Chapter 8

The Greatest List In The History Of The World

 

 

Seven Things I Learned About Vince Taylor:

A Perspective

By Paul Auster

 

1) Vince Taylor Is Comfortable With His Body (Dear Jesus God, That Ass)

 

I did as Sandy told me, bringing in the pajamas he’d gotten me that he had sworn cost him at least $15,000 (no one can embellish like a drag queen). Vince smiled up at me as I handed him the pajamas, while I simultaneously took Wheels off his lap (and resisted the urge to hiss “bad dog”). Wheels glared up at me as I reattached his cart and sent him on his way. I turned to tell Vince where the bathroom was so he could change, only to find him standing at the other end of the couch, sliding his bike shorts down his mad crazy hot thighs, bending over slowly and in deep concentration as if trying to keep the pain at bay.

It was at that time I learned Vince liked to wear a black jock under his bike shorts. It was also at this time that I found out that I really enjoyed black jock straps. Like intensely enjoyed them. To the point that I was sure God himself had come down from heaven and said, “Here, my son, I’ve brought you a gift. Check out that sweet ass framed by black straps. You’re welcome.”

I didn’t even bother to think on whether Vince was doing what he was doing on purpose, because I couldn’t get a single coherent thought together (though, in retrospect, I am absolutely certain that Vince was a fan of Baywatch because he had the slow-motion thing down pat). All I could really focus on was that ass framed by the jock, the white skin even paler against the black fabric, and the light dusting of hair on his ass. He lifted one foot slowly as he bent forward and pulled his leg out of the shorts. Then he did the same with the other foot, bending forward slooowly to get the shorts off completely.

Once this master class on How To Give Someone An Erection By Doing Almost Nothing was completed, he stood up straight and lifted his arms carefully above him and leaned back slightly, stretching out what I’m sure were very sore muscles. My dress shirt rode up the front of the jock and the hair on his stomach was so dark that it looked like night. This, of course, led to the second thing I learned about him.

 

2) Vince Taylor Is A Manipulative Bastard (And I Have No Self-Esteem)

 

Part of me wanted to do a little dance, possibly break out the Hammertime bit that I knew how to do really well (it’s really about how fast you can move your feet and hips. Don’t tell me you’ve never tried it because you’d be a big, fat liar, so just stop: Hammertime). That part of me wanted to dance because Vince Taylor was wearing that jock with my shirt and standing in my house doing this totally awesome pseudoyoga stretch that was obscene given the fact that his junk was practically visible.

At least I know he’s circumcised now, I thought, somewhat relieved. I didn’t have anything against uncircumcised penises, it was just that I’d never had one before, and I didn’t want for my very first one to be with Vince, because I was pretty sure I couldn’t handle anything new on top of everything already happening. Then it hit me that I actually had that thought, like I was going to get anywhere near his cock at some point in the future. I had to stop myself from running out of the room in sheer embarrassment.

But he knew. That smug bastard knew exactly what he was doing. I knew this because while I was ogling the magnificence that was the sight in front of me, he kept glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, making sure I was watching him do his thought-out, choreographed peep show. He stretched back even further, though a mild grimace shot across his face, as if the position pained him.

But then he decided to take it one step further, coming back up from his stretch. Probably one step too far, if what happened after was any indication.

He reached up and started to unbutton my dress shirt, starting with the bottom button, moving his hands slowly because he knew I was watching every single movement he made. The first button slid out and he spread the shirt a little, exposing the top of the jock and the hairs on his stomach. He rested his hands on his skin for a moment, gently tapping where the hair disappeared into the fabric.

Then he moved onto the second button, and undid it just as slow. Unfortunately, it brought back that doubt that had plagued me ever since I was eight years old and that jerk Brady Johnson (older, meaner, and just plain stupider) had called me a fat ass on the playground and had tried to rip my shirt off over my head to show everyone what he called my “big fat titties.” That day, for the first time, I felt like I wasn’t good enough, that I was somehow lesser than everyone else around me. The little voice inside my head was born that said I was gross and disgusting, and everyone who said something negative about me was right.

