Sugar, Butter, Flour, and Love - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Back in the game room Trace still had a pillow on his lap but when he removed it, I realized he had taken off his leg. The leg was in the corner of the room, just standing there, and Trace had also taken off his sleeve so for the first time I saw his exposed leg. I expected it to look very different from his full length one, dramatically less developed and shrunken. But, it didn't look that different, only like half his calf, ankle and foot were missing.
We organized the food on the coffee table and Trace put on a random reality tv show as we began to eat.
"Fuck," Trace groaned after taking a bite of pepperoni pizza. "This is so unhealthy."
I shrugged, picking up a slice of Hawaiian pizza. "Just gotta hit the gym extra hard tomorrow. What kind of workouts do you do?"
"Lots of running, my core, I don't lift too much and then I make sure to do the stuff I learned in physio to keep my legs strong. I like the routine of going to the gym, and my last boyfriend was actually a personal trainer."
"Oh." I said with my mouth stuffed with pineapple and cheese.
Trace laughed past my awkwardness, rubbing the back of his neck. "I had to stop going to the gym he worked at afterwards. It just got kind of awkward. What kind of exercises do you do?"
"I hate the gym actually." I admitted. "I speed through my workouts and most of my exercise I get through basketball. I love basketball, I feel like in another life I could've been in the NBA."
Trace gave me a bald look. "I mean this in the nicest possible way but you're insanely tall, you've got big hands and you move like an athlete, what exactly stopped you from being in the NBA? Or the Euroleague or even the CBA?"
I laughed at Trace's dry tone. "I think I'm a little too gay for the NBA, Trace."
"Oh yeah, that." Trace blinked as though remembering the world was violently homophobic amongst other things.
"Yes, that. My feelings surrounding the sport are complicated. My brother tries to tell me I'm being dramatic, but I don't think I am."
Trace nodded, munching thoughtfully. "You have a brother?"
"Older."
"What's he like?"
"Cyrus is...well." I tried to bottle my brother down into a few words but I couldn't. "We're different. He knows what he wants in life, and he made sure he got it. He's married with a kid, and his family lives in the states. I think my parents prefer him, to be honest." Cyrus had always been well adjusted and fearless whereas I never really got used to anything and I was fearful. It wasn't that he worked harder than me or that he was more committed to his interests than I was but he had the bright personality that people gravitated towards. Me? I was somehow forgettable.
If we were planets, then Cyrus was the sun and I was some far off unnamed moon. One was what people revolved around and the other merely a satellite.
Trace was watching me, eating quietly and it got to the point where having his eyes on me became disconcerting. He seemed to sense my anxiety building and he started commenting on the tv show on screen, making a few jokes that made me feel better.
He channel surfed until a rerun of Baking Beasts materialized on screen and we watched in silence as Aditya tempered chocolate before piecing together a small but elaborately decorated cake.
I sighed. "His hands are like magic." The next part of the competition we were watching was the construction of different flavoured macarons. Making them correctly could be meticulous and it was painstaking work.
I'd already seen this episode but watching the show was making my anxiety skyrocket. I clenched my hand against my thigh, willing my heart to stop rattling painfully in my chest. I breathed slowly, knowing I couldn't start panicking in front of Trace but the realization that I couldn't panic in front of Trace was only bringing the panic closer.
Trace changed the channel to another mindless comedy and that did a lot to alleviate my anxiety. He picked up a small remote aiming it at the light switch and the lights dimmed.
Then, he looked at me. In the near dark his eyes were like big bottomless orbs. His voice was soft as he put his hand on my thigh. "Do you work tomorrow?" It sounded like an invitation but I wasn't quite sure of what.
I swallowed. "I don't."
Trace licked his lips. "Can we...cuddle?"
I blinked as though he was speaking another language. "What?"
Trace rubbed my thigh. "Is that weird for a first date? If you're uncomfortable you don't have to." I noticed how long his fingers were as he drew them up and down against my leg. It wasn't a bad feeling.
Except I wanted to touch him. I nodded slowly, and Trace snuggled in against my side, making satisfied sighs as he got comfortable. He almost felt small beside me, his head leaning against my chest. We fit nicely together. I just wanted him to tilt his head up and kiss me.
But then, like usual my anxiety was rearing its ugly head. I wanted to snuggle with Trace but my body and mind were running in circles. I startled to worry about how I smelled, and then started to sweat and then started to worry about my sweat seeping through my shirt and Trace feeling it. Sweat started to prickle across my brow and my heart lodged in my throat, my entire rib cage wracked with pain as my heart started pounding. I tried to remind myself I was over reacting, but if I could talk myself down from an oncoming panic attack my life would be so much easier.
I stared ahead, Trace's body feeling foreign and like a heavy uncomfortable weight, as I tried to calm down. All he was doing was laying against my side and my body was on some next level fight or flight shit.
