Odd Ball Out (4 page)

Chapter 4

MORGAN: hey would you mind if I’m just in comfy clothes?

HADEN: no, why would I mind?

MORGAN: I just didn’t know if I’d be ‘working’

HADEN: you can wear whatever you want even when you are working, be comfortable. I’m only ever in comfy clothes

MORGAN: alright

HADEN: do you still feel like hanging out?

MORGAN: yeah, do you still want me to?

HADEN: yes

MORGAN: ok, it’s almost 8, did you get your shower yet?

HADEN: not yet

MORGAN: well why don’t you do that first? I don’t want to mess up your routine

HADEN: alright, shouldn’t be long, ttys

MORGAN: k

I drop my phone on the bed and double check that my bedroom door is closed all the way before getting undressed and tossing my dirty clothes in the hamper. I rush through my shower and I’m pulling up boxers when I grab my phone

HADEN: k, done

MORGAN: omw

HADEN: just come in

MORGAN: ok

I’m about to climb into my bed when the door opens and Morgan starts to walk in. I stop. He stops. We both stare at each other. I guess I should have put on more than just boxers since Morgan is in a t-shirt and lounge pants. I straighten up, not sure what to do. Morgan turns and closes the door. Then he flicks off the overhead light, strips off his shirt and pants and gets in bed. Then I see him typing.

MORGAN: now we’re both just in boxers so no biggie, okay? Relax and come sit with me so we can text talk

I read his message and smile, climbing into bed next to him, pulling the covers over my lap.

HADEN: thank you…guess I was just in normal bed time mode. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable

MORGAN: you don’t need to apologize, this is your home, your bedroom and you didn’t make me uncomfortable, I was already ‘uncomfortable’ anyway

HADEN: ?

MORGAN: there isn’t going to be anyway to hide this so I’m just going to be honest, I’m ridiculously attracted to you Haden, don’t freak out, not asking for anything, just wanted you to know so if I act weird or something you have an idea of why it might be, so you’re not trying to guess about things, I know that understanding social stuff is particularly difficult for some autistic folks, so chill

HADEN: alright, chilling

MORGAN: glad to hear it

HADEN: this is bizarre

MORGAN: ?

HADEN: sitting in my bed right next to you typing on our phones to talk

MORGAN: I think it’s nice considering the alternative of being strangers living in the same house and if this is easier for you, then it’s better for me too.

I don’t know what it is about Morgan but he just has me all over the place. It’s difficult to think straight, to gather my thoughts, to rationalize, to plan… he makes everything mix up so that it doesn’t make sense anymore. I’ve never wanted anyone to hug me. Then this little pixie boy comes along and suddenly I’ve asked him to hug me twice in one day! Is something wrong with me?

MORGAN: you’re frowning

HADEN: sorry

MORGAN: don’t be, you’re allowed to frown. I just hope it’s not because of me.

HADEN: you confuse me

MORGAN: so it is because of me

HADEN: yes but I don’t want you to leave I’m just struggling to think it through

MORGAN: think what through

I look up and our eyes meet in the soft glow of the lamp on my nightstand. His are worried and entreating. I don’t know what he sees in mine. I don’t want him to worry.

HADEN: how you make me feel, I don’t even ever remember hugging my mom, now twice in one day with you, it’s…bizarre

MORGAN: oh

HADEN: yeah

MORGAN: what are your theories?

HADEN: I’m crazy

MORGAN: well yeah, but we already know that

HADEN: HEY

I hear Morgan giggle and throw him a mock scowl

MORGAN: oh you know I’m kidding

HADEN: well that’s all I have

MORGAN: tell me why you think you’re asexual?

HADEN: oh wow

MORGAN: you don’t have to, it’s okay, I shouldn’t have asked

HADEN: it’s fine, I just meant like oh wow how do I describe that

MORGAN: oh ok, well how would you describe it?

HADEN: no sexual drive at all, no desire for anyone, except well

MORGAN: what

HADEN: this is all tied up with the story about Mallory

MORGAN: okay, well it’s late anyway, we can talk about it another time

HADEN: okay

MORGAN: hey if you ever want to try the talking thing, I’d be happy to be your guinea pig and I wouldn’t ever laugh or make fun, not suggesting it for now or even the near future, but if sometime you want to try and feel like you can trust me, then I want to be there for you. Would you feel up to a hug goodnight?

I put my phone down and turn toward Morgan with a smile and nod. He scoots closer to me and goes up on his knees, putting both arms around my neck. I curl one arm around his lower back and one around his upper back, pulling him closer. I want to give him something, something to show how much I feel for him, all this overpowering stuff bouncing around in my head, in my body. I whisper haltingly, “t-t-thank y-you.”

Morgan pulls away and again cups my face with both his hands, smiling into my eyes and replies tenderly, “your welcome Haden.” He quickly kisses me on the cheek and is out of my bed, quietly closing my door before I can even process his lips on my face. I reach my hand up, tracing where he’d kissed me. I can imagine it was still a little warm, a little moist.

