Brush Strokes Read online

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” Daniel asks as he pulls away, and Todd can’t remember how to swallow.

  “I want to,” he blurts. “But I can’t.” He nods toward Mela, who is waiting patiently by the cab, looking smug as hell. It’s going to be a horrible ride back to her place.

  “Fair enough.” Daniel gives him another, much more brief, kiss. “You should go. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Biting back a stupid smile, Todd watches him walk back to the house, before turning around and getting into the cab with Mela.

  “You’re paying the five bucks he wants for waiting while you made out,” Mela tells him when they pull away from the curb.

  “You’re paying the rest, because I only came with you so you could suck face with Jesse.” Todd is still lightheaded.

  “I can’t believe you said suck face.” Mela groans as they slow at a traffic light. “But all right, you have a point.”

  They end up splitting the fare fifty-fifty. They always do.

  It’s quiet coming home to Mela’s place. It smells almost as much like home as his own does. He remembers the first time he was here, five years old, and terrified that Mela would force him to play with dolls; they’ve always creeped him out. They ended up pretending to be bats by hanging off the back of her couch by their knees and have been best friends since.

  He’s always been comfortable in her room with its warm colors. She’s not one for white and minimalism, that’s for sure, despite the color of her walls. Instead her furniture ranges from a cherry wood bookcase, to a teal, plush arm chair by the window. She has an addiction to throw pillows and blankets in every color she can find. There is clear evidence of her interest in science in the books and notes scattered everywhere on her desk, the one she managed to convince Todd to paint petrol blue one summer when he was weak and bored. She’s collected odd thrift shop finds over the years. Todd has tried to talk her out of at least ninety percent of them and, when people ask why he hasn’t improved his bargaining skills over the years, he wants to tell them about every object she’s put back on the store shelf. His least favorite is the collection of animal horns in her bookcase that she uses to display jewelry. But being here always warms the pit of his stomach.

  “So,” Mela prompts from the en suite bathroom as she washes off her makeup. “I’m assuming you had a good time since you sucked face with Daniel?”

  “Yeah,” Todd says, hoping that he only sounds breathy to his own ears. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “I know what happened. You saw a hot dude, found him nice, and really wished you weren’t such a great friend so that you could’ve ditched me and gone home with him.”

  Todd can’t stop the grin from spreading over his face. Luckily, she’s not here to see it. “That’s only about half true.”

  “I asked Jesse about Daniel, obviously, since I’m the best wingman ever and wouldn’t set you up with a douche.”

  “And?” Todd straightens in the teal armchair, where he’s been trying to unlace his shoes.

  “He’s really nice. A huge flirt, but really nice.”

  Swallowing, Todd yanks at the laces, finally getting them to untangle. “What does that even mean?”

  “That he didn’t stick around you all night just in hopes of getting laid.”

  She knows him so well. It’s ridiculous.

  “We talked before he came over to you.”

  Right, Daniel had been talking to Mela and Jesse before he sat on the coffee table.

  “What did you talk about?”

  “You know, the general polite-y stuff, and then I told him that I came with a friend; he asked me about you and was obviously curious. So, I told him that you’re single and that he’s definitely your type—”

  Todd groans. “He is not my type.”

  Emerging from the bathroom, Mela quirks an eyebrow at him.

  “I mean he wasn’t my type, until he was.”

  “See.” She braids her hair over her shoulder with scary swiftness, as she eyes him. “I told you I’m the best wingman.”

  “I know I should be annoyed, but I’m just going to say thank you and blame it all on being drunk.” Undressing, Todd creates a pile of his clothes on top of his tote bag and sits on the futon that she has already prepared for him. “How was Jesse?”

  “Awesome. Unsurprisingly. We just click really well.”

  Smiling to himself, he looks up to find her gaze lost somewhere outside the window. “So you’re seeing him again?”

  She blinks, returning to the room and him. “Definitely.”

  He checks his phone, remembering that he hasn’t done so all night. That is unusual for him, since it is most often glued to his palm.

  Two texts wait for him. One is from Mela.

  > Daniel is awesome. Mela-approved. Go for it.

  Rolling his eyes, Todd notices that she sent it about when Daniel brought him his first drink.

  The second text is from his mom.

  > Evan called. Please get back to him when you have the chance.

  Locking his phone, Todd pushes it away, display down, on the cushion. Nothing gets past Mela, however.

  “What was it?” she asks.

  “Mom. Evan called.”

  Mela sits on her bed, facing him. The crease between her eyebrows tells him there’s so much that she wants to say but decided not to. “When’s the last time you talked?”

  Shrugging, Todd pulls the covers around him. “When he moved to Vancouver. Give or take.”

  “That’s a year and a half ago.” Her voice is quiet; the words are spoken reluctantly.

  “I’m exaggerating.” He isn’t. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay.” Mela tosses him a pillow that he catches with his face. “Are you seeing Daniel again?”

  “I think so. He said he was going to text me tomorrow.” If time would only go faster. If he would’ve already slept for a few hours and would wake up to a text waiting for him. It would save him a lot of anxiety.

  “That’s great!”

  Todd is just about to agree, when his stomach drops. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t give him my number. And he didn’t give me his.”

