Sugar, Butter, Flour, and Love - Chapter 39: Chapter 39

"Do you feel like you're making progress?" My therapist asked me at the end of our regular session. The question threw me off guard. I always felt like I could be doing more to push myself out of my bubble. I was trying— trying to talk more and go out more and not fall back into old habits but it was hard.
"I think so," I said softly, thinking that at least things with Trace were going better than I'd ever expected them to.
My anxiety didn't always make it easy to talk with Trace about things that were bothering me but I felt like I was making progress in my own way. The locations of our dates changed frequently and we'd been to all kinds of places— restaurants, aquariums, picnics and public places I never would have been able to go to before. There were times I couldn't do it but Trace was always understanding.
Things had changed between me and Trace since the night he hadn't been able to wear his prosthetic and confided in me about how being an amputee made him feel about himself. It was as though that small distance that always remained between us had disappeared. He'd trusted me before but now it somehow felt deeper and more meaningful.
"I think he wants to marry me," I blurted out suddenly, looking anywhere but at Dr.Yaya. "I don't know why," I continued in a whisper, unable to express how much it bothered me.
"Do you feel like you're not worthy of being in a loving long term relationship?" her voice was careful, and almost gentle.
I knew I was the one to bring Trace up but I wasn't comfortable talking about the subject with her. I fidgeted, not answering the question. "Uhm..." I trailed off.
"It's okay, I think that's all we have time for today, anyways. I still want you to think about your personal goals and short term goals until we see each other again. And Darius?" She paused. "You are very worthy of being in a loving relationship. You have things you struggle with but that doesn't take away from the fact you deserve to be happy and to be in love."
I swallowed thickly, nodding. "Thanks... I guess."
Her gaze softened. "Okay, same time next week?"
"Yeah," I said quietly. "Same time next week."
When I came out of Dr. Yaya's office Trace was waiting for me in the waiting room. He'd insisted on picking me up because her practice was just around the corner from a pop up rolled ice cream shop Trace wanted us to stop at. I'd said yes but I didn't really feel up for it anymore though I wasn't really sure how to express why.
Trace's hair was in a low-slung messy bun, a few wavy wisps framing his face. Trace smiled at me and it reminded me of how happy he always seemed to be when he saw me. That small expression made me feel wanted every single time.
"You okay, Darius?" Trace said softly, his smile slipping as he studied me. He touched my arm, stroking my skin for just a moment before goosebumps started to prickle and I pulled away.
"Just tired," I mumbled, annoyed with myself for not being honest with what was on my mind. It was like there was this distance between who I was and who I wanted to be and I could never bridge the gap.
Trace sighed, the sound feeling impossibly loud even though it was nearly soundless.
"Listen, I can—" I started to say before Trace interrupted me.
"We can just go home. We don't have to get ice cream if you're not up for it. Or if you're...tired." Trace's tone reminded me of when he'd told me he could always tell when I was lying. He got up from the chair in the waiting area and left the office at an irritated clip.
I caught up to him in the hallway and watched him stoically jab his finger on the elevator button as we waited for it in an awkward silence.
"I..." I swallowed, not understanding why I couldn't just get myself to say what I was feeling. "I do want ice cream and I'm not tired. I don't know why I said that. After my sessions things are just hard sometimes. I don't mean to...brush you off."
The elevator came and the two of us got on in silence.
Trace fixed me with an intense stare for several seconds. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, "It's okay. I know you're trying, Darius."
"I was just thinking of a lot of stuff, it gets to be too much and I freeze. But, recently I was thinking I want us to go to the beach," I blurted out as we left the elevator. "That's what I wanted to say. I have a few vacation days coming up and it'll be a long weekend soon and I want us to do something. That's what— what I wanted to say."
A smile broke out on Trace's face and his voice softened, "Yeah?"
I flushed. "Yeah, we haven't gone on a trip in a while and I want to. If you want to, obviously. I know you said you would never go to the beach but I wanted to ask since Manny invited us to go with his fiancée. I know you've never met her and you said you wouldn't want to be around beaches but I figured I should still ask you instead of deciding for you."
"Of course I want to go with you!" Trace said happily. His eyes were sparkling and I could tell he wanted to kiss me but he just removed a nonexistent piece of lint from my shirt instead. The two of us left the elevator and then walked through the bottom floor. It wasn't uncommon for little shops to be on the ground floor of buildings that housed offices. The Thai icecream place we were going to happened to be on the ground floor so it only took minutes for us to get there.
"Oh, we're here," Trace remarked once we arrived. He held the door open for me and I entered the store first before he was at my side. He'd given me the menu beforehand so I knew exactly what I wanted. After ordering we watched together as the worker rolled and scraped the ice cream into little cylinders before putting it in a cone. Once we got our ice cream we sat in one corner of the shop and munched away.
