The Boat We Row (GxMxM, 18+)

11

"What?" He asked without glancing up.

"Nothing." I murmured through my teeth, mouth full of food.

"You're looking over like you want some." Through me eyelashes, I saw his eyes finally flick up to me.

I only shook my head, wondering if that's the reason he thought I was looking at him. In truth, my stomach was getting full fast and though I had finished my burger, I had barely any room to spare for the remainder of my onion rings. I ate a couple more of them before I finally decided that I was full. As I chugged my coke, I looked over the bottle to see Tony glaring at the onion rings and I hear the question "You gonna eat that?" brewing in his mind.

"You can have them." I said, sliding the food basket to him. He took them without speaking a word and with one cheek bulging with food and dumped them with his own onion rings.

"You know the store won't be open much longer than a month?" He said out of the blue after a few moments.

I moved my eyes away from the windows and to him, wondering what I was supposed to say to that. It was thrown up in the air that that would be so, so I wasn't surprised. However, it was a bit disappointing to hear.

"I wasn't going to tell you until next week or something, since you seem to enjoy working there." He looked back up at me after a few moments of silence, looking for my reaction.

In truth, I didn't enjoy working at all. Working there just gave me an excuse to listen to records all day and reminisce and fall into the blankets of music. It was better than working as a cashier or waitress, but it seemed as though that was going to be my next option if I was going to be out of a job soon.

"Are you going to work at the other record store then?" I asked, remember it was still another option.

He shook his head. "I'll probably go back into construction for a while." His eyes flicked between his food and me as I remained without a response.

"Why are you so quiet now?" The corners of his lips upturned a bit as though he would smile. He was still engrossed in the couple fries and onion rings left in the platter, so he couldn't see my expression. "You gonna miss me?"

"Miss you?" I snorted and shook my head, gazing back out at the window. "More like good riddance."

"Well, it's good that we're on the same page." He flashed a half-hearted smile at me.

Everything was eaten off the platters by the time he was done which just some crumbs left behind. There wasn't a morsels leftover, and it looked like he wasn't even fully satiated as he looked at the menu card with a curious glance before slurping up his drink. He really did eat like a 14-year-old going through a growth spurt, but for some reason I found almost as much satisfaction in watching him gulp down all the food so gratefully as I did eating my own.

He paid for our meals, again, yet I couldn't help but reach for my back pocket which I knew was empty. I wondered if he's be the type to be insistent on paying or if he would just let me pay for my own. I was raised under the belief that men should never require women to pay for something that they invited them to in the first place. However, I wasn't really invited and this wasn't some sort of date. And though I wanted to be the independent type, I also want to save the couple of bucks I had for a rainy day.

"Let's go." Tony said, setting his tip on the table and scooting out from the seat.

Getting back into the pickup, I took in the smells or the incense and cigarettes and marijuana again. After not being inside for a little while, the scents were fresh to my nose again. They became familiar when I connected them back to the record store. He carried them on him around the store as he went, and it was only then I realized. I imagined that even some of the records smelled like him.

I became investigative, determined to get to the bottom of the other incense sticks. I picked up one that rested on the dashboard and didn't get to even put it to my nose before a calluses hand grabbed my wrist. I paused with some guilt.

"Don't touch shit that isn't yours." He said in a gruff tone, before nearly snatching the stick out of my hand and setting it back down on the dash.

"Sorry." I muttered, gazing out the window in embarrassment.

"Patchouli." He said in a more forgiving voice, though his expression was still hardened.

"Huh?"

"It's patchouli. You wanted to know what it smelled like, right?"

Patchouli. It smelled like its name. I didn't know much about herbal or earthy scents. A few I had come across from my classmates in high school who either used them to mask the smell of pot in their cars or because some of them supposedly did something for your "energies". Mostly kids who were more progressive and believed peace always outweighed war would use them. I barely knew if Tony fit that category since he didn't seem to fit in any particular category at all, so long as he kept up that mask.

"Where do you live?" I asked as I sensed we were nearing Leah's apartment.

"Where you're sitting right now." He said in a flat voice with a rigid focus over his hand gripping the steering wheel.

I looked around at the truck instinctively, taking in what he said and imagining what it would be like to actually live where I was siting.

"You live in your truck?" I was still in a bit of disbelief.

He nodded and snorted like it was nothing.

"So, you're homeless." I immediately regretted my quick tongue's choice of words.

"This is my home." He was to content with his statement that I relaxed knowing he didn't take offense.

I huffed. "Okay."

"You're gonna judge me now? Not taking any more rides from a hobo?"

Or maybe he does care.

"You said you're not homeless..." I replied, and then in the same breath, "And who says I'll need a ride from you again? I don't mind walking next time I need to go somewhere."

"Less gas used up anyway." For some reason, I was taking offense to his dismissive comments even though I continued to entertain them.

Within minutes, he had parked along the curb in front of the apartment building.

"Anyways," I said, placing my hand on the doors hand and glancing back at him. "I'm tired. Thanks for the ride."

He didn't say anything more and kept his eyes ahead at the rode as I pushed open the door and slide out. I watched him speed off after I shut the door, shaking my head at the fact that he lived in that pickup all along. No wonder he was always so pissy. I imagined those firm leather seats did anything but provide support for his back while he slept. I also finally connected the dots and understood why he had all those items in the back. They were most likely his belongings. Maybe I really was lucky to at least have a suitable and safe place to lay my head at the end of the day. Then again, he didn't seem opposed to the notion of sleeping in his own vehicle.