Improper Fraction

by V. L. Locey

  “You’re looking at me in a way that makes me want to kiss you,” he said then slid his hand over the table, palm up. There was no one here but us so I guess he felt safe with this tiny PDA. It wasn’t much but it was a start.

  I placed my hand on his. His fingers threaded through mine.

  “I was just thinking of how much you meant to me as a kid.”

  His expression softened and he leaned in on his forearm to speak to me.

  “You still mean that much to me.” He stated so quietly I had to strain to hear it, but I did. It chipped a little more of that black hatred away.

  “You two are so totally dating!” Emily announced as she flopped back down beside her brother. Instead of giving her more ammo, Garrison began talking about baseball. He filled me in on a preseason conditioning camp he was attending. The Cutters were sponsoring the camp in Raleigh, and while he hated to spend three weeks up there, working with some of the pro trainers would give him an edge when he joined the team in August, or so he hoped. He explained how the Cutters had been gracious enough – and public-relation minded enough – to give him a month after graduation for the G.R.A.M.S. camp.

  Our food arrived and all talk of hickeys and manly romance stopped while we ate. The fare was tasty and filling. Emily and I made snide comments about Garrison’s appetite, which he shrugged off. We finished up, paid our tab, and climbed back into the truck. Garrison reached for the stereo. I might have made a face because his fingers stalled an inch from the volume button.

  “Tired of metal?” he asked and I showed him about an inch of space between my forefinger and thumb. “Okay, find something you want then.”

  “Thank you.” I sighed with true relief.

  The next hour was a mellower time, which worked well because as soon as we pulled into the Rook driveway, some sort of invisible cape seemed to appear and engulfed Garrison. It was unseen but definitely felt. The transparent shield slithered under my hand as it rested on Garrison’s knee. I could feel the tension flow into his muscles when his parents and my father emerged from the tan two-story colonial. My house, right next door, was identical except it was blue. Most of the homes on our street, and in Willow Glen, were nice middle-class homes. When I felt the chill move through his flesh, I slid my hand back to my lap and let the previously mentioned mellow seep into my soul. I suspected that things between Garrison and me were about to become a lot more secretive, which was such a damn shame because he had just started to relax a bit about his sexuality.

  “Hello, parents.” I plastered on a smile and was engulfed by my father as well as Joan and Al Rook and their golden retriever, Tipsy.

  Nine

  I blew out a long breath and stared out the front windows at Main Street. Not much was happening outside, or inside for that matter. It was a slow day at Ramsey Travel. My dad had left right after lunch for a doctor’s appointment so I didn’t even have him to jaw with. I flipped a short look at my computer monitor and almost gave into the lure of opening up my email again. I didn’t, and that was probably for the best.

  The only things that had been in my email over the past three weeks since camp ended had been spam and rejections on job applications. I didn’t get the job here in town, or four others I had applied for in the neighboring counties. So here I sat, in my father’s travel agency, with a degree in math education moldering away setting up trips for the Rambling Roses to go to Branson to see an Abba tribute band.

  Ignoring the need to see if the most recent job applications had been turned down, I leaned back in my chair and scanned through all the text messages I had shared with Garrison over the past few weeks. True to his word, the man had stayed in contact with me while he was in Raleigh honing his body into a godlike state. Not that much honing was required, mind you.

  I missed him, and yet I knew that if we ever did decide to date, this would be my life. He’d be on the road with his new team and I’d be here, answering phones and handing out brochures about cruise lines. Okay, O’Malley, stop being such a downer. It’s only been three weeks. You knew the job market was brutal. Look on the bright side of life.

  “Great.” I sighed to the empty travel agency. “Monty Python is now giving me motivational speeches.” I read over my texts with Garrison with determination. My last text from him was late last night. He had said the camp had been beneficial but he was eager to get playing. We had made plans to go out to eat and maybe catch a movie or head to the next county to watch a pee-wee baseball game. The movie had been my suggestion, the baseball game his. I missed him so much it was ludicrous. I wasn’t sure what had happened to all the vile hatred I had stored up for all those years. A few hot kisses, a hand job, and nightly texts about how much he longed to see my nose scrunch up again when I came, and I had thrown aside four years of pain and anguish as if they were empty candy wrappers. Obviously, I was a weak, weak man.

