers?”

Robyn turned to Toad. “Kevin, go get a Muppets DVD. Doesn’t matter which one – no wait, not Great Muppet Caper. Shit, not Muppet Movie either. Go with Treasure Island. Get it started up, I’ll deal with the ice cream.”

“I – okay.” Toad disappeared, and Robyn turned back to Nick.

“We have a full tub of double chocolate and most of the Rocky Road left. Spoon, scoops or sundae?”

Nick felt an immense but remote sense of relief. She always knew what to do. “Spoon. Please.”

She bustled around grabbing a few things from the cupboards, and pointed to the door. “Living room,” she said, decisive, and marched him in there and over to the couch. She arranged the ice cream, spoon, syrup, sprinkles, wafers and a bag of marshmallows on the coffee table next to a perplexed-looking Toad, who handed her the remote. She gave it to Nick.

“What’s, uh, what’s going on?” Toad asked her, glancing at Nick as he hit ‘enter’ and grasped for the tub and the syrup in the manner a drowning man might grasp a lifebelt.

Robyn led Toad away, but Nick could still hear them over the sound of the opening score. “We have this gauging system,” she explained, voice low. “If one of us is upset, the other provides ice cream and comfort viewing of varying degrees, depending on how bad the situation is. Something like feeling kinda crappy is, say, Doctor Who and a scoop of soya vanilla. D’you see?”

“Okay, yeah, I get it.”

Robyn paused. “We uh. Muppets is for the major league shit. And wafers …” She drew her breath in. “We haven’t had a wafers-and-Muppets crisis since Mike left him.”

“Wow. Shit.” There was another pause, and Toad continued, “And the marshmallows?”

“We just had some today, I figured he could use some more sugar.”

Nick had already dug out two spoonfuls of ice cream, and into the dent in the tub he poured syrup and sprinkles, one marshmallow sitting proudly in a heap of syrup. He stuck the corner of the wafer into the highest peak of the freezer-swirls in the ice cream and dug in for another spoonful.

“Hey, so Nick?” Toad called over, softly. Nick looked up. “We’re gonna be in Rob’s room if you need us, okay? If you do, just come and knock, alright?”

Nick nodded absently. The crocodile had started singing. He heard the living room door close and broke off a corner of the wafer to nibble when the lobsters came on the screen.

He made it through the next week mostly because of Robyn. Toad had obviously said something to the other guys, because not a one of them teased him about Tyson, and when he was teaching his classes, or guitar club, or band, or orchestra, he just lost himself in the music or the class itself. His favourite senior stayed behind after class to tell him she’d made it into a local band she’d auditioned for, and he had beamed at her with a rush of affection and pride, and told her he’d always known she could do it. When he got home from work, Robyn had already set the DVD player up, and she kept the freezer stocked. It was unspoken knowledge that Nick would do the same for her in a heartbeat, so he thanked her by buying her a huge box of chocolates and telling her to spend the weekend at Toad’s. She had made him promise to call if he needed anything, but he drove out to the beach and took some long walks, ignoring his cell phone.

Tyson left a message, but he didn’t listen to it. Kim called to ask if he was okay, but he just said he wasn’t feeling great and might be getting sick, so was avoiding people in case they caught something. She said she hoped he’d feel better soon, and he said the same to her. He asked her if she’d talked to Brittany yet, deliberately not asking after Tyson too, and she said she had, and that when her leg was mended she’d be starting some art classes.

The beach walks seemed to clear his head, and it felt less like sleepwalking to get through Monday. He found that he didn’t even need the wafers, and switched to eating cereal out of the box instead of having ice cream again. Though he did realise, when he went to bed, that he’d never switched his cell phone on after school.

He got a text from Kim the next day, asking if he felt any better, and suddenly he was hit with a wallop of guilt. He texted back with Yeah thanks. Want me to come over this afternoon? I could make lunch again. She replied with Yes please. It’d be good to see you.

