Black Velvet (35) (Patreon)

Somehow, Tobias seems to take to the hot weather easily.  His clothes appear heavier than mine, but he's unfazed by the heat.  I tug at the planet shaped print on the front of my t-shirt, still bothered by the previous warmth, even in the air-conditioned building.

Incoming text (Charlie-Anne):
No, it's all good...  Have fun with your brother and Tobee

I have the sneaking suspicion that she's spelled his name wrong deliberately but shrug it off after a prolonged squint towards the screen.

Tobee.

Outgoing Message (Charlie-Anne):
We could go tomorrow after work if you want?

Tobias doesn't use a shopping cart, but instead, one of Ellis Mae's little plastic hand-baskets.  I stand awkwardly along-side him, knowing that the passing stares have more to do with the rumors of Tobias' violent streak than the mismatch that is our grocery shopping together.

What a bunch of dicks,  I think.  Is this what boredom does to a town?

Tobias' thinly veiled discomfort heats me to my bones, and stirs something strangely protective in my gut — but I don't want it to be mistaken as pity, so I bury it.

I grab a basket, too.

Solidarity in basket holding, great choice.

"Thought you just needed tape,"  Tobias says. His voice has suddenly turned tight with aggravation, and his shoulders are hunched with shame.  His eyes are avoiding meeting mine as he speaks. "What's the basket for?"

I know his shift in demeanor isn't towards me, at the very least, but I almost wish it was.  He settles quite a mean look on Kyle Burke and his wife, who deserve it for their rather blatant judgmental ogling.

"I need shampoo..."  I try to glare at the whispering couple too, but I'm sure it's not nearly as threatening while I'm in the middle of discussing hair products,  "I'm out. My mom's shampoo makes my hair poofy."

Tobias glances down at me - a quick observation of my wind-mussed curls.  I try not to shy away under his scrutiny but duck my head anyway.  His expression softens the slightest bit, lost somewhere else.

He reaches with his free hand and tugs carefully at one stray, wild piece of my hair; indifferent to the bustling store and snorting when I flinch,

"Ow,"  I fluster, swatting at his hand,  "What the heck was that for?"

Tobias smiles a bit to himself, three strides ahead of me in just a few steps.

"They're soft,"  he says, light and considering, "...Your curls."

"Oh —" I splutter,  "Um. What?"

I can still see Tobias' hint of a smile from his half-turned head, and for some reason... I blush.  He picks up a melon from the produce section and thumps it lightly.

"Yeah," Ms. Adkins abandons her spot next to him. Tobias watches her retreat with a strange and misplaced melancholy and then deposits the melon into his basket.  Everything warm in him closes at once.  "... Go get your shampoo. I'll meet you at the car."

Charlie-Anne doesn't reply.
—

The car ride is quiet in an uncomfortable way, at least for me. Tobias seems a bit burnt out, and his expression is still distant, so I quietly tell him that I like his music. He turns the dial of the volume upwards just a bit, but his thoughts remain far from me.

Every song that plays seems sad. I wonder if it's just poor luck — or if it's always this way, and he always sings to this tune. I clutch the bag of shampoo and tape that's in my lap, paper crinkling, and turn my head to frown at the passing, colorful, autumn trees.

He hands his well-read paperbacks to me gingerly when we arrive home, and I hold them to my chest with just as much care — thinking of a million words that could comfort him and saying none.

"Thanks for letting me read them," I say instead.

"I have more."  He tells me, and some of his bitterness subsides.

"Then I'll read those too."

I secretly plan to finish them quickly, just to have an excuse to read the others. I hope that it brings him a little happiness.

--

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