"Wow, your heart is beating so fast." Trace said, looking up at me in the dark, his face unreadable.
"I'm sorry." I said quietly, so incredibly nervous I could barely speak. My tongue felt heavy and too big for for my mouth and then I didn't want to be touched at all. Having Trace beside me was too overwhelming, and I just wasn't as ready as I thought. I started to fidget.
Trace moved away from my side and my heart started beating normally again. The sweat blooming on my brow didn't feel like it was pouring down my face anymore . The distance helped. Why was I so fucked up that I couldn't even do the things I wanted to do?
Trace picked up my hand and interlaced our fingers together.
"Is this okay?" He whispered, somehow seeming to understand I wasn't ready to cuddle. He didn't seem even a little bit mad.
It was. "Yeah." I said just as quietly, unspeakably thankful. Holding hands was okay. "Sorry if my hands are a little sweaty."
"Don't worry about it, Darius. Thanks for going out with me today." Trace said quietly. "You seemed nervous so I know it was hard for you."
"I'm sorry." I said again.
He squeezed my hand. "You don't have to be sorry. You just have to let me know what the pace is, and we'll go at that speed."
"I just feel like you're used to operating at things in a different way than this." I said in a rush. "Sitting in the dark and holding hands isn't exactly the epitome of romance. And most guys move so fast. With my first boyfriend, it took a year before we started sleeping together. And I know it sounds crazy but that was probably the best relationship I had, because he really respected the boundaries I didn't even realize I had." Carter and I had broken up mutually, because our lives started moving in different directions but he had always respected me. "But everyone else is so confused  when I can't do things right away. I don't know why I can't. The idea of rushing things stresses me out."
"As long as everyone is comfortable, I think that's the best way to go through a relationship, right?" Trace squeezed my hand. "But tell me about your first boyfriend. What was he like? And how many relationships have you been in?"
My mind circled around the word relationship a few times before I focused on the rest. "Carter? He's actually a professor now." I let out a self deprecating laugh. "I always wondered what he saw in me. I got into my first relationship the summer before my senior year of undergrad. Manny forced me to go to some gay meet and greet for introverts. He went as my wingman since he knows I can't go to stuff like that alone. And for some reason most of the guys didn't really seem like introverts." I remembered how guys kept coming up to me, and how overwhelming and intimidating it had been. It was just too much attention. "And Carter was working as a bartender to save up for grad school. He saw how nervous I was and always kept my glass full of water. On his break, he sat with me, and we talked about some band or something. But he was so nice." I never talked about my anxiety with Carter but I think he recognized it for what it was and we made little rules for our relationship. The number one rule was to make sure we were both comfortable.
Trace's voice was tight. "Do you still—"
"No." I waved my hands. "It was a good breakup. Carter and I even had a debrief afterwards to talk through things that could have been better. He tended to coddle me, and I could have been more honest with him about my feelings."
Trace was quiet for a while, just thinking. "So, you haven't had too many boyfriends then?"
"No. I know it's weird."
Trace sighed, and let go of my hand before pulling my face down towards his and giving me a sudden kiss. "You're not weird, Darius. And you need to stop doing that."
I licked my lips as Trace settled back beside me. "Huh?"
"You keep putting yourself down. Who cares if you haven't been in a lot of relationships or slept with a lot of guys? It doesn't make you weird."
I blinked. "But people just expect—"
Trace shook his head. "It doesn't matter what anyone expects. I certainly don't think any less of you."
His tone and his acceptance made me feel warm and I let out a relieved laugh. Trace squeezed my hand.
"Before you said a relationship?" I asked shyly.
I could hear his smile. "Well, yes. I hope this is on its way towards being one, Darius. We can talk more about date number two, later." Trace paused. "If you want."
"I want date number two." I said quickly. Maybe, too quickly.
But, Trace leaned over, angling my head towards his and gave me a soft kiss. "Good, I want that, too."
Everything in the world felt right when Trace kissed me, in fact things felt more than right. He held my jaw and gave me a dizzyingly slow kiss. It felt achingly short but Trace hovered like he was talking himself out of going further. But I felt like I'd overstayed my welcome. I hated the way my body wanted one thing and my mind wanted another, or really my mind couldn't handle what my body wanted and rebelled against that expertly.
God, but how I wanted him.
It  wasn't like he could see but I felt my cheeks burning. "I should go, it's late." I said.
"You're sure?" Trace's voice was ever so soft, and his thigh was flush against mine, his face so close I could feel his breaths against my cheek. He'd barely moved back at all since he kissed me and I just wanted him to kiss me again.
I nodded.
"Okay, I'll drive you home." Trace leaned over the side of the couch to get his prosthetic sleeve.
"You don't have to."
"I want to." His tone wasn't open to suggestion.
Trace started putting on his leg and I stared at it, thinking. He put the device on so easily and so expertly. Had he always had a prosthetic? Was he born that way? Was I allowed to ask about it?
