Gathered Up

by Annabeth Albert

  “But it’s nice to have friends right? Can’t have too many of those,” I said instead.

  “Certainly. Oh, look, another episode is starting. Do you have to go or shall we watch?”

  I grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch. “I’m in for the long haul. Bring on the bogus collectible coins episode.”

  Chapter 5

  Dear friends, I get so many questions about knitted gifts. These can be problematic, especially when you are gifting to someone who is not a crafter. Start simple: a quick little project, one that you can give from the heart and not feel put out if the praise isn’t as abundant as you might like. Giving should always be its own pleasure.—Evren’s Yarnings

  Ev and I became regular text and phone buddies after that. We seemed to be in a very similar predicament on the evenings we didn’t work. Renee had a new study group this spring term and was leaving me with the kids more and more in the evenings, while Mira’s pain was often at its worst in the evenings, making Ev reluctant to leave her. Neither of us had a real way to leave the house, but we were both a little starved for adult contact. My phone would buzz shortly after I got the kids settled, and my pulse would speed up, mouth smiling even though I was alone in the room. I got in the habit of flipping on the TV as soon as I said hello. We worked our way through most of the auction reality shows together, him knitting and me doing laundry or other household stuff while we talked.

  “I made something to celebrate spring,” he said one day when he came into the shop for some soup as a late lunch. “Flowers.”

  “Flowers?” I readied his soup and chai as quickly as I could.

  He withdrew three knitted blooms from his pocket. Each was affixed to a small clip. “These were my testers. For your girls?”

  “Thank you.” I smiled broadly. I put them in my apron pocket before the other baristas could notice.

  “And for you…shall we have a beer together again tonight?” he asked, making the phone gesture as an older gentleman came in and got in line behind him.

  “Absolutely. Working till nine. Call me after.”

  My phone buzzed around ten, right as I sat down with a microwave pasta dinner as a late snack. The kids and Renee had eaten all of dinner, as usual. That was okay. Coming in to a nice quiet home was its own kind of reward, even if Renee did leave the dishes for me. Oh, well. I’d get those done while I chatted with Ev.

  “Hey,” I said softly into the phone.

  “I am having some baklava and thinking of you,” Ev announced.

  “Oh man, that sounds amazing. I think this frozen dinner is supposed to be lasagna, but don’t quote me on it.” I laughed.

  “Ah. I made Mira a nice couscous pilaf and some skirt steak. She didn’t eat much again. I wish I’d known your dinner was going to be so meager—I would have walked over some leftovers.”

  “And I would have kissed you,” I said without thinking. “My kingdom for a steak.”

  “I do not generally require…payment for feeding my friends,” Ev said carefully. “But I would enjoy cooking for you sometime. Hala Tanya and Hala Mira taught me to cook and I find it very relaxing.”

  “My mom’s ancient Betty Crocker Cookbook and four starving siblings taught me to cook and I hate it. Come cook for me any time. I’ll even do the dishes. That’s what I’m doing now.” I ran the hot water to start dishes. “Maybe the next apartment will have a dishwasher.”

  “Next apartment?”

  “Yeah,” I said, and strangely, I found myself telling Ev about the national barista contest and my dreams of a better place for all of us. Not even Renee knew how much the contest meant to me.

  “That is indeed a good goal. So you want to stay a barista?” He said it so nonjudgmentally that my defenses didn’t kick up like they usually did when people asked me that.

  “I tried some community college classes before Mom died. School’s just not my thing. After she died, taking on loans for classes I barely passed seemed almost…selfish. Renee’s going to school now. She’s majoring in environmental studies and has all sorts of save-the-world dreams. But me, I love being a barista. Love the work. Love my customers. But…”

  “Yes? Tell me.” Ev made me feel like even my wildest dreams weren’t stupid.

  “There’s this barista I used to work with at People’s Cup—Robby. He has a coffee cart of his own downtown now. That might be nice. Someday. It takes start-up cash, though, and I’m not sure I’ll ever have that.”

