Shane: But it’s so fun to rattle your cage. Don’t often get the chance.
Me: Just stop, you’re making an ass of yourself.
Shane: No more than you have been. Xavier and Amos, sitting in a tree…
Me: LOL. What the hell, man?
Shane: Couldn’t resist.
I decide not to answer. Replying will only add more fuel to the fire, and he’ll never shut up otherwise. With a huff of amusement, I darken the screen and put it back in my pocket. I’m too tired for his special brand of banter right now, although it was a welcome distraction.
Yawning, I reposition myself in the booth with my back against the window and my legs across the seat. I’m debating on shutting my eyes for a bit to kill some more time, but I don’t want to leave myself vulnerable in such a public place. I doubt I’d be mugged or anything, but I wouldn’t feel entirely comfortable with it either.
My eyes are getting heavier and heavier, and I decide that it’s time to brave having more of their coffee. I’ve got too much to look forward to, and I don’t want to pass out before I can enjoy everything Amos has to offer.
Give and take. I want to see what he’s got hidden underneath those brown eyes and tattooed skin of his. He’s shown me a side of himself I hadn’t been expecting, taking me into his mouth and his hands, and it’s almost time to see what he can dish out in return.
Fresh cup of coffee in hand, I take small sips of the hot liquid and lose myself in thoughts of what Amos might do to me, and make me do in return. I sense I’m not the only one who's dealing with a concoction of emotions made of pent up frustration, rage, and varying degrees of anger. I know he likely feels all of those too, and they’re mostly directed at me… and honestly, I probably deserve every last bit of it.
I’m not going to change, we both know this, but how much will either of us bend before one of us breaks?
Chapter Sixteen
Amos
I go back to finishing up the inventory I had been working on before I needed to take a leak. Xavier being in the bathroom just happened to be a happy coincidence, though it kind of amuses me how handsy we suddenly are with each other.
This should be good for another day, I reason as I pick up a small, tin tray of mashed potatoes. I quickly encase it in Saran wrap, then scribble today’s date across the top before I pack it away on one of the shelves. Leaning down, I flip the inventory sheet and put a check mark next to the item before moving down to the next one.
And this gets tossed.
I pick up the pot that contained the soup of the day, raising it gingerly to my nose before making a face and setting it to one side. I’ll dump that before I leave.
I scratch the top of my head as I draw a line through the soup on the sheet.
"What?" I ask in a tired tone when I feel a set of eyes on me.
When I don’t receive an answer, I cast a glance over my shoulder and then sigh inwardly when I see Colin standing there.
Not again, I think, feeling a slight twinge of annoyance as I turn my attention back to my end of shift duties.
"Look, if this is about the whole Xavier thing, it’s fine. I’m fine. He’s fine. You’re fine. Okay?"
I don’t even look to see if he’s nodding in agreement, is still uncomfortable in this damn deafening silence, or even upset that I was prepared to put him at ease again. I just want to finish this so that we can go home.
"Okay. I uh... have something to say. About all of this, and I would feel better if you just let me finish. Without interrupting."
I set the pencil down as patiently as I can, turn to face him and cross my arms loosely over my chest.
He has my undivided attention now and he knows it.
“I guess I’m shocked still,” he begins with a nervous laugh. I watch as he raises his arms, then drops them to his sides. “I get what you see in Xavier, and I know what he sees in you, but it’s obvious to me now that neither of you have seen me at all. Really seen me.” He pauses briefly enough to take a deep breath, then shrugs and he lets it out. “I didn’t think you were the kind of person who would fall for money, Amos.”
Oh, he had better be fucking done now, I seethe in silent resentment of the absolute fucking gall of his bullshit assumption.
“And I didn’t take him as the kind of person who would fall for someone like us—hard-working low lives with barely a penny to our names."
I run a hand down my face so angrily that I can feel the skin strain underneath my fingernails. I don’t understand where any of this is coming from, but what makes me angriest is that it’s coming from someone I’ve long considered such an amazing friend.