Should I Fall out of Love? Ch. 01

Paulie called me from his bedroom. I had been laying in bed reading the novel Team of Ghostmen, and was a little upset that my reading was interrupted. I was about twenty pages before the end of the book, and had wanted to finish reading before it got too late. Paulie's bedroom door was cracked open—and although he had called me from across the house, I knocked before entering.

Paulie was leaning across his bed toward the nightstand, plugging his phone in an incongruously short charging cable. He had not yet acknowledged me.

I cleared my throat. "Well, what is it?"

"I just got off the phone with Greg," Paulie said. He fastidiously aligned his phone on the nightstand, and left the statement hang in the air so long that I started drawing my own conclusions.

Greg and Paulie had been seeing one another for over a year, and I thought—with slight disappointment—that Greg had wanted to come over for the night. Any time Greg came over, I got very little sleep. Greg seemed to have an incredible sexual stamina, and I found that no set of ear plugs, no level of volume on the TV, no steady hum of a box fan can drown out the sound of a headboard knocking against the wall. And though Greg's appearance was frequent at the house, I could never train myself to sleep with the steady rapping against the wall. I had once mentioned this to Paulie, and he wedged a thin pillow between the headboard and wall, and setup his own fan. This only helped minimally, but I did not want to go on about it. He did attempt a solution.

As though Paulie could read my mind, he said. "Relax. Greg is coming over, but he has to go to work early in the morning. Like 4am early. So, I'll get him out of here at ten—ten-thirty. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. What did you say to Jeremy?"

The name initially did not ring a bell. The last Jeremy I knew was back in the third grade. "Who?"

"Jeremy," Paulie said. "Jesus Christ. We went on a date a couple weeks ago."

"It wasn't a date," I said. "He and Greg were working on Greg's mustang. You and Greg wanted to fool around, but didn't want leave the guy high and dry. I understand there was still quite a bit of work to do. I simply batted clean-up for you."

Paulie sighed. "Will you let me finish? I'm trying to talk to you about something, but here you go again."

I rolled my eyes. "All right. I'm probably going to regret this conversation later, but go on."

Paulie sat up in bed, and looked excited. "I was asking you what you said to Jeremy."

I could only lift my hands, and shake my head. Thinking back, I estimated I had spoken twelve, perhaps thirteen words the entire evening..

"I think I literally said nothing to the guy," I said. "I believe I asked him to pass the salt at Denny's. I think that's pretty much the depth of our conversation. Why?"

Paulie leaned forward. "Because Greg said that Jeremy has been going on and on about you since then. Sounds like he likes you."

"I thought that you guys said Jeremy was straight," I said. "That was one of the conditions why I agreed to your little 'date.' "

"Honestly, I thought so, too," Paulie said. "Crazy. I always thought he was. Swear to God. But you know what I say: every man has a little sugar in the tank. And besides that, you're cute."

"I think I'm going back to my book, now," I replied, turning back to the door.

Paulie grabbed my wrist. "No-no-no-no-no. Where are you going?"

I looked down at my wrist, and back up at Paulie. "Back to my room. You're going to lose a hand if you're not careful."

Paulie did not ease his grip. "Look, why don't you just sit down for a second? Come on. I'm not going to leave you alone until you talk to me. Maybe I will talk Greg into spending the whole night. Put another notch in the wall."

I sighed, and sat down on the foot of his bed. "You know, sometimes you're the most annoying person I know."

"Look, I know you don't see things like this," Paulie said. "But I'm only trying to help you."

"I don't need your help, Paulie," I replied, knowing where this conversation was headed, and I did not necessarily want to go there again. We had many of these conversations the six months or so, and every single one went nowhere. "And if I ever do need your help, trust me, you'll be the first to know."

"Why do you do this?" Paulie asked, though he was speaking so rapidly I could not get a word in. "I mean, I know why you are doing this, but why? How long do you plan to keep this up? I mean look at you."

I then stood up, I expected a lot, but did not expect an attack. "What? What about me?"

"You're so quiet," Paulie said. "So, up tight all the time. You're a textbook depressive. That would be one thing if it was you. But it isn't you. This is not who you are."

I sighed. "Paulie, you really need to stop trying to get inside my head. You're not a psychologist."

