In the Distance (9 page)

“I know you’ve got a full plate. Lord only knows how you manage your work and school schedule and still find time to make it here as often as you do. But we just got a flyer for a different kind of volunteer opportunity at some of the local elementary schools I think you might be interested in.”

My confusion was enough to finally loosen my tongue. “Elementary schools?”

Donna grabbed one of the empty trays and nodded for me to follow her to the back. As soon as Ethan saw us, he ducked his head and began to studiously scrub the pan in front of him. Donna led me to the back office, and rifled around on the cluttered desk until she found the paper she was looking for and thrust it into my hand.

“We get these every couple of months, but this one,” she said, pointing to a section of the paper about two-thirds down the page, “made me think of you and Ethan.”

My eyes found the paragraph she was pointing to, but I was still confused.

“The program is looking for volunteers to help with their new garden. Looks like these days, we’re all in need of a few extra hands when it comes to helping our kids. For this one, the teachers will be supervising it all, but they’re asking for extra help. They’d like to have a few volunteers who are willing to help the kids work in the garden and keep it sustainable.”

She paused, her expression softening. “I know you’ve been through a lot, and frankly, the idea of putting yourself out there and interacting with strangers who might judge you for who you are can be daunting. But you don’t give yourself enough credit. When you’re not nervous, you’re good at getting people to relax and open up, and even more, you have the patience of a saint. Just think about the program. You never know, it just might be good for both the kids and you.”

I took a second glance at the flyer. The more I read, the more I found myself wanting to be a part of it. The goal was to help the kids not only learn about growing their own food, but the ways that food could be used for a healthier lifestyle. The only drawback was I pretty sure I wasn’t exactly the type of volunteer the schools were looking for. They needed chefs who knew their craft a whole lot more than a sous-chef who was barely out of his first semester in culinary school. Especially if that sous-chef was gay and might corrupt the kids. At least, that’s what my parents and everyone at their church would have said.

I was realistic enough to know that working with the elementary school kids wouldn’t stop the ache I felt whenever I thought about my brother and sister, but being able to pay it forward, to help kids learn about food in a way my parents had never bothered to with us, maybe that was exactly what I needed.

Before I could stop myself, I cleared my throat and asked, “So, what exactly does someone have to do if they were interested in volunteering for this?”

* * *

When I finally sat down on my futon almost eight hours later, I knew the odds of making it to my bed before I passed out were slim. After our shift at the shelter, Ethan and I had headed over to Bistro 30. Jamie had always taken over the morning prep on Sundays, leaving Ethan free to volunteer if he wanted, but there was always something to keep us busy. A delayed delivery, equipment repairs, a last-minute lunch reservation for twenty people. The only thing constant at all in a restaurant was constant motion. Once you stopped moving, you found yourself in the weeds. And nothing sucked more than being in the weeds.

I closed my eyes and thanked the kitchen gods I was on winter break, which equaled no school in the morning. Sleeping in was a luxury I planned to take full advantage of over the next few weeks. As if on cue, my phone chirped from across the room. I opened my eyes and turned my head in its direction. No one texted me unless it had something to do with work or school, so I made my way across the apartment to the kitchen where I’d dumped all my stuff when I first entered.

I looked at the number on my phone. The area code was wrong. Seattle’s was 206, but this number began with 212.

My curiosity got the better of me and I tapped the screen to pull up the message.

I should have sent this earlier, but better late than never, right? Thanks for celebrating with me when June and Ward Cleaver were too busy.

June and Ward Cleaver? What the fuck? Who were they? And why was Trevor texting me? I’d freaked out and he’d left. Wasn’t it better to leave it at that?

I almost dropped my phone when it chirped again.

I’ll make it up to you next time we go out. I promise to choose a place without any spicy breadsticks.

And just like that, I felt a smile spread across my face. It was a small thing, but Trevor had remembered it. What was more surprising was how much I wanted to text him back. But what would I even say? “Thanks,” and then play it all off like it was no big deal?

A third message came through before I could come up with a reply.

I’ll behave next time. Promise.