So watching Vince undress in my living room brought the voice back, loud and in charge. It had been quiet for a few days, maybe because I’d been floating in a state of suspended animation. But the voice reminded me of when I’d first seen Vince, surrounded by Darren and the other homo jocks at the club. It reminded me of how Vince had looked when that twinkie Eric had started to grind up on him like I wasn’t even there, the jock friends looking on and grinning at him like they were part of some great, big secret club that the rest of us couldn’t belong to. It reminded me that Vince did not push him away. It reminded me of that Bear Dude later in the night who grabbed a handful of his ass as he brought them closer together to pretend to dance when in actuality it was just fucking with their clothes on.

By then, Vince was to the third button, but his grimace had returned and that spark in his dark eyes had faded slowly. He was still the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, but he was tired, so very tired. Before I could stop myself, I moved until I was in front of him and batted his hands away carefully. He briefly looked surprised, but then just grateful, only a little bit of the former smugness returning.

My hands shook as the surreal act of unbuttoning my own shirt on another man washed over me. We didn’t speak, and I tried to focus on my fingers, trying to be as quick as I could be without acting like I was ready to pounce on him and put my balls on his chin.

I was hyperaware of how he breathed, these low, shallow breaths through his nose that I could feel on my forehead when he exhaled. He smelled medicinal, as if the hospital had leached its way into him. But underneath, there was the scent of sweat and soap, nothing flashy, but still noticeable. His chest rose and fell underneath my hands as I undid the next to the last button. I almost stopped on the last one but I wanted to see the bar through his nipple again (and I really wanted to touch it).

The last button came undone and the shirt opened completely, the bar through his nipple only hinted at through the fabric of my shirt. We both were breathing heavier than we should have been, and the close proximity was doing nothing to help me. I wanted to turn my face up and press my mouth against his. I wanted to slide his shirt off the rest of the way and run my fingers through the hairs on his chest. I wanted to wrap my lips around that piercing and tug on it until he gasped and grabbed my head.

But it was too much. It was too fast. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

I blushed brightly and stepped away. I thought I heard him sigh, and he turned and put the pajamas on.

God, that fucking ass.

 

3) Vince Is A Big Baby When It Comes To Pain And Whines Incessantly

 

Oh Lord, does he.

And he gets grumpy too. Quickly. I couldn’t help but think it had a little bit to do with me nixing his attempt at whatever he was trying to do. But an hour later, he was in full-on bitchy mode, especially when he started to nod off and I kept having to wake him up.

“You can’t go to sleep yet,” I said as I reached out to give him a little shake. We were both sitting on the couch, but at opposite ends, me trying to put as much distance as I possibly could between us without making it extraordinarily awkward. I didn’t want him to sleep because I’d changed my mind and was sure he would die from the concussion the second he nodded off. “Still a few more hours.”

He scowled at me as his eyes snapped open. “I’m not trying to sleep,” he said with a growl. “I’m just making sure my eyes still close okay. You know, as a sign of brain damage. From when you hit me with your car.”

I tried to keep from getting angry. “You ran into my car door,” I said evenly. “From an insurance perspective, I’m pretty sure I can argue that you’re at fault for this.”

“You didn’t maintain a proper lookout when exiting your vehicle,” he retorted. “Everyone knows that I had the right of way.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been riding so close to the cars, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Maybe if you had looked before you opened your door, I wouldn’t be almost dying.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “What happened to this being totally worth it?” I mocked, trying to mimic his deep voice. Instead, it came out sounding like I was an asshole.

“It was,” he grumbled. “I would do it again if I had to.”

What the fuck? “You’d run into my car door again? Why?”

He looked down at his hands. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

And, of course, I started to sputter. “What… you can’t say that… that’s just… I… you… so damn cute… why… just why….”

So, after that, at least for a moment, I was a bit more lenient. I let him nod off for a few minutes before I woke him up, just to make sure his pupils weren’t dilated and he could remember my name and answer a simple question. I asked him who the vice president was and he looked at me like I was out of my goddamned mind. “How the hell am I supposed to know that?” he grumped at me. “I didn’t vote.” So, instead, I asked him to count to five. When he started counting out of order and slurring his words, I got freaked out. Then he grinned and winked at me and said, “Just kidding.” At that moment, I gave very serious consideration to making his concussion much, much worse, but then he whined a little bit in the back of his throat and sounded so much like Wheels when he was hungry that I crumbled completely.

Manipulative bastard.

