Page 16 of Composed at Randy's
I’m getting a ton of mixed signals here, right? It’s not just me?
Maybe it’s because I need a shower…
There’s a loud smack from Travis’s side of the room, and I see him with a hand on his forehead. “Buddy.” Travis seems to lose words for a bit there, and I think maybe he’s tired. Being a night owl takes a toll on a person, especially when you keep seeing the sun come up from the wrong side of the day. WhenTravis removes his hand, he shakes his head and says, “If even Mel can’t wingman you, you’re fucked. You two sort yourselves out. I’m going to bed.”
Travis heaves himself off the couch, stretches his arms over his head, and yawns. For a little dude, he’s pretty jacked, so the yawn is a visually informative one. He also has a teeny, tiny happy trail.
Everyone in this place is a solid fucking ten. Where am I? Queer Heaven?
I mean, I’m just assuming it’s a queer-friendly space given what Gwen told me earlier and Mel’s sheer existence. And maybe everyone here isn’t queer, but even so, the eye candy alone is on the same level as the cast ofThe Mummyfor causing a sexuality identity crisis.
Hell, I bet even Elvis the ghost is hot, but I’m not leaving Bael’s side in order to find out.
Because, folks? As much as you’ve been getting my running commentary on the hot-ass people I’ve met tonight, none of them hold a candle to Bael. He’s not even on the scale. He’s got his own scale and no one else is allowed anywhere near it. Mel is pretty spectacular, but there’s just something about Bael that makes him seem more real than anyone I’ve ever met.
I notice these people because I’m alive and horny, but I already know who the prize is here.
But—and here’s the cold, harsh truth part—I’m pretty sure Bael is way out of my league. It’s okay, though. I’m used to that. I’m a weird little dude. I’m an over-sheltered, under-socialized house cat, and I know without a doubt that I don’t belong here.
I’m stupid, but I’m not that stupid.
So I content myself with watching Travis strut his eye-candy self past us and sneakily bask in Bael’s hard, warm body next to me. I don’t need to do anything about my horny thoughts. I’m just lucky to be here.
“Soooo… food? Gwen told me to give you stuff that’s easy on your stomach, so maybe not a sandwich.” Bael’s inner glow dims a little. “I’m sorry for forgetting and letting Travis give you candy earlier. I’ll get better at this, I promise.”
“Better at what?”
“Taking care of you.”
Oh dear. My face burns as I realize I basically threw myself at a stranger and gave him no choice but to be my replacement Kai. It doesn’t matter how beautiful he is, he doesn’t deserve having the Wren Show shoved on him without warning.
“You don’t actually have to take care of me,” I say quickly. “I can go home now.”
“Home?” The level of doubt Bael’s expression shows makes me think he has low confidence in my ability to survive on my own.
I think about my chances of making it home without collapsing from hunger and ask, “Do you mind if I grab something to eat here first?” Even if I do manage to make it home, I’ll be back to square one—in my condo alone without food.
“Hmm…” Bael’s forehead is pinched in concern. “You should definitely stay and eat, but you don't look very steady right now. Why don't you take a nap after eating, and we'll figure out what to do next?”
This sounds like a fabulous idea to me, so I shamelessly agree and say, “This is a genius plan.”
A little bit more time in Bael's presence is something I can't pass up, and getting to sleep in that bed again? Yeah, that's what we're going to be doing today. I'll try to hunt down my shame later after I don't feel so shaky.
I tell Bael that I don't really care what we eat, and that he should order since it seems like he's familiar with this Randy's place. While we wait for the food, Bael info dumps what seems tobe his entire life story on me. I'm telling you, this is the sweetest guy in the world.
He’s the same age as me, but unlike me, he didn't have the best life starting out. According to him, he was trailer park trash. I don't really know what that is, so I have to ask.
“It means I lived in a busted old RV surrounded by fifty other trailers and campers in various stages of falling apart. All the kids in the neighborhood ran wild and free like a pack of wolves. In hindsight, it was pretty fun.”
Then he tells me stories involving makeshift pirate forts in the woods and stealing fruit from a local orchard. He assures me that the owner was a total asshole and had it coming.
Bael’s sad smile makes me think that it was a lot less fun than he was making it out to be. I get the impression that he was stealing fruit because he was hungry and not because he was a bratty child.
I don't tell him anything personal about myself because other than losing my parents, my childhood was idyllic. My family had plenty of money, we lived in a nice house in a nice neighborhood, and my parents made sure I made friends with ‘all the right people.’ After they died, I had Marty and then Shelly and Kai to look after me. It seems like a shitty thing to talk about after learning about Bael’s past, so I say nothing about my childhood.
When he asks me questions about my life, I get flustered and go quiet. Then Bael gives me the softest smile and changes the subject. I don’t really know what to do with that, but Bael is happy to carry the lion’s share of the conversation, and listening to him talk is fascinating, so it isn't like the conversation is struggling.
We also have a startling amount of things in common. We both love retro video games, vintage eighties toys, and cheesy old B movies. I lose track of how much time we spend falling down that rabbit hole together, but the experience is magical. Noone else I know is as into this stuff as deeply as I am, and I’m pretty sure I could do this with Bael forever.
