Black Velvet (56) (Patreon)

I do fall asleep.

I remember coming in from the mail, dropping it on the counter, and plopping onto the bed — still in my jacket.  I only meant to roll over and eventually de-winterize myself and maybe to browse a couple of articles in my fresh reading material. Still, instead — with young adult superpowers, I fell asleep and hibernated for six hours.

My coat eventually turns into a small oven, and I can blame that for the uncomfortable and sweaty awakening.  I don't bother to check the time and instead slink out of the hot mess of nylon material and venture into the bathroom in a heat haze.

"Shit," This all leads me to this moment, scrambling for my ringing cell phone.  There's shampoo foam sliding from my hair and into my eyes and I splutter over the proximity of the showerhead to my face, but no one ever calls me, so this must be an emergency —

"Hello? Uh, whoops, hold on!"  I gurgle.  I slam a quick hand against the showerhead to send the spray in the opposite direction, "Um.  Sorry.  Near-drowning, here.  Hello?"

"Oliver, where are you?" Tobias' voice has a tired drawl to it, a thin seed of confusion, "It's almost ten. Were you asleep?"

"Fuck!  The moon!"  I yelp, reach for the faucet, and push it hard enough to push it down and end the water completely, "No, no — I, ah, I fell asleep earlier but now, no!"

"What are you doing then?" Tobias' tone shifts into one of confusion; I can hear the sound of him turning the keys in his ignition, "you sound freaked."

"No, I'm not freaked, I'm showering — soap got in my eyes," I move the curtain aside, grabbing my towel and batting at my face.  I slide it over my phone quickly, then swipe it through my curls, "I fell asleep in my jacket, and things got real sweaty, so I had to.  It was for the greater good."

I cringe.  Stupid mouth.

"...You're showering?" There's a hilt to Tobias' tone, quiet and easy to miss, "Right now?" He covers the slip with annoyance, and the sound of his car is still humming in the background, an indicator that he's warming it up — and also an indicator that he probably still doesn't trust the reliability of my car.

"No — I mean.  I'm out now!" I snip back, pinning the towel around my waist, "It'll take me like point five seconds to get dressed.  Don't not come! I mean — you're still coming, right?"

Tobias hums to himself, low and quiet,

"Or I could," I stop mid-reach for my pants that are folded on the bathroom sink, heat traveling my face at the shift of his tone.  I haven't heard it drop like that, not since the party — not since the kiss, "meet you inside."

"Um.  What?"

Tobias chuckles, short and humored.

"Nothing.  Just fucking with you."

"I'll — I'll be out in ten."  I hang up on Tobias, push the red end call button faster and more times than I ever have in my life. I can feel the blood in my cheeks slipping up to the tips of my ears and silently scold him as I struggle into my underwear.

"Oh my god."

—

"Asshole.  I was not trying to seduce you," I tell Tobias as I prop open the passenger side door, shrugging my coat off and tossing it into his back seat, "I really did almost drown."

Tobias licks the inside of his cheek and squints at me, lifting a brow,

"'Like I said.  Just fucking with you," He shrugs, and his smirk only lengthens when I gape back at him, "and you're late.  Why would you answer the phone in the shower?"

"I'm two minutes early!" I point to his dashboard, the blue light glowing 9:58, "and since when is it weird to answer the phone while you shower! You could have been like," My eyes roam his car, but the only thing I see is a pack of mints, "you could have been choking on a breath mint — and in severe need of the Heimlich maneuver, or something."

"Oh, okay," Tobias nods along, pulls from his drive as soon as I yank my door shut, "that makes sense."

"More sense than you getting all pretend flirty because I made you visualize my naked body — because I told you I was in the shower, and,"

I throw my hands up and blush darker, snapping my seatbelt into place directly after I remember that I care about my life.

"Can't visualize you naked," Tobias trails one hand over the middle console with a tap before he returns both hands to the wheel, "haven't seen enough of you to do so.  If you want to change that, though, let me know."

That silences me for a good five minutes, and I turn to stare out the window until all of my soul returns to my body.

It's okay, though, his teasing, I think.

I watch Tobias from the corner of my eye and think of how long it's been since I've seen him a drunken mess on his front porch and how long it's been since there has been venom in his words.

I cross my arms, eyes flitting over the road ahead as he drives,

"You think Edmund's will be a good spot to see it? The moon?" I ask him, diverting from the previous conversation without much grace. My shoulders sink into the seat, "I've never been up there at night."

"Yeah, you have," Tobias' hands slide a bit on the steering wheel, even and smooth as he turns the corner. His fingers are long, and his knuckles are prominent.  I really think everything about him is handsome, I suppose.  His dark eyes slide to me and back to the road, "When you picked me up from the police station. The moon was out. Nothing was blocking it."

"Oh," I lift my hand to twist at my dampened hair. I remember that night, of course, mostly Tobias — the only thing to become between the stars and I, but it strikes me as odd that he remembered something like the moon.

"It's weird that you like this stuff, you know, like I wouldn't have thought it," I say, offhand. "Or am I dragging you along?"

Tobias shakes his head.

"What else do you like?" I feel my gaze shift from the floorboard and back to him, "Do you still like to read?"

"Sometimes," He shrugs, more nails than fingers on the steering wheel now, "Why?"

