Chapter Thirty

Saylor was bent over and hard at work cleaning, dressed only in tight, white briefs. Nothing I hadn't seen before.

I whistled. "Damn papi." I smacked him on the butt because I owned that ass, platonically speaking, of course. I wished I had one. "Make it clap!"

Saylor jumped up, retreated to his bed and threw covers over himself. I'd have probably never talked to him again if he made it clap, but I wasn't expecting that reaction.

"I'm here to help clean like I said." I took a few long and careful strides over clothes on my way to his bed and sat down beside him. "Sorry for making that cake shake." I wasn't sorry.

Saylor forced a smile. "It's fine, but give me a minute to get dressed."

I turned up my palms. He shooed me away with his hands. I covered my eyes, then spread my fingers apart. He laughed, but he didn't make a move to get dressed.

"I literally saw you in your underwear Friday with your two ho's from photography, what's the problem now?" I waited for a good answer, even though one didn't exist. "I'm not moving. So, you may as well give me some of that blanket then." I pulled at it until I had enough to tuck under an arm.

"Why do you do this?" Saylor asked.

His voice was more aggrieved than I was used to hearing. We had a fight the night before, but acting like nothing happened was what made our friendship awesome. There was no point in hashing out things we'd already forgiven each other for.

"You were right to kick me out. You have nothing to be sorry for, except for dwelling on it," I said.

He shook his head. "Not that, I mean you act like your clueless about" —He sighed as he waved me off— "It doesn't matter, not to you anyway."

He stood up and let the blanket fall off of him. I looked at his body.  He wasn't cut all over the place like Juice, but he wasn't as soft as I remembered either. If Saylor had a hateful bone in his body, I would've put all my money on him in a fight. He had too much size on the Juice.

"Ryan and Eddie, they're not ho's. Not mine anyway. There's no one. There has never been anyone else." He looked at me with eyes as sad as they'd been at my house earlier.

He clearly wasn't going to let this go. I could ignore it, but it'd keep popping up like morning greatness, tried-and-true. No, we needed to settle whatever this was.

"What do you want from me, tell me, okay?" I beckoned him to sit.

He still hadn't put clothes on. I didn't mind. I always got comfortable at my place, more so when it was just him and me. It was only fitting that the same rules applied to him. He sat down again and I scooted closer.

"You, me, Faith, we'll always be best friends. There's literally nothing you can do to change that short of driving a stake through my heart," I said. Saylor laughed. I wanted more. "And then, I'd come back to haunt you, but not even my ghost could stay mad at you." And got exactly that. "Couldn't do it, my unfinished business would be getting you to be my bruiser."

We laughed for a time.

"You know, Mom," Saylor said, laughter as fake as the rings that turn fingers green, "She thought you came out about me. She made a thing of it. It was so embarrassing."

I gasped and my eyes widened as I clapped my hands over my mouth. I could understand how she'd gotten the idea, but damn Cynthia. He must've wanted to die. What was it with this family and context clues?

"What did you tell her?" I set myself up for this one. I should've asked, "what happened next?"

"The truth," Saylor said, "that you don't feel the same about me."

Dead silence.

Given Faith's hints, I wasn't entirely oblivious to the possibility that Saylor had feelings for me, but I always tried my best to pretend the things I noticed were in my head, not because I didn't find him attractive or that I thought I could do better, Saylor deserved much better than Mad-Eye Rudy as his boyfriend.

He was kind, gifted, smart, tall and handsome. He knew what his passion in life was already. All I had was a trick eye-ball and a three-way best friendship that I was desperate to hold onto and scared as hell of losing one day.

Saylor deserved the world and it was because I loved him so much— way more than Juice Williams—that I wanted to make sure I never stood in the way of that. I knew how selfish and inconsiderate I could be. Without Faith to keep me in line, I'd walk all over him and he'd let me. I wouldn't be able to stop myself.

Actually, this was me stopping myself. Not letting him sacrifice everything he had going in life to do the impossible: make me happy.