Morgan sure didn’t seem to have social anxiety around me or my mom, maybe just bigger crowds? No, because he said he’d never been on a date and those can easily be one on one. There was a charming and charismatic personality at first glance, but… something else. Something else just under the surface that I didn’t quite get yet. I know he’d had a rough life, had been struggling to make ends meet and had ended up in the hospital. None of that showed though.

The background had been thorough and all of his story had checked out, so I know he was telling the truth. How was he so… normal? I’m starting to think maybe I don’t know Morgan as well as I think I do.

Chapter 5

In the earliest hour of the morning I wake up suddenly, startled, but not sure why. I am still and quiet and listen hard. There, my door is opening. My heart is beating triple time and I’m starting to panic when I see a familiar face through my lowered lashes. What in the world is Morgan doing? I close my eyes and relax my breathing, curious rather than concerned about why he’s in my room in the middle of the night.

I hear him close the door and my curiosity is further peaked. I focus on my breathing and even shift a bit so I’m not too still. I hear him walk to the foot of my bed where he stops. I hear something rustling, fabric I think. Then after a few moments, silence.

I slit my eyes open just barely and see…nothing. I glance toward my bathroom door but it’s open and dark. I know he didn’t leave the room and I know he didn’t go in the closet because I didn’t hear the door open. The only place he could possibly be that I don’t have clear line of sight is at the foot of my bed.

What is Morgan doing at the foot of my bed, on the floor, in the middle of the night? I ponder the question for a while but have no answers. Soon, my eye lids grow heavy once more and I’m asleep.



The next morning I wake up at 6am and immediately recall the events of the early morning. I swing my feet out of bed and head to the bathroom, like I would any other morning. Only this morning, I’m peeking around the foot of my bed. Nothing. No one there. Normally I’d leave my bathroom door open but today I close it. I check the tub and under the sink. Nope, just me in here.

What a mystery this little pixie is. I find myself intrigued despite the weirdness, or maybe because of it? I’m not sure.

I use the toilet, wash up, brush my teeth and hair and head back into my bedroom. Inconspicuously looking around. I open my closet and no Morgan. I get dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Then I drop down on all fours and look under my bed. Nope. Huh.

Just then I hear a ping from my phone.

MORGAN: hey you! I got up and made us French toast. I know everyone else is still sleeping but you want to come down and eat with me?

HADEN: sure, omw

MORGAN: milk ok?

HADEN: yeah

I head downstairs and see that Morgan must have been up for a while because the table is already set and the French toast is already made and it’s only 6:15. I try for Morgan, “h-hi.” The radiance of his smile warms my whole body. I could bask in that shine for the rest of my life and never get cold. “Hi yourself gorgeous, sit.”

I duck my head at his compliment because I can feel the blush spreading. I hear him sit down next to me. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and pull it out

MORGAN: you’re so cute when you blush

I read his text and promptly cover my face with both my hands, feeling my flesh flaming. I hear his chuckle and to my delighted surprise he reaches over and ruffles my hair. Then he just rests his hand at the nape of my neck, rubbing that soft and sensitive skin with his thumb. He doesn’t stop until I’ve relaxed enough to lower my hands.

MORGAN: so, the French toast is yellowish and the butter is yellowish, so I didn’t know how you’d want it prepared

HADEN: yeah, no butter, just syrup

MORGAN: does it bother you if other people mix the colors?

HADEN: not if I don’t look

MORGAN: so yes, but you’re being nice

HADEN: well, yeah

Without another word Morgan gets up and puts the butter away, not having taken any for himself either. Then he takes my plate and puts it in the microwave to get it warm again, then does the same with his. We eat together companionably, sharing small impish smiles.

When we’re done he cleans up the small mess from making breakfast, including washing the few dishes we used, drying them and putting them away. Then he wipes down the table and counters. Afterwards he picks up his phone without sitting back down and texts me.

MORGAN: what now?

HADEN: oh. I usually work.

MORGAN: ok, do you like coffee or tea or anything in the morning?

HADEN: yeah, actually, coffee

MORGAN: I can make you some and bring it up to you?

HADEN: that would be really great, thank you

MORGAN: how do you like it?

HADEN: little coffee with my milk and sugar

MORGAN: lol, me too, be up when it’s don
e


HADEN: thank you for breakfast, it was wonderful

MORGAN: you’re welcome, now off you go, I won’t have you firing me on the first day because I don’t let you work

HADEN: geez Morgan I’m not going to fire you. Is that why you’re being so nice?

MORGAN: umm, maybe a little, yeah? But only in that I keep pulling away so I’m not monopolizing your time or keeping you up too late. If I wasn’t worried about keeping my job then I would be more selfish and not have a problem monopolizing your time.

HADEN: oh

MORGAN: yeah, not really anywhere to go from there, huh? All right handsome, off you go!

HADEN: you’re killing me…

MORGAN: like I said, cute when you blush

HADEN: ahh!

I escape the kitchen and the maddeningly attractive imp trying to melt my brain with his charm. Unfortunately it’s working because I head to my bedroom and then wonder what I’m doing there before making my way to my office. I spend some time researching insomnia. Then I check my email and see a ton of new replies for the position. I need to delete—.

“AAAAAHHH!”

