Black Velvet (69) (Patreon)

I don't bring the creamer home, of course.

I've chucked it into the passenger seat of my car and turned on my brights to travel down Huxley's back roads, in a weird, slow search for my old neighbor — no, my boyfriend, because although he's probably the size of a small tree, his affinity for black clothing doesn't really ease my worry of him being hit by a motor vehicle.

"Why does dark and mysterious have to be your thing?" I mumble, squinting out towards the roadside to see if I can make out any man-shaped objects, "why can't you like yellow?  Sunshine? Small kittens?"

I cross small kittens off because, duh — he does like tiny kittens.

Cute.

I realize I probably haven't thought this search through — because if Tobias managed to refuse both my brother's and Annalise Egbe's help, he probably wouldn't be too thrilled about me giving him a ride home either.

Also, though Huxley seems like a one-way in, one way out sort of town, I have no clue where he lives.

I remember him saying he didn't live too far from the restaurant he worked at or the gas station near it.  But. This feels terribly creepy of me. Huxley is basically the hedonistic (as our pastor would say) counterpart to Jameson, and there's little to no night traffic to excuse this anxiety of mine.

The desolate stretch of road and the fear of looking like I'm obsessed with Tobias doesn't stop me from my irrational fear of road-kill Tobias, and this is what leads me to pull up behind his lumbering form halfway down the side of the small town's lake.

He has one hand in his pocket, eyes on the night sky — that is, before they turn to give my car a ferocious sort of scowl, prior to recognition settling in.

Scary.  So much for worrying about him.

His glare quickly melts into confusion, a confusion that I'm also feeling,

"Great, what am I supposed to say that doesn't make me look like a stalker," I'm talking to myself and more than happy that Tobias can't see me over the brightness of my high beams.

I suck up what's left of my dignity, push open my car door, unbuckle my seat belt with unsteady hands, and call,

"So, um. Just so you're aware, I ran into Nic at the grocery store, so this isn't like me being creepy or, uh, an act of fate — or obsession."

Act of fate, who says that?!

"Oliver, turn off your lights," Tobias is cupping his eyes with his hand, jaw setting after his demand. He is in uncomfortable proximity to my car's headlights, "you're blinding the shit out of me."

"Oh, right... Right," I fumble around, barely avoiding smacking my forehead on the roof of my car as I slide back into my seat to turn off my brights.  Tobias has made his way around the vehicle to my open door, shoves a hand in his pocket casually as he does so,

"So you ran into Nic at the store, and what?"  He asks, seems a bit dazed, and there's a sand on his voice that reveals his drunkenness, "All I heard was something about fate and stalking."

I blush, tucking a curl around my ear,

"Nic said you wanted to walk home, but it's kind of dark? Also, you're kind of intoxicated and an easy target for vehicles with low visibility..."

Which I just found isn't entirely true; I'd seen him quite a bit before actually pulling over — but that doesn't mean some moron changing music stations or updating his MeBook status would.

"... So you came to rescue me?"  Tobias is laughing lowly, sliding his hand along the interior of my door as he stares down at me.  That isn't hot.  I tell myself.  He is not being hot, "Am I your damsel in distress?"

"More like drunk in distress, but same acronyms? I mean, if you want to be a damsel, that's fine — feel like you'd have to get a lot of altering done to your dresses though," I wave towards his shoulders, "which could get expensive. But I'm on board."

"Are you implying that you'd,"  Tobias is smirking, "only need minimal altercations?"

He mimics my wave towards my smaller built shoulders, and my cheeks puff indignantly,

"Hey, okay," I frown,  "I think this is a good time to stop appreciating my delicate form and also a good time to tell you that the passenger door is on the other side."

"That a demand?" His eyebrows are quirking.  He's humored, "maybe I want to walk."

"If you feel comfortable being spatula-d off the road with a litany of heartbroken girls crying over your corpse, be my guest," I shrug, like I don't care — like I hadn't taken a major detour to come searching for him, "but if you'd like a safe, warm car...."

"You broke down the last time I was in your safe, warm car."

"That was not the last time you were in my car, thank you very much."

