Crush

Sweeping his hair up into a ponytail to get it off his sweaty neck, Chay squatted down to pick up the next to last box that would go up in his new office. His back complained and his arms were trembling by the time he set the box down, but he went to stand in the center of the room to see all that he had accomplished anyway.



Sadly, it wasn’t much.



Using the rest of the life-insurance payout he’d inherited when his mother died, Chayton had purchased all new furniture for his new digs. He’d had no choice. After fleeing Running Rivers in an aging Toyota Corolla, Chayton didn’t own much more besides his clothes, books and some family memorabilia. He’d gone on a shopping spree his first day in town. As a result he had a desk, chair, and three book shelves still sitting patiently in their boxes waiting to be split open and built. He had about six boxes of books he’d had mailed to his current address, and a smaller box of awards and certificates that he planned to decorate the walls with. And that was just the office.



His bedroom was as bare as a newborn’s ass, and his living room wasn’t in much better shape. A kitchen table and chairs would be delivered to the house—thankfully all put together—two days from now and he was just counting his blessing that he had a stove and refrigerator. Not that he’d be making any meals anytime soon with his cabinets and fridge empty.



Padding from the room in his bare feet, Chay jogged down the stairs in search of his car keys. He’d need to make a run for the store to get some groceries. While it was tempting to call out for delivery, he’d been living off greasy, fried food for a few days now. He didn’t think his body could stomach another ounce. A fresh chicken salad sounded like just the thing and it wouldn’t take long to prepare.



Besides, going into town would help him familiarize himself with Brighton. He’d need to do that if he wanted to get to know the local townspeople. Chay had grown up an only child, but he’d never lacked for company. His mom’s sister had had seven children herself and they’d weathered hard turns in the economy together in a two bedroom house. By nature of birth Chay was a social creature and while he was proud to call this place home, he was not eager to enjoy it all by himself.



He found the keys on the side-table near the front door and paused long enough at the front door to slip on his sneakers before he left the house and climbed into his car. As he was backing out, he noticed an elderly neighbor who lived across the street watering his flowers. Chay waved to the man. The elderly gentlemen’s eyes squinted beneath busy white eyebrows. He frowned at Chay’s Toyota and waved half-heartedly back.



It didn’t faze Chay. He was used to weird looks and odd behavior. The Running River kids were always a spectacle when they tumbled into town. Chay turned to his favorite rock station and turned up the volume. He rolled down his windows to let in the cool air and settled into his well-worn bucket seat as he nodded his head to the beat of Aerosmith.



Brighton’s shopping center was just like any other; a cloistered set of stores painted nonthreatening light blue, beige, and white. The local Easy Shop sat in the middle of it all. A florist, Pizza Palace, and sporting goods store stood off to its right. A Yarn Barn, ice cream shop, and local bank flanked its left.



Not bothering to circle the parking lot to find a place to park closest to the building, Chay tucked his Corolla into the first spot he saw available, palmed his keys and got out. He didn’t notice the curious looks being shot his way until he had his cart down the juice isle, and was contemplating whether to go with the grape pomegranate or the lime watermelon juice.



The redhead whispering to her blushing companion drove that point home. They were staring at Chay. He couldn’t fathom why he was getting so much attention. He even looked down to see if his zipper had come undone or he’d spilled something that resembled blood down the front of his shirt. Besides his well-worn sneakers, serviceable jeans, and a crisp, new blue t-shirt he couldn’t find anything wrong, but he remained ill at ease as he finished up the rest of his shopping.



As he was waiting in the cashier’s line to be rung up, a lady wearing a polka-dotted dress and pulling her whining kid in tow walked up to Chayton and introduced herself.



“Hey there, my name’s Winona Braxton. Are you new here in Brighton? I certainly haven’t seen you before.”



Chayton flicked his gaze from her kid plucking a snickers bar from the candy rack back to the smiling lady with perfectly manicured nails. “Yes, I’m new here.” He shook the hand she’d stretched out to him. Chayton Whitehorse, ma’am.”



She giggled. “Oh, such manners. Please call me Winona or Winnie if you prefer.”



“Why Winona Braxton, what have you managed to snag this time?” Chay’s attention was directed toward a buxom blond with overly tanned skin and sparkling blue eyes rimmed in white eye shadow. She had to be in her mid-forties but her behavior was that of a woman only half her age as she batted false eyelashes up at Chay.



Winona giggled some more and playfully slapped the woman’s arm. “Don’t embarrass me Diane. He’s just a new resident of Brighton. Very sweet young man.”



The polka-dotted lady’s kid made an impatient noise and crammed half the snicker bar in his pie-hole. His mother squeaked like a mouse. “Ennis Braxton, you spit that out right now.”



“Diane Peters, pleased to meet you.” Diane had squeezed around mother and son. A dark blue hand cart swung from her slim— orange-tinged—arm. She offered him her free hand, prim and ladylike.



Chayton didn’t know whether to shake or kiss it. “Chayton Whitehorse, ma’am.” He settled for an awkward shake.



She flashed two rows of pearly white teeth, and Chay found himself almost hypnotized staring at the shiny white surfaces. Her lips were moving, but he didn’t hear her for the few seconds it took to pull his act together. “…do you live?”



