Tell Me It's Real (17 page)

“Did the bike belong to your late grandfather and is it the only piece of him you have left?”

He snorted. “What are you talking about? I got that bike from the bike shop over on Speedway. Can I tell you something?”

“You would anyway.”

He leaned toward me and almost fell off the couch. Once he righted himself, he said, “I like wearing your clothes. They smell like you.”

My face burned. “That’s… cool.”

Vince frowned. “How come you won’t go on a date with me? I’ll treat you so good. Better than anyone ever.”

I sighed. “Can we not talk about this now? It’s almost five. You should get some sleep.”

“Answer the question and I’ll go to sleep.”

“It just wouldn’t work, okay?”

He watched me for a moment. Then, quietly, “Is it because I’m not smart enough?”

I snapped my gaze to his. “What?”

He looked away. “I know I’m not the smartest person in the world,” he said, picking at a loose thread on my pajamas he wore. “My dad told me once that it’s a good thing I look like I do because it’s the only thing that’ll get me through life.”

“Your dad said that to you?” I asked him, keeping my voice even and trying to keep the anger from my face. This was the first time he’d really mentioned his dad, and already I wanted to find out where his father lived so I could kick him in the balls.

Vince shrugged. “Yeah, but he’s right, you know. I can be pretty dumb sometimes. It’s how I am. I know I look all right. That helps me, I think. But… you know. That’s all people can see sometimes.”

“I think you’re fine just the way you are,” I told him honestly. “And you know what? Fuck your dad. You’re totally smart.”

He looked astonished. “Wow, if you knew my dad, you wouldn’t say that. He can be kind of scary when he wants to be.”

I tried to show more confidence than I actually felt. “I’d say the same thing to his face.”

“Whoa,” Vince said softly, his eyes starting to glaze over. “You’re pretty awesome, Paul.”

“Sure, Vince.”

“Why don’t you believe me?” he asked, suddenly sounding coherent.

“About what?”

“That I want to take you out.”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

He looked aggrieved. “Don’t try to dodge the question. You always do that.”

“You’re stoned, Vince. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Only because
you
drugged me.”

“Guilt trips don’t work on me.”

“I’m at your house wearing your pajamas. Guilt trips work on you very well.”

“Bastard.”

“I’m going to take you out on a date,” he said, as if that was that.

I couldn’t take it anymore. “Why? Why do you keep pushing for this?”

He looked me in the eye. “Because,” he said, “I like you.”

I almost felt like bursting into song. I couldn’t look away. “Vince… people like you don’t go for people like me.”

He frowned. “You’ve said that before. What do you mean?”

I gestured between the two of us. “Look at me. Look at
you
. You’re… pretty. I’m… not.”

Before I could stop him, he captured my hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing my fingers gently. Then, he used my own words against me. “I think you’re fine,” he said, “just the way you are. And besides, I think you’re
very
pretty.”

And then he leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes, holding my hand. Every now and then, his thumb would brush over my palm. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. It seemed safer.

Finally, he opened his eyes. They looked bloodshot. He was a little pale. “Fuck, I’m tired,” he muttered.

Without allowing myself any time to think (because otherwise I would overthink and never, ever take a single chance) I tugged on his hand, pulling him down. He came easily, stretched out along the couch, groaning slightly due to the twinges I’m sure he felt. A few warning bells went off in my head, but they were silenced the minute his head hit my leg. He sighed contentedly as he rubbed his forehead against my legs as if trying to mark me with his scent. He looked up at me and I looked down at him. Neither of us said anything.

4) He Has The Softest Hair Ever

I curled my fingers through it as he drifted off to sleep. He hummed softly as I scratched along his scalp. He fell asleep and I started to. We stayed that way for hours. I didn’t move.

I didn’t want to.

