17| Mug Cakes Can Wait
MY head was slightly pounding when I woke up the next day after 10 in the morning. That was a clear sign that I'd had too much to drink, and the saddest part was that I hadn't even been that drunk. I was morphing into a lightweight.
I mean, I hadn't exactly wanted to get drunk last night, anyway. Because I wanted to focus on having a good time and not being a drunk idiot around Clay. Drunk idiocy was my high school thing, and eh, it just didn't have as much appeal anymore. What had real appeal was sitting on the balcony eating with only Clay, talking to him and getting to know more about him, and Clay teaching me how to use chopsticks because I'd never been able to figure it out. And yeah, I still couldn't do it, but he really tried. Damn, was he nice about everything.
I was all-there last night. All-in. No doubts in my mind that I actually really liked this dude.
But things got a little foggy when my phone lit up with a certain someone's text message.
The thing about Alexander's text is that it sent me into a spiral. I had been focusing on Clay, who offered to plan mine and Alex's birthday party. And the thing about Clay is that ... I could tell just how good he was. Yet, I was suddenly thrown in the middle of an Alexander Taylor Just Responded To Me thought spiral consisting of way too much shit running around in my brain.
Ignoring the text was easier than I thought it would be last night. I was enjoying being around Clay and all of his friends, and it was simultaneously a great distraction. I was able to completely act like Alexander's text never popped up, and that was probably for the best. No one could know right now. Not Cayden, not Jesse or Alex, no one. I mean, it didn't matter anyway, right?
I was choosing to try this thing with Clay, and I was enjoying it. I could text Alexander because it was platonic and friendly, simple as that.
Rolling over on my side, folding myself further beneath the sheets of my bed, I looked at Alexander's text again:
ALEXANDER: thinking of you too, ty. been busy. how are you?
It was the question that got me: How are you? For one, it was a simple question which held much weight. And secondly, it was a question begging a response. He wanted to talk.
I didn't want to get ahead of myself. He might have just been asking how I was to be nice, and then once I asked the question right back to him, and he answered, our conversation would be over. It would end after the simplicity because it had been so long since we'd spoken, surely we were no longer anything more than acquaintances.
I could handle that.
TYLER: i'm doing pretty great rn, how are you?
See? Simplicity.
I threw my sheets off my body and stood up, stretching and letting out a massive groan as I did. Groaning while taking that first morning stretch was pure bliss.
I made the walk to the kitchen, opening up the fridge to see if there was anything to eat in there. Leftovers from what Logan brought last night, random assortments of groceries I'd bought throughout the week, and a lot of Body Armor drinks. There was, again, the temptation to order food from the restaurant downstairs. Cooking wasn't my thing. I had eggs and cheese and potatoes so technically, I could make a pretty simple breakfast scramble myself. Really, my decision depended on whether I thought I was capable of cooking for myself this morning or not.
Nah.
That was too much work.
I walked over to the sofa and sat down to order food from the restaurant when my phone buzzed again, and my heart jolted thinking it was Alexander. Turns out, it was Connor texting the team group chat about today's practice; there was apparently some news that Coach was going to announce before practice began. I brushed it off and stared ordering food.
It was a day for an omelette.
My phone buzzed again when I finished ordering food and decided to turn on the TV. I kind of wanted to watch old episodes of SpongeBob, so I was searching for that as a way to put off checking my phone so rapidly. If the text was from Alexander, then I couldn't respond too fast, but I knew if I looked at the text now, I'd respond within seconds.
Maybe I was overthinking it. It didn't really matter that much, did it? I was just texting Alexander after not really speaking to him in, well, more than a year. Really, we hadn't completely spoken or had a real conversation since the break-up. So maybe it mattered a little bit more than I thought.
Except I didn't want it to be a huge deal. It wasn't. I finally got an episode going and checked the text, which turned out to be 2 texts, and it just emphasized how not-a-huge-deal this was:
ALEXANDER: it's been quite busy, but i've been doing good!
ALEXANDER: tyler, i have to say i'm so glad to be hearing from you. you have no idea how i've missed you.
See?
Not a huge deal at all.
✿✿✿
I got to practice and threw my bag into the locker room, peeling off my sweatshirt and tossing it in, as well. Today's practice was at night from 6 to 8 pm, which was new because usually, Coach said practices would be earlier in the day. But I didn't mind. I liked taking longer drives, especially at night. I knew that after practice, my hour-long drive back to the apartment would be blissful.
I walked out into the hallway and started towards the gym. My phone buzzed, and I checked it:
ALEXANDER: have fun at practice, ty. i'll talk to you later.
We had been texting on-and-off pretty much all day. There were some points when Alexander wouldn't respond for a couple of hours, which I just assumed was because he was super busy. He caught me up a little on how packed his schedule was on tour – between rehearsals, mandatory sound-checks, and traveling from place to place. I couldn't imagine being so busy, and I still wanted to know more.
I found that I didn't know quite enough about Alexander's new life to satisfy me.
