Page 44 of Waiting on Life
I spun to find Pete behind me, his arms crossed over his bare chest. “It was great.” I sighed. “I really like him, you know?”
“Believe me, I’d have to be blind to not notice.”
There was a tone in his voice. “What’s wrong?”
“What are you doing with Toby? I mean, is this a hit it and run? Or are you going to stay until you get bored with him? Or maybe you see yourself having a future with him.”
I’d been asking myself the same thing. He wasn’t a hit-and-run kinda guy. If he was, I’d have been in his pants already and moved on. Been there, blew that. I couldn’t see myself getting bored with Toby. The smallest things made me smile. So I guess there was only one other option.
“I’d like to think I have a future with him.” I frowned. “Is that stupid?”
Pete rushed at me and grabbed me in a hug. “I’m so proud of you. Toby cares about you so much, and I don’t want to see either of you end up hurt. But….” He sighed. “What are you going to do if he finds himself a place and moves?”
I’d talked about Toby’s dream with Pete one night, and how I might react when it happened. Sure, Tammy said it wasn’t likely, but Toby was tenacious, and he could very well surprise everyone. If that happened, what then?
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, do you think I’m cut out to be a country boy? Straw hats, a piece of grass between my lips, and drawlingy’alldoesn’t really strike me as being fabulous.”
Pete stopped hugging and took a big step back. “You’ll always be fabulous. Nothing you wear can change that.” He swallowed. “Would you move to be with him?”
The thought had been lodged in the back of my head for a while. I mean, we were brand-new, and it wasn’t something I should even be entertaining, but I honestly couldn’t see my life without Toby in it. The time I spent with him and Waldo was among the happiest of my life. I could decompress, be myself, and there was no judgment.
“Toby put polish on my nails one day,” I said quietly.
Pete’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, he what?”
It had been a week ago. We were having dinner, and I glanced down at my nails, realizing how plain they looked. Normally I would at least wear a glossy coat over them so they’d stand out, but since I’d started working at the bar, I’d left them to get dull and lifeless.
“He found me staring at my hands one night and asked if something was wrong. I shrugged, saying it was no big deal, but Toby wasn’t having that. He reached out and gave my lip a tug before he asked again. So I told him how much I missed my shiny nails. He took my hand and said he could see what I meant. He asked me to grab a bottle of polish and bring it back to him. I came home, snatched my favorite glitter bomb stuff, and went back to his place. He had me sit down at the table, then picked up the bottle. He grinned and said it wasn’t something he normally did, so if he made a mistake, he asked for me to be patient.”
Pete sat at the table and fluttered a hand. “You can’t stop there. Go on.”
My cheeks heated at the thought. I took the seat opposite Pete and smiled as I remembered that night. “He was so tentative and unsure, but he pulled the brush from the bottle and ran it over my index finger. His tongue was sticking out of his mouth like he was deep in thought, and I could only sit there and watch as he stroked over each nail, leaving a thick, gloppy mess. After I got home, I pulled out the remover and took it off, then added it on myself.”
“Oh my God, that is so romantic,” Pete gushed.
That was how I felt. Other guys seemed embarrassed at my desire to look nice. Some of them said it was fine behind closed doors, but when we went out, I needed to, in their words, rein it in. Toby didn’t care. And I admit, I thought it would last until we were in public. We were going to take a walk one day, barely two blocks to the store, but I had on a midriff shirt and these skimpy pink shorts. I told Toby I would change before we went, and he gripped my wrist and asked why.
“Uh, because we might run in to someone you know.”
“And?”
“I don’t want to embarrass you.”
“Kyle, I want you to listen closely. Those whose opinions matter to me are my parents, my sister, Waldo, and you.” He spread his arms. “Look at me. I’m big, freakish, and tattooed. What kind of looks do you think—?”
“Don’t youeversay you’re freakish!” I’d shouted, poking him in the chest. “That’s a horrible thing to say about yourself. You’re… you’re beautiful.”
He grinned, and there was a crimson stain in his cheeks. “How do you think I see you?” he’d asked. “You’re like a beautiful bird who wants to hide his plumage. Why would you ever settle for being less than you are? I don’t give a good goddamn what anyone has to say. I think you’re amazing, and I won’t ever have you doubting that.”
With that, he took my hand and pulled me out of the apartment. We walked down the street, my hand engulfed in Toby’s. Sure, there were looks, but Toby only had eyes for me. It was weird, having someone’s full attention like that. For the first time in my life, I felt worthy of being me. The weirdest, wildest, and best part? That night when we got back, he sat me down on the couch, pulled my feet into his lap, and proceeded to massage them. I melted under his touch.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Huh?” Pete asked. “What do you mean?”
I drew in a breath. “If Toby asked me to go, I would.”
It was insane, and I wouldn’t ever deny it, but… I was in love with him. He’d shown repeatedly that my heart was safe with him in ways it had never been with anyone else. He took that battered and bruised organ and held it gently in those hands that had the power to crush, but instead chose to protect.
