Page 41 of Trevor Takes Care

You’ll be fine, Sky added, enigmatic and so smart Trevor could never keep up.Better than fine. You’ll be great. You always are. He’ll be eating out of your hand in no time. Literally if you want. Good night.

Good night, Trevor answered long minutes later, then got up to go back to the living room and watch the TV on mute until well after midnight.

Chapter Sixteen

The invitation was a nerdy, delicate thing. A piece of computer paper folded in half, with a sketch of Miss Delilah on the front and the words,You are invited to a tea-pawtyon the inside, along with a small apology for the joke but Trevor couldn’t help himself.

He and G.G. had to talk and they could do that in the garden easily enough if Trevor scheduled it within his grandmother’s usual napping hours. G.G. needed some outside time anyway, and they both could use a change in routine.

He put the invitation into G.G.’s mailbox in the morning before starting his jog. He came back to make adjustments on his brother’s business card design to reflect his brother’s new email address, then took a call from his dad about his dad’s website. January to spring was half a year of intense tax preparation. Most of his dad’s clients were older and preferred to call his office with issues, but some left messages through his dad’s website’s contact option, and Trevor periodically checked that and passed them on.

He was supposed to do it more often during busy tax times even though his dad could do it himself or have his receptionist do it—or remove the contact-by-email option entirely as Trevor had advised.

I know you’re busy drawing, his dad’s words lingered,but some of these had timely information.

Trevor grabbed his keys and went out to the store, returning in time to unload several bags worth of snacks that confused his grandma, although she didn’t object to the yogurt-covered pretzels he’d gotten her.

She gave him a curious look and served him leftover pizza for lunch, then asked if he wanted to watch more of her show with her.

“Sky never did tell me if he’d seen it,” she remarked at one point. “Only that he’d heard of it when I mentioned it.”

Trevor almost told her that people thought the movie remake had an OT3, throuple vibe, but explaining the fanshipping phrase “One True Pair” and its abbreviationOTP, and then how that had been adapted to suit three people withOT3, felt like a lot. He didn’t want to talk about Sky, anyway. Well, he did, but not to her. Not for what he wanted to say. He finally answered, “We haven’t spoken recently, so I haven’t mentioned that I’ve watched it.”

His grandma gave him another look, still curious, but more pitying. Trevor focused on the silly show, mostly noting that it didn’t have a regular third character, so anything that might have implied a throuple was more about a threesome than a ménage-à-trois or OT3.

They were part way through their fourth episode of the day when Trevor started to really pay attention to how everyone got tied up or tortured so frequently. Especially the little guy. If Sky had ever seen this show, he probably had loved it for that, along with all the ridiculous, imaginary spy tech.

Trevor didn’t message Sky to talk about it. There was nothing in his notifications to hint that he should.

He watched a tiny scientist get bound and gagged and, at one point, collared, and then turned his head while still pretending to watch to make his grandma happy.

Maybe he should have offered Sky a collar back when they were together. But it had seemed beyond belief that Sky would want that then. He was reluctant about everything. Because of his own issues, sure, but also because Trevor didn’t know what he was doing and was hardly the type to make Sky proud.

Trevor painfully drove the point home to himself; maybe wearing a collarfor Trevorwas part of what Sky found so unbearable about the whole thing. That didn’t sound like Sky. It was more likely Sky couldn’t admit what he wanted and it had nothing to do with Trevor. But the possibility was there and it hurt.

Maybe Trevor shouldn’t have moved so fast with G.G. Maybe they weren’t ready to talk it all out, or they might have been, but Trevor had ruined it with a stupid pun and a piece of printer paper.

He excused himself and went outside to get their mail, and incidentally, check G.G.’s mailbox for the invitation, but the box was empty.

Trevor considered the time, cringing inwardly at his added dorky joke on the invitation,Tea’s at four!not sure if it was worse or better for him if G.G. would get the reference toThe Hobbit, then went back into the house to make sure he’d put anything that needed to be refrigerated into the fridge. He stared at the jar of honey he’d been so determined to buy—surprisingly expensive—and quickly tucked it away in the pantry so he wouldn’t spend any more time imagining G.G.’s face when Trevor served him coffee how he liked it.

What was Trevor even doing? Buying snacks like this was a slumber party or a child’s birthday. Talking about tea parties and then panic-buying beer and cider because he didn’t know what G.G. liked, if G.G. liked alcohol at all. Trevor didn’t know anything about wine. His sister might, but he wasn’t going to ask her. Sky didn’t drink except for the occasional overpriced cocktail that got him drunk within a few sips.

Trevor should have asked G.G. to coffee. That worked for job interviews and dates, so it should have worked for whatever they decided to be. That would have been the mature thing to do. Thecorrectthing to do.

What kind of idiot drew a cat on a piece of paper and asked a gorgeous man to sit in his garden and eat pretzels? What kind of loser dork used aTolkien referenceto do that?

Trevor looked at the clock again, the little hand well past four, at the sun beginning to set outside, and went into the kitchen to make some sort of food even though he had no idea what he was doing there, either.

His grandma eventually paused her show to come stand in the kitchen and watch Trevor make breakfast for dinner. She got out sausage for him to cook and then set the table. She poured orange juice into glasses and fetched the butter, asking if Trevor wanted heated syrup for the French toast and frowning slightly when Trevor asked her if French toast tasted good with honey, since he’d bought some.

“You’re only making enough for two,” she remarked quietly when everything was almost done, but didn’t press it when Trevor shrugged without looking at her.

“G.G.’s been getting grocery deliveries. I’m sure he’ll be fine for one night.”

Trevor’s French toast wasn’t terrible, so the internet recipe he’d found hadn’t done him wrong. His grandma even said he’d done a good job, and that he should try it with homemade sweet bread next. He gave her a smile that made her look alarmingly serious.

After eating, he waved his grandma away from the dishes and did those himself, sleeves rolled up, his gaze on the window as the sky grew darker.

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