Sugar, Butter, Flour, and Love - Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Trace started to rub his knee absently, while speaking slowly. "I know we don't know each other well, and I normally wait a while before telling people. But, I don't want to wait too long and you don't seem super weird."
"The weirdest thing about me is that I get nervous sometimes." I admitted quietly, worried about the sombre expression on Trace's face.
Trace turned towards me in his seat, giving me a meaningful look. "Oh, Darius, I don't care about that. You'll get used to me eventually, I don't mind waiting. It's just..." I waited for him to say whatever it was. Maybe it would be to tell me I didn't seem anything like how I looked or that he didn't see how we could date around my schedule or maybe my breath smelled.
"So, I have like half a leg." Trace leaned over in his seat, hurriedly pulling up his pant leg and extending his foot out so I could see the length of it.
Instead of a muscled calf I was expecting I saw a dark prosthetic below his knee. Even the prosthetic was black, fitting Trace's date outfit.
"Woah," was all I could think to say. My eyes must have been popping out of my head because I said woah again. So, Trace didn't have a leg. It just felt so random and unexpected that I laughed. More so because I wasn't at all sure what kind of reaction was expected of me.
Trace pushed his pant leg down, hiding his prosthetic. It was able to stay hidden so naturally I couldn't believe I had never noticed anything amiss before. He glared at me. "You better not be one of those sick fucks who gets off on me missing a leg. Because if that's the case, this ends right here and right now."
"No," I said in a shocked voice, while waving my arms. "I am not like that."
His eyes narrowed. "And if you're disgusted this can end just as fast. I'm not pitiable or any of that. I'm just me. I just felt bad that I didn't take off my shoes at your place." He covered his face with his hands, "My Asian parents would disown me if they found out I didn't take off my shoes before going into someone else's home."
"I'm only surprised, that's all." I said, feeling like I was reacting terribly. "What's it made out of?"
Trace's usual smile was back. "Titanium. It's a 3D printed design. Prosthetics are still pretty expensive, and I need a new one every few years. The money I made through Playing A Role has me set for a bit but most of it will go towards my prosthetics for the future. I get higher quality prosthetics if I can afford it, they feel better." He exhaled deeply. "So that's my confession. Is there anything you wanted to say?" Trace said before taking a sip of water. He looked like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.
This seemed like the wrong time to admit I had anxiety. "Thank you for feeling like you could tell me, Trace. That means a lot." I said instead, meaning it. "It doesn't change anything, you're still...You. And your leg looks super cool, very futuristic. I can't believe I didn't notice, I guess I just get so distracted by your face."
Trace laughed. "Well, I usually wear pants, and I'm really happy I have a pretty natural looking walk, all things considered. And gee Darius, thanks for finding me pretty." He gave an exaggerated, somehow very effeminate blink.
Trace relaxed back into his seat, and the pre-movie commercials started to play as the lights dimmed. We still had the theatre to ourselves and Trace surprised me with putting his hand on my thigh. In the near dark his hand felt iron hot.
"Thanks for putting up with my zombie obsession." He said with a smile. He squeezed my thigh and I inhaled sharply, murmuring a reply.
In that moment, I swore I got lost in his eyes, and his smile and his voice and I just wanted so badly to kiss him. It didn't matter how many times Trace smiled at me, something about it put me at ease in a way nothing else did. He was just so easy going it almost made me feel like things weren't as stressful as I constantly found them.
"I really don't mind, Trace. I like zombies, too. And about touching and kissing and stuff, I don't mind that either." It came out in a rush, but I knew he definitely heard me.
His face softened. "I am not going to molest you during the movie, Darius."
"Oh." I said, surprising myself with how disappointed I sounded.
Trace's brows raised. "Do you...want me to?"
"No?" I wasn't really sure what I wanted. But by that point we were getting the advertisement not to talk anymore and Trace began munching on our popcorn.
The lights officially turned off and the movie started.
#
Right away we realized the movie was laughably bad. The plot was all over the place, the acting, mediocre, and jokes, not very funny. Trace made a few little comments throughout the movie, and they were funny enough that I laughed more with him than at the movie's attempts at comedy.