  The phone rang. My mind snapped back from candy wrappers and sinful brown eyes. The leader of the Willow Glen chapter of the Rambling Roses began chattering in my ear as soon as I said, “Ramsey Travel, this is O’Malley Ramsey, how can I make your travel dreams come true?” Her name’s Margaret White. She’s a lovely old woman who recently celebrated her eightieth birthday. She is terribly forgetful and owns five cats.

  “O’Malley, did we schedule the trip for my girls to Branson in September?” she asked and I assured her that we had. She insisted I double-check, so I tossed my cell to my desk and brought up the Roses account on the computer. As I was reading off all the dates to Mrs. White, I glanced from the screen when I caught someone walking past the front window in my peripheral vision.

  Garrison strolled past, hands in his pockets, staring skyward. A massive wave of emotion flowed over me and pulled me into a sea of goofy smiles. Only Garrison and my dad knew about my love affair with the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I’d made him watch it a hundred times in our teen years. I always cried and he always handed me tissues. That movie was my go-to whenever I need some romance and some happy in my life. I’d worn out three DVD copies during the “Dark Garrison” years.

  Now, here the big lug was, acting out one of the scenes. Mrs. White’s voice faded away as I watched him make another pass, pause midway, wave shyly, and then walk out of sight. I laughed softly as warmth spread out from my middle, making me feel lightheaded and rosy.

  “O’Malley, are you there?” Mrs. White yelled and I jumped.

  “Yes, yes, I’m here. I have reservations for twenty on…” Garrison pretending to walk down steps outside the front window pulled my attention away from the Abba tribute bookings. Since he had no old woman to run into and take a purse beating from, he simply pretended to be assaulted by someone and fell to the sidewalk. By now, my cheeks were starting to ache from smiling so wide. “No, I’m still here, Mrs. White. Yes, you and your girls are all set. Would you like me to send you an email with a copy of your reservation confirmations?”

  When she said she did, I had to attend to typing and not baseball players rolling around on the sidewalk. I hurried to send off an email and then looked up. There, above my computer monitor, stood Garrison. He was slightly disheveled, clean-shaven, and so fricking good-looking all I could do was stare while I smiled like a twit.

  “Hi,” he whispered while Mrs. White prattled on about one of her cats.

  “Hi,” I whispered back then hung up on the leader of the Rambling Roses. I stood up and walked around my desk, my eyes never leaving his. “You look really good.”

  “You too,” he replied, his voice soft and thick. When I was right in front of him, I had this ridiculous moment when I made jerky motions as if I were going to throw myself at him. I desperately wanted to. He shifted back just enough to let me know I couldn’t touch him as I wanted. That knowledge made me ache – literally ache – inside. I held out my hand and he clasped it, tightly. “I really missed you,” he said as we shook hands like a couple of shoe polish salesmen who had just met.

  “Same.” We shook and st
ared at each other for at least two whole minutes. Finally, Garrison tugged me into his chest, slapped my back, and then pushed me away. A bro greeting was not at all what I wanted. This man and I had been intimate. I wanted to kiss him with all the longing and joy I had felt inside, but that was out of the question. “This sucks, Garrison,” I said after the pretending was over. He didn’t reply and I instantly felt terrible. “It’s okay, really. I just want to kiss you really badly.”

  “Tonight,” he quickly said. “I swear, we’ll be alone tonight and we can kiss all we want.”

  That news lifted my spirits. “I wish it was tonight then. Do you want to sit down? Why are you even here? You said you’d be home tomorrow.”

  I waved at a couple chairs that sat along one wall. He gave the waiting area a quick look then shook his head.

  “I can’t. I have to pick up Emily soon. Mom took the day off so she could make lasagna for dinner. You’re coming, right?” He stepped to the side just a bit. I drank him in. The man looked amazing in a suit, even if the jacket was now open and his tie dangled out of his pants pocket.

