Grand Adventures

by Dawn Kimberly Johnson

  When I looked over to Brandon, who was currently manning the barbecue, he was looking up at me. I forgot for half a second that he was not at all my type, but I shook it off and continued walking over to Mr. Hanson. All I had to do was give him his gift and get the fuck outta there.

  “Hey, Mr. Hanson,” I said as I stuck out my hand to shake his. “Happy birthday.”

  “Hello, Joshua.”

  Seriously, what is it with these people not calling me Josh?

  “I’m so glad you came up. You’ve met my daughters before, right? This is Sarah, my eldest, and Lucy, my baby.”

  “Yes, nice to see you both again,” I said as I gave them a slight wave. “I really can’t stay. I just wanted to come up and give you something I got for you. It’s not much, just something I saw that I thought you might find useful,” I said as I handed him the bag, a little embarrassed I didn’t take the time to wrap it.

  “Oh, Dad, it’s a clapper for your house keys,” his daughter Sarah said as he took it out of the bag.

  “You just clip this part on to your keys,” I said as I pointed to the locator piece. “Then when you need to find them, you just clap twice, and they’ll start beeping.”

  “Oh, Joshua, thank you. You may not know this, but I do seem to misplace those little buggers a lot,” he said as his daughters both gave me knowing smiles. I think we all knew this, because they had given Brandon a spare key for the times Mr. Hanson locked himself out.

  “Well, I’m glad you like it,” I said. “I have to get going, though, so have a good time, Mr. Hanson.”

  “What do you mean, you have to go?” I heard from behind me. Shit….

  “Hey, Brandon,” I said as I turned to the side so I could see him.

  “You just got here,” he said. “We have a ton of food, and I can’t let you leave until you at least eat something. You probably haven’t eaten all day.”

  Lately I had been having an internal battle with how I felt when he tried to take care of me. I got warm and angry at the same time. I usually let anger win and said something rude back, but since this was Mr. Hanson’s birthday, I let warm win.

  “Yeah, thanks, I think I will.” I could tell by the shocked look in his baby blues that he wasn’t expecting that answer.

  “Ummm, great. Can I get you something to drink? We have sangria or beer.”

  “Beer would be great, thanks.” I saw him try to hide his smile as he turned to walk away. He was kind of adorable…. Grrrr.

  It actually turned out to be a pretty good night. The food was excellent. Mr. Hanson had a blast. He was even dancing with his daughters. I had never hung out with my neighbors before; they were a pretty cool bunch of people, and once Brandon got a few drinks into him he was hilarious. The southern drawl that came out once he started drinking made me want to break my rule about not dating relationship guys.

  Maybe I could talk Brandon into a one-night stand?

  I knew that wasn’t really an option. Guys like Brandon can never just consider it a good lay and walk away, like guys like me. Just a damn shame, I thought as I caught Brandon eyeing me while mixing up another drink.

  The party didn’t start winding down until midnight, which was pretty epic for an eighty-year-old’s birthday party. We all volunteered to clean up and carry all the leftover food back downstairs.

  As I started to make my way down, I heard Mr. Hanson scream “Oh my Lord!” I glanced over at Brandon and saw the look of concern on his face. I started to run down the stairs, thinking Mr. Hanson might have fallen. But when I got down to his floor, I saw the water pouring out of his door.

  “Holy crap! What happened?” I said as I walked up to make sure Mr. Hanson was okay.

  “Oh no, Joshua,” he said and hung his head as his daughters tried consoling him. “I think I left my bath water running. I meant to take a bath before the party, but then my daughter rang to see if I needed anything, and… I guess I forgot.” I felt so bad for this man who had somehow worked his way into my heart.

  “It’s okay, Mr. Hanson. Accidents happen. We’ll get it all cleaned up,” Brandon said as he walked past me and put his arm around him. I was jealous of how openly loving Brandon was at that moment.

  “Yeah, I’ll go shut off the water and get some towels,” I said as I moved past them into Mr. Hanson’s apartment. There was about an inch of standing water throughout the whole place. We spent an hour and every towel and blanket Sharon and Mr. Hanson owned just to get as much water up as we could. At some point Brandon started making drunken jokes and even had Mr. Hanson and his daughters laughing.

  “Dad’s going to come stay with me for a while,” Sarah said as she walked up to me and Brandon with a packed suitcase. “This is not the way I wanted him to move out, but I think this is probably for the best, since he would never have made the decision on his own. I think he has wanted to for a while but hasn’t wanted to admit it. Thank you both for watching out for him all this time.”

  “It’s no problem—he’s like part of our family,” Brandon said. There he went again, saying shit that gave me hives and made me want to throw him against the wall and ravage him at the same time.

  “We should go downstairs and see if your place has any damage,” he said as he turned to me. Since when did I become a we? But he was right; I hadn’t even thought of what this might have done to my place.

  “Yeah, good idea,” I said as I turned around and headed downstairs.

  When I opened up my door, I thought I had gotten away unscathed until I glanced up and noticed my ceiling slowly dripping Mr. Hanson’s bathwater.