5) Vince Has No Problem With Germs And Is Curious About Tampons

I woke up a while later. It was dark outside, and my legs were asleep. I looked down at my lap. Vince was still curled up against me, his face pointed toward my stomach, snoring softly, one of his hands curled into my shirt like he wanted to be tethered to me. I watched him for a long time, wondering just what the fuck I was getting myself into. This was turning out to be the weirdest week of my life, and I didn’t know if I wanted it to stop. For now we were in this little bubble, and it was only me and him, and nothing else mattered, at least for the moment. I brushed my hand through his hair again. Then I realized I was watching him sleep and how creepy that really was. Some people might have thought it was romantic. I thought it was one step away from putting him in a hole in my basement, telling him to rub the lotion on his skin or else he’ll get the hose again.

Besides, my legs were starting to cramp.

“Hey,” I said quietly, shaking him.

Nothing.

“Vince,” I said a little louder.

Nothing.

“I’ll suck your dick if you wake up right now.”
I did not just say that.

“I’m awake,” he said rather quickly, opening his eyes.

I scowled at him. “That’s cheating.”

He smirked as he stretched. “You already promised. You can’t back down now.”

“Get off me. Your head weighs like thirty pounds.”

“The human head only weights eight pounds,” he scoffed as he sat up.

I stared at him.

“What?” he said defensively. “I may not be smart, but I
do
know some things.”

“And one of those things is how much a person’s head weighs?” I asked.

“You didn’t know that, did you?” he asked, sounding weirdly shy.

I did (I don’t know why), but it seemed important for some reason that I didn’t let him know. “Nope. I sure didn’t.”

He looked inordinately pleased. “Stick with me, kid. I’ll teach you some stuff.”

I somehow resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Are you hungry?”

He shook his head. “Those pills kinda messed with my stomach a bit.” He tried to send me a meaningful look to make me feel guilty. He failed. Miserably.

“I’m not going to feel bad about that,” I told him. “You needed to sleep.”

“You realize, though,” he said, “that I’ll never be able to take a drink from you again without worrying that you’re trying to drug me.”

“Good,” I said.

“Great comeback. Can I take a shower?”

My mouth went dry. “Uh.”

He leered at me. “You can join me if you want.”

“That’s okay. I’ll take Wheels outside and you can… take a shower.”

“Naked,” Vince said, arching an eyebrow.

“Naked,” I agreed weakly. “Most people do it that way.”

“And you could do it with me.”

I don’t know where it came from, but I decided to play back. “Tell you what,” I said, leaning closer to him. His breathing picked up as my lips almost grazed his ear. “If you can stand without grimacing, groaning, or showing you’re in any kind of pain, I’ll get in the shower with you.” I moved just a fraction of an inch closer. “Naked.”

“You
will
? No joking?”

“No joking.”

“Oh, man. You should
not
have said that. You’re going to be
so
naked in like two minutes.”

“If you say so.” I sat back and waited.

To be fair, he did try very damn hard, which could have meant he wanted me really bad. Which I still didn’t quite understand. He sat there for a moment taking deep breaths in and then letting them out slowly. A look of supreme concentration came over his face, and for a brief moment, I thought he was going to make it. My mind wandered to the thought of that nipple piercing again, and I wanted to know what it would look like when it was wet. Then he shot up from the couch quickly, groaning as he did so, his face contorting in pain. He gasped when he stood upright, wrapping an arm around his side. He looked almost stricken when he glanced over at me.

“I can try it again,” he said through gritted teeth.

I shook my head as I stood. “You’re an idiot,” I told him, though there was no heat behind my words.

That didn’t stop him from flinching away. I cursed softly when I realized what I’d said. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

He nodded tightly but didn’t speak. I wanted to find everyone in the world who had ever insulted his intelligence and punch them in the face. It was a weird feeling to have.

I sighed. “C’mon. I’ll show you where the shower is. The hot water will feel good on you. I’ll get the guest room ready and you can go to bed when you’re done.”

I tried not to think of the naked man in my bathroom as I stood outside with Wheels while he did his business. “What the fuck am I doing?” I asked him softly. Wheels didn’t answer, deciding to take a shit instead. I wondered if that was answer enough.