  “I’d love to. Is it okay with your parents?” I leaned against my desk, wishing we both were behind locked doors wearing far less clothing. My dress shirt and tie suddenly felt scratchy and constrictive.

  “Yeah, of course it is. You and your dad are part of the family,” he said and I couldn’t argue. “I wanted to surprise you. Did you get that whole bit outside the window? Were you surprised?” His dark eyes danced. The need to get my fingers under his shirt was growing by the second – as was my dick.

  “Yeah, I was incredibly surprised and of course I got that bit outside the window. You’re much cuter than John Corbett.”

  “Think so, huh?” He seemed to forget his own rules for a moment as he leaned into me, his chest pressing against my right arm. I turned my head to look out the window and then back at him. I waited for him just say “F this!” and kiss me. When he didn’t it felt like someone had kicked me in the shin. I wanted to scream and throw cruise brochures at him, but I couldn’t because he was just not ready and I had to give him time until he was ready. “You’re mad.”

  “Not mad, just disappointed.”

  I watched him absorb that. His shoulders slumped slightly. His exhale was long and deep.

  “I seem to keep doing that even when I’m trying to be romantic and spontaneous.” He slid his hand into his front pockets. I touched his cheek and his head jerked upward.

  “Don’t listen to me, I’ve been having a perfectly shitty couple of weeks.” I told him then folded my arms over my chest and stuck my hands under my armpits, in case I got the urge to stroke his cheek again.

  “Still nothing on any teaching jobs?”

  “No, nothing.” I sighed with flair. He nudged me with his elbow. It was a guy gesture, a sort of “stiff upper lip” thing. If we had not had each other’s cocks in our hands that might have been enough, but we had and it wasn’t. “So, what time is dinner?”

  “Six, as always,” he replied by rote. I nodded and looked out the front windows as a woman with two young boys stopped to stare at a poster of the white beaches of Hawaii. You could tell she was daydreaming of that beach. Then her two sons began yelling and tugging on her hands and she let them pull her away from the window and her dream beach. “After dinner, we’ll sneak off and do something together, okay?”

  “I’d like that.” I told him as my thoughts lingered on that harried young mother. Would I always be like her, dreaming of Garrison coming out and embracing me as his…well, whatever it was that I was to him? Boyfriend didn’t feel right, but neither did special guy or lover or best buddy. “I think we really need some us time, Garrison.”

  “Me too,” he replied then gave me a long look. I felt he might say more but my father strolled in then and Garrison moved over to get another six inches of space between us. Ugh. This was going to be torture.

  “Welcome home, Garrison,” my dad said with a smile. “I hear we’re having lasagna at six. I got the breadsticks!” He waved a long brown paper bag in the air. We both smiled and made small talk for a couple of minutes. Garrison took off to pick up his sister at some sports thing. Tennis I think it was. She was just like her big brother when it came to loving sports. Now math appreciation, on the other hand…

  I leaned on my desk, arms still folded, and stared at the damn poster of Hawaii until my father tossed a paper airplane at me. It hit the side of my head right above my ear and I made a joke about workplace hazards. We decided to do the books since it was slow, but no matter how I tried to let the numbers lure me from my troubles, I stayed distracted and unfocused. Before we locked up for the day, I took down the poster touting those white Hawaiian beaches and put up a new one showing the delights of Nashville. Sometimes you have to put aside certain dreams and build new ones. I hope the mother who dreamt of Hawaii understood.

  ***

  “Seriously?” I asked when Garrison pulled into a soft ice cream stand about five minutes from Willow Glen high school. “Where in the name of God are you going to put an ice cream cone?”

  “It’s all good. Ice cream just melts away,” he replied then jumped out of his Silverado. I was so full of lasagna, bread, salad, and Mrs. Rook’s peanut butter chip brownies that I could barely move. Yet, I slid down out of my seat, closed the passenger side door, and joined Garrison in the long line waiting to be served.

  “If I do this,” I jerked my head at the tiny shack, “you have to walk with me tomorrow. I’m naming you as an accomplice in my decline from healthy eating.”

