Black Velvet (5) (Patreon)

(A/N:  I typically lose quite a bit of patron support on the first of each month, so here's a little surprise thank you chapter to those who have stuck around)

When I re-enter the coffee shop, Tobias is laughing lowly, smiling in the false way that he often does. He's wrapping a black half-apron around his midsection as he speaks — but my nervous energy keeps me from staring for too long.

I pick Nic's debit card from the front flap of his wallet, handing it to the woman at the counter, hoping it at least has some sort of defect and keeps me from the table a bit longer.

"Did you three need anything else?" The girl seems miffed at how early I'm paying for our meal — that, or how long I took retrieving the payment, to begin with.  There's a lack of patrons that keeps me from pitying her haste.

Three?

I turn back towards the table again, this time without Toby induced tunnel vision. Blake Ragsdale, a teammate of my brother's, is curled over the table in laughter at something Nic is spouting — his abandoned grandparents two tables behind him.

Great.

"He's not on our tab."

"Alright... Thank you, sir," she says, passing the card back to me.  "Enjoy."  I nod, solemnly, disappointed at how little time paying had taken me.  I decide to make my way to the straw dispenser because that's totally a good time-saver, right?

"Yo, Oliver! Over here!" 

Damn it, Blake.

"There you are!"  I cringe, twice: first at the use of 'yo' and secondly at Nic's voice, practically feeling the way Tobias' eyes travel over to me as well,  "...Oliver, I already got you a straw!"

My back tenses, and I curse my brother to a life of creepiness under my breath.  I straighten myself out, legs stiff like a baby deer as I smile and give a short wave.

"— I thought you might have left me here."  Nic almost pouts, and I frown from where I stand.  My knees are still shaking, so I probably look more like the inflatable flailing tube man that's hitched outside of Charlie's Pawnshop than anything you'd find in the wild.  "What took you so long?"

I glance towards Toby, and his shoulders stiffen. He looks back towards Blake, engages him in some bullshit small talk about last Friday's practice game. 

"My phone was missing," I shift uncomfortably when the Amadeus man steals another uncomfortable glance, "you dropped your wallet under the seat — I don't think the hostess likes us much."

Nic shrugs.

"So, anyway, as I was saying — Oliver totally said he didn't drink, but he looks a little strung out, right?" Nic laughs, pointing at the odd way I'm casually waiting next to the booth where my brother is conversing with his friend.  "Did you drink?" 

"No shame in that!"  Blake grins widely, tipping his sweetened tea towards me.  "— never too late to learn to party."  I avoid Tobias and his dark eyes and settle onto the cushioned seat. 

"Also, guys, I can't believe you both were there last night, you shit heads."

Tobias looks as if he's having a hard time focusing on the conversation at hand, leaning his weight on one foot — then back again.  Nic leans his elbow onto the table and continues on his tirade. 

"I was plastered, like, three hours in.  Probably made a fool of myself.  Oliver is a shit wingman; you could have had my back — well, maybe not you Blake. Toby, where were you?"

"Don't really remember."  Tobias shrugs, his deflection flying right over my brother's head. 

"Right on," Nic snorts, "case and point.  Don't use little goody-good brothers for help."

"I told you I didn't want to play wingman before we got there,"  I huff, offense taking over before I could realize I'm supposedly laying low. "One shot later you're basically an emotionally compromised party girl from a bad eighties film.  Then you attract the same thing, it's like the weirdest, most vicious cycle there is."  I have my palms splayed out like, c'mon, agree with me. 

"Just sounds like Nic to me."  Blake grins again, shouldering against his side.  "He's our number one town slut."

"Fuck off, Blake,"  Tobias turns a glare on his old teammate,  "watch your mouth." Then the Amadeus man seems to catch himself, pulling his notepad from his pocket to busy his hands again

— they're trembling.

I swallow, suddenly concerned for Tobias as my brother continues to inflate like a pufferfish.

Tobias' eyes catch mine again.  He seems anxious and out of place, like a frightened animal. It's uncharacteristic of him. I frown, and he averts his eyes.  I avert mine, and then Tobias' gaze catches where I've let my eyes fall, and he observes me silently for a couple of minutes, knuckles whitening over the small book of paper.

I won't tell.  I want to assure him.

Nic clears his throat, finally.  He seems to have caught onto his friend, and I's strange stare down.

"Hey, Toby ... What happened to that girl, Kathryn?"  Nic wrinkles his nose at the name, like he isn't quite sure he remembered correctly. It diverts Tobias' attention. "Or was it —"

"... It was Kathryn,"  Tobias snaps his notebook shut,  "I'm not in the mood. I told you I wasn't interested."  He raises an eyebrow at my brother, and looks back at me.

"You hung around her quite a bit not to be interested —"  Nic tries again, something a bit desperate in his eyes — like there's some secret code that I'm not picking up.  He starts to laugh, but Tobias cuts through.

"... Sure."  He clucks his tongue, angry.  Nic's humor dies in his throat, gaze flickering back to me, then to Tobias with worry. He nearly reaches for his hand to steady him. The dark-eyed man's gaze flickers back to Nic's gesture, and he hesitates, "I took her on a couple of dates, yeah... I gotta go."

"Tobias, I need you in the back!" His elderly boss beckons, "we've got another call out!"

"There's my cue." 

"Wait, wait!  So question, is the hostess single?"  My brother perks up with his inquiry, bouncing up in his seat so fast that his elbow nearly knocks over my milkshake.  I scowl, wrapping my fingers around its base to keep it safe.

Tobias nods, nose wrinkling.

"Really, man? You think she might be interested in me?"  Blake is chiming in.  His eyes remind me of our dog's when he's been praised.  "We were in a group project for chemistry three years ago.  She probably remembers me."

Probably because you're gross.

"You mean interested in me."  Nic harrumphs and Blake rolls his eyes. 

"But I've seen her ex-boyfriend, and he was big, like, I do not want to get on his bad side."  Blake splays his palms, in a way that says sheesh, no way.  If Tobias were any less composed, I would think he was rolling his eyes in disgust along with me.

"Maybe you should worry more about getting on her bad side."  I groan, almost at the same time that Tobias chimes in with a,

"He's not even that tall."

"Says you. You're huge, tree man." Nic whines at the other man's impressive height, "I'm like,"  My brother waves to his less than imposing frame and then back at me,  "— our genetics suck."

"Mine don't, and I'm still scared."  Blake winks, and Nic swats at the side of his head.  He snickers.  Toby breaks another polite smile, breath coming out a little faster like he might have laughed.  It's short-lived, and his body jerks as he's called for a second time.

"We'll catch up later! Have fun, dude."

I breathe a sigh of relief.

Nic looks at me, shoulders sagging.  Blake frowns as our neighbor makes his way into the doors of the back kitchen.

"... Dude.  What was with him? He's weird as hell lately."  He steals a piece of Nic's complimentary French toast,  "— quit the baseball team outta nowhere and acts like a right asshole every time I run into him."

"He's not an asshole."  Nic grimaces.

"Wasn't an asshole. He is now. You know damn well he is," Blake is wiping syrup from his fingers on my napkin, "better you get to know him the less you know him — except that he's a dick."

"Shut up, Blake."  Nic glares,  "don't touch my fucking toast."

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