I then turned to the door. While I had a head start, Paulie surprised me, and ran to the door with shocking quickness. He beat me by a couple steps, and blocked the door with his body.

"No," Paulie said. "I'm not letting you treat me like this. And don't even think about the window. It's locked. And I had Greg take his ladder down."

Though I wanted to punch him in the mouth, I could not help but smile.

"Look," Paulie said. "Can I ask you a question? No, as a matter of fact, let me say something. It is not a bad thing when people want to get to know you. This should not scare you. I don't know why you just can't talk to the guy. Just talk. Go out. Live your life again. No one will blame you for that. Start to move on. You've been still for too long. You're still hurting. But it's not even real pain. You only hurt yourself just to keep this thing going. And there is no honor in that. It's a waste. And you know it. Waste is the worst thing you can do to your life. You've got to stop punishing yourself."

"You finished?" I asked, not unkindly, but hurt.

This was a such a poignant moment because it was the first time in almost a year that pain came from an external source. Paulie had gotten to me. I stood there for a second wondering if I had wanted—if I had let Paulie get to me. I began to think that perhaps I was ready for someone to sit me down, and talk some sense to me. And this alone frightened me. I fought long and hard to guard my pain, and for the first time was considering letting it go. This last year had been the worst of my life. Worst for all of the reasons Paulie listed. Worst because I built it that way. I built for myself the perfect nightmare. Mostly because I feared, even to a greater degree, waking up.

"Look," Paulie said. "Why don't you give Jeremy a chance? Just talk to the guy. Who knows, maybe have a little fun. I mean, don't you ever want to have fun again?"

I had no reply to that. I could not even look at Paulie. While I managed my pain and isolation well, I was not used to being confronted with it like this. Of course, I wanted to have fun again. I just was not yet ready to admit it.

Paulie let a couple of seconds pass, allowing my silence to speak for me—using it to his advantage of proving a point.

"Well, there you have it, then," he said. "Come on. It's not going to hurt to talk to the guy. Why don't you get dressed? They're going to be here in a few minutes."

"What?" I replied, nearly screaming the word. "You never said anything about him coming by."

Paulie looked over to me, and smiled. "You never asked."

I sighed. "I'm not even playing with you. I don't want to talk to anyone right now, okay?"

"Well, they're on their way."

"You better call Greg," I said. "Tell him I'm asleep. Hell, I don't care what you tell him. Just that I don't want to talk with Jeremy right now."

"Why don't you wear your tight denim shorts?" Paulie asked. "They always look hot on you."

"You're not listening," I replied.

"I'm not calling Greg. Besides, they're probably almost here."

I ran my hand through my hair, exasperated. "I'm going to lock myself in my room, then. What do you expect me to do, sit next to the guy in the living room, while you and Greg get busy? I'm not going to do it. That sounds awkward as hell."

"We can't just leave Jeremy alone in the living room. That would be rude."

"Then take him in the bedroom with you," I replied. "You always said you wanted to be spit roasted."

Paulie rolled his eyes. "Greg would never go for that. Besides, it's not my pants that Jeremy wants to get into."

"I don't know what to tell him then. He isn't getting into my pants." And then the words betrayed me. Words that more than Paulie offered me hope. "At least not tonight."

I nearly clapped my hand over my mouth to keep from saying more. I knew not where these words came from. They were not formed with conscious thought, and surprised me—even more than Paulie.

Paulie could only sit there at the foot of his bed, and look at me sideways. He shook his head.

"Okay. Okay," he said. "I'm not going to pressure you. Just talk with the guy, that's all. He is coming over with no pretense of getting laid. I made him no promises. I know that with you, that would have been pointless, and I don't want to disappoint the guy."

"Well, neither do I," I said, sitting next to Paulie on the bed. "Look, he seems to be okay. But who knows what is on his mind tonight. He is probably coming over with the hopes of at least getting blown. I mean, look why Greg is coming over. It's not like he is coming over to watch foreign films or anything."

"I made it clear that you were not that type," Paulie said. "Not that that would be a bad thing if you would just relax and blow the guy. You'd definitely earn points in my book."

"I'm not interested in your book."

Paulie Stood up, and tugged at my wrist. "Go on. Get dressed. Put on something that doesn't look like you shop at Goodwill."

