Chapter 18

"Charlie, I am soo sorry!"

Dressed in a cropped sweater, booty shorts, and pink fuzzy socks, Lana chews her nails and bounces with anxiety. Seated in the center of our sagging couch, I read over the lease cancellation agreement one more time.

"No penalty fee," I remark. "That's nice."

"I know!" Lana winces with apology. "I was planning to pay through next month, but Betty wouldn't let me."

Betty, our landlady, is about a million years old. She's owned this house since before property in this area cost an arm, a leg, and a firstborn child, and after her husband died, she had it remodeled into a duplex. Now she lives in the smaller unit and rents the larger out to college kids.

"Just the good ones, though," she'd told us when we moved in, which we'd taken as the warning it was. She'd been skeptical of our relationship at first, though not because she didn't approve of mix-gender room-mates; she just found it hard to believe that "two such cuties," in her words, wouldn't fall in love. Eventually, she'd caught on that Lana isn't my "type," as it were, which put an end to her attempts at matchmaking.

Reaching across the coffee table, I hand the letter back to Lana.

"Don't worry about it," I say. "I think Betty has finally noticed Hazel is basically living here now. He might as well make it official."

I glance towards the kitchenette, where Hazel is busy cooking up a healthy meal of grilled herb chicken and vegetables. It's been three weeks since the night he showed up at my door. He still hasn't fully reconciled with his dad, but he hasn't forgotten to eat again, either. In fact, I've been eating a lot better since he effectively moved in.

"So... you're not mad?" Lana asks, a hopeful note creeping into her tone.

I look back at her. Usually, I might tease her a little, but not today.

"Nah, I'm not mad. How's Trey doing?"

Stepping around the low table to sit at my side, she releases her breath with a sigh.

"Better, but still not great."

Trey, her boyfriend, is the reason she's abandoning me. Apparently, he came out to his parents when he was fifteen, but rather than accept him, they'd decided that no child was better than a trans one, and kicked him out. His aunt had taken him in and supported him ever since.

A week ago, she died unexpectedly, and having no other close relations, her funeral arrangements fell to her brother, Trey's dad. Trey had been told not to attend the service unless he came in 'proper attire,' which meant in a dress and using his deadname.

Trey looks manlier than I do, and would draw a lot more attention in a dress than in a suit, but that's neither here nor there.

What matters is that his mental health took a steep dive, and if Lana thinks making a commitment like moving in together will help anchor him, then I'm the last person to stand in the way.

"He's lucky to have you," I say.

"Yeah, yeah." She rolls her eyes and lifts her chin towards Hazel. "And that one's lucky to have you. Think you can handle him on your own, cowboy?"

Blushing, I nod. "Yeah. If he gets out of hand, I've got your number."

Lana laughs. "I don't think I'm the one he wants to spank him."

"Lana!" I glance towards Hazel again, but he's busy tossing vegetables in a low-sided pan. A round of zucchini reaches escape velocity, vaults over the edge, and rolls across the floor with Hazel in pursuit. It disappears beneath the refrigerator just as Hazel drops to his hands and knees.

I sigh. He is something of a hazard, I have to admit. Over the last week alone, he'd tried to put liquid dish soap in the dishwasher, ("It's called dish soap, for godsakes!") put wet clothes in the dryer and forgot to start the machine ("Who knew mold grew so fast?") and accidentally set off the fire alarm when he forgot to turn off the stove (he had no excuse for that one).

"I guess you guys kind of cancel each other out," Lana says. "He's a jump without looking kind of guy, and you're a test the waters check for sharks sort of dude. I think you're good for each other."

"Yeah." I lean into the squishy embrace of the couch and sigh. "I just hope I'm not too..."

I stop before I say it aloud, but 'boring,' is my worst fear. Hazel rides waves while I bury my nose in a book. I'm terrified that one of these days, he'll get distracted and lose interest, the way he does with everything else.