So, of course, when I finally told him he could go to sleep and stay asleep, he wasn’t tired. I listened to him bitch and moan on my couch about how much his back hurt and how much his ass hurt and, wow, wouldn’t it be nice if there was someone who would be willing to give him a massage? He’d sure like a massage, he said, to ease his sore muscles. He wondered aloud if there was anyone in his immediate vicinity who would be willing to provide such a massage; perhaps a certain individual feeling guilty about something? Perhaps that guilt extended from causing a certain accident to happen? It was entirely possible, he hypothesized, that should a person feel guilty about such an accident that caused injury, an easy atonement would be offering to give said injured person a rub down.

It took six minutes of me grinding my teeth before I got up and went into the kitchen, telling him I’d get him some more juice. While I did this, I also ground up two of the muscle relaxers into the juice and brought it out to him, not feeling guilty in the slightest (about the secret-drugging thing; I still felt like crap that he hit my car). I stood next to him as he drank it down, smacking his lips, telling me how much he loved pulp in orange juice.

It was twenty minutes later that I found out that, regardless of whatever else he was, Vince was a lightweight who got stoned very, very easily. We were sitting on the couch watching Animal Planet (“I could wrestle an alligator,” he told me confidently) when I felt eyes on me. I looked over at him and saw the loopiest grin on his face.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re awesome,” he said, a slight slur to his words. This time, the slur sounded real.

“Uh. Thanks?”

“You’re welcome. How come….” He got distracted by something on the ceiling. “Whoa.”

“Oh boy.”

He looked back at me, trying to widen his eyes. “You poisoned me!” he said, trying to be stern, but his lips kept quirking into a smile.

“I did not!” I said indignantly, even though I sort of did.

“You made me high!”

“You need to go to sleep.”

He tried to point a finger at me, but it kept going off in other directions, like he was trying to dance with one hand. “What’d you give me?” he asked, very interested in his hand. “Crack?”

“You think I gave you crack?”

“Maybe.”

“Is there anything about me that screams crack?”

He grinned as he swayed. “Your butt crack,” he whispered before dissolving into giggles.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “You are going to be so embarrassed when you wake up tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re giggling like a five-year-old girl.”

“I am not. I’m all man.”

“So you’ve tried to show me.”

“Hey,” he said

“Hey, what?”

“Why won’t you… oh, man, the room is like all twisty.”

I started to get a little concerned. For my couch. “Are you going to throw up?”

He shuddered. “I sure as shit hope not. I hate throwing up. I hate being sick. I hate being hurt. My back really hurts.” Now he started to pout. The effect was unnerving.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed.

“My bike’s all busted.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Maybe that bike had a special meaning. Maybe it belonged to my late grandfather and it’s the only piece of him I have left.”

Ouch. “Did it?”

“Did what? Your ceiling is pretty.”

“Did the bike belong to your late grandfather and is it the only piece of him you have left?”

He snorted. “What are you talking about? I got that bike from the bike shop over on Speedway. Can I tell you something?”

“You would anyway.”

He leaned toward me and almost fell off the couch. Once he righted himself, he said, “I like wearing your clothes. They smell like you.”

My face burned. “That’s… cool.”

Vince frowned. “How come you won’t go on a date with me? I’ll treat you so good. Better than anyone ever.”

I sighed. “Can we not talk about this now? It’s almost five. You should get some sleep.”

“Answer the question and I’ll go to sleep.”

“It just wouldn’t work, okay?”

He watched me for a moment. Then, quietly, “Is it because I’m not smart enough?”

I snapped my gaze to his. “What?”

He looked away. “I know I’m not the smartest person in the world,” he said, picking at a loose thread on my pajamas he wore. “My dad told me once that it’s a good thing I look like I do because it’s the only thing that’ll get me through life.”

“Your dad said that to you?” I asked him, keeping my voice even and trying to keep the anger from my face. This was the first time he’d really mentioned his dad, and already I wanted to find out where his father lived so I could kick him in the balls.

Vince shrugged. “Yeah, but he’s right, you know. I can be pretty dumb sometimes. It’s how I am. I know I look all right. That helps me, I think. But… you know. That’s all people can see sometimes.”

“I think you’re fine just the way you are,” I told him honestly. “And you know what? Fuck your dad. You’re totally smart.”

He looked astonished. “Wow, if you knew my dad, you wouldn’t say that. He can be kind of scary when he wants to be.”

I tried to show more confidence than I actually felt. “I’d say the same thing to his face.”

“Whoa,” Vince said softly, his eyes starting to glaze over. “You’re pretty awesome, Paul.”