Quiet was unusual for Trace but he was quiet in that moment, using a spoon to take thoughtful bites of his ice cream. "Does this mean they know I'm an amputee?" he asked.
"I told Manny about your leg, but I don't know if he told his fiancée," I admitted.
"Hmm."
"Should I not have?"
Trace glanced up at me. "No, it's okay. But your birthday is coming up, did you want to do something special on it?"
I scoffed. "Are you just saying that because my birthday also happens to be on Valentine's Day?"
He grinned mischievously. "I find it adorable that your birthday is on Valentine's Day. I have so many ideas for all the ways I'll surprise you."
"You don't have to do anything big. We can just—go to the movie theatres after work."
Trace's voice was low and intimate. He leaned closer to me from across the table. "No way, baby. I'm pulling out all the stops."
His comment made me laugh warmly.
"I love when you laugh, Darius. It's my favourite sound." He bumped my knee under the table.
I flushed, suddenly feeling awkward. "Oh, uh...thanks."
Trace chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "Am I heading to your place or are you heading to mine?"
"Uh...mine today, please?"
"Oh," Trace said with a note of surprise. "So tonight we're going to—"
"Oh my goodness, are you Darius?!" A small voice squeaked out.
Both me and Trace turned to see a girl of about seven or eight staring directly at me. She was wearing a wind breaker and was clutching a tablet to her chest. "I know you," she squealed. "I've seen all your videos and my mom helps me make your desserts. You're my favourite YouTuber! Can we take a picture together? Mommy can you take a picture of us? And can I get a hug?" She took a giant breath. "I bet you smell like sugar."
She seemed so earnest and excited to see me I was in a bit of shock. Her mother took out her phone and gave me a sheepish smile. "Sorry, your videos started circulating on YouTube Kids and Vanessa just loves them. She started a baking club with a few of her friends but they just watch your videos or the Baking Beast episodes. And your content is certainly family friendly so it started circulating a bit on the mommy blogger sites and-"
She went on but I was still very much surprised that I'd been recognized in public and that it wasn't because someone thought I was my brother, Cyrus. It was different being recognized for me, and the skills that I had as opposed to always being in Cyrus' shadow and wondering what my life could have been like if I'd chosen basketball, too. And it didn't feel bad...no not at all. The adoration in the little girl's eyes and the polite admiration in her mother's were very flattering even if I wasn't accustomed to that kind of attention.
I stayed sitting while the little girl came over and I tried not to react when she sniffed me. Whatever she smelled seemed to satisfy her as we took a few photos. Trace eventually took over the camera and I got a picture with Vanessa and her mother.
We said our goodbyes and finished up our rolled ice cream as we headed back to my place but not before Vanessa promised me I'd give her a shout out in my next video.
#
Once we got to my apartment I was feeling relaxed and calm. I didn't overthink so much when I was relaxed so it was easier for me to initiate. As soon as my door clicked closed I moved close to him, murmuring his name.
Trace turned with a glint of desire in his eyes, giving me a teasing kiss on the cheek. "Let me take off my shoes, Darius. But, I like the attention."
"Hurry up," I said, hating how close my tone was to begging.
But that only made Trace slow down. He took his time, humming while taking eons to slip off his shoes and then his socks. Once he was done he gave me a look, eyeing my up and down. His gaze was lingering, the want and appreciation clear in the dark pools of his eyes.
"Oh?" Trace said. "You're still dressed."
"Can't you just—" I swallowed, unable to finish without feeling more frustrated.
Trace started to undress and I lost my train of thought. His shirt came off first, revealing sinewy muscle and the tawny skin of his chest. I leaned down slowly, and kissed the join between his neck and shoulder. The sound of my kiss was soft but was eclipsed but the responding sound of Trace's moan.
"Kiss me properly," he said before raising himself up to capture my lips in a kiss. "And let me take off all your damn clothes."
Trace was thorough, ridding me off all my clothes and beginning to nip and kiss at my skin methodically. Before I knew it we were in my room and on my bed. I was laying back on my bed and Trace was sitting across my hips, wiggling his hips to tease me more than anything as spread his palms slowly over my chest. Trace took a break from kissing me to move down my body. Desire curled low in my belly as my breaths quickened.
And then he stopped. He was inches away from the part of me that required immediate attention before he looked up at me.
Trace sighed, rolling off of me. He'd taken off his leg but shifted to the corner of the bed and reached for it. He started to re-attach it before tilting his head towards my open beroom door. "Are you gonna get that?"
"Get what?" I asked in confusion.
Trace smiled, just a small quirk of his lips. He patted my thigh. "Your phone, baby. It's flattering that you're so focused on me you didn't notice but I think you should get it."
