Page 31 of Composed at Randy's
“Yes, please,please,yes,” Bael says, which is a bit of a surprise considering that the band is named after him. When I quirk an eyebrow at him, he sighs. “It's enough that I was given a stupid name. The rest of the world doesn't need to keep reminding me of it.”
“Are you kidding me? Your full name is Baelfire? That’s the coolest name ever! When’s your birthday? Please tell me it’s nine months after the summer solstice.”
“You know what my name means?”
I'm about to tell him that I did a crazy amount of research on Midsummer for an art piece I did, but considering what the piece sold for, it's going to come off sounding like bragging, and this conversation isn't about me. It's about making sure Bael knows exactly how cool he is, including his name.
For about five seconds, I pondered over choosing Baelfire as my new name when I transitioned due to my Midsummer research. I ultimately decided I wasn't grand enough to pull itoff. I think Wren suits me perfectly, and I don't give a flying shit how many other trans people have chosen this name. Iloveit.
“My birthday is February second,” Bael says, face flushed.
He’s shy? Oh, kitten lords, be still my heart. “Wait, there are only seven months between midsummer and Candlemas. The math isn’t mathing enough for you to be a solstice-made baby unless you were a preemie.”
Bael gives me a sheepish shrug. He’s miles from the cool, confident man he was while signing a fan’s dress. I may actually die from how adorable this man is.
“No way.Youwere a preemie?” I gesture to his hulking frame. “No fucking way.”
“Bael really ate his Wheaties, didn't he?” Shay reaches across the table and punches Bael in the shoulder affectionately.
I whistle and say, “You certainly did.” Then I remember that Bael all but admitted to me earlier that when he was growing up, he didn't always have enough food, and my enthusiasm for the conversation vanishes.
I place a tentative hand on Bael’s forearm. “I love your name, Bael. It tells a story, and I can see why you all named the band after you. I think you should keep it.”
“We were always going to keep it,” Harvey states absently. Dude is, like, the most level-headed cat-herder I have ever met. He and Kai should get together one day and compare notes.
A lemon-yellow server comes up to our table. No, seriously, they’re a vibrant yellow from hair to shoes. I have mixed feelings about their aesthetic, but they appear happy with themselves, so I’m going to be happy for them.
“Hi, I’m Zo!” they announce to me specifically, treating the rest of our group like air, and then they’re off to the races telling me about every single thing that’s happened to them in the past week.
During a fascinating tale about a three-legged race with three eight-year-olds in one sack (why a sack???) that devolves into what happened to Zo at the grocery store when a group of grannies started a food fight at the salad bar, I managed to squeeze in my order. I ask for a lot of things because I plan to feed most of it to Bael. That preemie story hit me hard in the feels, ya’ll.
Bael also orders an ungodly amount of food, and I’m starting to think maybe we need a bigger table.
“Are you sure you should be eating so much heavy food right now?” Bael whispers to me when Zo whisks themselves away with our orders in hand.
“Ummm…” Well shit. I don’t want Bael to think I’m insane when he finds out I ordered extra food for him even though he’s a grown ass adult who can feed himself now. Not everyone is as bad as I am, after all. “Gwen said I needed to eat more, so I’m just following her orders. Can you finish anything I don’t eat? My eyes might be bigger than my stomach.”
Bael nodded vigorously. “You can order more right now if you want. Anything you want, you can have. You can have all the food.”
Everyone at the table starts offering me food too. Then they start offering other things like clothes and phones. Someone even offers to get me a plant. That last one was Bael. Harvey is the one who offers me a phone.
That’s weird, right? I’m pretty sure this is beyond the norm for social interactions between strangers. It's pretty sweet though, and who am I to judge? I’m weirdness incarnate.
When our food arrives, the conversation dies a swift but delicious death, though I'm pretty sure I really will be getting that plant at some point soon. It can go hang out with all the other plants Kai makes me water, so it will probably survive.Plus, it will remind me of Bael, so I don't mind adding another member to my plant family.
Now the whole booth is filled with copious amounts of snarfing noises as we all completely destroy our lunch. Can it be called lunch when the sun is setting? Meh, whatever.
I slow down with the eating way before everyone else does, but people keep sticking things on my plate anyway, and I'm starting to be concerned that maybe they all want to see if they can make me throw up. If so, this is a great way to do it.
“No, seriously, I don't need any more food.” I cover my plate with both hands to protect my poor stomach. “Give it to Bael. He has more room in him than I could ever hope to.”
I reach out and pat his rock-hard abs without thinking, and when I realize what I’ve done, my entire body grows hot with embarrassment.
And maybe some lust. Just that one touch was nothing shy of a religious experience, and as soon as I get home I'm going to do my best to recreate it on the largest canvas I can find.
Or maybe a sculpture would be a better medium to use. There’s no way to capture his yumminess without resorting to three-dimensional techniques.
Where was I?