That was why Juice was perfect. Juice didn't care if I was happy. He treated me how I thought I deserved, like he was better than me. He tossed breadcrumbs every so often and made me feel like the luckiest man in the world for doing it. If Saylor and I were ever going to work out, he'd have to shuck that gentle giant shtick aside and develop a mean streak, at least enough to put me in my place when I needed it.

Him kicking me out of his house was the sexiest thing he'd done in years. If he jumped across the bed right now, with half the tenacity and decisiveness, I'd offer up all my wares. I'd also think he was under demonic possession, but hey, demons gotta shoot they shot.

No, I imagined intimacy with Saylor to be somewhat like midnight mass. It would be a long boring night of false niceties and pretending. The average age of most Catholic congregations have to be around fifty. We all know goddamn well bodies that old aren't meant to be up late at night. Whatever you do, don't throw a bucket of Werther's Originals in between the pews or there could be a case of geriatric gremlins.

With Saylor, it'd be the same. I'd be tired and irritable the whole time. I'd have to act like I didn't mind that he kept checking in on me, making sure he wasn't hurting me or that I was enjoying it as much or more than him.

No, Saylor needed to grow a backbone and stop putting his own needs on the back burner before I ever unleashed my shit show of a life on him. In the meantime, I could help him pass the time, but the transformation, if it ever happened, was up to him.

"We're better than boyfriends," I said, "what we have is forever, what more could you want?"

"You, to myself," Saylor said. I was impressed. He had to have had that little gem signed and shipped ahead of time. "I don't want Faith out of the picture, but I want there to be stuff between us that make us closer than she could ever be."

I didn't know how to respond. Yes I did. I needed to get him off-book. He was still on cue cards.

"I didn't know it was such a big deal, why didn't you just say?" I asked. I took off my shirt in one swift motion and leaned back on my elbows on his bed. "You can do anything you want to me. I want you to. I let you kiss me, didn't I?" I meant it. If Saylor really wanted me, I'd serve myself up on a platter. I knew he didn't have the balls to act on it. "Go on, kiss me."

I made out with two perfect strangers, I couldn't exactly turn him down anyway. He turned his face toward mine and puckered his lips, but that was all the further he went. It was still more than I expected from him.

I kissed him. He'd been taking forever. "If you want more than that, you'll have to take it from me. I'm not holding your hand through this."

Saylor looked devastated. I thought the gesture alone would've blown his mind like it did in the seventh grade. Not the reaction I was expecting. "I don't care about doing those things with you, but it kills me to know you're doing them with other guys, guys like Juice who don't deserve you."

Oh Saylor, what the hell have I ever done to deserve anything? I groaned loudly. "So, let me get this straight? You don't want me, but you don't want anyone else to have me either? You want me to live as a monk or something, for your sanity?" I wrapped my hands around his neck and feigned ringing it. He fell backward on his bed and I crawled on top of him. "You know how ridiculous that sounds, right?" I got off and scooted away. "I won't ever be taking that brick in your pants willingly."

We cleaned. We cuddled. We slept. We were the big spoon, even though it was my arms that were wrapped around him.

#####

I felt terrible for coming on so strong with Saylor, but I didn't regret it. It needed to happen. I was always different around him whenever it was just us, but last night especially. I was riding a wave of confidence after such an eventful evening at work.

I felt wanted around Saylor and it was hard not to take advantage of that: to have an attractive, beast of a man who only had eyes for me, be at my whim. If only he acted as big as he looked, but then he'd likely be among the countless other men who had no interest in me. I guess life was a puzzle, in that way. We never got exactly what we wanted, though I was sure if we did, we would just want something else.

Regardless, we had entered the last leg of my journey and it was a race to the finish line. Saylor knew what I needed from him and he had until I made things official with Juice Williams to give it to me. I wouldn't be holding my breath. The world's dumbest superpower had shown an extremely rare side of itself, or maybe I'd been using my power wrong all along. Perhaps, good fortune was always in the eye of the beholder.

The paint party and the night at the library were the only two times I'd stepped in spires, so it was a promising hypothesis in need of more testing. Maybe I could take my chances stepping across one to lock things up with Juice. After that, Barbara could dust off her ophthalmologist MD. I was sure she had one somewhere. She'd cut me and, we'd be out.