There was something exhilarating about Trace's mouth almost against my ear as he turned to speak to me during the movie. The lowness of his voice and our proximity in the dark was making my palms sweat and my stomach tighten.
#
As the credits rolled Trace invited me back to his place. He watched my eyes and mouth in equal measure as he prattled on about some zombie video games we could play. Trace seemed nervous waiting for me to reply but I quickly said yes and he broke into that brilliant smile.
Trace' apartment was in a fancy condo he shared with his sister in the heart of downtown. He and his sister lived on the seventh floor and Trace confessed he didn't want to live too high in case of an emergency where he would have to hobble or crawl down stairs. The joke was terribly bleak and took me aback, but it seemed like he was used to making jokes at his own expense. But, I had literally just found out he had 'half a leg' as he put it, and it was a bit much.
"Do you do that a lot?" I asked him slowly as we got into the elevator.
"Hmm?" Trace said absently, twirling a finger in his hair to get it out of his face.
"Joke about your..." I pointed at his left leg where I now knew the prosthetic hid, "leg?"
Trace grinned. "If I don't then no one else is going to, and I have so many jokes surrounding the thing."
We got to the seventh floor in silence. I just couldn't share Trace's humour surrounding his leg. I was able bodied and I didn't have a right to have opinions on the way he coped but I found his jovial natural surrounding it pretty disturbing.
Trace unlocked his door quickly. "Tadaima." he called out before urging me inside where he took off one shoe, and then rolled up his pants, proceeding to take off his entire prosthetic.
He opened the closet where I saw another prosthetic, this one with a foot attachment and a flesh coloured calf and shin socket. Trace leaned against the wall, movements quick and natural as he shoved off the futuristic prosthetic, handing it to me to hold. I stared at it in my hands, noticing how light it was and realizing that it was one of the things that allowed Trace to get around as well as he did.
Once he took off the black, aerodynamic leg, there was a dark sleeve covering his actual leg. For some reason I looked away as he took off the sleeve covering his stump. I wasn't sure if it was a private sort of thing or if Trace wanted me to watch. From my peripheral I saw him roll another sleeve on as he balanced against the wall, finally raising his stump and stepping into the home prosthetic. I watched him finally as the mechanism locked into place and Trace regained his footing.
"This is my home leg," he announced, "Which is different from my outside legs and my shower legs, and my running legs, and my biking legs." Trace sighed, standing upright and taking back his outside leg from my hands. "It's very expensive having one leg."
A woman who looked like a more delicate and feminine version of Trace but with pale skin came out into the entryway. She was wearing an apron and her hair was up in a complicated, dark coif. "Okaeri, Noor. Oh, hi..." she frowned, blinking. "You're the baker, right?"
Trace's twin sister walked over to him, taking his leg and walking us into the living room. She seemed to be confused as to why I was there, but took it in stride.
She gave me a polite smile, before asking for Trace's help in the kitchen. Their kitchen had a swinging door and as soon as Trace entered, I heard a murmured argument in rushed Japanese. My occasional forays into subbed anime were not enough to have any kind of idea what they were saying.
Their absence gave me an opportunity to look around their apartment. It was nice, decidedly neutral with greys, whites and splashes of green. But with plants on nearly all surfaces. It seemed very much like a home.
—something like that, maybe a green couch instead of a brown one. And family pictures around. —
When they came back out, Trace's sister was carrying a glass of water. "Well," She said in an overtly polite tone, "welcome to our humble home."
"Thank you," I said, taking a sip of the water and feeling like maybe being there was a bad idea. I could already feel a nervous sweat descending on me, my palms getting wet.
Trace sighed. "This is my sister, Nalini. I'm supposed to tell her when I bring a guy home because she hates meeting them at the door. We were just arguing because I was telling her you aren't a one night stand, that there aren't going to be any walks of shame, no moans or rattling bed frames—
"Noor!" Nalini said in a harsh voice, looking between him and I as a splotchy red blush began to cloud her cheeks.
Trace continued casually, "and we're just playing video games."
The water went down the wrong way and I choked so badly I dropped the glass I was holding. It fell against the coffee table, shattering into several pieces.