I walked into the gym and most of the team was already there; some were standing in groups off the court and a few were passing around a basketball and messing around.
"Tyler!" Ben yelled, nodding at me and waving me over. He was standing with Connor and Charles, so I walked over and joined them.
"Hey man," Charles said, "we were just talking about how Benny Boy has this huge crush on you and wants to suck your–ow!"
Ben flicked Charles on the side of his forehead, I have to say, with quite an impressive amount of force.
"Fine, fine. He doesn't have a crush on you. Jesus, Ben, why'd you have to get your balls in a bunch?" Charles said, shaking his head.
"This is the shit I deal with," Connor added. "How you doing, Ty?"
"Living large."
"That's my boy," Connor said, patting my back and nodding towards Ben. "So, we weren't talking about Ben's fake crush, we were actually talking about getting the team together in a few weeks for a party."
"Aaaand we have to wait a few weeks because some people," Charles glared at Connor, "have too many 'educational obligations'."
Connor rolled his eyes. "I have to graduate somehow, Charles."
"Yeah, but you don't need 20 goddamn credits of volunteer hours," Charles said.
"You really be doing the most, Big S," Ben agreed, then turned to me. "That's besides the point. We like to get our party and drink on as much as possible before Spring comes 'round. You in?"
I shrugged. "Yeah, I'm in. I try not to drink too much, though."
"He's a good boy!" Charles exclaimed, reaching out to ruffle my hair. I slapped his hand away.
"Not the hair man. Never the hair," Ben said, shaking his head.
"Hey, boys!"
Coach's voice rang from the entrance to the gym, and everyone stopped what they were doing as he walked over towards the bench and sat down. That, as I'd already learned, was a sign to create a semi-circle around him so he could talk to us all.
He sat down on the bench and pulled out his clipboard and practice binder, where he organized all of the drills he wanted to run and kept track if we had a competition. Coach set them beside him and looked up at us. Whatever the news was, he smiled, which meant it couldn't be anything bad.
"Alright. I trust Connor told y'all there would be big news," Coach said. "And just know that what I am about to announce is merely a temporary solution."
"Jesus, Coach, get on with it! I'm on the edge of my seat here!" Charles yelled out. That earned him a pointed look from Coach and then an eye roll.
"Boys," Coach clapped his hands together, "we're going to begin sharing our court and weight room. We have this court and the weight room in this building for the entire summer solely for the team, but there's going to be more people occupying the space for the rest of the summer."
"Whaaat?" Charles asked.
Ben furrowed his eyebrows. "Who is it?"
"Georgia Tech's gym is being redone, and their weight room is occupied by the football team for the summer," Coach said.
My heart stopped.
"They don't have another free weight room close to their facility, and we'll, they don't even have a facility as of right now. So, we are going to be sharing our court and weight room with them. Out of the kindness of our hearts," Coach said. "This change is going to be implemented soon, as soon as next week, but..."
His voice faded out, though I knew he wasn't done talking. He was still speaking, informing us on a change that made my muscles tense and my throat want to close in on itself and get rid of my ability to breathe in air effectively, or even at all.
Of course.
Of course the news had to be shitty. Of course it had to involve fucking Zach. Sharing a facility with him. Whether that meant crossing paths or not, there was always a chance, and at the very least, I would have to live with the fact that we played basketball and worked out and got dressed in the same place.
Fuck. Me.
I tried my best to be discreet about taking deep breaths in and out, attempting to tune back into Coach's speech in case I missed anything important. I looked up and locked eyes with Connor for a second, noticing he was looking right at me. So I tried my best to act normal and refocus on Coach. I would have liked to run out of the gym right now and hide, but I was still adamant on my teammates not knowing about my issues. And Zach especially was uncharted territory I couldn't talk about.
I needed to gather myself. Practice was no place for a panic. All I needed to do was get through this and calm my shit, and then I could get the hell out and compose myself. I would have an hour-long drive to really get it together.
And then I needed something to get my mind off of the Georgia Tech bullshit express.
✿✿✿
Moonlight never failed to make me emotional. It was one of the most cinematically stunning movies I'd ever seen, with one of my all-time favorite stories. It was real and raw. Usually, I just opted to watch the cheesy romantic comedies that required no brain work at all, but occasionally, I got in the mood for something that would stimulate my mind a bit more than usual. Moonlight was one of those movies.
It was movies like that one that made me appreciate more than just romance or a good story; I appreciated the way the movie was put together. Each shot composition had a purpose, every camera angle served a special meaning, and the music choice enhanced the entire baseline of the story.
My job was one of the places I felt smarter than usual. Because I knew I wasn't any sort of genius, but there were areas where I was confident in my level of knowledge and expertise. Movies was one of those categories that fell along with my job. I wasn't an expert, but I loved film (all except horror). I felt like I knew enough about a lot of films to write an essay.
But I wouldn't just write an essay for fun. That was a Noah thing to do.
Anyway, I was watching Moonlight. There was hot chocolate at my side, nearly empty. I was contemplating making brownies, mostly because I really needed something sweet.