  “Sure, I’ll walk with you,” he said while studying a large sandwich sign with the various available flavors. “You see that girl in front of us? The one with the long blonde hair?”

  I peeked around a tall man to find this girl. When I did, I made a face then straightened up. Garrison waggled an eyebrow.

  “I never liked her,” I said while extracting my wallet from the back pocket of my shorts.

  “I know.” He confided. I rolled my eyes and dug out a fiver. I was well aware of Marissa McKenzie. She and Garrison had dated back in our junior year of high school. The romance lasted about a month. She was one of a long string of females who had entered then exited Garrison’s life, and even to this day, I envied them all. How dare they be able to hang off the man and not me? Why was he so ready to let the world see him being straight but not gay? You know why, O’Malley, now stop being a jealous bitch. “I shouldn’t have pointed her out, I guess.”

  I glanced to my left. He looked repentant. I shrugged and took a step up as the line slowly moved.

  “It’s okay. I appreciate knowing it’s in the vicinity.” The man in front of me should have shivered from my icy words hitting his bare back. He also should put on a shirt because his back hair was making me rethink ice cream. “The rumors she spread about me were disgusting and vile.”

  “And I dumped her because she attacked you.”

  That was news to me. I thought he had dumped her because of her atrocious oral sex skills. That was what he had told me anyway.

  “You said she sucked dick like someone had strapped a jet engine on a Hoover canister,” I said as I battled off the shock. The man in front of us threw me a glare over his naked and furry shoulder.

  “You want to watch your mouth? There are kids here.” Chewbacca scolded, and I blushed furiously.

  “Sorry, yes, my apologies.” I drove my elbow into Garrison’s side to stop his snorting chuckles. We didn’t say another word to each other until after we had gotten our frozen treats and were back inside his truck.

  “Don’t make a mess of my interior.” He told me as I valiantly tried to keep up with how fast my chocolate cone was melting. He had had the sense to get his vanilla and chocolate twirl in a cup. I nodded and lapped as we backed away from the ice cream stand and hit the road to the high school. The ride to WGHS took about four minutes. We parked on the track that ran around the football field. The night was crazy ho
t and humid. “Okay, out.”

  “How did you eat all that ice cream already?”

  “I’m an athlete. Food doesn’t stand a chance. Now out.”

  I found his claim to be dubious, to say the least, but I switched hands, licked the ice cream off my fingers and exited his beloved truck with speed. Garrison tugged a blanket out from behind his seat, shut the door, and then climbed into the bed of the truck. I licked and watched as he shook open the blanket then motioned for me to join him. I handed him my cone then jumped onto the bumper and threw my legs over the tailgate.

  “Next time get it in a cup.” He grumbled then swiped his hand down the side of his cargo shorts.

  “Yes, mother,” I replied as I sat down with my back firmly against the cab and my head resting on the window. “You’ve turned into quite a nag,” I said between licks.

  “I just don’t want my interior ruined. I’m making huge payments on this thing.”

  “You’re a professional ball player. You can probably buy seven of these, one for every day of the week,” I said then made a face as droplets of chocolate ice cream hit my thigh.

  “Yeah, right.” He grunted as he took a seat beside me then stretched out his long legs. “Most players in the minor leagues make about twelve thousand dollars a year.”

  “So much for my gold-digger plans.” Ice cream was streaming over my fingers. I licked faster. The moon was plump overhead. I stared at it as I tried to get my ice cream under control. It was hopeless. “Well damn, this is a miserable disaster.” I grumbled to whoever would listen.

  “You’re a mess,” Garrison said then plucked my cone out of my hand. My gaze flew to him. I thought he was going to chuck my cone over the side and was opening my mouth to yell at him not to when he threw a thick leg over my thighs and sat on my lap. “A sexy fucking mess I meant to say.” He purred then lowered his head to take a long taste of my mouth. Our lips were sticky sweet. He tasted delicious. His erection ground against my stomach. I groaned, and he dove in to run his tongue over mine.