"I just want to know," I feel my fingers pressing against each other and take account of my hands, which seem much thinner than his, "I want to — get to know you, I guess." Tobias doesn't look too enthused, and I recognize the flex of his jaw as it sets. "But — If you don't want to talk, it's fine."

I shrug.

I try not to look defeated as I turn towards the window.

"... I like books about war," it's careful, I barely hear him, "I guess more so... Anti-war books.  The aftermath of war, the causes, damage to relations between countries.  I think it's interesting."

Tobias' voice is quiet, but I can tell he's trying.

"Do you... Read?"  It's strange to hear that awkward tilt to his voice,  "I guess, I mean.... Anything other than astronomy books?"

I swallow.  I turn my chin enough to catch a glimpse of him, but his gaze locks with mine in a cautious glance before averting.

"Oh, um... Actually, not really," I shake my head, using the collar of my shirt to dry the hair curling around my ear.  I feel a spike of happiness in my chest, "not since I graduated, and I don't think I have the attention span for reading anything that's not like," I wave my hand a bit. His eyes slide to follow it, "completely absorbing like astronomy.  I did read those books that you lent me..."

"Yeah?  Did you like them?"

"Yes,"  I smile, "I did, actually."

"Well.  Astronomy, I like that too." Tobias turns down the radio, his hand slipping onto the console again. His skin is darker than mine, even in the breach of winter.  There's a beauty mark on the bone of his wrist that I hadn't seen before.   His fingers flex experimentally like he's out of his comfort zone, but he's still trying, "not as much as you do."

"What about baseball?" I resist the urge to slide my arm against his, and miraculously, keep both hands tucked between my legs, "Are you as into it as Nic? ...What about dogs? Do you like dogs?"

The car shakes a bit as we hit the dirt road, the only indicator that we're nearing Edmund's Lake.

"You're like a kid," Tobias snorts.  He lifts his arm to push me closer to the door, his hand warm against my arm, "I like baseball.  I like watching the games. My mom isn't competitive but, when she goes to a game, she gets worked up," he pauses, "and I like dogs.  Your dog is kind of a shit, but," He shrugs again, "he's yours, so that's to be expected."

"'He's a nut, but he's cute," I nod along, surprisingly at ease with the stunted way that we seem to converse.  I know that anything but small talk is probably strange for him, and it's strange for me too, "but he's calmed down.  He's old now.  I — I like animals.  Not as much as Nic does, but...."

"What about people?" Tobias asks suddenly and pulls along the strip of gravel beside the lakefront. The question startles me.  My brows gather in confusion as he shifts into park. He shrugs up against the side of his door, so he can watch my face and unbuckles his seat belt.

I stay buckled in, fingers working against the strap.

"What?"

"People," Tobias slinks his keys into his pocket, genuine curiosity on his face, "you talk about space a lot, you read about it — but stay in your room.  You always have," his tone says that he doesn't mean anything harsh by his words — like it's an observation, "You don't make friends, I guess."

"That's not true," I shake my head.  I laugh a little, my thumb tracing the inseam of my pants. The conversation has shifted too quickly for me.  I expected questions like, what's your favorite color?  Or, do you like grapes?  "I have Charlie-Anne...."

"People who seek you out." He adds,

"I guess," I never thought much of it, but I feel my eyes shift to the side with guilt, "I guess."

"Why?"

"Why are you asking that?"

"I don't know," Tobias' voice is even, blunt as he shifts his feet, slides his seat back as far as it can go to give him ample space for his legs, "I know that you like blue, that you like stars and hot chocolate, that you don't sleep much and you made valedictorian. I guess I want to know what other people don't."

"You call me nosy," I complain.  I can feel my nose twisting up as my eyes narrow, "I don't know why I don't have friends."

"That's not how I meant it," He says, says it so lightly that it has me convinced, "you know — a lot about... What I need.  I guess.  Sometimes, it feels weird that I don't know...."

He doesn't seem to know how to finish his sentence and instead sighs.

"What if,"  I kick my shoes against each other, my arms crossing tighter, "I don't answer right?  Your questions — what if I say something wrong and you like," I huff, "you don't want to hang out again?"

"What?" Tobias laughs softly, but reaches forward, does that same — familiar, affectionate thing where he slips his hand through my hair, lighting nerves I never felt before him.  He tucks a curl behind my ear. Then he cups my face for the briefest of moments before he drops his hand, and the warmth lingers like a ray of sunlight, "I've lived next door to you since you were seven years old. I think, if I didn't want you," his gaze shifts to the dark behind me, "That I would've figured it out a long time ago."

"Well then," my heart is hammering, "No," I tell him, and his face barely changes at all, "I like people, but I don't want to spend unnecessary time with them."

"Unnecessary?"

"It's like,"  I feel myself pause, feel like I'm saying something I shouldn't, "sometimes, here, people ask you about sports and girlfriends and if you're doing well in school but they're not," I feel myself slip back against the door as well, "they're not sincere about themselves, or about their interest in you, you know, and I don't like the feeling of wasting time on things — that aren't sincere."

"Then," Tobias nods, "then what's different... with me?"

"I'm not sure," I smile at him, "I just — like being around you.  I wish I had something cool to say, but... I feel like I'm supposed to spend — this time with you.  Is all."

--

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