Then another one right on its heels.

Unless Martin comes. Then all bets are off.

I laughed out loud in my empty apartment. Before I could overthink it, my fingers flew across the keyboard.

Can I video that?

Only if I get a cut. I’m in entertainment mgt for a reason ;)

The tension I’d been feeling all day seeped out of me, and we began texting about our day. Here, in my apartment, with miles and the faint glow of my phone’s screen separating us, it was almost easy to forget how awkward I was and just enjoy the moment.

I wasn’t sure how long we’d been texting about my shifts at the shelter and Bistro 30 when Trevor’s final text came through.

Gotta jet—been traveling all day and just got back to the condo. Enjoy your holidays and don’t let E & J give you too much smack or work you too hard. You deserve a break just like everyone else. TTYL. T

For a full minute, I stared at the screen of my phone. Maybe I hadn’t screwed things up with Trevor as badly as I thought I had. When I finally crawled into bed, I scrolled through the messages on my phone one last time before turning it off for the night. For the next hour, as I lay there in bed staring at the ceiling, I found it impossible to wipe the smile off my face.

* * *

Went shopping at FAO today. Couldn’t resist taking a break from the insane crowds for a little fun.

Enrique shot me a quizzical look when I burst out laughing. I shook my head to let him know it all was good, but a second glance at the photo had me laughing all over again. Trevor stood on a giant keyboard with his arms and legs spread wide, a look of pure joy on his face. As I was still laughing, another one came through. This one included a small boy, maybe about six or seven, both of them in the air midjump. I could almost hear their laughter through the phone as they played out their duet on the ginormous keys. The last one showed Trevor high-fiving the kid with a text under it.

That kid totally kicked my ass. I’m either getting old or I need to revisit my childhood piano teacher for a refresher course.

I quickly typed back.

Let’s go with the piano teacher. Unless you want me to look into a good nursing home for you. I’m sure Ethan would help me find one for you ;)

Smartass. If you tell Martin about this, I’m reneging on our dinner next time I’m in town.

I couldn’t resist.

My lips are sealed. For now.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and got back to work. We were busier than ever, with a waiting list a mile long, but none of that put a damper on my mood as the image of Trevor jumping on that enormous piano kept playing on a loop for the rest of my shift.

* * *

Claire’s voice got louder and louder the more Ethan mocked her mashed beet rutabaga potato monstrosity. It was impossible to be in the restaurant industry and not have an adventurous palate, but there were limits.

“You have no taste, E. Back me up, Jamie. My mashed beetabaga is pure genius. Admit it.”

I laughed as Jamie backed out of the kitchen with his hands up in surrender. “You know I love you, Claire, so don’t take this the wrong way, but I gotta side with Ethan. It looks like the aftermath of a zombie invasion.”

“What did I tell you?” Ethan crowed over Claire’s head, then added to Jamie, “Remind me to give you an extra present under the Christmas tree later.”

“Eww!” Claire swatted Ethan on her way out of the kitchen to stand behind me, covering my ears with her hands. “I think I speak for Tyler when I say neither one of us want to know what kind of present you’re going to give Jamie later. Am I right, Tyler?”

Without waiting for an answer, she nodded my head for me. “See? Even Tyler doesn’t want to hear about your hide-the-yule-log reindeer games.”

Ethan smirked while Jamie turned more shades of pink than the tinsel decorating their very loud, very chaotically decorated Christmas tree. When Jamie finally ducked into the kitchen under the pretense of checking on the already-cooked ham, Ethan followed, winking at me and Claire before disappearing behind the swinging door.

“It’s nice to see you smile. It’s a good look on you.”

Claire was the closest thing I had to family these days and she took the role as my self-appointed big sister seriously. “Thanks for including me tonight. I know Christmas is a time for family—”

She smacked the back of my head. “Listen up, bucko. You’re just as much a part of this dysfunctional, crazy-ass, special family as Ethan is. Most days, I’d take you over my numbnut biological brother. I’m just glad you agreed to come. We missed you at Thanksgiving. No one was here to give my tofurkey any love. It was sad, Tyler. Very, very sad.”