“Sure, Vince.”

“Why don’t you believe me?” he asked, suddenly sounding coherent.

“About what?”

“That I want to take you out.”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

He looked aggrieved. “Don’t try to dodge the question. You always do that.”

“You’re stoned, Vince. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Only because you drugged me.”

“Guilt trips don’t work on me.”

“I’m at your house wearing your pajamas. Guilt trips work on you very well.”

“Bastard.”

“I’m going to take you out on a date,” he said, as if that was that.

I couldn’t take it anymore. “Why? Why do you keep pushing for this?”

He looked me in the eye. “Because,” he said, “I like you.”

I almost felt like bursting into song. I couldn’t look away. “Vince… people like you don’t go for people like me.”

He frowned. “You’ve said that before. What do you mean?”

I gestured between the two of us. “Look at me. Look at you. You’re… pretty. I’m… not.”

Before I could stop him, he captured my hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing my fingers gently. Then, he used my own words against me. “I think you’re fine,” he said, “just the way you are. And besides, I think you’re very pretty.”

And then he leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes, holding my hand. Every now and then, his thumb would brush over my palm. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. It seemed safer.

Finally, he opened his eyes. They looked bloodshot. He was a little pale. “Fuck, I’m tired,” he muttered.

Without allowing myself any time to think (because otherwise I would overthink and never, ever take a single chance) I tugged on his hand, pulling him down. He came easily, stretched out along the couch, groaning slightly due to the twinges I’m sure he felt. A few warning bells went off in my head, but they were silenced the minute his head hit my leg. He sighed contentedly as he rubbed his forehead against my legs as if trying to mark me with his scent. He looked up at me and I looked down at him. Neither of us said anything.

 

4) He Has The Softest Hair Ever

 

I curled my fingers through it as he drifted off to sleep. He hummed softly as I scratched along his scalp. He fell asleep and I started to. We stayed that way for hours. I didn’t move.

I didn’t want to.

 

5) Vince Has No Problem With Germs And Is Curious About Tampons

 

I woke up a while later. It was dark outside, and my legs were asleep. I looked down at my lap. Vince was still curled up against me, his face pointed toward my stomach, snoring softly, one of his hands curled into my shirt like he wanted to be tethered to me. I watched him for a long time, wondering just what the fuck I was getting myself into. This was turning out to be the weirdest week of my life, and I didn’t know if I wanted it to stop. For now we were in this little bubble, and it was only me and him, and nothing else mattered, at least for the moment. I brushed my hand through his hair again. Then I realized I was watching him sleep and how creepy that really was. Some people might have thought it was romantic. I thought it was one step away from putting him in a hole in my basement, telling him to rub the lotion on his skin or else he’ll get the hose again.

Besides, my legs were starting to cramp.

“Hey,” I said quietly, shaking him.

Nothing.

“Vince,” I said a little louder.

Nothing.

“I’ll suck your dick if you wake up right now.” I did not just say that.

“I’m awake,” he said rather quickly, opening his eyes.

I scowled at him. “That’s cheating.”

He smirked as he stretched. “You already promised. You can’t back down now.”

“Get off me. Your head weighs like thirty pounds.”

“The human head only weights eight pounds,” he scoffed as he sat up.

I stared at him.

“What?” he said defensively. “I may not be smart, but I do know some things.”

“And one of those things is how much a person’s head weighs?” I asked.

“You didn’t know that, did you?” he asked, sounding weirdly shy.

I did (I don’t know why), but it seemed important for some reason that I didn’t let him know. “Nope. I sure didn’t.”

He looked inordinately pleased. “Stick with me, kid. I’ll teach you some stuff.”

I somehow resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Are you hungry?”

He shook his head. “Those pills kinda messed with my stomach a bit.” He tried to send me a meaningful look to make me feel guilty. He failed. Miserably.

“I’m not going to feel bad about that,” I told him. “You needed to sleep.”

“You realize, though,” he said, “that I’ll never be able to take a drink from you again without worrying that you’re trying to drug me.”

“Good,” I said.

“Great comeback. Can I take a shower?”

My mouth went dry. “Uh.”

He leered at me. “You can join me if you want.”

“That’s okay. I’ll take Wheels outside and you can… take a shower.”

“Naked,” Vince said, arching an eyebrow.