  “Maybe you will win more contests. And it is always good to dream.”

  “You don’t think I’m foolish for not wanting something more…professional?” I thought about that all the time—trying to get something better-paying for the sake of the kids. But being a barista was what I knew. I didn’t exactly have a wealth of other employable skills.

  “I think it’s good honest work, canim. You are making the best life you can. That’s all any of us can do.” Ev’s words washed over me like a benediction. It had been so long since someone had told me I was doing a good job. I didn’t even need to know what the Turkish word meant—it felt good to my ears.

  “I’m not exactly impressing people making a living out of knitting,” Ev continued. “I had a great job for a bit with a big design house, doing their knitwear line, but I chose to quit to come be with Mira.”

  “You can always go back to that, get a job with another design place maybe?” My hands started to tense up, but I forced each finger to relax. I’d known all along that Ev might leave again and I couldn’t get all invested in him staying. Even if I totally was.

  “Perhaps. We will see. Mira talks nonsense about my taking over the shop if…”

  “Will you?” Like him, I danced around the specter of the worst-case scenario.

  “It is a moot point. She will beat this disease. Iplik is a part of her, not me so much.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that, but I made an encouraging noise.

  “But the work I am doing now feeds my soul. Ever since Mira gave me a stack of old Interweave magazines to sort, I’ve known I wanted to design knits. And I was fortunate to go to FIT and get a good education. And yes, I could make much more money doing other things. We all must make peace with the intersection of our dreams and reality.”

  “Yes. That.” Dishes done, I leaned against the counter. “And sometimes reality sucks.”

  “Yes, yes, it does.” Ev groaned and told me a bit about that day’s treatment for Mira. I liked that we could be a sounding board for each other. Even when he was venting, I still loved his voice, and I could picture him gesturing with those long, elegant fingers.

  Eventually, I migrated to the couch, stretching out. I groaned because it felt so good to finally be off my feet.

  “Was that your spine popping?” Ev asked.

  “Yes. Forget steak. My kingdom for a massage.” Of course my mind went straight to his sexy hands and how much I wanted them on me.

  Ev made a sound halfway between disgust and interest. “Massage is…nice. But I do not like oils. Nothing slippery on the hands.”

  “Just skin is fabulous.” Fuck. The thought alone was enough to get me half-hard.

  “Showered is nice,” Ev mused.

  “You’re right. You are picky.” I laughed. “But if it gets me a massage, I’ll shower right the heck now.”

  “You.” Ev made a tsking sound. “You are not angling for a massage. You want the happy ending part.”

  “Guilty. So guilty. Couldn’t you use…a happy ending?”

  “Perhaps.” Ev yawned. “I do not like oils on me either. But touch is nice.”

  “You’ve never told me what you are in to,” I prodded a bit. This cautious dance toward the sexy talk we were doing was the most thrilling thing I’d done in weeks.

  “Hmm.”

  “Come on. You’ve had a long dry spell. What do you mis
s most?”

  “Kissing. I miss kissing.” Ev sighed. “I like…enthusiastic kissing.”

  “Is that code for you like tongue or is it your delicate way of saying you like the sort of kisses where you’re practically devouring the other person?” Okay. Forget half-hard; I was all the way there now.

  “Both.” There was a shifting noise and I had a feeling Ev wasn’t any more comfortable than I was.

  “I’m an…enthusiastic kisser,” I told him with no false modesty for me. I was good at my job, decent with the kids, but I was fucking fabulous in bed. Particularly with a guy who wanted to eat me alive. Even if he didn’t quite want to admit that yet.

  “Of that I have no doubt.” Ev’s voice went a bit deeper. “And apparently you like bossy kissers?”

  “Yes. Please. Take control of my mouth. Fuck me with your tongue and I’m a happy man.”

  “What if I…the other person…wants to kiss a long time? With clothes on?”

  “You mean grinding for forever and I don’t get to come?” I groaned, pulse speeding up. “That sounds fucking fabulous. Don’t mind my begging to come while you do that. Make me wait.”