It seems to have worked, the reminder that my car isn't always on the verge of falling apart — because Tobias pushes my door shut. I watch him string a hand through his hair, walk with less grace than usual around the front of my car; before he finally takes a seat next to me,

"Seatbelt," I tell him, pointing to the unclasped strap near his shoulder. This earns me a raised eyebrow, and I roll my eyes at him, "how come you didn't stay with Nic and Charlie-Anne? Look at you.  You're all drunk and ready to party,"

Tobias scoffs.

"Hardly. And I'm tired," he says, simply, and he's not lying.  It's too straightforward to be a lie, "I'm not hanging around to invite Nic and his kill of the night to my house."

"Oh," I wrinkle my nose, pull back onto the road, "you don't need to explain further. Nope."

Tobias chuckles and stares out the window,

"Why are you at the grocery store at midnight?" He's placing the bag of creamer between his feet, his eyes still averted towards the scenery.

I smile at his attempt towards a casual conversation.  He lived next to me for years, and I'm sure he's perfectly aware of my parents and their strange chore beckoning times.

"Creamer, my mom threatened death," I shrug, "I decided I valued my life... Why did you decide to walk home?

"Are we doing a trade-off of questions?" His gaze slides to me, leans against the door a bit as he clasps his seatbelt. I nod,

"Sure."

It's quiet for a bit, and I don't push. I'm half awake as it is, feel my heavy eyes tracking bits and pieces of familiar territory. We're at the stoplight next to Huxley's Gas'N'Go before Tobias says anything,

"I was going to walk by the lake," he's hesitant.  He shifts his grip around his knee, "There's a full moon.  Some girl at the party said it looked silver."

I feel my fingers curl over the steering wheel.  I feel a little bit of warmth in my stomach.  I think that there's something oddly young about that sentiment.  I forget, sometimes, that Tobias isn't much older than me at all. That we're growing up side by side —

And he's always had to do it faster.  Maybe, this is him taking it at his own pace, finally.

I watch the road ahead, how clear the sky is tonight, and say,

"... Did you still want to go?"

Tobias looks surprised, vaguely so. Like he assumed that I wouldn't offer something like that, like he's still confused as to how he's sitting in the passenger seat of my car.

"....What about your mom?" He asks.  He loops his finger around the handle of the grocery bag, but his expression is soft, "fear for your life not enough?"

"No," I turn down another fort road, one that I took to go fishing with my grandfather years ago, "never really is. I'll be back in time, anyway."

—

The moon does look silver.

We stay in the car.  Tobias is satisfied with that. We both know the earlier showers of the week have turned the riverbank to silky mud, perfect for coating my tiny car in some dirt bath,

"I wonder why it looks like that," I shift closer to the steering wheel and loop my arms around it. I have a strange desire to use it as a pillow and fall asleep right there. My car is off, but it isn't too chilly, and we're protected from the night wind. "It's so bright."

I talk to relieve some of the awkwardness. The ride here has been quiet and stilted, Tobias' brows furrowed like he's lost in thought, glances that aren't quite subtle but don't speak loudly enough for me to decode them,

"Hm.  Thought she was bullshitting," He starts, like it was a thought he might have accidentally voiced. I can still smell liquor on him, but it's faint under his cologne and the waft of my car freshener. I laugh at his pessimism, "Guess not."

"Oh, come on. Admit that you think it's cool," I nudge his arm with my elbow.  I wonder if that's okay, settle back in my seat... I stifle a yawn, "it's okay to be wowed by the moon. I am at least ninety-five percent of the time. Besides, you were totally willing to go on a lone night venture to see it."

My gaze slips back to him, measured, trying to figure out the tension that surrounds him,

"I'm slightly inebriated." Tobias scoffs but unlatches his seat belt and pushes his seat back for the legroom,  "Anything sounded more interesting than watching the Bosworth twins lick tequila shots off of their second cousin-slash-girlfriends."

"Oh gross,"  I sneer, wave my hand at him like it could somehow quiet that mental image — but I'm too tired to lift my arm for long, "isn't that illegal?"

"Should be." Tobias looks strangely pleased with my disgust, probably because he's a sadist. He stares at me as I cover my mouth mid-yawn,

"Fantastic, why were you there again?" The question is real, it's the first time I've heard of Tobias partying since his move, and I'm no longer in close enough proximity to be aware of his drinking habits, "Just to drink?"