He chuckled. "Yes, they let me drive with this thing."
"I wasn't suggesting that—" I began to splutter, embarrassed that it was so obvious I was thinking about his leg.
But Trace was still quietly laughing. "It's fine, I'm a good driver. You're safe with me."
#
Trace chattered on the fifteen minute drive to my apartment, filling in the silence so easily I wondered how he managed to find so many words. None of it felt like over kill and he had a voice that was so comfortable I wanted to wrap myself up in it.
The night streets were quiet, and Trace kept the window open for a bit of a breeze, his hair streaking out over his face. He was so beautiful, the way he spoke, his hand gestures, the way he moved and of course the way he looked. When he spoke, his mouth barely moved at all but his smile filled his entire face, changing everything. And I found I was becoming more and more attracted to how easygoing and confident he was.
"When did you realize you were gay?" I asked, filling a lapse in the conversation.
Trace paused, looking at me for a brief moment. "Hmm, saying always is weird but I'm pretty sure it was always. I was kind of an ugly duckling in high school—"
"I doubt that."
Trace smiled, giving me a quick look. "For real, I'm not just being self deprecating. But, anyways, there was this guy. The coolest guy in my school. President of student council, and he was on the baseball team. He was so nice and I had the biggest crush on him. And...one day I volunteered to help him with cleaning up after practice. Everyone was gone, and it was just me and him, transferring all the gear back to the gym. I just started babbling about how I admired him, and how I noticed things no one else did about him, like the way his nose freckled in the sun, the beauty mark on his wrist, the way he snorted when he found something funny." Trace shook his head, his voice thickening with emotion. "In that moment, I just couldn't not tell him how I was feeling. And he just looked at me and he laughed. He snorted until he was crying and he told me he appreciated the joke. That it couldn't be anything more than a joke for my sake and his. That even if he liked guys I could never be his type. I was too brown, too chubby. And then he ended up saying he was interested in someone else. A girl."
"I'm sorry." I said quietly, trying to imagine Trace getting his heartbroken in high school. God, hormones and being gay and high school had all sucked for me. Too much change too fast.
"My sister." Trace continued.
"What?"
"Most people didn't realize we were related until we told them. She looks more Japanese than me. And it isn't weird for people to have the same last name. So he confessed to her—"
"This sounds like a tv show, this is crazy."
"Yeah, it did. And my sister rejected him because she knew how I felt. She's too good to me. After I lost my leg she was the only one who tried to understand me. And we're twins so she's the person I'm closest to in my life. I'm lucky to have her."
"I wish I was close to my brother like that." I said in a wistful tone, seeing how close we were to my apartment.
"Why aren't you?" Trace said carefully, pulling up in front of the bakery.
I sighed, fingers twitching against my seatbelt. "It's complicated. Anyways, thanks for dropping me off..." I wasn't really sure how to end things so I trailed off.
"I'll see you to your door." Trace said politely while removing his key from the ignition.
"Oh." I said quietly. "Okay."
We got out of the car and made our way towards my apartment entrance on top of the bakery. I unlocked the bottom floor before walking up the stairway painfully aware of what Trace could be thinking. I hope he didn't think things were going to progress to my bed.
Once we got to my door, Trace blinked. "Can I have a glass of water?"
I frowned. "Trace, Listen—"
"Just a glass of water." Trace said gently.
I sighed, unlocking the door and letting him in. He didn't take off his shoes and followed me into the kitchen where I grabbed him a glass of water. He slugged it down and then went back towards the entryway.
"So..." I said, hovering, not exactly sure what I was supposed to say.
Trace moved closer to me. He put his hand along my arm, looking up at me with a soft expression. "I had a good time with you, Darius."
I relaxed. "Oh, I had a good time, too. You always manage to keep the conversation going even when I run out of things to say. It makes things easier."
Trace closed his eyes, and raised himself up on his toes to kiss me. Then, my eyes were closed, too, and I found that we were kissing. Slowly, and softly. Trace's warm arms loped around my neck he pulled me closer until his chest was flush against mine. For once, everything slowed down, my nerves quieted and I could appreciate the moment for what is was with Trace. So fucking good.
We separated and Trace's cheeks were suspiciously red. He seemed calm and yet he blushed so easily. I wanted to kiss him again but I was too shy to initiate so I only looked at him with a goofy expression on my face.
"Text me when you get home." I said, wondering how I had gotten so lucky and met Trace.
He nodded. "I'll let you know when I get home."
I must have been staring at his mouth because he kissed me again. Only a peck on the lips but it was sweet.
"Don't be shy Darius, I could never get tired of you kissing me." He said in a rough voice. "I wouldn't mind if you just slammed me against the door and kissed my face off."
I froze.
"Too much?" Trace laughed, giving me a sweet smile. "Okay, goodnight, Darius."
He let himself out and I closed the door, feeling happy and relieved and calm and warm and fuzzy on the inside.