Just as he finished speaking I heard my phone ringing from the living room. I felt torn. I wanted to continue doing bedroom activities with Trace but he was the one telling me to get my phone. I sighed but got up and went to the living room, fully intent on turning my phone off until I saw I had ten missed calls. My phone started to ring yet again and I picked it up with a huff.
"Hello?"
"Wow, we were beginning to think we had the wrong number," a chipper voice said on the other side of the line. "You really don't seem to pick up your phone."
"Uh...who is this?"
"The Baking Beasts production team. We've been emailing you for weeks about RSVPing for the reunion episode but you haven't replied. So you need to RSVP."
The shift was nearly instant. With Trace in my bedroom I had been relaxed, the low hum of arousal making me feel boneless. But with the realty of Baking Beasts looming over me my throat closed up and I felt like I couldn't breathe. "I don't think I can—"
"No," the voice said firmly. "I don't want to hear any excuses. Unless you're dying then you're going to the reunion. It's in your contract, Darius."
"But," I said quickly, just trying to get a word in. "I don't—"
"Are you dying? Or sick? Are there extenuating circumstances?" The production assistant didn't sound anything but bored.
"No, but—"
"Okay, I'm glad we had a good talk." The man on the other side of the phone hung up and it was only then that I found my voice.
"I don't want to go," I said quietly, to myself more than anyone else.
I sat down on my couch, upset and uncomfortable. I wasn't sure how long I sat there before Trace found me.
"Baby, you okay?" His voice was soft, and when he sat down on the couch he sat a polite distance away. His leg was back on and so were his boxers but nothing else. I should have been trying not to stare at his chest but instead panic was clogging my ability to feel anything else.
"They said I have to go to the reunion," I started in a stuttering rush. "But I c-c-can't. Everything has been going so well in my life and I'm happy and I have you and my new job and I can't go back to that place. I don't want to see Mary Lou or Mel or have them replay me on screen. I just—"
The tears fell hard and fast and before I knew it I was sobbing. Trace's voice was low and smooth as he told me it was okay, and I didn't have to go, but they felt like empty promises so I just cried harder. Trace touched my arm and I flinched. He went quiet before getting up and walking away saying something about how he'd be back soon. He was back a moment later with a wash cloth, tissues and some of my clothes.
"Okay, put some clothes on, Darius. Please. C'mon. One leg after the other. Boxers first. Then your PJs. Nice. Good job, baby. Okay, do you want to wear a shirt? Yeah? Okay, arms up." The world went dark for a second as Trace got my T-shirt over my head. He used a few napkins to wipe the tears off my face, brushed his thumbs over my brows and gave me a kiss on the nose. "You don't have to go, Darius," he added. "It doesn't matter what they said on the phone."
"But how can you know that?" I said in a small voice.
Trace leaned close to me and cupped my face, staring deep into my eyes. "Because I'm not going to let anyone put you through the distress you experienced on the show. I promise."
"I'm sorry," I whispered, closing my eyes in humiliation. "I'm sorry I can't process this like a normal person."
Pain changed Trace's voice, "You're extraordinary, and I love you. Don't apologize for who you are, Darius. Please, not with me."
I chewed my bottom lip. "I don't know why I'm always crying."
"Sometimes, the tears have to come out."
"And I know we were about to—" have sex, I thought with a mortification I couldn't verbalize. "But I don't think I can anymore," I mumbled before opening my eyes.
Trace frowned, his face as familiar as it was comforting. "I won't shrivel up if we can't have sex, Darius. And I won't get upset with you if you're not in the mood."
"Right," I said, more as a reminder to myself.
Trace gave me a kiss on the cheek before standing up and going to the entryway where he'd left his bag.
He spoke over his shoulder as he walked, "I was reading online about anxiety and some people recommended some items to help deal with it. So, I got you some small things." He came back holding a number of small items in his hand. "I got a scent diffuser because I feel like you like certain scents so I got some lavender. And I ordered a weighted blanket because some people think that helps. That is supposed to arrive tonight. And a stress ball? Some people think you can't have a panic attack and squeeze this thing at the same time. I mean, I don't know if that's true but I haven't seen you try it yet so I figured it's worth a shot."
I sat there in silence for a long beat. It felt so incredibly thoughtful and I didn't know how to react. "You didn't have to," I said quietly. "But I feel thankful that you did, Trace."
Trace hesitated and I realized that his eyes were just a bit glassy. "I don't like seeing you hurt...okay?"
I nodded. "Can you sit down?"
Trace sat down.
"And hold my hand?"
Trace's gaze softened as he took my hand in his and just held it. Right then that was all I needed and I was happy to have it.