Kim waited until they had eaten, talking about the art classes she’d signed up for and how great Brittany had been about the whole thing – “You were right, they were both really worried, so when I told them what was going on they just said is that all and I should do what makes me happy” – before settling back and saying, “Okay, Nick, spill it. What’s the hermit deal about?”

Nick shook his head. “I guess I just, felt shitty this week is all.”

She watched him closely as she said, “It wasn’t anything to do with what I said about Tyson last week, right? About him and the dolly grip?”

“Um.” Nick examined the surface of the coffee table, hoping he wasn’t going as red as it felt like he was.

“Oh shit, Nick – you should check your fucking messages more often.” He looked up at her, and she said, “Ty isn’t seeing that guy – I thought he was, but he said – oh for fuck’s sake, listen to your fucking messages. Okay?”

“You – he isn’t seeing that grip guy?”

“Messages.” She motioned to his pocket. “Phone. Wheeler.”

“Right, uh, okay.” He tugged his cell phone out of his pocket and thumbed through the menu until he found the ‘check voicemail’ option and hit the button.

The automated voice menu started up, and he pressed more buttons until it got him to his messages. There were three.

“Nick, hi,” Tyson started the first one. “I just uh, Kim said she thought, when I talked about that – uh, I guess I don’t know why I’m … calling to tell you that I’m not seeing anyone, because we’re just friends, right? But uh. Well, I just wanted to set the record straight, I guess – I’m not seeing that dude, I’m not seeing any dude. So. Just so we’re clear on that.”

The menu voice crashed in again, and Nick pressed the button for the next message. It was from Kim.

“Hey Nick, I just wanted to call and say I hope you’re feeling better. Ty’s got the night off tomorrow, I was thinking the four of us – I mean, us and Ty and Brit – if we could hang out, maybe I could somehow persuade you to cook, and we could watch a movie or something? We’d all love to see you.”

The menu voice came in once more, and Nick pressed the button for the last message.

“I don’t know what I did or why you’re mad at me,” Tyson said, sounding kind of upset, “but I don’t like it. So talk to me, okay? Come over tomorrow night, please? We’ve never really had a chance, I guess, and I’d – I’d like us to have one. And you can take that any way that you want, but I’m hoping you’ll take it the way that it’s meant. So. I’ll see you tomorrow, I hope.”

Nick hung up and stared at Kim. “I – what did he mean, the way it was meant?”

Kim leaned over and flicked him on the head. “Idiot. What do you think?”

“But I –”

“Look. Nick.” Kim looked him dead in the eyes and said, carefully and precisely, “Tyson is nuts about you. You, clearly, are nuts about Tyson. He hasn’t slept with anyone since the night he met you. I have never known that to happen in his life. Would you buy a fucking clue already and just give him a chance?”

“But he – he doesn’t date. And.”

“He hasn’t found anyone he wants to date before now. But he wants to date you, dumbass.”

“But,” Nick voiced his one last hurdle, “I don’t know him.”

Kim paused for a moment, until she was sure he was looking at her, and then she started to speak. “When he was five years old, his dad moved out to California and married his stepmom. He played football in school and he got good grades so his parents wanted him to go to college, but all he ever wanted was to be on stage. When he was a kid, he climbed trees and wrote words he found in books and liked all over his notebooks. I found one last year that had ‘effanineffable’ and ‘balderdash’ on the front page. His dad and stepmom moved to Oregon when he was eighteen, but he was already working as a model so he stayed here, and he moved in with me after a while. We met on a perfume commercial, and the first thing he ever said to me was ‘Do you think they really do put the essence of terracotta and sunsets into that Terracotta Sunset lipstick?’ He was seventeen. He’s waited tables, cleaned pools, blown casting directors and worked fucking hard to get where he is, and it means a lot to him. And last year, the lease on this apartment came up and the owner said he was selling it. Tyson had just been paid for a huge job, and he didn’t tell me until afterwards, but he bought this place for me. It’s just an apartment to him, a really nice one but nothing special, but to me it’s – this is my home. I love this apartment, so he bought it. If he loves you and he has a big enough net, he’ll get you the fucking moon if you want it. That is who Tyson is.”