  With a dramatic sigh, Mela flops backward on the bed, barely avoiding smacking her head against the headboard. “You guys are terrible.”

  “Damn,” Todd whispers. “What do I do?” Maybe he can find Daniel on Facebook, or—

  “You calm down and remember that your best friend is dating his friend and that we’ll fix this for you.” She picks up her phone. “I’m sending Jesse your number right away.”

  Collapsing on the futon, Todd tries to calm his heartbeat. It’s fixable. Nothing he needs to get worked up for. It’ll be fine. Mela will make sure that Daniel gets his number in no time, and it will be fine. Unless, his brain provides unhelpfully, Daniel didn’t get his number on purpose, because in that case—

  “No! Stop that!” Mela flicks a pen at him. “I said that he’s a flirt. Not a dickbag.”

  Todd pulls a face to hide his instant relief. Maybe they’ve been friends for too long. He can’t even have his thoughts to himself these days. “I guess we’ll see tomorrow.”

  “Trust me on this.”

  Todd tosses the pen back at her, missing by a good two feet.

  When they say goodnight, it’s long-since light outside. He smiles to himself, face pressed into his pillow where no one can see. If he closes his eyes, he can still replay the kiss.

  It was a really good night.

  Chapter Two

  Todd wakes early the next morning. Blinking against the sharp sunlight flooding the room, he reaches out for his phone. Ten-thirty. What the hell. He hasn’t been asleep for more than a couple of hours, but he isn’t tired.


  There’s no text from Daniel, not that he thought there would be. Jesse hadn’t gotten his number until early in the morning, and maybe he was already asleep by then. If he hadn’t been, it’s possible that Daniel was asleep when Jesse forwarded the number to him.

  After checking that Mela is still asleep, he goes on Facebook mostly to keep from going crazy. Much to his disappointment, she isn’t friends with Jesse on Facebook yet. There can be many valid reasons for that, such as exchanging numbers and not thinking of Facebook, or maybe Jesse doesn’t have an account. It’s an inconvenience, since he won’t be able to snoop out Daniel’s profile through Jesse’s. It’s probably for the best anyway, he decides and puts his phone away. Daniel promised to text him. He’ll wait for that.

  Last night was so much of everything, but now, in the stillness of Mela’s room, with the morning light flooding through the window—they must’ve forgotten to close the blinds before crashing—he goes back to Daniel and their moment on the balcony. So maybe Todd didn’t have him all figured out. Thinking back on the night, it all makes more sense now, how Daniel’s attention was solely on him when they spoke and how he didn’t reply to questions Todd asked when he was looking the other way.

  Learning a new language will be a challenge, especially on top of his regular school work, but it’d take some of the pressure off Daniel. The sooner Todd starts learning, the faster they’ll be able to communicate on Daniel’s terms.

  He picks up his phone and types a note to find a way to learn ASL. There’s got to be a way that doesn’t require him to take another class.

  Sighing to himself, he turns over and manages to sleep for another few hours, until Mela’s phone wakes them both with that horrific whistling tune she has picked for her incoming texts.

  Groaning, Todd pulls the cover over his face. He’s already wide awake, though, and it’s too late to go back to sleep now. He should head back home soon and make sure that Sandwich is fed.

  “Daniel now has your number,” Mela announces, sounding as if she’s in need of three gallons of water.

  “Great.” Todd folds the cover down from his face. He means to sound casual, but he doesn’t think he quite pulls it off.

  “Are you having breakfast here or going home?”

  “Here,” Todd decides, despite his earlier thoughts. The less time he has to wait alone for Daniel to text, the better.

  He lingers, eating breakfast and then dozing on the couch in front of a TV show, until he no longer has any excuse but to head back home. Sandwich really needs to get fed, and a proper nap is starting to sound really good.

  He almost falls asleep on the train back to Williamsburg but manages to stay awake by sitting stiffly upright in his seat. It’s New York City, no one seems to notice that he’s acting strangely.

  Only Dad is home when Todd unlocks the front door. He’s sitting at the dining room table reading with a mug in front of him when Todd walks through on the way to his bedroom. Dad looks up, and the tense lines around his eyes smooth out.

  “Had a good time?” he asks.

  “I did, thanks. You?”

  “Dinner was lovely,” Dad says pointedly and then adds, “Evan called.”

  “I know; Mom told me.” Todd sighs and clutches the straps of his tote bag.

  “Call him when you can.”

  “Yeah.” He won’t.

  Entering his room, he finds Sandwich hopping around on the floor, and her food bowl has been refilled. It even looks as though her cage has been cleaned. If that isn’t an olive branch.

  Swallowing, Todd walks back into the living room. “Thanks,” he says to Dad. “For feeding Sandwich.”

  Dad smiles then. “She was hungry.”

  “She’s always hungry,” Todd mutters to hide the tightness in his throat. “I think I’m going to take a nap.”

  “Did you have lunch?”

  “Late breakfast.”

  “All right. I’ll wake you for dinner if you’re not already up.”

  Curling up under the covers is one of the best things he knows. The sheets are cool, despite the suffocating heat outside, and Todd presses his cheek to his pillow.