I was wearing a tattered pair of pajama bottoms, and an old, white tee shirt that was more gray than white. I had planned on being in bed by then.

I went into my room excited, jittery. I let my pajama bottoms slide off, along with my underwear. I pulled the tee shirt over my head, and tossed it into a blind corner of my room. The only things I was wearing were my socks. Standing there naked, I felt even more excited. Soon, I would be talking to a guy that was interested in me. I reached behind me, and cupped my ass, slowly pulling the right cheek from the left. Although I was exposed to nothing, but a couple walls I felt sexy for the first time in more than a year. If Jeremy was there at that moment, I thought, he would have gotten more than blown. My heart started to race, and I tried to regulate my breathing. This I did not understand. I could not get why I was acting like this. I thought that Paulie was right. Maybe a little fun was what I needed.

I opened up my drawer, and pulled out a pair of silk panties I sometimes wear. I slipped them on, and checked out my ass in the mirror. The sight of my ass in the panties made me very horny.

"Is that what Jeremy wants?" I whispered, cupping my ass a second time. "Is that why he wants to talk to me? I want to give him what he wants."

It took some digging, but in the bottom drawer I found the pair of denim shorts Paulie was talking about. I unfolded them, and inspected them. It had been quite a while since I had worn them, and I wondered—I hoped—they would still fit. I sat on the foot of the bed, and pulled the shorts up my legs. It was not until I got them up to my thighs that I had my doubts. While I was still in good shape, I had probably put on about ten pounds in the last year. Pulling the shorts up, it felt as though every pound went to my ass. I stood up, and wiggled the shorts over my hips, but then realized the hard part was looming. The button rested two inches from the hole. Those two inches seemed vast. Yet, I breathed in, and pulled with all my might, and I was able to button the shorts on the first try. Thankfully, I was able to work the zipper without much contortion; I was glad that I did not have to use a pair of pliers to get the shorts zipped up.

At that moment, I heard the doorbell ring. I pulled a fresh white tee shirt out from the closet, and slipped it over my head and shoulders. I checked myself out in the mirror, and breathed in deep—listening for sounds coming from downstairs. Aside from the front door opening and closing, I heard nothing. I grabbed the first body spray I could reach from the nightstand, and checked the label before giving my body a could of light sprays. The spray was a birthday present from Paulie that came with matching lotion and body wash. It was called rain soaked leaves, though the scent in know way resembled or suggested it's name. But it was a mellow scent—subtle. Just the way I wanted to be tonight.

I stood, and stared at the back of the door for a couple minutes, before I heard someone softly knock on it. A part of me hoped it was Paulie—because God knows what would happen if Jeremy would have came in my bedroom the way I was feeling. Because of this, a part of me hoped it was Jeremy. I found myself wishing it was him.

I could not mask the disappointment on my face when I opened the door, and found Paulie standing there waiting for me.

"Nice choice," Paulie said, eyeing my body. "I'm glad you listened to me. Come on, let's not keep the boys waiting now."

I breathed in deeply, and nodded. Exhaling, I took my first step forward.

I followed Paulie downstairs, looking at my feet every step of the way. I did not want to look at Jeremy—feeling that I would have given away too much with my eyes. Reaching the final step, I finally looked up. Jeremy had been sitting on the love seat, and he stood the second he saw me.

"I believe you two have already met," Paulie said, after a couple seconds of awkward silence.

I lifted my hand, and wiggled my fingers—waving hello to Jeremy. I was not yet ready for words. Paulie took me by the wrist, and led my toward Jeremy. With every step, I became more and more nervous. And this again surprised me. I had to sit down on the love seat just to conceal the knocking of my knees. I could not believe the way I was feeling—the way I was acting. It had been so long that I had experienced real sexual tension, that I had totally forgot how to deal with it. I looked away from Jeremy, feeling that I was making a total fool of myself.

"Jeremy," Paulie said. "Would you like a drink?"

"I'll take a coke, if you've got one," Jeremy said.

"Greg?" Paulie asked, raising his eyebrows.

Greg shook his head. "No, I'm good."