“Naked,” I agreed weakly. “Most people do it that way.”

“And you could do it with me.”

I don’t know where it came from, but I decided to play back. “Tell you what,” I said, leaning closer to him. His breathing picked up as my lips almost grazed his ear. “If you can stand without grimacing, groaning, or showing you’re in any kind of pain, I’ll get in the shower with you.” I moved just a fraction of an inch closer. “Naked.”

“You will? No joking?”

“No joking.”

“Oh, man. You should not have said that. You’re going to be so naked in like two minutes.”

“If you say so.” I sat back and waited.

To be fair, he did try very damn hard, which could have meant he wanted me really bad. Which I still didn’t quite understand. He sat there for a moment taking deep breaths in and then letting them out slowly. A look of supreme concentration came over his face, and for a brief moment, I thought he was going to make it. My mind wandered to the thought of that nipple piercing again, and I wanted to know what it would look like when it was wet. Then he shot up from the couch quickly, groaning as he did so, his face contorting in pain. He gasped when he stood upright, wrapping an arm around his side. He looked almost stricken when he glanced over at me.

“I can try it again,” he said through gritted teeth.

I shook my head as I stood. “You’re an idiot,” I told him, though there was no heat behind my words.

That didn’t stop him from flinching away. I cursed softly when I realized what I’d said. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

He nodded tightly but didn’t speak. I wanted to find everyone in the world who had ever insulted his intelligence and punch them in the face. It was a weird feeling to have.

I sighed. “C’mon. I’ll show you where the shower is. The hot water will feel good on you. I’ll get the guest room ready and you can go to bed when you’re done.”

I tried not to think of the naked man in my bathroom as I stood outside with Wheels while he did his business. “What the fuck am I doing?” I asked him softly. Wheels didn’t answer, deciding to take a shit instead. I wondered if that was answer enough.

After letting him chase a lizard for a few minutes (there’s something inherently funny about seeing my half dog going up on one wheel as he tears around in circles—it’s like he’s performing daredevil tricks!) he followed me inside and went immediately for his food bowl, acting like the little boy he was and scarfing down his kibble like it was the first time he’d eaten in years.

The shower was still running and I could hear Vince singing horribly off-key to himself. At least I knew he hadn’t fallen and died in my shower, which I was eternally grateful for. I quickly made up the guest room (and by made up, I mean I pulled the covers back on the bed and sniffed the sheets to make sure they didn’t smell like ass or dog—they didn’t).

The shower turned off and I heard a thump followed by some muffled cursing. I hovered near the bathroom door, unsure of what to do. Finally, I knocked. “You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “Just hit my elbow against the wall.”

“You probably shouldn’t do that.”

“Har, har.”

“Drugs wore off, huh?”

“Yeah. Sorry you couldn’t have your way with me before then.”

It was easier, for some reason, talking to him through the door. “What makes you think I didn’t?”

There was a pause. “I still have spunk in my junk,” he finally said.

“You’re like a dirty Dr. Seuss.”

“I’ll do you on the grass. I’ll do you during mass.”

“No thanks. I think I’ll take a pass.” Dammit! Stop rhyming!

He snorted. “You just want a piece of my ass.”

“Wow. That’s thirty seconds of my life I’ll never get back.”

“Your fault.”

“Don’t even try to blame that one on me.”

The lock on the door clicked.

“I’m not going to try and bust in there,” I said, somewhat annoyed.

“Oh, I know,” he said. “Even though I wanted you to, you didn’t.”

“Then why’d you lock the door?”

“Because I’m going to use your toothbrush and I knew you’d probably freak out.”

I glared at the door. “Don’t you dare. That’s disgusting!”

“I’ve had my tongue in your mouth. Same diff.”

I blushed, even though he couldn’t see me. “I will break this fucking door down!” A six-year-old Girl Scout would have sounded more threatening than I did.

“See, I knew you’d freak out.” He started laughing. “Pink? Really? Your toothbrush is pink? Oh my God! Even your toothbrush is a homo!”

“My dentist gave that to me!” I shouted at him, as if that made it special.

“Toothpaste,” he muttered. “Where is the toothpaste?”

“Vince, I will punch your face off,” I warned him.

“Found the toothpaste. Oh, and I found the tampons too. Why is there one missing?”

Oh, crap. “I… uh.”

“Did you use one?”

“What? No! I just wanted to see what they looked like!”