  “You probably shouldn’t stay here, just in case the water has caused any structural damage. You, uh, could crash at my place. I mean, I have a hide-a-bed, and I’m right next door, so you won’t have to pack up a bunch of stuff.”

  “You really think that’s a good idea?” I asked as I gave up fighting whatever this was and grabbed his front pocket to pull him toward me. I wasn’t sure if I was trying to scare him off or trying to pressure him to say yes.

  “I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had in my life,” he responded, so quietly I had to lean forward to hear him. He looked so sure in his answer, yet so vulnerable saying it out loud.

  “I think it may be a great idea too,” I said as I placed my hand on the side of his face and caressed his bottom lip with my thumb. “Let me throw some stuff in a bag.”

  I had never actually been in Brandon’s apartment before, so when I entered I wondered just how good an idea this really was. Not that it wasn’t a nice place, but if I had a great-aunt Mabel, I’m pretty sure this was where she would live.

  “It looks like Martha Stewart died in here,” I said, and by the look on Brandon’s face, he did not find that funny at all. Way to be a mood killer, Josh.

  “I like my home to feel like a home,” he said without apology.

  I was so out of my element.

  Brandon started moving the throw pillows and blankets off the couch to pull it out.

  “Here, let me help,” I said, once I got over the shock that I would actually be sleeping on his pullout couch. I’d thought that was just a line to get me over there. Once the bed was all set up, Brandon came back in with a giant stack of sheets, blankets, and pillows. This couch was definitely going to be a step up from the king-size mattress I had on my floor. I was still disappointed I was going to be sleeping alone. I wasn’t sure when I had jumped on the I-want-Brandon crazy train, but I didn’t see myself getting off anytime soon.

  “Okay, well, I’ll let you get some sleep,” he said.

  I walked around the side of the couch he was standing on and sat down in front of him.

  “Do you want to stay up and talk for a while?” I asked as I grabbed his belt loop and pulled him down on the bed next to me. I wasn’t sure if I’d read six months of signals wrong or what, but he seemed incredibly not into me at the moment—and it was pissing me off, ’cause I really wanted him to be into me now.

  “
Did I do something wrong, Brandon?” I asked as I pulled on his chin to make him look at me. He seemed like he wanted to say something but wasn’t talking.

  “You know you can talk to me, right?” I said. “I don’t need to stay here if it makes you uncomfortable.” When he didn’t respond, I started to get up, but he stopped me by putting his hand on my thigh to push me back down.

  “Joshua, wait. It’s not that I don’t want you here, because I do. You have no idea how bad I want you here.”

  “Then what’s the matter, Brandon? Talk to me.”

  He lay back on the bed, threw his forearm over his eyes, and kind of chuckled, but not in a this-is-funny way.

  “I’ve dreamed of having you here in my bed since the first time I saw you walk in this building.”

  When he didn’t continue, I tried to lighten the mood. “Well, I couldn’t have let you down already—we haven’t even gotten started. But give me five minutes,” I joked. He did take his arm off his face and smile at me. I took that as a positive sign and leaned in to kiss him. At first I thought he was going to push me away, but then he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me to him.

  God, he was amazing. His was far from the first kiss I had ever had, but it was the first kiss that had ever felt like this. I felt the kiss in every part of my body. And then he stopped.

  “I’m sorry, Joshua, I can’t,” he said.

  “Like I said before, I can go if you don’t want me here.” I hated how pathetic I sounded as I said it.

  “It’s not that, Joshua. I want you so bad…. Here! I mean, I want you here.” He said as he covered his reddening face again, embarrassed over his slip. I didn’t push him further. For some reason I knew he was finally going to tell me what was bothering him. “I… I just don’t want to be the second person you’ve been with today.” He said, from behind the arm covering his eyes.

  Fuck! This day had been so life-changing crazy that my barfly from last night seemed like a lifetime ago. And he was nothing in comparison to Brandon. Not knowing what I could say to make myself seem like less of a slut, I just sat there for a second, not saying anything. I had never been ashamed of what I did before. I was young, single, and I always wore protection. But now I couldn’t even make eye contact with him.

  “I’m sorry, Brandon. If I could take it back—” I started before he interrupted me.

  “What? No,” he said as he quickly moved his arm off his face. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I swear. I just want this to mean something. I… I don’t want to be a one-night stand to you.”

  I leaned over him and looked into his incredible blue eyes. “I would love to sleep with you tonight, Brandon, just sleep, and I have never in my life wanted that with another person. Would you be okay with that?”

  “Yes,” he said, leaning up to kiss me.

  I woke up the next morning nestled into a bed that I never wanted to leave, wondering why Brandon wasn’t snuggled up against me still. We had stayed up talking and kissing until the sun came up. Without question, one of the best nights of my life. I pulled the covers down from my head and smelled the aroma of bacon and maple syrup. I could see Brandon in the kitchen, making what looked like the world’s largest plate of french toast.

  Shit, is he listening to Michael Bublé? I couldn’t help but smile over the whole thing. He must have heard me stirring.

  “Good morning,” he said as he flipped another piece of bread. “I figured you might be hungry, but I wasn’t sure what you’d like. I have cereal, oatmeal, french toast, bacon, and coffee,” he said, getting a plate down from his cupboard.