When Paulie turned toward the kitchen, Greg watched Paulie's ass. He made absolutely no attempt to hide it. My nerves trebled at this; I knew that I was about a minute and a half away from being alone with Jeremy. I did not feel as though I was ready for all that yet. Things were moving too fast for me. I started regretting not barricading myself in the bedroom; things were definitely more safer there. My bedroom had been safe for a long time—so long that I had started to depend on it.

Paulie came back a few seconds later with two glasses half-half filled with ice, and two cans of Coke pinned between his arms and body.

"Here," Paulie said, sitting the glasses on the coffee table. "I brought some for the both of you." He popped the tops of the cans, and poured our drinks for us.

The second the final drop of Coke was poured, Greg grabbed Paulie by the wrist, and started pulling him toward the stairs.

"Wait," Paulie said. "Not so fast. What about them?"

"They can figure things out for themselves," Greg replied. "Come on."

Paulie lifted his arm, and broke Greg's hold. Greg was tall, and large, and Paulie short and thin. This was one of those moments where Greg used his size as an advantage. He lifted Paulie up, and carried him over his shoulder upstairs. Paulie mockingly cried out for help. For the first time, me and Jeremy looked at one another. We both shook our heads in unison that this display of affection.

"I guess we're on our own."

I looked away, and nodded—knowing things could take a turn I was not ready for if I was not careful. I sat there, and looked at the wall for some long seconds. I did not know what to do. What to say. I felt very much in over my head. I had only had one boyfriend in all my life, and we had been together since I was fourteen until the year before—more than a third of my life was spent in one relationship. I sat there nestled in the corner of the loveseat with all the experience of a fourteen year old. Thankfully, Jeremy kept things from getting too awkward.

"So, you've known Paulie for a long time?" he asked.

I turned to him, and smiled. I took in his features; he was tall like Greg, but broader across the shoulders. He was also a brunette with blue eyes. He was slightly skinny, but still young—he would fill out in a couple of years. "Yeah. Since the eighth grade. He is the only person I know going back that far—aside from family."

"Yeah," Jeremy said. "I hardly know anyone from high school anymore. Every once in a while, I'll see one of the guys around, but that's about it. Crazy how people come in and out of our lives."

"Tell me about it," I replied.

Seconds later, I started to hear the tell-tale knocking sound coming from upstairs. We looked up at the ceiling toward the sound.

"Man, they really waste no time, do they?" Jeremy said.

"Yeah," I replied. "You should try sleeping in the next room over from that. They can do this all night. It's like sleeping next to a rock tumbler."

Me and Jeremy then locked eyes. I tried to look away, but could not find the strength.

"Do you want to head out for a while?" Jeremy asked. "To tell you the truth, listening to that upstairs is starting to give me the creeps. I know it's probably too late to grab something to eat. Maybe we can have a couple of drinks at Applebee's or something."

"That sounds good," I replied. "You need me to drive?"

Jeremy shook his head. "No. We can take Greg's mustang. I put in enough free hours under the hood on that thing that it's more mine than his. It has stayed at my garage so often that I have my own key."

I stood up, and walked over to the shoe rack beside the door, and started slipping on my shoes. "Paulie said that Greg is going for a full restore. How much work do you guys have left?"

"Oh, I calculated it once," Jeremy said. "I think I put the completion date at around July of 2049. It's tough to do when you have a nickel and dime budget. It wouldn't be so bad if the guy was serious about it. I mean half the guy's paycheck goes to video games, and on dates with Paulie. Like their weekend at the Talking Stick resort? He spent like a grand to stay at a hotel in town. They could have gone to Frisco or San Diego on that."

"I know," I replied, standing up. "It didn't make much sense to me, either. Sometimes they act like total weirdos."

"Tell me about it," Jeremy said. "Come on. Let's get out of here for a while."

I opened the door, and followed Jeremy out to the Mustang. Even in the dark of night, I could tell that Greg had it repainted. Under the street lights, it was hard to tell. It could have either been white or yellow.

"That's another thing," Jeremy said, unlocking the door, and opening for me. He did not continue until he was behind the wheel, and turned over the engine. It always seemed incredibly loud to me. "The dumbass needs to get his priorities straight. It needs a new carburetor, alternator and some transmission work—eventually a rebuild. And this guy goes out and gets it painted. The car looks pretty, but a lot of good it'll be if it drops the transmission on the freeway."