"I guess.  I wanted to get out," it's a quick answer, covered as he sits up a bit, put his elbows on his knees to lean forward, " Why are you here? You're tired."

"Why did you need to get out?" I'm more interested in that than supplying an answer.  I don't know why I'm here with him, I don't know why I'm crazy enough to have tracked him down like this at all, "Did something happen?  Is that why Nic was there?"

I feel a slight pang of jealousy, a brief stab of feeling left out, or that Tobias may have confided in my brother before he confided in me —

But Tobias shakes his head,

"No, he didn't know," He scratches the back of his head.  "He's just got — like a sixth sense or some shit.  Too many baseballs to the head."

I snort,

"True.  Well, tell me, then." I push,  "You know that I'm nosy. I'm naturally inclined to want to know."

"Nosy..." Tobias huffs out a laugh at that, but his gaze softens, even when it's fixated on my dashboard, "I just — I guess I felt," he rolls his eyes.  "lonely?  Bored.  I don't fucking know."  He trails off, and his words are barely audible.

I'm not sure if he's embarrassed or just drunk and unsure.  There's a cut to his tone like he really feels a lot more than that —

But it's his first time saying it aloud.

"Lonely?"

There's a pause where he shifts a bit in his seat, furrows his brows,

"It's quiet in the house.  I'm glad I moved but," Tobias says this louder, firmer, nods at the end of it like it gives him a bit of confidence in his choice.  "I guess it's too quiet, sometimes.  It happens."

I chew my cheek, trying to think of what I should say,

"I know I made the right choice, most days," My heart flowers when he smiles gently to himself, as he keeps his hand on the back of his head like he thinks he can hide his anxiety behind his arm, but I'm already unlatching my seatbelt and grabbing onto his shoulder closest to me.

My body moves before my thoughts catch up,

"You should've come over.  I would've come over.  I will come over.  And.... You have my number," I shake his arm a bit, and Tobias startles, eyes latching with mine as he stares — surprised, "you do, don't you?  You can call me.  Anytime.  I have absolutely no life."

He leans into my grip, swallows. I can see his jaw tighten a bit, wonder if it's the contact or the suddenness of it,

"Ah hah," and I tilt my head at his hesitance, "I guess... I mean, I don't want to like,"  he shrugs, "smother you.  I already text you a lot and —"

"Isn't that what dating is?" My fingers loosen in the fabric of his shirt, spread as Tobias reaches up and tugs on my index finger, pulls my hand down onto his leg — interlaces his with mine.

My heartbeat rackets.

"Is it?"  He smirks.  "... Then why aren't you smothering me yet?"

I feel my stomach turn, feel the callouses of his knuckles against the soft part of my inner hand. I'm nodding to what he's saying, body a live wire from the implication.

"Well.  I guess I don't know... Uh.  How."  I blush as his eyes track up my face, "I'm not sure what I'm doing.  But I want to be — with you.  If you're lonely, especially.  I get, um."

I shrug,

"I get lonely too."

I feel Tobias' grip tighten.  I watch as his shoulders turn towards me — and my other hand is still on his shoulder.

We're so close, and he's looking at me like —

"Tobias," I start, feeling his thumb on the pulse of my wrist, "...Do you — do you want to kiss me?" I ask, nervous, wonder why I ask at all — god, I'm dumb, and his eyes are half-lidded, one side of his lips lifting in a half-formed smile,

"Why ask?  You're not going to let me," He whispers, and it doesn't sound much like a question. There's gravel in his tone, and his hands are rough against mine, fingers warm as they trace a curl behind my ear. It's too familiar, "are you?"

I shake my head, can feel the heat on my cheeks,

"I can't.  You're drunk," my voice is barely audible, eyes on his, nose bumping against his cheek as he leans closer to my ear, "that's like — not okay, right?  You know that."

"...So you'd let me kiss you if I wasn't?" There's something heated in his vulnerability, something honest that I latch onto, that my hand tightens against his for. "If I called — next time.  Instead of going out?"

"... I'd let you kiss me a thousand times," I whisper.

--

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