  “I don’t usually eat breakfast,” I said, then felt like a huge jerk at the disappointed look on his face. I don’t think I’d ever met anyone who was so easy to read. “But french toast sounds great, thanks,” I said as I sat up.

  “The landlord called…,” Brandon started, then hesitated like he wasn’t sure what to say. “He said it would be at least two weeks before you can move back into your place,” he finally continued, not meeting my eyes.

  “Oh yeah?” I responded, mentally trying to figure out what my plan was going to be, even though I just wanted to stay there curled up in this bed, getting to know Brandon better.

  “So, I was thinking that my place is really convenient, so if you wanted to just stay here, that’s fine with me,” he said, looking painfully vulnerable.

  I got up from the bed and walked up behind him in the kitchen. “You have the best ideas,” I said as I put my hands on his hips and leaned in so my lips were barely touching his ear. “But I don’t want to stay here for convenience. I want to stay here for you.” As he turned his head and met my lips, I was pretty sure I was never going back to that place across the hall.

  Mistaken MD

  PHOENIX EMRYS

  True Love lives in this world as long as you are in it. Because of you there is hope for us all. Bless you both. Love long and prosper.

  “OMIGAWD, I can’t believe he peed on your leg!”

  No, really? Neither can I. Don’t worry about it. They’re only my brand-new Levi’s 511 Dragons I’ve had on for exactly twenty minutes longer than I’ve been sitting in this nasty pit of canine depravity. Evidently doing an awesome impersonation of a doggie urinal.

  Know what’s even more hysterical? Aside from urine stains on my brand-new jeans?

  I don’t have a dog.

  “He totally never does that.” The fabo-dressed female, roughly my age, teetering atop the highly dog-park inappropriate but otherwise amazing Jimmy Choos, bends over to retrieve the obnoxious white fluffy pants pisser violating my personal space as well as my Levi’s. She seems unaware—or simply doesn’t care—bending over makes her silk blouse with the deep scooping neckline gape way down, giving me a wildly unobstructed view of a truly impressive pair of girls barely holstered in a hot pink bra designed for half its current contents.

  Matching twins. Original equipment, too, unless I miss my guess. She should be proud.

  I might not be into girl bits myself, but I know quality when I see it.

  She scoops her dog and glances up, giving me an optimistic look. Hoping, no doubt, to see I liked what I saw. I respond with a polite smile, neutral enough to convey an “I don’t give a damn” attitude about the public soiling, without seeming like I’m up for what she’s offering. “Well, you know, shit happens.”

  Giggling, she rights herself, her little bundle of struggling, snarling joy tightly clutched to her enormous chest. Like it’s on autopilot, her free hand gives the hem of her extremely short skirt an anchoring yank. “Thank goodness he didn’t do that!”

  With you on that one, girlfriend. “Ha-ha.” I force out a weak chuckle, evading a serious attempt at establishing significant eye contact. Look at the grass, the rocks, the—no, not those again. Oh, I know. The dog.

  Or not. In response to my innocuous ogling, the miniscule white wonder bares its needlelike dental arsenal at me, panting menacingly. Intimidation by an animated pom-pom. This day just keeps getting better and better.

  All right, nothing more to see here; time to move it along. Muchas gracias for the awesome apology. Pleasantries exchanged. Pointless small talk done and dusted. Bait dangled and not accepted. Check, check, and check. Are we done? I vote yes. This is where you leave. Leaving me and my peed-on jeans in peace to get on with what I was doing before you and your powder puff with delusions of grandeur intruded on my day.

  Waiting for my chronically late BFF.

  Thanx-kai-bai!

  My new friend obviously hasn’t checked her messages ’cause she’s still here, lingering, smile hanging uncertainly. Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be? Randi, where the hell are you?

  My lady of the pink brassiere glances briefly at the knot of cavorting canines tearing up the park behind us, clearly searching for a pretext for carrying on the conversation. She’s about to ask it: the question I hate, but I always get, every time I’m forced to sit on this bench waiting for Randi.
“Which dog is yours?”

  Answering it invariably puts me in the uncomfortable “Well, then what the hell are you doing in a dog park? Are you some kind of creep?” zone. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I’m a sensitive soul. Being stared at like I’m twice removed from Son of Sam gives me hives.

  However, maybe this time I can make shading to the weird side work for me. I dig down deep for my best serial-killer voice.

  “I don’t have a dog.”

  She’s not sure what to do with this, although I can see the obvious question in her eyes.

  Then why are you here?

  Something I ask myself every time Randi insists on a dog park hookup.

  Not because I’m into getting peed on, that’s for sure.

  I should have known pulling the creepy card would be risky. A lot of people these days are into borderline stuff. And… superawesome with chocolate sauce on top, looks like I found me one. If that sudden sparkage in her eyes is any indication, she’s decided being a dogless dude in Dallas makes me even more interesting.

  Honey, are you barking up the wrong tree.

  Arf, arf.

  Nothing personal, sweetheart, but if you and I were the last man and woman in the world, we’d be the last man and woman in the world.