  Instead of allowing himself to worry about the lack of texts from Daniel—it’s not even four, dammit—he concentrates on last night. He’s already having trouble picturing exactly what Daniel looks like. He knows the hair, the smile, and the eyes, but the full picture is getting blurry.

  There are things he does remember without difficulty, though: their conversations, Daniel’s laugh, the way his hand felt against Todd’s thigh, and how his lips tasted. Todd’s belly swoops, and he allows himself to focus on this, to not worry for once.

  He’s woken up by a text. Again. For a second, he’s annoyed with himself for not muting his phone. A moment later, he is wide awake, reaching for it.

  It’s Mrs. Floral wanting to know if he can work tomorrow. She has a meeting. Ignoring his disappointment, he texts her back, letting her know that he’ll cover for her. It’s almost seven, and he’s really hungry.

  Sandwich is eating in her cage, having lost interest in the rest of his room for now. She’ll take another round later, the way she always does.

  Grabbing his phone, he types: how to learn ASL in his browser and hits SEARCH. The first result is a page listing apps and other resources. Todd spends a good forty-five minutes clicking around, and he’s downloaded two apps before he puts his phone down. He can do this.

  Mom is prepping dinner next to Dad in the kitchen, when Todd gets there. She looks small next to him, with her meager five-foot-three and slender limbs. Compared to Dad’s darker skin, she looks strikingly pale, matching her ginger hair. Todd smiles to himself when Dad kisses her cheek, and she nudges him until he gives her a proper one on the lips.

  “You’re awake,” Mom says when she notices him in the doorway. “Did you have a good night?”

  “Yeah.” Todd gratefully accepts the banana Dad gives him. “It was great.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Some frat party in Manhattan and then a bar.”

  “They let you into a bar?” Mom looks up from her chopping, eyes narrowing.

  “They gave me a wristband, so I couldn’t drink.”

  Dad gives him a look that clearly says he doesn’t believe that for a second, but he doesn’t comment. Mom nods her approval and turns her attention back to the vegetables. She has this idea that at least half the plate needs to consist of vegetables, and Todd isn’t sure he agrees.

  His phone buzzes in his pocket. Even though he doesn’t want it to, his heartbeat picks up. It’s probably just Mela, he tells himself, as he slides the phone from his pocket.

  It’s not. It’s Daniel.

  > Hey! Jesse gave me your number, thank god. I hope you’ve had a great day. Thanks for last night. /Daniel

  Todd’s not a hundred percent successful in biting back his smile. He reads the text twice before putting the phone on the kitchen table, screen down. When he looks up, he finds Dad watching him.

  “It was just Mela,” he says.

  “Uh-huh,” Dad replies, not sounding the least bit convinced.

  Todd’s face heats, but Dad doesn’t push it. In fact, he looks as if he’s perfectly enjoying himself. Unbelievable.

  During dinner, Mom talks about work, but Todd doesn’t have it in him to listen. He’s too caught up in eating and thinking of how he’s going to reply to Daniel’s text. There’s no energy left to pay attention to people asking for weird books, or even weirder research subjects. Working in a library seems nothing like the quiet peace it should be. Mom really loves her job, though, and he figures that that’s what’s most important.

  His thoughts return to Daniel’s text. He has no clue how to reply, except for the obvious my day has been good, thanks. Maybe it doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.
/>   “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

  Dad’s question pulls him back to reality. Todd shrugs.

  “Mrs. Floral asked me to cover for her a bit during the afternoon. Other than that, nothing. Why?”

  “Just checking if you’ll be home for dinner. I’m making chilaquiles.”

  “Definitely home for dinner, then,” Todd decides. No matter how frustrating Dad can be, he means well, and his cooking is beyond amazing. He hates missing out on it just because Dad keeps bugging him about school, especially as he knows that Dad only wants what’s best for him.

  Dad nods. “Good.”

  An hour later, Todd’s on his bed with Sandwich on his stomach, and he still hasn’t figured how to reply.

  “Why is this so hard?” he asks Sandwich and pets the soft fur between her ears. She stills before she continues her carrot chewing as if nothing happened.

  “Maybe you’re right.” He sighs and picks up his phone for the seventh time in the last twenty minutes. “I’m making this unnecessarily complicated.”

  < Hi! My day has been good, but I’ve slept for most of it. How was yours? I had a good time last night as well :)

  He removes and then adds the smiley—it looks sarcastic without it, doesn’t it? He sends the text before he has a chance to change his mind, and then obsessively pets Sandwich to keep his mind off of it. At least she knows him well enough not to pee on him anymore. He probably smells enough like her property by now.

  To his surprise, Daniel doesn’t take three hours to reply, unlike Todd.

  > I’ve been studying for most of the day, and then practice. When can I see you again?

  Todd frowns over the studying part, but then he remembers that Daniel must be sweating over the LSAT already.

  Giving up on waiting with replying—Daniel hadn’t, after all—he types back.

  < Maybe next week? I hope studying went well.

  He gets a reply almost immediately.

  > Sounds like a plan! How’s your evening?

  Biting his lip, Todd contemplates letting Mela know, but decides against it.