Page 15 of Composed at Randy's
“You don’t need to feed me—” I begin, but everyone talks over me.
“Randy’s has great soup. Let’s order from there since Elvis wouldn’t let me make any.”
“We were just at Randy’s, Travis. Why didn’t you get soup then?”
“That was six fucking hours ago, Bael. Keep up.”
“Oh yeah, right. I can order you a sandwich, Wren. They’ve got some really cute ones.”
“Wren doesn’t want a Hello Kitty sandwich?—”
“Who wouldn’t want a Hello Kitty sandwich?” Bael looks like Travis smacked him in the face, but then he switches gears and says, “We always order from Randy’s though. Maybe Wren would like something different.”
I’ve never eaten at Randy’s a single time in my life or met these people, but it’s sweet of Bael to worry.
“Is Randy’s making anything other than breakfast right now?” I ask.
I’m assuming it’s morning. The light outside looks soft, and the sun is either in the process of coming up or going down. Thisis me being optimistic about not having slept through an entire day cycle.
Bael gives me a sunny smile, all warm and excited like a golden retriever. “Randy’s will make anything for us. Our sleep schedule is flipped backward, and everyone there is super cool about that. Hazards of the job, you know?”
“I fucked Randy once,” Mel says, which has nothing to do with food, but I’m here for it.
“No one has fucked Randy, Mel. Not even you,” A new guy says as he enters the room. “No one even knows who Randy is.” At first glance, he’s nothing special. Brownish hair, brownish eyes, tallish but not remarkably so. You know the type. I mean, with Bael and Mel in the room outshining everything with their presence, I should be forgiven for thinking this guy is ordinary. But on a closer look, I can see he has something about him, some inner presence that makes him a contender forsecond-most dazzling person in the room.Plus, he has these big-ass hands that you know could finger-bang you straight into the sun.
Yes, I’m always this thirsty. It's the testosterone, remember? I am nothing but a helpless bystander in a hormone stampede and should really be fucked out of my misery.
I discreetly peek at Bael’s hands, and the new guy’s hands become dead to me. Bael’s hands are big too, but instead of having a lanky frame like the new guy, he has a matching body to go with his huge hands. I ogle Bael’s hands, enjoying how strong they appear. They’re just the right side of veiny, and my eyes follow said veins up his forearms where they disappear under the soft, cream-colored sleeves he has rolled up at the elbow.
“Where are your fishnets?” I whisper to Bael while the new guy argues with Mel about someone named Randy. I’m not following their conversation, but I think they might be fighting over him or something.
Bael gives me a sunny smile, and I realize I have his complete attention. It’s like the chaotic conversation around us isn’t even happening. I see myself reflected in his warm, brown eyes, and somehow, I know without a doubt that I have one hundred percent of his focus.
It’s intoxicating.
“I changed clothes while you were asleep,” he says. Something about that makes Bael’s eyes go wide in alarm, and he starts speaking rapidly. “I was in a different room, though, I promise. But I didn’t leave you alone in a strange room. I kept the door open.” Bael’s expression grows more alarmed, and his cheeks are pink now. “Not that I was peeping on you while you were asleep when I was naked! I would never?—”
“Bael, I’m going to rescue you from yourself now, and I expect to be promoted to first best friend status for it,” Mel says, which is pretty impressive. I wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying with the new guy, so the fact that they were paying attention to me and Bael speaks to a level of multitasking I can’t claim ownership of. Mel goes up to the new guy, twines their arm with his, and says, “Shay, darling. Please introduce us to the ravishing woman standing in the doorway over there.”
Shay, the new guy, scowls. “Just because you didn’t get to fuck Randy doesn’t mean I’ll let you fuck my mom.”
The woman in the doorway laughs and enters the room. “Sweetheart, I think I love your friends already. Also, it’s amusing to think you have any say over my sex life.” She pushes her son out of the way and holds out a hand to Mel. When Mel takes it, she lifts their hand to her lips and kisses it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Laura.”
Mel’s face flushes, and it makes me think they aren’t usually on the receiving end of aggressive flirting, but they hold their own by coming back with, “I have a bottle of somethingridiculously expensive in my room we can share if you’d like to get to know me better.”
“You can share it out here with all of us,” Shay says firmly.
If he was using that voice on me, I’d probably be all like,“Okie-dokie, sir! Whatever you say.”Because I’m not a leader. I’m not really a follower either, though. More like a meanderer. I sort of drift through life bumping against the boundaries my people have set up for me. If someone uses a nice, firm voice on me to enforce those boundaries, something in my tummy goes all fizzy and funny, and I am pretty much ready to do whatever they say.
Neither Mel nor Laura are followers because they ignore Shay completely.
“I have a private balcony with a gorgeous view of the city,” Mel says, taking Laura lightly by the elbow and gesturing down a hallway.
Shay stands there frozen as the two walk away, and he doesn’t snap out of it until Travis says, “Looks like your room is free now, Shay. You and Bael can bunk together, and Wren can stay in Bael’s room.”
Shay throws Travis a withering glare before tearing down the hallway after Mel and Laura.
“Anyway, I wasn’t peeping on you in your sleep,” Bael says anxiously and takes my hand. Then he drops my hand like it burned him.
