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What had he wanted me to say? ‘Take all of your stuff and leave my apartment.’ Because that was what I might as well have said if I suggested that it was the sex.
No, I wanted us to get back to what we had. I’ve accepted that things will never be exactly the same. And once he shows everyone what he can do at the showcase, he’ll end up on some team halfway across the country.
But if during this summer we rebuilt our connection, maybe this time we’d stay in contact. Maybe we’d even watch each other’s kids grow up. Did I want all of his babies to be mine? Obviously. But if I had to choose one, I knew which one I’d pick.
Over the following weeks, Claude’s stats got better and better. It turns out that we really had unlocked something within him. On top of that, things between us had never been better.
Every night I fell asleep wrapped in his strong arms. Initially, he wouldn’t hold me until we had been in bed long enough to believe that he was asleep. But too frustrated to wait it out one night, as soon as I turned off the lights, I backed into him. Still not doing it, I kept bumping him with my butt until he got the picture.
I’m sure he held me just to stop me from annoying him. But I was tired. I wanted to go to sleep. And that didn’t happen until I was buried in his arms with his scent all over me. What else was I supposed to do?
It was pretty soon after that something else happened. I found something in the bathroom after one of his insanely long showers. On the fogged-up mirror, there was a drawing of someone lying in bed with a speech bubble next to him. In it was written, ‘Fart’.
Was he telling me that I farted in my sleep? How dare he? To think, I gave up jacking off in the mornings for of him. Rude! This required a response. But what?
I didn’t say anything about it when I left the bathroom. Instead, I plotted. What could I draw on the mirror to get back at him? Could I draw something that pointed out how annoyingly perfect his body was?
I guess I could. But it wasn’t the right tone. And maybe that just came to mind because I was brainstorming while watching him go through practice drills with his shirt off.
Damn, was he hot. He had to know what being forced to watch him shirtless was doing to me, didn’t he? He was such a bastard. A very hot, very ripped bastard.
It was then that it hit me. I knew what I was going to draw. But, how and when?
I could probably do something that appeared when the mirror fogged up from his crazy long shower. So, what could I use so that the drawing didn’t fog up? There was stuff for that, wasn’t there? I had to do some research.
“Can’t be bothered to pay attention today?” Claude asked me when he caught me on my phone instead of timing his sprints.
“Sorry, something important came up,” I told him, putting my phone away.
“Was it about whether or not they’re gonna fire you?”
“No. And I don’t think they are. Think about it. How can you fire the gay guy after he calls you out for making derogatory comments in front of others? That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. I might now have more job security than Papa does,” I said with a chuckle.
Claude laughed. “You’re right. You might. So what was it?” He asked, referring to me being on my phone.
“Nothing,” I told him. “It was just something personal.”
“Oh. Okay,” he replied, seeming a little hurt.
Yeah, whatever. He brought this on himself. He would rue the day he made fun of me for farting in my sleep. And that day was coming soon.
After practice and dinner, I snuck off while he was taking his evening shower. Rushing to the auto parts store, I picked up a bottle of the defogger you put on windshields.
“Where were you?” He asked from the couch when I got back.
“Doing drugs,” I told him in a panic.
“Cultivating a new addiction?”
“People have been raving about heroin. I thought I would give it a shot.”
“What did you think?” He asked, returning to his book.
“It’s fine. But you meet the most interesting people at the opium dens,” I said, headed to the bathroom.
“I didn’t know they had opium dens in Pensacola.”
“Are you kidding? The opium dens here are world-class. You come for the heroin, you stay for the addictive appetizers.”