After letting him chase a lizard for a few minutes (there’s something inherently funny about seeing my half dog going up on one wheel as he tears around in circles—it’s like he’s performing daredevil tricks!) he followed me inside and went immediately for his food bowl, acting like the little boy he was and scarfing down his kibble like it was the first time he’d eaten in years.

The shower was still running and I could hear Vince singing horribly off-key to himself. At least I knew he hadn’t fallen and died in my shower, which I was eternally grateful for. I quickly made up the guest room (and by made up, I mean I pulled the covers back on the bed and sniffed the sheets to make sure they didn’t smell like ass or dog—they didn’t).

The shower turned off and I heard a thump followed by some muffled cursing. I hovered near the bathroom door, unsure of what to do. Finally, I knocked. “You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “Just hit my elbow against the wall.”

“You probably shouldn’t do that.”

“Har, har.”

“Drugs wore off, huh?”

“Yeah. Sorry you couldn’t have your way with me before then.”

It was easier, for some reason, talking to him through the door. “What makes you think I didn’t?”

There was a pause. “I still have spunk in my junk,” he finally said.

“You’re like a dirty Dr. Seuss.”

“I’ll do you on the grass. I’ll do you during mass.”

“No thanks. I think I’ll take a pass.”
Dammit! Stop rhyming!

He snorted. “You just want a piece of my ass.”

“Wow. That’s thirty seconds of my life I’ll never get back.”

“Your fault.”

“Don’t even try to blame that one on me.”

The lock on the door clicked.

“I’m not going to try and bust in there,” I said, somewhat annoyed.

“Oh, I know,” he said. “Even though I wanted you to, you didn’t.”

“Then why’d you lock the door?”

“Because I’m going to use your toothbrush and I knew you’d probably freak out.”

I glared at the door. “Don’t you dare. That’s disgusting!”

“I’ve had my tongue in your mouth. Same diff.”

I blushed, even though he couldn’t see me. “I will break this fucking door down!” A six-year-old Girl Scout would have sounded more threatening than I did.

“See, I knew you’d freak out.” He started laughing. “Pink?
Really
? Your toothbrush is
pink
? Oh my God! Even your toothbrush is a homo!”

“My dentist gave that to me!” I shouted at him, as if that made it special.

“Toothpaste,” he muttered. “Where is the toothpaste?”

“Vince, I will punch your face off,” I warned him.

“Found the toothpaste. Oh, and I found the tampons too. Why is there one missing?”

Oh, crap
. “I… uh.”

“Did you
use
one?”

“What? No! I just wanted to see what they looked like!”

“Dude. Paul. Gross.”

Then silence, for a moment.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

“Opening a tampon. I want to see what they look like too.”

“Oh. This is the weirdest conversation of my life.”

“Why is there a
string
on it?” he asked, sounding baffled.

I waited.

“Wait… is that how they… pull it…? Oh,
gross
!”

“You better not have thrown it!”

“Sure did. Didn’t see where it went. That’s just wrong. Reason number 6,432 I’m glad I’m a dude.”

“That’s a lot of reasons.”

No answer.

“What are you doing?”

“Brushin’ ma teef,” he said as if he had a mouthful.

“You
bastard
,” I growled.

I heard him spit into the sink. “My teeth feel clean. And a whole lot gayer.”

The lock clicked. The door opened. Shirtless Vince stood before me, droplets of water on his chest and shoulders. I stared as a single drop of water clung to the bar through his nipple. I wanted to taste it. My pajama pants were slung low on his waist. He had that totally hot V thing that buff guys have going on right above the waistband. But I could also see the bruising on his back and sides, spreading more than it’d been at the hospital. The colors were also darker—blues, greens, and purples. His skin was rife with darkening colors.

“I’m minty fresh,” he told me with a smile.

“How… how about that,” I muttered. “Does it hurt?” I pointed at the bruises.

He turned slowly so I could see how far they spread on his back, along with shallow scrapes and gashes along his shoulder blades where he’d landed on the ground. “Fuck,” I said succinctly. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t your fault,” he said. “I should have watched where I was going.” He took a step forward and started to crowd me. I took a step back, flustered yet again.