🐚

A few more weeks pass. September becomes October, and November looms on the horizon. Hazel and I are both doing well in our classes (although Hazel's success is, admittedly, largely due to my intervention).

"Isokinenetic, Isotonic, and Isometric are the terms you're mixing up most frequently," I say, after another round through the flash cards I'd made for him ahead of mid-terms. "Just ignore the 'iso' and try to remember it's speed, tension, and length, okay?"

Sitting cross-legged at the other end of the bed, Hazel nods obediently, reminding me of an eager-to-please retriever.

"Okay. Isokinetic exercises ensure your movements are at a consistent... blank."

Hazel bites his lip. "Ummm. Okay. Kinetic. Kinetic. Ummm. Frequency!"

I hang my head.

"Speed, Hazel. Speed. Isokinetic exercises are at a consistent speed."

"Shit. Okay, go again."

I throw down the deck of 3X5 cards. "We just did it. You have to learn it and remember for next time."

"Well, how am I s'posed to learn if I don't practice?"

Raising my hands in exasperation, I shout, "I don't know, Hazel! That's your problem to figure out, not mine!"

For a moment, I'm afraid I've overstepped; that I've really hurt him this time and he's going to call me out for it. Then a slow grin spreads across his face and he scootches closer to me across the bed.

"Okay, I get that," he says. "So, Isokinetic is 'same speed,' right?"

"Right."

"Okay, so... how 'bout we take things at my speed?"

Uncertain, but not wanting to discourage him if he has an idea, I nod. "Okay. Sure."

He grins and inches towards me. "Okay. So... length, tension, speed... We can work with this." He tugs playfully at the waistband of my 'lounging at home sweats.' "Where should we start?"

I bite my lower lip and raise my arms above my head, stretching against the pillows at my back. "Tension," I say. "Definitely."

He giggles, enjoying the game. "Isotonic it is."

🐚

Weeks go by. Hazel moves in as naturally as Lana moved out. Before we know it, we're a regular couple, shopping together and arguing over who takes up too much of the covers at night.

We have a lot of fun, too.

A few days after Lana left, Hazel came home in an especially amorous mood. He joined me on the couch, where I'd been half-watching a reality TV show while doing my homework, and started kissing me.

"Have you ever done a sixty-nine?" he asks, lifting my notebook from my hands and setting it aside.

"Ummm, no. I don't think so."

He laughs. "You'd know if you had. Check this out."

He sheds his shorts and briefs, exposing himself, and I can't help but stare.

"Did you...? What did you...?"

"I got a full Brazilian," he says, grinning. "I was fucking terrified they'd rip my balls off, but nope. Just the hair. Hairless balls. What do you think?"

I blink a few times before I summon up the words to answer.

"It's... It looks good."

"Good enough to suck?"

I nod. "Yeah, I mean... You want me to... Now?"

"I'm 'up' if you are," he says, jutting his hips forward and making his meaning plain.

Laughing, I start to shed my clothes in turn, when my phone rings.

I check it, and frown.

"It's my dad," I say.

"Ew." Hazel makes a face.

I shoot him a look and answer it. My dad and I understand each other. He only calls me if it's a life or death type situation, and in such, I answer.

"Hey, Dad."

"Charles, it's good to hear your voice."

I roll my eyes. My dad would have done great a hundred or so years ago. "Yeah, you, too. So. what's up?"

"Your mother and I are planning a trip south in a few weeks. We'll be passing through your neck of the woods right about Thanksgiving. What do you say to a little family reunion on the road, eh?"

"What does that mean?" I ask. "Like... dinner at a restaurant?"

"Sure, sure! On us, of course. Just let us know what's good, and we'll meet you there. Sound like a plan?"

Gagging, I shut my eyes and force myself to answer in a level tone. "Yeah. Sounds great. I'll text you some options."

"Wonderful, wonderful! Okay, gotta run."

He hangs up.

Oblivious, Hazel puts on a little show.

I shut my eyes. rub my brow, and pocket my phone.

Betting odds? 

Ten to one, this will not be good. 

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