Page 59 of Nothing To Lose
Not saying a word, but saying so much with their eyes, Mac and Anders walk from the back holding trays. They're both wearing maroon vests and black pants, with white aprons tied around their waists.
"Oh my God, you guys are so extra!" Tyler says, his eyes dancing with amusement and gratitude. I recognize it because I feel the same.How will I ever repay this kindness?
I really wanted to do something special for Tyler, for our first official date, and asking for favors is not something I take lightly. I can't afford much, but this feels extravagant in exactly the right way. Mac and Anders insisted that using the space after-hours was no trouble, and even made us some light hors d'oeuvres and desserts for a price that can't possibly pay for all of this. I expected a few candles and dinner, but the rest of it… the decorations, the matching outfits, the sealed lips and exaggerated eyebrow waggles as they leave? It's more than I could have asked for or ever thought of myself. I'll find a way to thank them. They've been amazing friends.
As we eat, I feel especially grateful that it's a light menu because I feel weirdly nervous. Jittery. Excited. The conversation is just as light, but I think we're both aware of the heavy topics that are floating in the background. We almost touch on them when Tyler brushes a hand over my black eye and swollen cheek and asks if we’re going to talk about it.
I shake my head. All of that can wait for another day.
"I have a gift for you," I say, my nerves showing through my shaky voice. I clear my throat. "It's nothing big, and might not be usable, but…"
I lead Tyler over to the tablet Brenna left on the front counter and unlock the screen. Tyler glances down at it, confused, but then the words start to register. He lifts a hand to the screen and scrolls through the website Brenna and I have been working on since the day he dropped his major down to only graphic design. Tyler gapes at the screen like he's afraid to touch it, his finger hovering just over the glass.
His breath catches. "This is…"
"All your work. Your art. It's an online portfolio. You don't have to use it if you don't want to, but I thought seeing your work displayed this way would show you what I see. What everyone sees."
He scrolls the page, seeing his work laid out in a simple design that enhances the professionalism of his work. He is an artist, but his focus is all about practical applications. The template Brenna used highlights that perfectly, and gives the page an aesthetic that is exquisitely Tyler.
"Isaac," he breathes, my name barely a whisper.
"You are so fucking talented, Tyler. People should get a chance to see that. I just wanted to–" I exhale, shaking my head at myself for getting all emotional. "I wanted you to see what I see."
He finally looks up, and something in his expression knocks the remaining air from my lungs. It's raw, unguarded. Like no one has ever told him he's worthy before.
I want to change that. Iamgoing to change that.
I see the change already, in the little moments between just us. Someday the rest of the world will see it too. More importantly, he will see it.
"I want to say thank you, but it's not enough."
He doesn't need to say any of it. I can see it in his expression, hear it in his voice. It's in the way he holds the tablet like it's something precious and fragile. If he can accept this, maybe accepting himself as he truly is—the wonderful, amazing, talented man I've come to know these past couple weeks—isn't all that far off. He's already taken all the first steps. I hope he truly understands how proud I am of him.
Tyler steps into me, and I wrap my arms around him. With the music playing softly in the background, it's almost like we're dancing. Time passes in a blur of quiet conversation, soft touches, and shared glances. There's something growing between us that feels bigger than words. When it's over, and I walk him home, even the cool night air can't temper the heat rising in my veins. I'm so ready for what comes next, but I'm nervous too. No matter how many times I've had sex before, I've never given a piece of myself to the person I was with.
When we get to my building and I pull my keys out to unlock the main door, Tyler puts his hand on mine and shakes his head. He laces his fingers through mine and pulls me toward the side of the building and the narrow set of stairs. Without a word, he takes my hand and leads me up the stairs, only hesitating momentarily once he's unlocked the door.
The difference is immediately obvious. The space is open and empty, where before it was cluttered with trash and boxes and debris from before I moved in. But it's clean now. The dust and clutter are gone, the space completely cleared. There's a lot of work to be done, but it's not as bad as I initially thought when the space looked like a hoarder's den. The walls and flooring are all intact and need some sanding and a coat of paint. This is… livable. I—we—could move in up here and not have to sleep on a mattress in the back room of the gym.
Tyler must have realized this too, because through an arched opening that separates the main living space, the bed has already been moved in. It's set centered on the wall opposite the slanted ceiling, on an actual platform bed frame with a headboard. There’s a dresser and two night stands, too. Battery-operated candles are scattered everywhere in the room, casting everything in a romantic, flickering glow.
I've been silent since the moment we stepped in, because I'm so surprised, overcome with goddamned feelings that are too fucking big for my body right now. "Tyler, this is amazing."
"You've been working so hard on the gym, and taking care of me, that you haven't had time to work on making room for yourself," he says. "And I wanted to do something for you. You've gone out of your way to make me feel welcome in your space, to give me somewhere that feels like home." He swallows hard. "You should have something for yourself. Somewhere that feels like home. So, if you're okay with it, I'd like to finish this space for you."
I don't know what to say. My throat is tight, my chest feels too full. I step toward him slightly, feeling the way his breath hitches when I reach around his waist and pull him close. He looks at me like he's waiting for something, but that something isn't permission to paint my apartment. It's to be part of my life.
When I kiss him, it's not rushed. It's not desperate. It's steady. Certain. My hands find his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as I cradle the back of his head. I pull back and stare down at him, this man that has become everything to me in a matter of weeks.
There's so much I want to say. Mostly, that I'm not worthy, but I'll strive to be every day.
But for now, this is enough.
He's here. With me.
And it's everything.
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