I spin in my chair and jerk away, my arms flying up to ward off an attack that never comes. I open my eyes to see a very startled and very wretched Morgan. He murmurs, “shit, shit. Haden, I’m so s-sorry.” I shake my head at him and wave my hands, trying to reconnect the stuff that got torn apart, putting things back where they go. I swallow a few times and roll my head on my shoulders. Shake it off. I grab my phone.

HADEN: my fault, I should have told you I startle easily, part of the PTSD stuff. Just knock from now on or call or make noise. No harm done.

I watch Morgan try to set the coffee cup on the corner of my desk but his hands are shaking so bad he’s jerking so hard it’s sloshing everywhere. I look at him closer and see that he’s near tears. Jezus. I place my hands around his around the cup and gently help him steady it so he can set it down. As soon as he does he pulls his hands away and flashes me a weak completely fake smile before trying to flee.

I’m on my feet in seconds because I can’t let him leave thinking he did something wrong. I rush in front of him and shake my head. He just stands there looking beaten, with his head bowed. Nothing like the gregarious outgoing tease I’d seen so far. I reach out to touch his cheek and he flinches, hard.

I suddenly know without a doubt his life has been harder than mine. I’ve never been hit. He’d talked about his size and I’d had my suspicions but… now I know. “Morgan.” I say his name and his head snaps up, tears running down his face. I raise my arms slowly and hope he takes me up on my offer of comfort. With a sob he crashes into me and holds on like he’s never letting go. I hold him tight as well. I tell him, “its o-okay.”

I hold him until his sobbing quiets and gently rub his back and the back of his head, smoothing, caressing, touching were I can reach and where I think it will communicate that I’m in no way upset and that I want him to be happy. He shifts a bit but doesn’t let me go and starts rambling, “I wanted to do everything right. I wanted you to think I could do this. I don’t want to go. I like it here. I like being with you. I know I can do better. I promise I can. I don’t want to go.”

I tell him harshly, “stop.” He freezes in my arms. I know if I try to get my phone to text him to explain he’ll bolt. So I have to try and do this the old fashioned way. Shit. Breathe. “You. P-perfect.” He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. I say with conviction, “yes.” I hold him tighter and kiss the top of his head. He relaxes into me and I know he’s going to be okay.

After a few more minutes he eases back and tries to surreptitiously wipe his face. I take his hand and pull him to my room and into my bathroom. I have him sit on the toilet while I wet a washcloth with cold water. Then I sit next to him on the side of the tub, our knees bumping as I lean forward and wipe his eyes, cheeks, forehead, nose, jaw, mouth and even the back of his neck. I stutter out, “b-b-better?”

He nods and grins that megawatt smile that could light up the entire continent and I’m blow away by his beauty. He’s not classically handsome like you’d think of a rugged male model or something. No, his face is more heart shaped and slender, his eyes big and his lips red, not pale pink, with a cute upturn at the end of his nose. He’s sort of like a waifish elf. I suppose someone else might call him pretty, but that really implies feminine and he’s not. He’s masculine but in a gentler way. Not quite boyish either. Tender hearted. No, not soft, unselfish.

I have no idea how long we’ve been sitting here staring at each other as I’ve been in my head trying to describe exactly what this perfectly wonderful sprite in front of me looks like, but we’re eventually interrupted.

“Good morning boys. I was wondering if you were hungry?”

I reply, “n-n-no.” My mom is stunned. I don’t talk and when I do it’s only when I know I won’t stutter, when I have control of the anxiety. I never speak if I’m feeling anxious. Even when I was younger at the first sigh of stuttering I’d clam up. To say she’s surprised I struggled through it would be a massive understatement. Morgan explains, “No thank you ma’am. I made French toast this morning for Haden since it’s his favorite and there are plates for both you and Mallory in the oven.”

My mom beams at him, as I knew she would, “that sounds wonderful Morgan, thank you. I didn’t realize you’d already be working so soon after getting here. We usually give new hires a few days to settle in.”

I felt bad. It was true, normally we did. I shouldn’t have let him cook breakfast his first morning here. To my surprise rather than reply to my mom Morgan looks at me and says with a stern expression, “no. I know exactly what you’re thinking. You don’t get to feel guilty because I offered to make breakfast.” Then he turns back to my mom and states, “thank you anyway ma’am. I’m good to go. I know you’re anxious to get me trained up so you can rest assure your son and grandson are well taken care of while you enjoy your well-earned retirement. So whenever you’re ready to show me the ropes, I’m ready to learn.”

I smile at him. When he wants something he sure doesn’t hold back. He’s charmed the pants right off my mom and she’s a pretty tough old bird. Had to be with me as a son. Morgan should go into politics. Except, no, I know better. This is his armor, his cover for the hurting person underneath. He’s too good, too sweet and eager to please for politics.

I tune back into the conversation and realize my mom and Morgan are making plans to go shopping later today. That way he can learn the route to town and get familiar with the city and where everything is. They agree to leave around 10am and then my mom is leaving.

Morgan and I are once more left alone in the bathroom. We share a smile and then we’re getting up and he’s headed to his room and I go to my office to get some work done.