She made her way around the couch to sit down beside me, wrapping me up in a big hug. “Promise me you’ll be there next year to defend my beetabaga, Tyler.”

I chuckled and rested my chin on the top of her head. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Right after I’d accepted Jamie’s invitation to spend Christmas with them, I’d freaked out. I’d already lined up a dozen excuses when Claire called me the following day, telling me how happy she was I was spending the day with them and how much fun we were going to have as one big happy gay family. Claire was tiny, but she had the biggest set of balls of anyone I knew, except for Ethan.

The gift exchange portion of the night was the only time I felt overwhelmed. I hadn’t been able to spend much, but I’d saved enough over the past year to buy each of them a gift from the bohemian foodie shop close to my apartment. I’d picked out a steampunk coffee grinder for Claire, a macaroni kit and unique dessert cookbook for Jamie, and a serving board that had the words
Eat Me
carved into the wood for Ethan. It was the one gift that had set me back the most, but the one gift I’d been most excited to give. Ethan hooted in delight when he unwrapped and proudly displayed it on an ornate side table near the front door like it was a priceless piece of art and a snarky cutting board.

Even though I’d told them not to get me anything, Claire gave me a cast-iron pan and some new cooking utensils for me to practice my course work at home. I probably would have held it all together if that had been it, but I was at a loss for words when I opened a knife roll set to complement the knife block Ethan and Jamie had gotten me the year before. Both of them just shrugged as I offered a million excuses as to why I couldn’t accept it and left the room to go start the cleanup in the kitchen. Claire perched on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek, murmuring, “We love you, Ty. Just accept the gifts like a good little brother so I don’t have to kick your ass like I do E’s when he pisses me off.”

Without waiting for a response, she left the room to join Ethan and Jamie. Jamie had once told me his chosen family was what saved him when his biological family had abandoned him. Tonight brought that home more than ever. I had a full belly and an overly full heart, and it was almost too much to take.

I was eyeing the front door for a quiet escape when my phone chirped in my back pocket. I wiped my hands off on my jeans and pulled my phone out, my smile threatening to split my face open wide when I recognized his now-familiar number. The text contained four words and a picture of Trevor and an older couple in front of the biggest Christmas tree I’d ever seen.

Christmas in Rockefeller Ctr.

I ran my finger over the screen, taking in everything about the man in the picture. His smile was bright and genuine, his arms tightly around the two people—probably his parents—in the picture with him.

I quickly typed out a reply and pressed Send before I could overthink anything.

That’s one helluva tree.

I’d just exited out of my messages when my phone chirped again. A quick swipe of my finger brought up the message.

You think this one’s big, you should see the one at my ‘rents’ house! Will be back in Seattle in 3 wks. We still on for dinner?

My mind blanked. Trevor had mentioned it a few times, but I’d convinced myself he was just being nice. Friends went out to dinner, didn’t they? There didn’t have to be anything more to his text than one friend asking another friend to meet up for some food. Nothing more.

My fingers were on the keyboard when his next text came through.

Please? Don’t make me beg b/c we both know I’ll do it.

Tempting.

Sadist. Fine. Pretty please? Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaasssssseeee?

Okay, even I knew we were flirting now. With shaky hands, I texted back.

Ok.

Excellent! Gotta run, but I’ll check in soon. Merry Christmas, Ty.

Merry Christmas, Trev.

Laughter rang out in the kitchen, and I put my phone back in my pocket. I still couldn’t wrap my head around what exactly was going on between me and Trevor, but no amount of staring at my phone was going to make it any clearer. I hadn’t been able to make my parents love their gay son any more than I’d been able to keep my new chosen family at bay. If something more happened between me and Trevor, I’d deal with it if or when it came.

Chapter Twelve

Trevor
Second Week of January

Bistro 30 was packed. I’d questioned the sanity of Ethan and Jamie working together at the restaurant so often, but the crowded dining room was a testament to their partnership, both in and out of the kitchen. I stood at the kitchen doors and watched Ethan squeeze J’s shoulder as he walked past him and out of my view. That, in and of itself, made me willing to try harder with Ethan. Dealing with him took a Herculean effort most days, but for Jamie, I’d do just about anything.

