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And … that’s it. I’ve paid, he’s given me my things, and we’re still no closer to hanging out again.
I linger, not wanting to leave but having no reason to stay. “Think I’ve got my cousin’s boyfriend’s aunt’s thing next week. I’ll see you then.”
“Yeah.” He crosses his arms over the counter again. “See you then.”
As soon as I’m out of sight of the sweet-smelling shop, I hang my head back dramatically. What was that I said about not chasing men? And here’s me after a fucking straight one. Even to be friends, this whole thing is a bit much. I don’tneedfriends, I’m not lonely, I’ve got my shit sorted.
But that little seed of instalust I’ve always had for him has exploded into this buzzing desire to be around him. Just around. I don’t get like that with men. I have hookups, and I have friends like Barney, whose company I enjoy, but I don’t get this crawling under my skin after a few days of not seeing them. That’s all Orson.
I’m aware that I’ve developed a bit of a crush on the guy, but that side of things is harmless. Crushes come and go. And maybe I should let this one fade away into nothing, but I have genuine fun around him. The kind that floods a truckload of adrenaline into my veins.
I catch a woman about to walk past and hold the flowers out to her. “For you, darlin’. Turns out I don’t need them anymore.”
“Oh.” She takes them stiffly. “Thank you?”
I don’t blame her for phrasing it like a question. I can read thewhat do you wantin her eyes, but I just give her a friendly smile and a nod, then keep walking. No point terrorizing people trying to make it through hump day.
Work is the same as usual, and once the bookwork and ordering is taken care of, I head out into the warehouse to help my grease gremlins look after our babies. The general population doesn’t know how to look after their cars and doesn’t show them the respect they deserve. They’re incredible machines, useful, and if you look after them, they’ll look after you.
I like that. The reliability.
“What’s up with you?” Taylor asks, climbing out of the driver’s side of an old Nissan.
“Nothing, why?”
“You’re very introspective. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet.”
They’re right. Normally, I’m the one singing my pipes out to the music, talking to the cars, or running my people through something they need to know. It’s not often I’m still.
“I think I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a shit situation.”
“Yeah?”
“Straight dude.”
Their bubble-gum-pink lips form an O.
“No need for that judgment.”
“Just saying, I thought you were smarter than that.”
“Don’t worry, I am. I’m not about to end up heartbroken or anything. I … I like him in general. To hang out with. But I can’t stop flirting with him.”
Taylor lifts an eyebrow. “Is there a single person alive you don’t flirt with? You’re not even interested in women, and I’ve seen you make them swoon.”
“Fair point, but …”
“He’s straight and hates it?” they guess.
“He’s straight, and I think he mightlikeit.”
“Huh. Well, hey. He’s not caught up in toxic masculinity, so yay him?”
I bite my tongue against mentioning the times Orson’s eyes catch on me that bit longer than feels natural. For all I know, he’s a visual kinda guy. A real lookie-loo who thinks nothing of staring at men like he wants to know what they taste like. Dammit. It’s these thoughts that are making this friendship more complicated than it needs to be, but I can’t make myself stop. The teasing is addictive.
Clearly, the gas fumes are getting to me.
“So what’s wrong with this old girl?” I ask, focusing the conversation back to an area where I know what the hell I’m talking about.