Nick was silent for a minute when she’d finished speaking. “I, um.” He cleared his throat. “When did you leave that message?”

“Last night.”

“So Tyson … has tonight off?” He looked at the clock.

“Yeah. He should be here in a few hours.”

Nick stood up. “I,” he said, “will be back.”

The apartment was empty when he got home, but then school had only been over for a half hour. He flung himself at his wardrobe, grinning at the picture of Socks McGee, and started pulling shirts and pants out at random.

Robyn got home fifteen minutes later, and called out, “Nick? You in?”

“Yeah, come in here a second,” he called back, standing with two pairs of pants in his hands. He turned to her when she appeared in the doorway and said, “Do you think lace-up pants would be a bit much, or are they just convenient?”

“I – what?” Robyn blinked at him, confused. Toad appeared in the doorway behind her.

“Toad – you’re about to get laid. Do you wear lace-up pants and no underwear for convenience, or is it too much assumption? There’ll be dinner first.”

“You could never assume too much with Tyson. Wear them.” He grinned. “I take it you two made up?”

“He’s not seeing that guy, he’s not seeing anyone, he wants to see me,” Nick informed them, stepping forward and grabbing Robyn into a gleeful spin. She giggled and ended the spin in a hug. “I’m going over to cook for them, and Ty will be there, and he wants to date me, and you two can totally have the apartment tonight. I won’t be home.” He felt as if he could pretty much vibrate off the face of the earth. “Shit, I should take a toothbrush. Oh shit, I gotta shower.”

“How about we leave you to get ready,” Toad said. “Rob, we could go for a drive or something?”

“There’s a really nice place I haven’t been in a while, you can see the sea,” she replied. “Come on, I’ll take you.” She hugged Nick again and whispered, “Good luck.”

A shower, three clothes-decision changes and a stop for ingredients later, Nick rang Kim’s doorbell again. It was answered by Brittany, who ushered him inside.

“Ty’s not here yet,” she said, “he called to say he’d be working late. He won’t miss dinner,” she added quickly, “and he doesn’t know you’re here. We figured you could surprise him.”

“Okay.” Nick could not keep still. “Okay. I’m gonna go get started, this’ll take me a little while.”

Brittany handed him a glass of wine. “We’re watching a movie, come join us when you can.”

Nick got to work slicing, measuring, mixing and rolling. He greased a baking tin, pre-heated the oven, stirred ingredients together, laid them in layers carefully, and finally shut the oven door and started the timer. He diced vegetables and checked the progress of the baking, and then he grabbed his glass of wine and headed to the living room.

Fifteen minutes after he had settled into the cushions next to Brittany, the front door opened and Tyson walked in, saying, “Something smells g-” He stopped when he saw Nick. “Um.”

Nick unfolded himself, put down his wine, stood up, crossed the room, stopped in front of Tyson, and breathed, “Hi.” Then he leaned in and kissed him.

It took Tyson a split second to react, during which he let out a tiny sound, but then he started kissing Nick back. He had kissed him before like it was a victory, and like he could devour him; but this time, Tyson kissed him like he wanted to savour it. He gently held Nick’s face between his palms, the pad of one thumb stroking the skin just under Nick’s ear, and Nick felt like he was melting, his entire body turning to tingles as though his skin were waking up.

He was dimly aware of cheering coming from the couch, but he was so wrapped up in the smell and feel and taste of Tyson that he took no notice. There was stale coffee on Tyson’s breath, stubble on his chin, and some kind of greasy residue from product in his hair, but Nick didn’t care because it was the most perfect kiss he had had in a long, long time.

The timer in his hand went off, and he broke away. “I have to, uh,” he started, voice hoarse, “I have to go cook now.”

“Okay,” Tyson breathed. “Okay.”



[cont.]

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