Shifting my attention away from the lovebirds, I scanned the kitchen until I found him. Even with his back to me, I would have been able to pick him out of a crowd. A hint of brown hair peeked out from his bandana, and when he turned to the right, I could see a smudge of what looked like flour on his cheek. He looked sweaty and tired and confident, and I was damn glad to see him.

Last month I’d begged Jamie for his number so I could check in with Tyler about something he’d told me, but the truth was I’d wanted to call to make sure I hadn’t completely screwed things up between us in the car. Once I’d landed in New York, I’d pulled out the napkin Jamie had written Tyler’s number on and decided to test the waters with a few texts. At first I’d thought I’d stepped over the line again with my texts but then his reply came through. “
Can I video it?
” And just like that, I felt the tension that had been coiling in my gut all day loosen.

There were never any calls, just words on my phone’s screen. No matter how much I wanted to hear his voice, I respected Tyler’s comfort level and kept to texting. The only unspoken rule was that Tyler never initiated the texts. That job fell to me. He did, however, always text me back, and his sly, witty responses to my jokes always made me laugh. It hadn’t taken long for me to crave those random points of connection between us.

I was amazed by how at ease he was in the kitchen. Each time he smiled or laughed made me realize how tightly strung he’d been with me both times we’d been alone, soft-spoken and guarded, almost as if he was afraid of saying either too much or not enough. The Tyler in the kitchen right now had none of those inhibitions. Especially not with the handsome blond to his right.

Granted, I hadn’t been to Seattle lately, but I couldn’t place the blond kid smiling at Tyler. It was irrational, but I was jealous seeing him this open and carefree when he’d been on his guard the previous times we’d gone out. This side of Tyler, the goofy one who called me on my shit with witty replies when we texted, was what I seeing right now. I even had a name for this version of Tyler: Cyber Tyler. For weeks, all I could think about was having Cyber Tyler all to myself. Except this time it wouldn’t be through texts on my phone’s screen. It would be in the flesh. Then again, maybe I’d misread his texts, and he was just a nice guy who didn’t want to leave me hanging. Maybe it had always been me that had put him on edge. Maybe he’d be better hanging out with people his own age, like this stocky, boy-band wannabe.

I shot one more look at Tyler and his new station buddy, who was entirely too handsy. Could no one else see how much Blondie was touching Tyler? Or was it just that Ethan and Jamie were cool with anyone else touching him, as long as it wasn’t me? I pushed through the doors with a little more force than was necessary.

“Fucking hell. Are you back again?”

Jamie smacked Ethan on the back of the head while I casually scratched under my eye with my middle finger. “I just can’t seem to stay away from you, Martin. Must be that sunny disposition of yours that keeps calling me back to Seattle.”

There were a few chuckles from the kitchen crew, but the only one I noticed was Tyler’s. I shot him a quick wink and was rewarded with a shy smile. Our eyes held for a few seconds longer before I realized Jamie was talking to me.

“I asked you what your plans were for the weekend. I know you’re meeting with Natalie, but you were pretty vague about the timing of it all when we talked earlier this week.”

I’d been vague because I’d been hopeful part of my plans still included hanging out with Tyler and I’d wanted to avoid another interrogation.

“I’m driving down to Portland tonight. Natalie’s a bit nervous about being on camera for the first time, so I figured a few drinks over dinner would help loosen her up. She’s hard as nails in her kitchen, but being on camera is a bit different than raining down a Gordon Ramsay impersonation routine on her crew. Not that you know anything about that.”

“I was terrified the first time you coaxed me onto a set. It’s a miracle my breakfast stayed down during the interview.”

“Nah. You were a natural. Natalie will be, too, once she gets all the butterflies out of her system.”

Jamie nodded, turning back to the mountain of apples and vegetables he’d been chopping when he’d caught me peeping through the window. “She’ll be fine. Tell her to give me a call if she needs to. I’ll be here late tonight, but I can always spare a minute for a pep talk.”