Ooh! A mug cake! Now that was a good idea.
So I got up and walked over to the kitchen while the movie still played, and I got together some ingredients. Chocolate was my favorite, so I decided on a lava mug cake of sorts. I added a little bit of Nutella and mixed it together with the rest of the ingredients, just to make the cake more gooey.
The mug cake was in the microwave when there was a knocking at my door. Most likely, it was Cayden or Jeremy since they lived right next door.
But when I opened the door, it was Tyler. Tyler with semi-wet hair, wearing a hoodie and shorts, and I knew he'd just gotten back from basketball practice because he had texted me about it last night. But we didn't have any plans, so him being here was shocking and then—
Tyler kissed me. He stepped into my apartment and with his hands on my face, he pressed his lips to mine, and it was soft but demanding. My heart fluttered, and we hadn't kissed like this since the night he taught me how to kiss him.
He kicked the apartment door shut and then pulled away, touching his lips and looking into my eyes.
"You taste like chocolate."
"I—mug cake," I stammered, pointing to the microwave.
Tyler grinned and leaned forward, kissing me slower this time, and pulling back quicker.
"I can make you one, too," I offered, trying not to stutter. "And—-and hey."
"Hey," he said, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "I know you weren't expecting me, or anything."
"I wasn't, but—"
"Hopefully, you don't mine, I dunno. Just, I guess, I kind of wanted to see you."
"I'm glad you're here," I told him. "I wasn't—I wasn't ready for all of that, uh, but I—I liked it. I just might have needed a heart warning."
Tyler laughed. "I'll give you a heart warning next time I try planting one on you so suddenly. For now, I'll take you up on the mug cake offer."
He walked past me and sat at the counter, and I watched him before going to the kitchen and working on making Tyler a mug cake.
"How was your practice?"
Tyler shrugged. "Fine. Not bad."
"So, not good?"
He tilted his head at me. "Are you reading me?"
I blushed. "Sorry."
"Hey, no, don't apologize. You're right. It wasn't a good practice and honestly, it was just kind of bad in general," Tyler admitted, sighing. "It's just. Not good news."
"What happened?"
He sighed again. It must have been weighing on him a good amount, and I didn't like to think about Tyler being upset. I mean, I'd only ever seen him happy and, well, kind of amazing.
I knew Cayden said Tyler had his own struggles, but I hadn't seen that side. I wondered if this was a glimpse, or if he would talk to me openly. I wanted that. It was a step towards something more meaningful. Or maybe I was rushing.
I knew I wanted something serious and strong, and Tyler and I hadn't had very long to get to know each other. But it was like I could already feel there was something there between us.
Working with love was my job. Watching movies with love was my thing. My love language was just love as a complete concept. I wasn't a stranger to it. I knew my feelings developed fast and strong.
"Just... we have to share the entire facility with Georgia Tech. And there's this guy from high school on that team who just..." Tyler paused , then tightened his hand into a fist and shook his head. "He sucks. That's all. I don't want to get too deep into it. I don't want to... to think about him or that bullshit, and I don't want to burden you with it, either. I just—I'm just annoyed is all, but I don't want to be. I just want to be here and be okay and be with you right now. To get my mind out of the fucking gutter."
I looked at Tyler, just sitting there with his fist tense on the kitchen counter, looking up at me. He looked close to tears, like he was having to bite his cheek to stop himself from letting them out. I wasn't done with the mug cake, but mug cakes can wait.
I set my whisk down and walked over, taking his hand which was closed into a fist and opening it up, sliding my fingers through his and clasping out hands together.
"We don't have to talk about it. Talking about it hurts sometimes, and it's hard. We don't always have to do the hard things," I said.
Tyler smiled. "Sometimes we want to do the hard things." He winked and I blushed even harder.
I cleared my throat. "Uh, you—you know what I mean, I—I didn't mean for it to come out that way."
"That's usually how it works."
I facepalmed myself and Tyler laughed, prying my hand away from my face and lacing our fingers back together. He was looking down at our hands, rubbing his thumb against mine.
"I'm fucking with you," he said, then looked up at me. "You're really great. You know?"
I gulped. "I—I mean I try to be as okay as possible."
"You're better than okay," Tyler muttered, then sighed again. "How about that mug cake?"
I grinned.
"The best mug cake you'll ever taste!"
✿✿✿
@ the best mug cake ever ^^
Sorry for the late upload y'all! I been doing some deeeeeep apartment cleaning.
But here we areeeeeeeeee helloooooo.
POSSIBLE DRAMA ALERT: Zach's basketball team is gonna be sharing the facility with Tyler's. Obviously, this is gonna be a pretty interesting hurtle. And obviously, Tyler isn't too thrilled.
DUH BECAUSE ZACH LITERALLY SUCKS.
But hey.
Tyler and PC? Adorable. Figuring things out, but adorable nonetheless. I mean, there are obvious complications BUTTTTTTTTTTTT... we can enjoy a little harmless cute shit.
Also. Make a mug cake y'all. Just do it.
BYE BITCH. (ily)