"Oh my God." I stuttered out. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude, and Trace told me he lives with his sister, which is obviously you, and I didn't even think about how this looks." I picked up the different shards of glass, trying not to cut myself, settling them into the palm of my hand. "This is so awkward. I'm sorry I'm so awkward." My heart was flying into my throat, my lips suddenly chapped and dry as I wracked my brain to say something to alleviate the awkwardness. "I'm sorry. I'm just here to play video games with Trace. I mean, you call him Noor, which is fine, I guess. But, yeah."
The room was quiet, and when I looked up they were both staring at me.
"Wow," Nalini said quietly, "He really is like you say he is."
"Like what?" I asked.
"Isn't he?" Trace said, with a big smile.
Nalini scampered into the kitchen, coming out with a plastic bag, gesturing for me to throw out the glass. Somehow, she seemed less on edge and patted me on the back. "It's only a glass, Darius. And it's nice to meet you, too. You'll be good for Noor, hopefully. What kind of pizza do you like?"
I blinked. "Ah- I'm not picky. Whatever is fine. I'm not vegan or anything weird. Not that vegans are weird." Oh no, what if she was vegan. "Are you...vegan, Nalini?"
She laughed and the sound was just as soft as Trace's. "God, you are strangely adorable for being so big and tall. I'll just order the combo we normally get, pepperoni, Hawaiian, some wings and bread sticks. Is that good, Noor?"
Trace gave the affirmative and Nalini started ordering on her app as we made our way towards a hallway. I couldn't help but watch Trace's legs more, the prosthetic foot entirely unnatural looking. When I got home I needed to google about amputees so that I didn't say anything stupid.
"This is our game room, you can get comfortable in there and I'm just gonna clean up a bit." Trace winked before disappearing into his bedroom.
The game room was a series of comfy couches and a wide screen tv mounted to the wall. There were bookshelves affixed to the wall, and a massive collection of video games and game systems. From the Nintendo 64, to the game cube to the Nintendo Switch, handheld consoles and of course the latest play station and Xbox. I didn't consider myself poor, but looking at the collection definitely made me feel strapped for cash. The vintage video game posters made me realize Trace really liked video games. I wondered if his sister was at all into video games or this room was Trace's alone.
—Something like this. Isn't that crazy? —
Looking closer at the coffee table I saw the CD case for Left for Dead and it made me wonder if Trace had planned this all along.
"Hey," Trace came into the room wearing a loose t-shirt, and shorts. My mouth dried as I took in his body. I kind of had a thing for muscular, well developed thighs and Trace's were most definitely my type. His left leg was mostly covered by his prosthetic sleeve, but the shape of his thigh was enough to set my imagination astir. "Are you ready to play?"
We got settled on the couch and Trace popped the game into the console, handing me a controller. Immediately, I realized I was being seduced. Trace leaned over very slowly while he got the room sorted, and would continually reach over me to get things that he could've gotten up to get or simply asked me for. His movements made his shorts ride up, displaying more and more of his skin.
Eventually, he dimmed the lights in the room and turned on the video game. We were playing a multiplayer version where the team had to get from location A to location B, and Trace explained how everything worked by leaning into my side and brushing his fingers along mine while pointing to each button. His voice was soft, and low and his lashes were so long and he smelled so nice. I was paying more attention to his nearness than his instructions.
He looked over at me, after explaining everything. "Does that make sense?"
I swallowed, nodding, suddenly feeling warm and I took off my plaid button down shirt. Underneath, I was wearing a form fitting black shirt, and Trace took a second to take me in.
There was a bit of the learning curve in the beginning as Trace guided me through the stages, his fingers deftly operating through the different parts of the game. After I got the hang of it, conversation came naturally where we criticized the movie some more, Trace talked about his work and then he started asking about me.
"What happened to that baking competition thing?"
Immediately, I deflated. "Oh. It's fine, I guess. I'm not really sure how much I can talk about it but they gave me an interview."
Trace paused the game, turning towards me. "That's good!" Having all his attention on me was flattering but somehow my mind kept focusing on what I had overhead Aditya say.
"I just feel like even if I get in, they'll only have chosen me as the token black guy." I mumbled.
Trace paused. "Darius, don't say shit like that. Yeah, you're black but they wouldn't just choose you to seem inclusive. They're supposed to be better than that."
