Black Velvet (17) (Patreon)

"Oh, hey?" Richard's knuckles are pink with thin, new skin. I feel my toes sink into my tennis shoes, hear my heart in my ears, and I frown. "...You alright?" I motion towards my own hand, and Richard stiffens. 

I realize that maybe — I don't sound like I care very much if he's alright.

"Mouth still gets ahead of you,"  Richard is glaring. My attention shifts from him to Ms. Amadeus, who stifles an uncomfortable noise. "... Should work on that."

"Oh. Sorry." I shrug a bit like it can displace the awkward feeling his stare gives me. It doesn't really help. “Just looked like it’s a little uncomfortable.”

"... I'm a pretty clumsy fellow. I'm used to it."  Tobias' stepfather shoots me a smug smile, waves his healing hand a little too close to my face — and I wither under the animosity in his gaze, "— you were going to ask me something?"

My question seems caught in a web of several others, threaded and strangling and long overdue. I catch Ms. Amadeus' eyes, and she averts hers so quickly that I know I've overstayed my welcome.

"Well?  Get it out, boy."  Richard presses.  His wife’s fists curl in the lap of her skirt when he juts his chin towards the half-open window between us.   "I'm losing cool air."

"I've uh — okay."  I blink.  The traffic. Right. “I was wondering if you knew why there was so much..." Richard squints.  I clear my throat.  "Never mind."

“Right. I'm sure you have things to do." Richard says with a smile, but it sounds unfriendly at best.  "...Places to be."

"Oh — um, yes." I take a couple of steps backward and tip my drink at the pair and nod, like somehow that signifies what exactly I mean. Richard inhales, and his jaw clenches. "I — Eggs and stuff.”

I dart towards my car, hurriedly plucking open the driver's side door and planting myself into my seat. I notice my hands are shaking, around the time that I recognize a sinking wave crashing through my stomach, drowning out my mild humiliation.

I’ve never seen a look like the one Richard gave me. With the thought of it, I wonder if this is really just curiosity, like Tobias believes it to be —

Because it feels like concern... And anger — and something bitter in my throat. 

I wonder if curiousness is supposed to feel like a weight on my heart...

And I think,

Is this even — has this ever been curiosity at all?

—

I don't go to the market at first.

(Outgoing Message:)

Hey.  Would you want to go to Edmond's lake with me?

No.  Instead, I sit in my car and panic for nearly ten minutes at the sheer lack of social skills I've been equipped with —  at the thought of Richard's and Tobias' coinciding bruises — before I make a sudden U-turn around Delaney's floral shop and speed towards the gas station.

I meet Charlie-Anne right outside the doors when her shift ends.   Her dyed, strawberry hair is bright against her honey-skin, and she fusses with it irritably before she notices me.

"Hey,"  I give an awkward wave,  "sorry for the short notice."  Charlie-Anne waves in response, before wringing her hands together nervously.

”Not at all, I'm happy you texted me."  She tucks a stray clump of hair that’s fallen from her bun behind her ear, "I was kind of worried that I was bugging you."

"Oh?"  I blink, "oh.  Well, no.  You can't bother me with science."  She laughs, and I take a step closer to my car, "this isn't a science thing, by the way, it's just?  I mean, we could make it a science thing —"

"Oh, I like going to the lake."  Charlie-Anne finishes my awkward mess of a sentence for me. “We shouldn’t make it a science thing.”

I shrug.

"... So, after a few weeks of texting, we finally have plans,"  she shyly removes her Jameson's Fuel Stop and One-Stop Gift Shop apron and smiles meekly at me. I wrinkle my nose at her embarrassed disposition.  "And lucky me gets the chance to impress you in my cotton blend, work-issued, t-shirt."

"You don't need to impress me.”  I laugh, and her head tilts slightly, "I've been sweating in a car for like two hours, I'm beyond gross."  I pick at the front of my shirt anxiously, and wonder when I first started pulling at the fabric.

"... And your first thought was to hit me up?"  Charlie-Anne’s grin is lopsided and teasing, and I glance towards my car and back to her.  Her grin falls,  "— Oliver, your hand hasn't stopped moving..."

"Oh yeah, that's —" I frown, "a tic, I guess."

"Hey.  Is everything okay?"

I feel on edge, like my stomach is swirling with something acrid — and my throat is stiff from where I've tried to swallow back the feeling.

"Actually," I frown, wondering where this anxiety inside of me has sprouted from.  At this moment, I don't care if it's normal, or if it's socially acceptable to say — "... I think I'm upset."

"You're upset?"

"And I don't want to be alone, for some reason —"

"... And you thought of me?"  She whispers, and I meet her soft brown eyes.

"...I like talking to you — ah, texting you. I mean...”

Charlie-Anne blinks, startled by my directness.  Then she reaches forward and stills my hand.  Her own is soft and small, fingers interlacing with mine gently.  She holds it against my chest.

I glance down at it, and back at her, but Charlie-Anne averts her eyes.

"... I have some music I listen to when I just want to think,"  she says,  "if you want to hear it while we're at the lake?"  she motions towards her bag, "— and if you decide to tell me what's on your mind, that's okay too."

—

Charlie-Anne’s music is soft and foreign.  I can't understand the words, but it calms my nerves.

"It's a song about a butterfly."  She says. “...One of my moms plays it when I’m sad.”

We park outside of the lake until the sky dims.  We don't really talk, and Charlie-Anne’s okay with that.  She leans her head against my shoulder as I stare at the sky and think of the years I've spent watching my brother's best friend.

I remember all the times I've spent with some half formulated excuse to learn about Tobias from afar, the exceptional pride I had to know him when I looked up to him. I think back and wonder if I felt a disappointment the first time I'd watched him drunk and stumbling because he'd fallen off the pedestal I'd placed him on...

Or because there's something more to it?

Tobias and I have walked by this lake — just once, and now it only reminds me of him. I can’t see black-labeled liquor without the hum in my chest turning into a steady buzz —

And I haven't stopped dreaming of the man since he knocked me to the dew-covered grass and told me that I liked the thrill of someone dangerous.

I can't bring myself to pick that place in my head apart.

I think of Richard and his venomous stare.

Was Tobias ever the dangerous one?

--

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter  |  First Chapter