  “Begging is…a bonus.”

  “Knowing you, though, no one gets to make a mess in their clothes right?”

  Ev made the tsking sound. “Towels are nice. I’m not opposed to the grinding…concluding with skin to skin. I simply enjoy taking my time. Also, swallowing is a good way to minimize mess, I’ve found.”

  “Yeah? Want to hold me down and suck me off?”

  Ev’s next sound was far from a tsk and more like a rumble of approval. “You are dangerous, Brady, very dangerous.”

  “Why? Am I turning you on?” My hand wandered over my fly. Not stroking, just firm pressure. We’d danced past sexy talk, far out of the friend zone, now meandering into something dark and heady. I pressed hard against my aching erection as I waited to see how far Ev would let himself go.

  “Perhaps. I told you some things, now you tell me. What is your favorite thing?”

  “Uh. The long, slow grinding ending in oral that you just described sounds amazing and hits a lot of my buttons. For the record, I’m totally good with…mess. And I like giving oral. Love getting my throat fucked. Being pinned down while grinding or getting my throat fucked, that gets me going.”

  Ev was silent a long moment. Perhaps I’d pushed him too far. “Tell me about this throat fucking. How do you like it?”

  Aw yes. I’d never had phone sex, but I had a feeling we were about to head in that direction. “Where are you right now?”

  “In my bed. With a closed door. Are you going to ask me what I’m wearing next?”

  “Knitted underwear?” I laughed as I headed for the bathroom— the one room with a lock. My usual jerk-off method was a locked door and a longer-than-necessary shower.

  “Sorry to disappoint. Pajama bottoms. I worry Hala Mira could need me in the night.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to apologize to me. I share a room with a ten-year-old. I’m going to the bathroom now, though. And locking the door.”

  “You require a locked door to tell me about giving head?”

  “I require a locked door, a quiet house, and about three hours to show you,” I countered. “Fuck, Ev. I want you to wear me out.”

  “Oh, I could. Do not doubt that, Brady. You want me to wear your throat out? Use you so much you need me to feed you some gelato after?”

  “Fuck yes,” I whispered. “I’d like it if you were on the bed or in a chair and I were kneeling in front of you. Or you were standing in front of me. Me on my knees is the key thing.”

  “You ever try with your head over the edge of the mattress? It happens that this bed is the perfect height for that…”

  “Oh yes. Tell me more. I want to jerk off while you fuck my throat like that.”

  “Ah. But I don’t want that. Perhaps we will need to find other occupation for your hands.”

  Oh man. Ev knew how to turn my crank big-time. “I’m good with having my hands tied.”

  I could tell from his inhalation that it worked for him, too. “How flexible are you?”

  “Bendier than I look. I had to do yoga stretching exercises to rehab a skateboarding injury. Turns out I dig it.”

  “Nice. Very nice. I like your mouth very, very much.”

  “Like the beard? Because if you want my mouth more…exposed, I can work with that. Beard is pure Northwest laziness on my part.”

  “The beard is…part of the appeal. Your mouth is very full and your beard always seems like it’s…teasing. I think I want your hair down, though, yes?”

  “Go for it.” Getting into it, I pulled my hair free of the ponytail, let it flop against my shoulders. Spit gathered in my mouth like I really was about to get a go at Ev’s cock. Fuck. Just the thought had me throbbing. I unzipped to get a little more breathing room. “I want to—”

  Knock. Knock. Knock. “Brady, are you in there? I don’t feel so good,” Jonas called through the door.

  Fuck. I kept my curse to myself. “Just a minute, buddy,” I called.

  “You need to go?” Ev said in my ear. “I understand.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry.”

  “Another time, Brady, another time.”

  Even if he just meant the phone-sex version of the fantasy, part of me thrilled to his words. And I was pulling hard for the in-person version. Somehow, some way, I was going to get my mouth—and other parts—on Ev.

