Working at a grocery store made it easy to zone out: greeting, scan, scan, scan, have a nice day, and next. The afternoon slipped by, and then it was four.
There was plenty of time to get home; it was only eight blocks, and Billy's flight wasn't even touching down for another fifteen minutes. I made a pit stop at King's for a malt and an egg cream. By 4:30 pm, I was climbing the stairs to my apartment, expecting another twenty to thirty minutes before he showed up—just enough time for a shower.
"Hey, Lil." His voice always sounded inflicted with a sore throat.
I stared back at him for a minute, surprised to see him leaning against the wall next to my door. He rolled his head against the wall as he turned, as though lifting his body from his lean would cause him to collapse to the floor.
"Miss me?"
"You're here." The mix of him standing before me and him being carelessly striking filled my voice.
Billy wasn't wearing his all-black attire. He dressed casually in worn blue jeans and a white t-shirt. He looked normal if normal made me unable to breathe.
"We talked yesterday; did you forget?" Panic flashed in his eye.
"No, I mean, I wasn't expecting you for another half hour." I shook off the surprise. "I'm sorry. Hi," I said in a less disturbed tone. I knocked off my hesitation and moved in to greet him.
"Hey," his second greeting was breathy as he leaned in to kiss my temple before pulling back. "Here." He took the drinks from me and set them on the floor before wrapping me in a full hug.
I had forgotten his height; when we hugged, his shoulders rounded as he slumped to ease my burden of reach.
"Hey, I missed you," I whispered into his shoulder.
"Good." His tone was teasing, but unmistakable pleasure sparked in his eyes.
"Oh, chocolate malt," I added, picking up his drink.
"You're the best." He stuck the straw in his mouth and sucked as though he were consuming life itself. "I've gotten a malt in most cities, and this is easily in my top three."
"Only the top three? Ambiance must not be a factor." I teased as I unlocked my door and pushed in, turning back to him in time to catch his eyes flowing over me with the distinct tone of desire.
"It wouldn't be fair to weigh atmosphere." His attempt at a tease fell flat as he tried to mask his wanting gaze with a twitch around the empty living room. "Roommates?"
"Gone; the subletters move in on the first." I tossed my keys on the counter.
"Did you sublet, or are you staying here?"
"Staying. I love my parents, but the house becomes small when I stay there. I see them a lot, though; they're just outside the city."
"You've mentioned that." His smile was tight as an awkwardness cropped up between us.
"Do you mind if I shower?" I desperately wanted to wash the grocery store off me.
"No, of course not. Do your thing."
"Make yourself at home." I flailed my hands around the living room, trying to mime welcoming.
I hurried from the room to escape the uncomfortable moment. Once we separated, a magnetic pull back to him tugged at me. I quickly showered, so the discomfort didn't linger for too long.
"Thoughts on dinner?" I called out to him as I dressed.
"Ah, no. What do you want?"
"Honestly, I don't know. I should've picked something up to cook. You're probably sick of restaurant food."
"No, fast food for sure, but not restaurants." His eyes flashed up to me as I entered, wearing simple jeans and a tank top combo. "Hey," he added again.
An uneven smile crossed my face at his attention. With a single glance, he melted me like the last snowflake on a spring day. "Thai is your favorite, right? There's a place a couple of blocks from here."
"Any chance they deliver?" His eyes met mine, but his mind was not there. It sent a surge of satisfaction through me.
"I believe they do, Mr. Collins."
His eyes lingered on me as I paced to the kitchen for a menu. A stirring bubbled in me. It wasn't unexpected but was more consuming than predicted. I flopped next to him, trying to swallow the growing tension.
"Menu," I held it up; his hand brushed over mine as he plucked it from my grasp. He gazed at it for a moment before letting out a laugh. "What's funny?" Even as the words left my lips, a laugh passed between them.
Without lifting his eyes from the menu, he murmured, "and here I thought I was too cool for crushes." The dimples dotted his cheeks as he spoke through downcast eyes.
"The day I'm too old for crushes is the day I wish to die." Words fell freely from my mind around Billy. And yet, my unbridled stream of consciousness pulled him closer.
As my words settled into his mind, the smile stayed. "I want to know everything about you." His eyes snapped to mine with such focus that my body ricocheted back.
"That should fill a solid ten minutes," I managed.
"Oh, I doubt that. Chicken Pad Thai with no spice. What do you want?" His casual tone smoothed his dimples.
"Spring rolls and wonton soup, please."
The quiet moment could have easily been forgotten if he hadn't leaned in and kissed my forehead before slumping back and pulling his phone out to place the order. When he finished, he tossed his phone to the coffee table.
"So," his eyes expectantly twinkled, "everything."
"Has anyone ever mentioned that you can be a lot?" The crooked smile of my tease settled on my face.
"My mom, my brothers, most of my friends, the band for sure, my third-grade teacher Mrs. Klopplebaum, my high school football coach, my cousin, my ex-wife, the cab driver on the way here," he absently continued to list.
"Your third-grade teacher's name was Klopplebaum?" Saying the name made me smile.
"See," he shook his head in disbelief, "I slyly drop my ex-wife, and you focus on Klopplebaum."
"It's a fun name. I'd change mine if I didn't love my daddy so much. Klopplebaum." I repeated for the fun of it. "It's a water slide for the tongue."
"A water slide for the tongue?" His dimples appeared again.
"Say it, Klopplebaum. Klopplebaum. Klopplebaum." The spiral of repetition overtook me.
"Please, stop saying Klopplebaum. I beg of you." The toying in his eyes was back.