“She’ll appreciate that.” I reached around him to steal an apple slice, but he smacked my hand away.

“One word. OSHA.”

I reached back over him, successfully stealing a slice. “Technically, that’s four words. And what in the hell is that anyway?”

“It’s going to be roasted root vegetables with apples if you ever stop bothering me, asshole.”

“It looks disgusting. And, guilty as charged.”

“I second that motion,” Ethan tossed over his shoulder.

“Hefty bags, bleach and a shovel. That’s all it would take,” Jamie muttered again.

“Your life would be too boring if you killed us off. Admit it,” I said as I took a bite of the apple. Ethan nodded his assent, his innocent face less convincing than mine.

“I really am a glutton for punishment, aren’t I?”

I stole another slice of apple and smiled. “Yes, you are. That’s why you’re taking me to breakfast on Sunday.”

Jamie’s shoulders slumped dramatically, but his smirk told me he’d forgiven our harassment. “If I have to. Text me the time and place.”

“Will do. Now go do something fancy to that mountain of stuff in front of you, because I gotta say, J, not a crowd-pleaser the way it is now.”

He flicked his hand towel at me, as I backed away laughing, each step bringing me closer to Tyler. When I was almost to his station, I felt a hand press against the small of my back. It shouldn’t have felt so damn good. But it did, and it took every ounce of willpower I had to think of rainbows and bunnies and those scary-ass vagina cookies showing up all over the internet to eliminate any sign of just how much that pressure on my lower back really affected me.

“You really do know how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

I sucked at the emo stuff, but this—flirting and casual conversation—this, I could do. I turned to lean against the counter of his prep station. “Jamie needed the laugh. He’s getting too complacent in his old age.”

Tyler shook his head, then turned back to the sauce he was stirring. I leaned over and smelled it, the spicy aroma of cinnamon and rum infused with a sweetness that had to be some sort of sugar syrup.

“God, that smells good. Did you guys add a new dessert to the menu?”

Tyler moved the sauce over and wiped his hands on the towel at his waist. “Actually, it’s for that crowd-pleaser you just mocked.”

I looked back and forth between the two stations, obvious confusion on my face when Tyler laughed and pointed to the slip of paper clipped above his station. “Ethan added it to the menu during Thanksgiving and it’s been a hit ever since. He and Jamie decided to keep it as a regular item through the winter.”

I must have looked doubtful, because he added, “Trust me, it’s better after it’s had some time in the oven.”

He walked over to Jamie and together they layered the vegetable mixture with the sauce in a huge roasting pan. After it was settled in the oven, Tyler made his way back to his station, his smile still present, but it was more guarded than it had been than when I’d watched him through the window.

“How was your flight?”

The blond next to Tyler moved down the line, studiously kept his eyes on the counter as he wiped down the counter with a wet rag. He was close enough, however, for me to see just how attractive, and young, the kid was. I wasn’t an expert on age, but he definitely looked younger than Tyler, at least by a year. Maybe two. I tried not to stare, but the sinking feeling the guy was more than just a coworker ate away at me. Not that Tyler didn’t deserve to have friends. If anything, after the shitty hand his family had dealt him, he deserved to be surrounded by them. But over the past month something had shifted between us. I wasn’t sure exactly what it meant, but I knew I’d looked forward to this trip far more than I had any of my other recent trips to Seattle.

“Earth to Trevor. Trevor?”

I tore my eyes away from the new guy to find Tyler staring intently at me. “Huh?”

“You sure you’re okay?”

No.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just a really long travel day.”

Ethan’s annoying voice cut through the kitchen and the fog I was in. “Nick. Can you make sure the tables are all stocked? We’re getting close to the witching hour.”

Nick?
Who the hell is Nick?

“On it, Chef Martin.” The blond tossed the rag in a bin to the side of Tyler’s prep station and shot a furtive look back at Tyler before disappearing through the swinging doors.

“So, Nick?”

