Page 85 of Twice Shy

Chapter Twenty-two

PTA Committee meeting, Thursday January16th

It was raining when Joel drove into the Rock House parking lot, a heavy sleety rain that clumped in soggy ridges of ice at the sides and bottom of the windshield. There weren’t many cars. It was an evening for staying home. And Joel might have done just that had the prospect of seeing Ollie not dragged him out into this slushy mush.

It had been almost four weeks since they’d argued. Four weeks since he’d seen Ollie, four long dark weeks to realize how bright a point in his life Ollie had become—Ollie and his boys. Joel missed Rory and Luis too, and found himself looking for Rory among the kindergarteners, wondering what Ollie had told him about that afternoon on the beach. Or about him in general.

Sighing, he pulled up close to the door, grateful he wasn’t on his bicycle tonight. But having his car back only reminded him again of Ollie. He’d found his Nissan parked outside his house one afternoon when he got home from work, the keys in an envelope in the mailbox with a short note:

Joel, thank you for the loan of your car. It helped me a lot. Ollie

He’d phoned Ollie immediately to tell him to come take it back and keep it as long as he needed. Heart bumping in hope, he’d listened to the phone ring out twice before leaving a voicemail. Ollie hadn’t replied, and Joel wasn’t surprised. He got the message loud and clear, the same message he’d gotten on the beach. It was over.

He cut the engine and sat in silence, watching the sleet land on the windscreen and slide in fat sloppy flakes down the glass. He both looked forward to and dreaded seeing Ollie tonight, wasn’t sure how he’d meet his eye and was afraid he wouldn’t be able to look away. He missed him, viscerally. But it was different to how he’d felt after Helen left. Then, he’d felt pummeled like a victim; this time, he felt like his wounds were entirely self-inflicted.

But maybe…fixable?

If he could show Ollie he was sorry, that he really did trust him, maybe Ollie would give him a second chance. None of that could happen tonight under the eyes of a dozen gossipy moms, but this was still the best way to try, if possible, to re-kindle their friendship. That was his plan, such as it went…

Ducking out of his car into the rain, he ran to the door and yanked it open. A fug of warm air greeted him as he stepped into the Rock House, heavy with the aroma of burgers, fries, and beer. Music played, thankfully nothing holidays related—he’d never been so glad to see the back of the festive season—but the Rock House was quiet. Quiet-ish. The usual semi-circular booth was taken up by the PTA and they were chatting with the customary jollity of parents enjoying an evening away from the kids.

Jackie, as usual, had pride of place at the apex of the booth and Alyssa sat to her right. Several of the other moms crowded in on either side, the usual group of loyal volunteers who stepped up to help. Always the same people, of course—the doers and the contributors who made the world turn. And on the end of the seat, in his usual place, sat Ollie.

Joel had thought he was prepared to see him again, he’d certainly imagined this moment often enough.

He was wrong.

As soon as he saw Ollie, he all but tripped over his own feet as he stumbled to a halt. Ollie wore a heavy sweater Joel didn’t recognize—Christmas present?—and his dark curls had been cut short at the back and sides, left longer on top to tumble artfully forward over his forehead. The style suited him, it highlighted his angular cheekbones and emphasized his lovely dark eyes. It made him look older, too—or perhaps that was just the serious look on his face, the somber set of his mouth. The changes Joel had wrought.

Ollie didn’t look at him as Joel approached the table, stomach swooping and pitching helplessly. But Joel knew he was aware of him, could sense his awareness in the rigid tension of his body, saw it in the flush of his cheeks and the way he picked up his drink and took a tiny sip.

Joel’s mouth got drier with every step closer.

“Helloooo Mr. Morgan!”

He jumped at the sound of Jackie’s voice, baring his teeth in what he hoped was a reasonable approximation of a smile. “Hey. Hi…everyone. Happy new year.”

A chorus of greetings came back at him as he took a seat at the end of the booth, but his gaze was fixed only on Ollie who sat opposite him. When Ollie didn’t speak, or even look at him, Joel said, “Hi Ollie,” because it would look odd if they ignored each other.

He watched Ollie’s throat move as he swallowed, saw a phony smile curve his lips, felt his gaze fall just short of Joel’s own. “Hi.”

Ollie hadn’t warmed in the four weeks since they’d argued, and Joel’s skin heated at the obvious slap in the face. Could everyone else see what was happening here? Was it obvious they’d fallen out? Would it confirm the rumors that had been circulating before Christmas? His stomach cramped with unease and a churning resentment at the world. He just wanted to grab Ollie by the shoulders and make him listen. He wanted to hug him and wipe that grave look off his face. But he couldn’t do any of it here, surrounded by the damned PTA Committee.

“Shall we start?” Alyssa said, breaking into his gloomy thoughts.

He looked up, glad of the distraction as she handed out an agenda. But there was a sharpness in her expression, and he remembered that the last time they’d met he’d accused her of gossiping about him. His cheeks grew hotter and he stared down at the agenda as Alyssa started, recapping the funds they’d raised last semester and outlining the new semester’s events, which would begin with a Valentine’s Ball.

Joel thought the idea of imposing all the expectation of Valentine’s on elementary schoolers was dumb, but they ran the event every year and who was he to argue with what these parents thought appropriate for their kids? He certainly didn’t have the fight in him tonight. It was taking all his effort to stay focused on the conversation around him—and mostly he was failing. His attention drifted inexorably back to Ollie, like a rudderless boat caught in the tide. From the side of his eye he watched Ollie fold the corner of his agenda over and back, over and back. He watched him bite his lower lip, clench his hands together on the table—hands Joel had held, hands that had held Joel, hands that had touched him intimately. His skin flushed again, a wash of heat from top to toe. Beneath all the hurt and confusion, the longing and desire were still there. He still wanted Ollie; his body yearned for him independently of the turmoil in his mind.

Once, only once, Ollie glanced his way and their eyes met in a clash of cold fire. But there was no answering flush on Ollie’s cheeks, if anything he looked even paler when he turned away. Just like he’d looked on the beach, his freckles standing out, and faint sleepless shadows gathering beneath his eyes.

On the table, Joel’s arm twitched towards him, an instinctive urge to touch and comfort. Except Joel had no right now; Ollie didn’t want him anymore. He swallowed thickly, curled his fingers into his palm. Surely there was a way they could get past this?

The meeting ground on and Joel found it harder by the minute to stay still, but he was stymied by the fact that he didn’t know what to do. Ollie seemed so unreceptive, so cold, and yet Joel could feel his tension and distress radiating like heat. No, Ollie certainly wasn’t indifferent to Joel’s presence. And that meant he still felt something, right? It meant Joel had a chance. God, he hoped it meant he had a chance.

Finally, Jackie finished up and looked around the table. “Any other business?”

Nobody ever had anything to add, so Joel was already on his feet when Ollie said, “Actually, I do.”

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