“Is that whatyou’rewearing?” he counters.
She points to herself with her thumb. “I look amazing.”
“Did you start drinking already?”
Her index finger is swiftly pointing at him again. “I had two glasses of wine, but that doesn’t matter. Are. You. Wearing. That?”
Tek lets his head fall against the door frame then turns his body so he’s facing back inside the break room.
“You’ve got five minutes.” Anaise shuffles towards him, presses the bottom of her foot against his butt, and pushes him inside. Then she swivels towards me. “How ‘bout you?”
I hold up both my hands. “I can move unattended, thank you.” But… I really should have waited because I’m far too sober—or far too deep into my delusion that I can keep living this lie, day in day out—to see Tek half naked.
It’s only from behind, but I swear that’s worse.
It’s not like I didn’t know what to expect, I’ve jerked off to his gym pictures so many times I’ve lost count. But seeing him in the flesh is a whole different beast.
His biceps are bare, completely free of any tattoo work, and fucking huge. Not weird huge like a body builder, but fuck me dead. The way I know he’d be able to pick me up and throw me around like it was nothing…
Stop!
Stepping to my own locker, I look at the shirt I brought. It’s not mine. I own nothing but t-shirts and sweaters, so I went through every piece of clothing in Eden’s room, and this—and the jacket I brought—are the only things that don’t scream lumberjack.
Still facing my locker, I take my t-shirt off and hold it between my legs as I take down the charcoal grey, long sleeved shirt from the hanger. There are no buttons, so I slip it over my head. It’s got a curved V neck that sits lower on my chest than I know it does on my brother, but it’s far more my vibes than his.
I hang up the t-shirt then put on the black, oversized bomber jacket with the orange lining, because, with Tek still so close to me, I feel like I need to get as many layers between us as possible.
He finishes dressing just before me, and I wait a few seconds longer to create a buffer before moving.
On the shop floor, I see Anaise waiting by the desk with her hand out, just like Tek’s mother had on Thanksgiving afternoon. She points to her palm, and Tek drops his van keys into her hand. She smiles mischievously, and I can see why Austin is in love with her.
Anaise lifts up the loops of her scarf and puts the keys inside her handbag.
Tek walks to the front door, locks it, and pulls down the wooden blind over the glass. “Out the back,” he instructs, and Austin opens the door for Anaise to head out first.
After Tek and I change out of our slippers, we pull down the roller door and lock it as well.
“Go on then,” Tek says like he would rather be anywhere else in the world, and digs his hands deep into his pockets.
As expected, Austin and Anaise lead the way, taking the back street all the way to the opposite end of Main, then taking a left a few streets closer to the water. The salt air strengthens with every step until the cigarette smoke of the people huddled outside of the bar ruins it.
The Black Cat is exactly as grimy looking as I hoped it would be. It’s not dirty, just lived in. Authentic; dark wood and the lingering smell of spilt beer. Outside there was only a wreath on the door, but inside there is a giant tree in the corner, and the bar looks like Santa threw up Christmas kitsch all over it.
We grab a table near the wall, closer to the bar than the stage. No sooner are we all sat down than Anaise is standing again, exclaiming, “I’m getting the first round. What d’ya want?” She unravels the scarf from around her neck and shoulders, then removes a thick knitted cardigan to hang over the back of her chair. Beneath it she's wearing a fitted, low-cut top. It’s plain, but tight, and tucked into a pair of jeans that hug her hips before widening over a pair of black boots that match her belt. It’s not showy at all, but my god she looks good.
“You think she’s only had two drinks?” Tek asks as we all watch her walk away.
Austin leans so far back in his chair to keep an eye on her I’m surprised it doesn’t topple over. “Can’t say. She’s never been a great drinker.”
“I’d say she’s old enough to decide for herself how much she drinks,” I add as I hang my own jacket on the chair.
Austin levels his seat and looks at me. “Of course she is. But she’s also the kind of person who has a different personality when they drink. So keeping an eye on her intake isn’t for her good, it’s for ours.”
“So she’s a liability?”
“Not at all,” Tek says with a small chuckle. “But she does get handsy, so that’s the real reason he wants to keep tabs.”
“Fuck off,” Austin dismisses with a wave of his hand.