"Fine." I stood up and tapped on the stereo. "If you insist on embarrassing me by forcing me to talk about myself, we're going to dance to obnoxious 90s pop songs." Steal my Sunshine by LEN blasted through the speakers.
"I can't," he protested, stifling a laugh. "I sincerely think my body is incapable of moving to this. Can terrible music cause paralysis?"
I pulled on his hands. "I don't make the rules; the apartment does." I yanked harder, but he didn't budge. "Honey, the longer you protest, the longer you'll have to listen. And I should warn you, the Spice Girls are up next, and they're going to tell you what they want, what they really, really want."
"I don't care for this side of you." But as he spoke, he stood.
"OK, love, ex-wife; go," I prodded.
"Aren't we talking about you?" Billy protested.
I just gazed back at him as I performed a lazy rendition of the bus stop.
"Fine; I got married young, like eighteen. Suzy's a good girl, but content. We just grew up." The somber tone came through as the song ended.
"Klopplebaum," I murmured back.
"I tell you about my divorce, and you respond with Klopplebaum. And now I'm listening to Barbie Girl. At some point, I either made the best or worse decision of my life. I'm not sure which one."
"Seems like you need to do more research before deciding."
"I don't think my ears can handle it." He spun me as though we were listening to a classic waltz and not perhaps the trashiest song ever created.
"When did you separate?" I pushed.
"Last fall." His expression shadowed as his eyes darted to the floor.
"Not because... before you played Portland?"
"Yeah, just before. I got the papers just before I met you."
"So, we're break-up buddies."
"Why are we talking about my divorce to No Diggity again?"
"You can't spiral to 90s pop." It was a well-vetted theory in my book.
"Really? I'm pretty sure I'm spiraling." Even as he said the words, the hint of a smile threatened his dimples.
"You're dancing; don't pretend." I moved in closer as he wrapped his arms around me.
"I'm not sure if I love you or hate you, but I certainly feel something powerful."
"Mmhmm, I have that effect on people." It wasn't the effect I had on people; it was the effect I had on Billy.
Jump Around started from the stereo. "Ugh, this song is the worst. It's physically impossible to jump around for three and a half minutes," he grumbled. But then his attention shifted. "Your turn." He dipped me, and just as he pulled me up again, I tapped the button to turn off the stereo.
"Oh, dance party over. Maybe next time." I tumbled to the couch.
"This all seems fair." He shot me a look that was dangerously close to annoyed before dropping next to me on the couch.
"You don't seem like a rock star," I absently spoke, not thinking about what I was saying.
"Good, because I'm not a rock star. I'm whatever the notch is above mom's garage."
"Groupies?" I tried to sound absent, even adding a focused scratch to my shin, but he could see through me.
"Shouldn't Britney Spears be radiating through my brain right now? Isn't that the rule?"
"Oh, honey, don't cite rules you don't know," I teased.
"There are females that are attracted to sweaty transients that make melodic noise for a length of time." He slightly nodded as he spoke.
"Wow, that's the longest, most convoluted description of a groupie I've ever heard."
"Oh, I'm sure I could do better with a few more moments of thought. Shall I give it another whack?"
"No, I think you've sufficiently avoided it."
"I'm not into groupies. One-night stands aren't my thing, but I haven't been a monk either."
"So, no special female that's attracted to sweaty transients that make melodic noise for a length of time?"
"Oh, wow, I hear that now."
"Yeah, it's like listening to an indecisive and evasive dictionary."
"Wait, you're judging me as you drop 'indecisive and evasive dictionary'?" He shook his head and sat back as though the conversation had ended.
I poked him with my big toe. "You're going to make me say it?"
"Say what?" As he spoke, he grabbed my arm and pulled me to his side. "I met a girl." He tucked me into his side as he spoke.
"Tell me about her." I hid my face to hide my blush.
"She's confusing and forgiving. I'm intrigued by how she sees the world; it's like she sees things in color, and I'm still stuck in a black and white movie." His voice came as a barely inaudible murmur. The words rattled in his chest before they broke through to my ears.
"She sounds frustrating."
"She is, but she's worth it." His lips kissed the top of my head as his thick, coarse thumb skimmed over my arm. "I want to see her happy. It's important to me."
"Why is that important to you?"
"I'm not sure; I just know it is. It has been since I first set eyes on her. She has this smile that flickers like a candle; it's tentative and broken and the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my entire life."
My throat seized up as he spoke, and my fingertips dug into his side as I clung to him. It was at that moment that I realized we had both started falling. I opened my mouth to speak, grasp a real thought before I plunged too deep into him, but a knock saved me.
"Foods here," he murmured as I reluctantly moved away from him and purposely hid my eyes.
I wasn't hungry, but I ate to avoid conversation. Awkwardness permeated the meal. Billy's eyes focused heavily on his food. The mood of the meal was thick and heavy; even crappy 90s pop music wouldn't save us.
"I'm sorry, Lil," Billy murmured, tossing his fork aside in defeat. "I'm forcing too much."
"No, it's not that." His eyes blinked up at mine as I spoke. "It could be a bit of that." A relieving laugh escaped me as a flash of a smile crossed his face. "You're different from most boys I know."
"Mmhmm, not the first time I've heard that." His eyes fell back to his food as he picked up his fork and poked at a peanut.
I surveyed him as his eyelashes shielded his eyes. "It's not a bad thing. You're shy and bold. You have this bravado but also this vulnerability. It's interesting."
"Well, I guess we're just trying to figure each other out." His tight wince of a smile soured his lips.