“Dude. Paul. Gross.”

Then silence, for a moment.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

“Opening a tampon. I want to see what they look like too.”

“Oh. This is the weirdest conversation of my life.”

“Why is there a string on it?” he asked, sounding baffled.

I waited.

“Wait… is that how they… pull it…? Oh, gross!”

“You better not have thrown it!”

“Sure did. Didn’t see where it went. That’s just wrong. Reason number 6,432 I’m glad I’m a dude.”

“That’s a lot of reasons.”

No answer.

“What are you doing?”

“Brushin’ ma teef,” he said as if he had a mouthful.

“You bastard,” I growled.

I heard him spit into the sink. “My teeth feel clean. And a whole lot gayer.”

The lock clicked. The door opened. Shirtless Vince stood before me, droplets of water on his chest and shoulders. I stared as a single drop of water clung to the bar through his nipple. I wanted to taste it. My pajama pants were slung low on his waist. He had that totally hot V thing that buff guys have going on right above the waistband. But I could also see the bruising on his back and sides, spreading more than it’d been at the hospital. The colors were also darker—blues, greens, and purples. His skin was rife with darkening colors.

“I’m minty fresh,” he told me with a smile.

“How… how about that,” I muttered. “Does it hurt?” I pointed at the bruises.

He turned slowly so I could see how far they spread on his back, along with shallow scrapes and gashes along his shoulder blades where he’d landed on the ground. “Fuck,” I said succinctly. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t your fault,” he said. “I should have watched where I was going.” He took a step forward and started to crowd me. I took a step back, flustered yet again.

“I made up the guest room for you,” I said, looking at my feet, double chin be damned. I pointed to the door behind me. Then I said the rest as I’d planned. It came out in a rush. “I have to go to work in the morning, but you can stay here if you want and I can take you home when I get off work, it’s no big deal, okay with me.”

He hesitated. “You sure?”

I nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. “Yeah. Unless you have somewhere to be? Or unless you want to go home. Maybe you do. I don’t know. I just thought you’d like to sleep in or something. Or maybe I can just come home at lunch and take you then. It doesn’t matter to me, so whatever you want to—”

“Paul.”

“Yeah?”

I felt a hand on my chin and he lifted up my face. Before I knew what was happening, minty lips brushed against mine, just a scrape before they were gone. “That sounds okay. Thank you for taking care of me.”

My face was red yet again. “I did hit you, after all,” I said apologetically, my face still in his hands. I couldn’t take the closeness to him anymore without doing something stupid, so I stepped away and moved down the hall. “Good night,” I said without turning around. I closed my bedroom door behind me.

And, of course, two hours later, I was still wide awake as I stared up at the ceiling, cursing my own lameness, wondering at what point in my life my testicles had been removed. “I’m a eunuch,” I muttered. “I’m a hairless, no-balled eunuch. I should put up missing posters to see if anyone can return my manhood. Because it’s gone. It’s lost. I am a walking vagina.”

There was a knock at my door. Wheels lifted his head. I watched the door warily. “Yeah?”

“Paul? You awake?” He sounded nervous. Odd.

“Probably why I said ‘yeah.’”

“Oh yeah. Can I come in?”

I sighed and stared at the ceiling. “Okay.”

The door opened, and he stood in the doorway. My eyes were adjusted to the dark, and I could see him scratching his stomach, looking everywhere except at me. “Everything all right?” I asked him.

He shrugged but still wouldn’t look at me. “Couldn’t sleep,” he muttered.

“Do you need the muscle relaxers again?”

He shook his head. “Don’t like feeling fuzzy. It doesn’t hurt too much. Shower helped.”

“Oh. Okay. So… what’s up?”

He sighed. “I….” He stopped and rubbed his hands over his face. “Look, I usually don’t sleep very well, okay? Never have.”

“You slept fine earlier today,” I reminded him. “Though it was probably just the drugs.”

He nodded and started gnawing on his thumbnail. “Wasn’t just that,” he mumbled.

“Well, what was it?”

“It was you,” he said defiantly, as if expecting me to contradict him.

“Me?” I squeaked and then coughed. “Me?” I said again, my voice far deeper, sounding like I was doing an impression of Darth Vader. I wanted to tell Vince I was his father, but I didn’t think we were quite up to role-playing yet.

“Yeah.”

I considered his words. “So… you’re saying I put you to sleep. That’s… comforting.”