Without taking his attention off the bins of asparagus in front of him, Tyler answered, “Yeah, the new guy I was telling you about. Ethan interviewed him a few weeks ago. Remember me telling you I was ecstatic when Nick was hired because it meant Ethan couldn’t slip up and call me New Guy anymore? Claire also had an opening at her place, but Nick asked if it was okay to start out here as a busser, and then work his way up. Between you and me, I know he can handle a whole lot more than he’s doing right now, but I think he felt more comfortable working here since he already knew me and Ethan.”

I watched as Tyler worked, while I tried to play off my curiosity as simple conversation. “Huh. I guess I just figured Nick was someone like—” I searched the kitchen for the oldest guy I could find “—like Enrique. J didn’t mention anything about Nick being that young last time we talked.”

Tyler shrugged his shoulders. “He just started last week. And he’s not
that
young. Truthfully, I’m not sure they were looking for anyone. Nick asked if I knew of any job postings and one thing led to another. It was just lucky timing.”

Lucky timing for him?
Or you?

“Very lucky. You didn’t say how you knew Nick. Does he go to the Institute with you?”

Thank God the pace in the kitchen was beginning to pick up, because this was not exactly the conversation I’d envisioned having with Tyler when I pulled up to the curb of Bistro 30.

Tyler laid down his knife and turned to face me. For a long moment, he said nothing, just looked at me with those hazel-brown eyes, searching for something.

He shook his head slowly, then turned back to the asparagus. “Avery, a chick I know from the youth shelter, introduced us last month. Avery knew Nick needed a job and she thought I could talk to Ethan for him, since—” He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of Ethan’s station, then lowered his voice. “—we all know Ethan’s not the easiest person to talk to.”

He shrugged again, his knife making quick work of the vegetables. “One thing led to another and Jamie and Ethan decided they could use an extra busser. The hours suck since he agreed to take over the evening shifts, which usually don’t let out until after midnight. And the pay’s minimum wage, so it’s not great money, but Ethan and Jamie send him home with food every night and Nick seems to like it here.”

Tyler paused, then glanced over at me again, his expression softer and sadder than a moment ago. “Being on the streets suck, so any little bit helps. Ya know?”

I answered as honestly as I could, “Not firsthand, but yeah, I do.” Because even though Jamie hadn’t been on the streets, when he’d returned to the States from Paris, he hadn’t had a goddamn thing and even though he hated accepting help, every little bit had helped him find his way.

In that moment, I wanted to kick my own ass. Tyler hadn’t gone into any details about his time on the streets. Sure I’d heard about it from Jamie, but the look in Tyler’s eyes right now told me that nothing Jamie told me could come anywhere close to what Tyler had actually experienced. And instead of being sympathetic to Ethan and Jamie helping some kid get a job, I was ready to pull him away from it all and push him out the door. Why? Because he threatened what? The friendship I’d developed with someone who still hadn’t indicated one way or another if he was even interested in something more?

What in the hell are you doing
,
Pratt?
What were Tyler and I even doing? Friendship? Of course. More than that? I’d be lying if the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. But acting like a possessive Neanderthal after I’d seen him laughing with some kid he met at the fucking homeless shelter? Yeah, that wasn’t in anyone’s best interest.

Mind made up, I pasted a smile on my face and tilted my head toward the door. “I better get on the road. Natalie and I are meeting up for a late dinner and Friday-night traffic sucks big green donkey balls, no matter where you are.”

I expected Tyler to laugh. At the very least, I expected him to make some type of snarky comment I’d gotten used to from our texts. Instead, he opened his mouth, then shut it, a look of confusion on his face.

When he opened his mouth again, his voice was softer, less sure than it had been only minutes before. “Okay. Good luck with the interview thing you have tomorrow.”

Without even waiting for a reply, he turned back to the asparagus. Conversation over. Done.
Finito
.

I nodded and turned to leave. I made it two steps, then stopped.
Fuck it.

“Tyler?”

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“We still on for tomorrow night?”

The tiniest hint of a smile appeared on his face, which he immediately hid as he turned back to his prep station. “Yeah.”