I frowned, putting down the controller. "I overheard one of the show producers talking about how compared to the other black applicants I had the best resume, and that my skin is clear so I would look good on screen. They barely talked about my baking at all. It's just so fucking frustrating. And, it just makes me want to back out of the whole thing."
Trace looked deep in thought. "It's fucked up that they said that kind of stuff about you. But, Darius, you're an amazing baker. You know how often I hear other customers at Sweets N' Things say they love the food. And your yelp reviews specifically say how much they love the cakes. After you mentioned the show, I binged a season and the stuff I've seen you do at your store, I could imagine you on the show doing an amazing job. If you get it, you deserve to be there. You won't just be their token black guy, you'l be Darius, the guy rocking the competition and getting rid of competitors left and right."
He seemed so earnest and honest and it made me feel good about myself, something no one had been able to do for a long time. I exhaled quietly. "God, you're so nice to me, I could kiss you."
Trace's eyes widened. "Really? Because, I've been wanting to kiss you since forever."
That made me laugh, but already Trace was leaning in, one hand high on my chest.
Trace gripped my chin between his fingers. "We're gonna kiss, okay?"
I swallowed, nodding slowly. "Okay."
Trace moved in close and all I could smell was his aftershave and I noticed a slight stubble dusting his jaw. And his eyes were such a warm brown. Then, he kissed me, lips soft and pliant yet firm and warm. So incredibly overwhelmed all I could do was take it in and feel the press of his mouth against mine, unable to kiss him back. He was so warm and so soft and so close. I could only breathe unevenly, staring at the nonexistent pores on his skin.
Slowly, Trace moved back, fingers still pressed into my skin and against my jaw. I liked the way he touched me like he would never let me go. His breaths were slight against my cheek as he spoke. "Too soon?"
"No." I whispered beneath the sound of my raging heartbeat. "I just—get nervous. I want you to kiss me."
Trace kissed me again, and this time I remembered to close my eyes just as his lips against mine, his tongue pressing at the seam between my lips. "Open up, Darius." he said, breaths hot against my mouth.
I opened my mouth so Trace could kiss me properly. He hummed into my mouth and pulled closer against me, one hand gripping my jaw and the other circling around my chest. He was honey; warm, and sweet as his tongue swooped across my mouth trying to find every depression, divot, and dip. And, I wanted him to. In that moment I wanted to give everything I was to him.
Trace pulled away, lips full and wet. "I'll make you feel so good." His voice roughened, "And, suck on my lower lip, I like that."
My heart leapt across my chest as Trace's mouth met mine again. I took more initiative this time, heat building between our mouths as Trace's fingers explored my chest, squeezing and stroking. With his other hand he fingered my tightly wound curls, and I let out the most embarrassing moan.
I shot away, turning on the couch. "Fuck, sorry."
Trace's hands were on my face, tilting my head towards him. "Hey, what's the problem?" Trace looked different with his bruised lips, wide eyes and faintly flushed cheeks.
I raised my hands awkwardly. "Here I am, overreacting."
But, Trace was giving me a molten look. "I find it hot when my partners react to what I do. Any reaction only shows that I'm making you feel good. My goal will always be to make you feel good. Okay?" he kissed below my ear and my sigh turned into a moan.
"Mmhmm." I hummed pleasurably.
Trace took a breath, and I noticed his face reddening slightly. He shuffled around, moving out of my embrace before before crossing his legs and putting a pillow on his lap. "Let's keep playing?"
The sudden change surprised me but I decided to go with it. At that moment, Nalini knocked before slowly opening the door, seemingly surprised we weren't doing anything crazy. She called out to Trace in Japanese before leaving the room. I looked to Trace, but if anything, his face only got more red.
"Translation?" I asked, pressing pause on the video game.
His voice was soft as he nervously rubbed his neck. "She just said the food's here. But, I can't get up right now, Darius...so, you can get it."
"Why can't you-?" I paused, really noticing the pillow on his lap. "Oh...Yeah, sure. I'll j—just bring the food in here?"
Trace nodded. "That would be great."
The thought of Trace being attracted to me definitely put a little pep in my step as I headed towards the kitchen, to grab a box of pizza and the box of wings, bread sticks and sauces. There was a little note where Nalini said she was going to bed and that we could have the rest of the food.