He scowled at me. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“What?”

“Twist my words. Make it something they’re not. Make you sound bad. Stop it.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, feeling properly rebuked.

“Oh, I like that.” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows at me, some of his smugness returning. Then it faded almost immediately. “I just… I think I sleep better. You know. With you.”

Oh, man. What a fucking line. That’s so not going to work on me.

I waited.

He squirmed.

I sighed… and lifted up the comforter on my bed.

He looked relieved as he walked over and climbed into the bed, lying on his side to avoid putting any pressure on his back. And so he could look straight at me.

“You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you?” I asked, bemused. Wheels took the opportunity to drag himself between us, where he laid down with a mighty huff.

Vince shrugged. “I guess. That’s not what this is about, though.”

“Oh? Then what is it about?”

“Sleep, Paul. I’m not going to have sex with you tonight, so stop asking.”

I was too speechless to think of anything coherent to say in retort. By the time my brain started functioning again, he sighed that happy sound and closed his eyes. But before he drifted off completely, he reached out and grabbed my hand, curling it into his own. And then he slept.

 

6) Vince Likes To Send Text Messages and Go Through My Shit

 

What r u doing?

Who is this?

U can’t tell? How disappointing

You spell out disappointing but you can’t spell out the word “you”?

U text like u talk. That’s special

I don’t remember giving you my number, Vince

Ha! U DO know who this is. Oh happy day!

What can I say; I’m psychic

So

??

What r u doing?

Working

Guess what I’m doing?

What?

Going thru ur stuff

What?!?! Vince!! PERSONAL SPACE

U have a lot of movies

I like movies

Yeah, and they’re all action movies

So? What’s wrong with that?

Nothing. I just thought u’d have more girly stuff

GIRLY STUFF?!?!

Yeah. Like chick flicks. U know

And why would you think I have chick flicks?

Becuz. Ur Paul. Float like a butterfly, sting like a unicorn ;)

I’m going to hit you with my car for real this time

o_O that’s the face I’m making at u

You don’t want to know the face I’m making at you

Sex face? >_<

No. Not sex face

Blowjob face? *o*

That looks dirty. Stop it

I know. I’m going in ur room to look in ur drawers

Vince! So help me God, I will hart you

U’ll hart me? I hart u 2!

HURT. I WILL HURT YOU

Text threats are illegal. Look up the penal code

That’s not a real thing

I know. I just like saying penal. SEX FACE >_<

I am going to tell management that you’re faking your injuries

Nah. U won’t. What’s ur middle name?

What the hell? Do you have ADD?

No. Do u have SUBTRACTION? Haha, get it??

Yes, Vince. I get it

I need my own TV show

No one would watch it

Middle name?

James

So ur Paul James Auster? That’s pretty hot

No, it’s not. What is yours?

U’ll laugh at me

What? No I won’t

Everyone does

I’m not everyone, Vince

Fine. It’s Melody

Your name is Vincent Melody Taylor?

Yes. Melody was my grandmother’s name. I had no choice

I see

Ur laughing at me, aren’t u?

Yes. So hard. I’m going to tell everyone. Especially Tad

Why don’t u like him? Tad’s nice

If by nice, you mean a plague-ridden whore then yes. He’s nice

U don’t need to be jealous. I only have eyes for u (That’s a song!)

Oh, please. I’m not jealous (I’m well aware that’s a song)

U have a lot of argyle socks, Paul

I like socks. Get out of my drawers!!!

Yeah, but u REALLY like them. Like fetish like them

I don’t have fetishes

U could open up an argyle sock and sex store. Call it Sock ’N Cock

Don’t joke about that. It’s my dream. Not the cock part

I believe u can fly. I believe u can touch the sky

Do not threaten me with R. Kelly song lyrics. I’m offended

He likes watersports

I don’t want to know how you know that

Do u?

What?

Like watersports?

Are you asking me if I like to get peed on?

Yes

No, Vince. I don’t like to get peed on

That’s good to know. I’ve never peed on anyone except myself in the shower

You share way too much

I’d pee on u if u got stung by a jellyfish

How charming. We live in the desert

Yeah, but when we go on vacation in Asia. They eat jellyfish there

That’s disgusting

U could eat one and get stung and then I’d pee in ur mouth

You are so fucking gross. I’m not going to Asia with you

Yeah, u will. U just don’t know it yet. Is that ur parents in the picture?