  Chapter 6

  Teasing is an essential part of life and of design. As treatment zaps Hala Mira’s strength, I find myself looking for new ways to surprise and delight her. I see this coming out in my latest designs, too, that element of the unexpected, the whimsical where one least expects it. And as for myself…yes, I do enjoy teasing as well, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.—Evren’s Yarnings

  My obsession with Ev’s voice grew by leaps and bounds after our almost phone sex, but while our conversations stayed flirty the next few days, we didn’t reenter the one-handed conversation territory again. Pity.

  “Are you working tomorrow night?” Ev asked as that week’s Knit Night wound down. Violet and the triplets were making Mira laugh, which was a great sight to see. The triplets this week were in matching fake fur vests with gaudy plastic buttons and glittery fringe.

  “I’m not. I’ll have the kids until eight or so, when Renee gets home. What were you thinking?”

  “Beer. I was thinking about beer. Or wine. A glass, in person, I think? Maybe halfway between you and me?”

  “Perfect. I know just the spot. I can’t stay out too late, though. I open the next morning.” And I couldn’t leave the kids overnight. Not that I was leaping that far ahead, but my body sure wouldn’t mind if we did jump straight from we can drink in person to let’s get naked.

  “Likewise. We will have a nice drink.” Ev nodded solemnly, like he would will it so. I tried to have the same certainty.

  * * * *

  Unfortunately, right when I was staring at the fridge trying to decide what I could make the kids for dinner before I grabbed a fast shower, my phone buzzed with a message from Renee.

  Home late. Studying with friends. Sorry :(

  No, she wasn’t sorry. She’d been pulling this a lot lately—going out with friends when she said she’d be home to help. I tried calling her, but it went straight to voice mail. Fuck.

  Just one night. One beer. Maybe a little groping. Was that too much to ask the universe? Apparently so.

  My phone buzzed a second time, but it was Ev, not Renee, on the line.

  “I’m sorry,” we both said at the same time.

  “I need to cancel,” I said.

  “Rain check?” he said, and we both laughed.

  “My sister won’t be home to take the kids.” I groaned. “So so
rry.”

  “It is okay. Mira, her pain is not so good tonight. She’s barely eaten anything all day. She keeps talking about ice cream. Not store ice cream. Some strange stuff with bacon.” Ev said bacon the way I might say pubic hair.

  “Oh, she wants Salt and Straw!”

  “Where is that?” Ev sounded so weary and worried about her that I wished I could rub his neck.

  I looked over at the kids doing their homework at the table and at the uninspiring contents of the fridge. “It’s on Alberta. Not far. Could I bring you some? I can tell you don’t want to leave her.”

  “I don’t.” Ev made a pained noise. “I shouldn’t make you go out with the kids. However, I do have a whole pot of soup here that Mira doesn’t want. Could we trade soup for the ice cream with bacon?”

  “Absolutely. And trust me: the second I say ice cream these guys are going to be all over me. Shall we see you in about an hour or so?”

  I made sure that everyone had their reflectors, helmets, and pads on, and then we took the side roads to Salt & Straw, home of some of the most bizarre ice cream flavors in America and a beloved Portland institution. Jonas and I had skateboards, while the twins had the bikes Renee and I had gotten them from Santa the year before. Finding matching bikes at a decent price was totally my best Craigslist find ever. As predicted, the kids were incredibly overjoyed about getting cones. The gourmet ice cream was a pricey treat, but it was nice to be able to indulge them for once.

  Madison and Morgan got lavender and strawberry balsamic cones respectively and traded licks while Jonas went straight for the chocolate. I got Mira the bourbon and bacon ice cream and Ev some artisanal olive oil ice cream I knew Mr. Quality over Quantity would enjoy. The kids finished their small cones before we even reached the store.

  Ev met us at the backstairs of Iplik. “You will want to put the bikes in here, girls. And the skateboards too, yes? I have the soup set out for you upstairs.”

  We stowed our stuff in the storage room at the back of the store and then followed Ev up the rear stairs that came out in the back of the apartment.