Page 13 of Composed at Randy's
I'm not a fancy guy. I've been known to sleep on a hardwood floor for hours without moving an inch. I consider that a selling point, but Kai thinks differently and is quite vocal about it.
“I'm not shitty enough to stick you on a couch when you’re not feeling well.”
“Okay, but I'm super gross right now, and you probably don’t want me dirtying up your bed. Wait, unless you gave me a bath while I was asleep. You didn't do that, did you?”
I give myself a quick sniff check, and wow, I’m stinky. Yeah, another gift of testosterone is that you get super stinky real easy.
Bael gives me an offended look. “Dude. If I'm not creepy enough to share a bed with you, I am definitely not creepy enough to bathe you while you're sleeping. If you thought I was that fucked up, you shouldn't have told Gwen that you'd let me take care of you. You had options, you know.” Then his face goesall weird and he starts to backpedal. “I mean… I’m not trying to belittle you. I'm sure in your circumstances it seems like you don't have a lot of options, but I promise you that you do.”
“My circumstances?” I'm not exactly quick on the uptake, but I feel like there's some crucial information I'm missing here.
Bael looks like he's gearing himself up to say something, but a horrible grinding noise outside the bedroom tears our attention away from the conversation. He shoots to his feet, and I fight my way through pillows and stuffies to escape the bed.
My efforts are for nothing, because Bael shoves me back down and throws an entire blanket over my head.
“Stay here,” he orders, and then he's gone.
That was weird, right? It's not just me?
So here I am confused, kinda horny, very hungry, and not even remotely considering staying here.
I fight my way free of the blanket once again, navigate the forest of pillows and stuffies, and finally escape the bed. I'm woozy and I'm not loving it, but I need to know what's happening.
I'm a curious critter and staying put isn’t my style. Kai hates this about me too. You really have to feel sorry for Kai being stuck with me when so much about me drives him nuts. On paper, it sounds like I’m probably the bane of his existence, but I promise you he's a really kind person and one of the only reasons why I’m still alive.
I miss Kai. I really hope his dad is okay.
But to be honest, Kai isn't my first priority right now. I need to know what the hell that noise is and maybe see if I can find a way to get Bael to let me sniff him.
Just once so I can get it out of my system.
I’d like to take a shower first though, just in case the sniffing goes really, really well.
I wobble my way across the floor, through the door, and stumble out into a short hallway. I follow the sounds of, “What the fuck are you doing?” and “For the love of god, make it stop!” and “How did you break the kitchen making soup?”
The first voice is Bael’s, but the other two are strangers’ voices. Then I hear, “Someone go get Harvey!” Followed immediately by, “Don't you dare get Harvey!” Neither voice is Bael’s.
I'm completely winded by the time I make it to the kitchen, so I have to lean against the door frame as I take in the scene in front of me.
“Calm down everyone, it's just Elvis.” A tall, androgynous person shouts to be heard but waves their hand airily in the direction of the godawful noise coming from the vent over the stove.
“Who's Elvis?” I ask, but no one pays attention to me.
“It's not Elvis. Also, Elvis isn't real. And why would you name our ghost Elvis in the first place?” This is Bael. He’s holding a chair and looks a lot like he's trying to find something to hit with it, as if one could battle an annoying noise.
It's pretty cute.
“Don't listen to him, Elvis. You're perfect and we love you,” the androgynous person says.
“No, we don't. Shut up and go away, Elvis.” This comes from a little waifish guy in the corner covering his ears. I think he'd be shooting the noise the finger if he had his hands free.
I shit you not, the sound gets louder.
“Bael, get Travis out of here before he makes everything worse.”
“On it,” Bael says and drops the chair. Then he scoops the little guy off the floor, and when he turns towards the door and sees me, without missing a beat, he scoops me up, tucks me under his other arm, and carries both of us out the door.
Behind us, I hear the androgynous person cooing to their Elvis ghost, saying, “Don't worry about them, baby. They’re all too stupid to know how great you are.”