Are you still in my room!?!?!

Yeah. They look nice

I guess. They’re kind of weird

I like weird. I can’t wait to meet them

You want to meet my parents?

Sure. When?

That wasn’t an invitation

Oh

Why?

Why what?

Why do you want to meet my parents?

Because they look nice

Vince?

Yeah?

Are your parents nice?

I guess. Don’t really talk to them all that much. They’ve got better things to do

Oh. That sucks

Eh. It’s okay. Who needs em, right?

Yeah. Maybe. My grandma lives in Tucson too

Oh? That’s cool. My grandparents are all dead

She has a homophobic parrot named Johnny Depp

Please tell me ur not joking

Not joking

Paul?

What?

That. Is. AMAZING

Wait until it screams that it doesn’t want you to rape it

LOLOLOLOL

I’M NOT JOKING

That’s so awesome. I’ll go with u next time. I want to see it

Uh, okay?

Hey, what’s in this box under ur bed?

STAY OUT OF THAT BOX!!!!!!!

OMFG. U HAVE SEX TOYS?!?!?!?! LMAOOOOO

VINCE!!!!!

THIS DILDO IS HUGE!!!!!!!!!!!!! And it’s BLACK!!! LOLOLOL

I hate everything about you

Do u use these!?!?! That is so fucking hot. Grrrrr

No. I don’t use them. I didn’t even know they were there

Ur a liar. Here. Hold on

What?

Did u get that pic I just sent?

You mean the one of you with your mouth on a black dildo?

Yeah

No, Vince. I didn’t

It took u long enough to respond. U go into the bathroom and jerk it?

NO I DIDN’T!!!

U did too! And u know what face u made?

Let me guess. Sex face?

SEX FACE!! >_<

Put the sex toys away!!!

I did. I’m looking to see if u have a diary

What?!?! Vince, knock it off!

U seem like the type. I want to see if u wrote about me

I don’t have a diary

Dear Diary: Vince is sooooo awesome!

I DON’T HAVE A DIARY.

Dear Diary: I think about Vince when I use the black dildo on my butthole

I do NOT!

Really? Why not? I’m using it and thinking of u right now

Shut up. You are not

Want a pic?

I am not having text sex with you while I am at work!!!

So u’d have it with me when ur NOT at work? Score!

Are you really using the dildo?

No. Wheels and I are reading ur diary

I DON’T HAVE A DIARY!!!!!

Dear Diary: I hope Vince asks me out on a date. He’s so DREAMY

You already did. I said no. And dreamy? REALLY????

Dear Diary: Vince asked me out on a date and I said yes!!!

Oh, you are so fucking clever

U’ll see. U just wait.

 

 

7) Vince Prefers the “Wear You Down” Method Of Seduction

 

That night, I pulled into his apartment complex. “Here you are,” I said.

“Here I am,” he replied. He made no move to get out of my car.

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. All alone. By myself.”

“That’s a shame.”

“So.”

“This is where you open the door and get out of my car.”

“Let’s go do something tomorrow night. It’s Friday.”

“I know what day it is.”

“Just as friends.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Just as friends?”

He smiled and those dimples were out in full force. “Just as friends.”

I wasn’t fooled. “You’re totally thinking in your head that it’s a date, aren’t you?”

He nodded, not even looking remotely guilty. As a matter of fact, his smile widened.

“Vince….”

“One date, Paul. One date. If you hate it, I’ll never ask you out ever again.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.” He paused, considering. “Or until next Tuesday, whichever comes first.”

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you?”

“Do you think I’m cute?”

“Fuck off,” I grumbled.

“So?”

I sighed. “Fine. Tomorrow.”

Vince beamed at me and my heart skipped a couple of beats.

“But I’m not going to have fun,” I warned him, already feeling nervous about it.

He rolled his eyes. “Sure you will. And then I’ll get to ask you out again for a second date. And then on the date after that, you’ll show me what you do with those sex toys.” He grinned an evil grin at me.

“Get out of my car,” I said, absolutely mortified.

“See you tomorrow for our date,” he said, leaning forward and brushing his lips across mine before I could stop him. And then he was gone.

Five minutes later as I drove home, I received my billionth text of the day.

Miss u already. SEX FACE >_<

And I smiled because it’s hard to be mad at someone who misses you when you’re apart.