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My shirt had come off shortly after my semi-heatstroke, and I tossed it toward the front of the trailer. This was clearly a decision Rhonda wholeheartedly supported. Her eyes didn’t leave my chest for longer than five seconds once it was off. Becca was below, shifting inventory from the end of the line, onto U-boats meant to be pushed into the stockroom. She seemed uncomfortable, darting her eyes back and forth between the discarded shirt and my chest.
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable—” she called up the ramp that led to the loading dock.
“Oh, Christ, Becca,” I interrupted. “This isn’t a strip show. Sex isn’t the only thing the gay men think about. We’re not all nymphomaniacs. It’s nine-hundred degrees out here. So, I took my shirt off. So what? Fucking chill, dude.” I lifted a box of deviled ham and flung it out of the truck, aiming for the line. It spun toward Rhonda at lightning speed. She shrieked as it whizzed past, inches from her face.
At one point, boxes were backed all the way up the line. When I glanced down the ramp, all eyes were on me and my shirtless torso. Even Becca’s.
I groaned. Then I puffed out my chest, appreciating their appreciation.
The heat was playing tricks on my mind, making it seem as if the flooring of the trailer was swirling and twirling under my feet. Gray shouted from inside the stockroom. Moments later, the double doors slammed open, causing an extremely distracted Becca to squeal like a stuck pig.
“What the heck is the holdup here? The line hasn’t moved in fifteen minutes. Rhonda? What’s going on?”
My vision went black around the edges. My head felt like there was something inside, just beneath my skull, swimming under the surface.
“Oh my gosh.”
When I looked up, Gray was standing in front of me with his mouth hanging open. His shirt was dripping with sweat, and it clung to him perfectly. In my state of heat-stroke-driven madness, I moaned.
Stumbling back, I caught myself on a box and narrowly avoided toppling over in front of him. I lifted my hand, raising a finger to motion that I needed a second, but when I looked up, I realized I still had a sock covering it. My stomach churned, and I worried that if I laughed at the absurdity of it all, I might regurgitate the Jimmy Dean egg scrambler I’d had for breakfast.
My legs gave way, and then there was yelling all around me. I looked up to see Rhonda at my side. Her beehive had failed her amidst the heat’s ongoing assault on our appearances. It drooped down the left side of her face like a half-deflated balloon. She was holding a bottle of water out for me, and I took it, chugging every drop.
As bits of clarity pierced through my mind’s fog, my cheeks burned even hotter. I’d almost fainted in front of everyone, and the weight of their stares felt crushing. Trying to make light of the situation, I said, “You know what they say about us gays. Always a flair for the dramatic.” My self-deprecating humor did nothing to alleviate the awkwardness hanging in the air.
Everyone huddled around me, asking over and over if I was alright. Everyone except for Gray, that is. He stood behind them all with the same look of fear on his face he had the night he caught sight of my cock in the employee restroom. His eyes were cemented on my chest. For a moment, the surrounding voices went quiet and the people at my sides faded from view. Our eyes locked.
I waved at him. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he whispered, returning my wave. When a smile cracked his face, it felt like sunlight piercing clouds. He walked forward, warning everyone back. He glanced down at my chest, his mouth hanging open. “Gosh, you got skinny.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded, kneeling in front of me with a bottle of water in his hand. “Here, Half-pint. Drink this.” At first, I thought he would simply hand the bottle to me. Instead, he lifted it to my mouth. I tried to tell him that I was fully capable of holding a bottle on my own, but he took that as an invitation to bottle-feed me like an infant. Unfortunately for Gray, I was attempting a breath when he started pouring it. I coughed, hacking it up in his direction, coating his face. He closed his mouth and shook his head, laughing out through his nose. When he did, it sent tiny droplets of water back at me, like we were playing water droplet ping-pong.
“I despise you.” He tilted the bottle again, slowly pouring it into my mouth. His other hand was on the back of my neck, and had I not been in the midst of a near-death experience, I might have reveled in the feeling of his thumb stroking my bare skin.
When the bottle was empty, I scowled at him. “Dude. You seriously just bottle-fed me like an infant.”
“Well, if the baby bottle fits.” He shrugged.
I licked my lips, my eyes dipping down to places they had no right staring at. “Suck it?”
Gay panic overtook him, and he jolted up, tossing the empty bottle back to Rhonda. She was still staring at my chest, and when the bottle bounced off the center of her forehead, she fell back, landing against the metal roller carts that made up the line. Her arms flailed at her sides like rowing oars as she toppled.
“Son of a goddamn bitch!” she shouted during her descent.
“Everyone take five to cool down—” Gray said to the crowd, breathing heavily.
“You cool down!” I shouted at him, pointing a sock-covered finger in his direction.
“And then we’re getting back to work.”
“Your hair,” I whispered, pointing my sock at the gel pouring down his face. “I think it’s melting, Gray.” The heat was still fucking with me something fierce, and I fell into a frenzy. “You’re melting!” Craning my neck toward the dispersing crowd, I shouted at my coworkers, who were making their way down the ramp, back into the air-conditioned stockroom. “He’s melting, and you’re running off to guzzle Coca-Cola. You should all be ashamed of yourselves!”
“Stop it,” he hissed at me.
I reached for him, rubbing my sock against his cheek. “Please don’t melt.”