“Franklin.” The name of his street just seemed to pop out of his mouth. He thanked God he’d had enough sense not to add the number.



“Oh, that’s only half a block from where I live, sweetie. We’ve got to throw you a welcome party so you can get to know folks around Brighton.”



“Sir, are you ready to be rung up yet?” The words were spoken with the inflection of dry boredom. Chay turned to see a young man who couldn’t be more than eighteen. Probably one of my students Chayton thought, as he made his apologies to Diane and Winona and gratefully scooted his cart up the isle so he could deposit his groceries on the belt.



Diane kept chattering at him about this social event and that as she used the divider to separate their groceries. Winnie’s son had started caterwauling when his mommy made him spit out the chocolate. Chayton felt like he wanted to abandon his groceries and run.



“Ma’am you’re going to have to pay for that,” the teen cashier informed Winnie as he methodically scanned the barcode of each item on Chayton’s side of the belt.



Without making any promises to attend the events Diane was talking about, Chayton beat a hasty retreat the moment he had receipt in hand. As he was exiting the store, a small group of teenagers intercepted his path. Or rather one on a skateboard ran into his cart. “Dude, I’m sorry,” the reed-thin brunet started to say as he pulled his upper body off Chayton’s eggs and bread.



“It’s okay,” Chay started to say when a tall blond stepped up behind the guy and smacked the sideways cap off his head.



“No, it’s not, dickweed. Watch where you’re going—.” The blond’s words drew to a halt as recognition appeared in his bright gray-blue eyes. “Chayton.” When the corners of his lips curled into a smile Chayton thought he’d melt right into his shoes.



“You know this guy?” A handsome brunet, sporting a light blue polo and khaki shorts appeared over the blond’s shoulder, hanging off him like a curious monkey.



“He’s the new teacher at our high school.”



The skinny skateboarder slapped his cap back on his head and shot Andrew a reproachful look. “That wasn’t cool man.”



“Shut up, Hank.”



Hank shut up.



“Listen, I’m really sorry about this idiot running into you like that,” Andrew offered. He looked down into Chay’s cart and spotted the dented carton of eggs on top of the rest of Chay’s groceries.



He lifted the bag that contained them with a frown.



Chay started to patch things over as he usually did. “It’s no big deal. Just a couple of eggs.”



“No. Hank is going to pay for this.” Andrew held out his hand.



He didn’t have to say a word, with much grumbling Hank fished out a wallet with skulls and crossbones on it and slapped a five into Andrew’s hand. Andrew held it out to Chay.



Chayton shook his head. “I can’t take your money.”



“It’s not Hank’s money after he broke your eggs and smashed your bread. Please, take it.”



Chayton shook his head. “I wouldn’t be proper taking money from students.”



Andrew sighed.



Hank looked hopeful until Andrew passed the money back to the brunet standing behind him. “Looks like the Jimmy Fund jar is getting a little low.”



The brunet grinned knowingly, spun on his heel and jogged into Easy Shop.



“If you can’t take our money at least let us pay you back for the inconvenience.”



Chayton couldn’t help but grin. Who was this kid? A white knight? Chay'd certainly never run into his type before. Chayton was used to taking his bumps and bruises in silence where he got them. No one had ever stood up for him or his things, especially for something as small as a carton of eggs.



“I’m fine,” he said, taking a cue from his complaining stomach. He needed to get home and cook…and clean. Dammit.



“There must be something we could do to pay you back,” Andrew insisted, taking a step closer to Chay. Chay felt diminutive in the big football player’s shadow though he was hardly a little boy at five foot eight. “Cleaning? Moving? Unpacking?”



Man, this kid had his number. He’d hit the nail on the head. He was an intelligent jock, Chay would give him that. Thinking of how long it would take to put away all his stuff and build all those shelves, and paint his bedroom… by himself, Chay began to waver.



“Well…”



***



Bone-tired, covered in paint, with a bruised thumb, Andrew Robinson sauntered into the house with a smile on his face. The house smelled like chicken and tomato sauce, which could only mean that Mom had made his favorite: parmesan chicken over egg noodles.



Andrew drifted into the kitchen to find his mother sitting at the table smoking a cigarette and reading a magazine. She was dressed in her nurse’s uniform, her long blond hair caught at the top of her head in a bun. She looked up as Andrew started up the water in the sink in a vain attempt to scrub some of the paint off his fingers.



“God, honey, what have you been up to.”



Andrew couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried. Chayton Whitehorse lived down the street. Christ Almighty, this was turning out to be a great year. “Helping someone move in,” he said to his mom.



“Oh, yeah, someone finally by the tiny house on Franklin?”



“Yep.” Together Drew, Chay, and a few of his friend’s had made it a home for the newest Brighton resident. He took great satisfaction knowing that the cream paint that had been applied to Chay’s bedroom had been by his hand. Chay had even let him hang the curtains, seeing that with his height he wouldn’t even need a chair or ladder.



Chay had directed their activities as he, Gabriel, Hank, and Derek had followed the manuals to build three bookshelves, a desk, and assemble two chairs. Under Chay’s watchful eye they’d arranged the furniture, swept the floors, painted the walls and stacked the dishes in record time.



Even when night fell and Chay had offered to serve them supper, Andrew hadn’t wanted to leave. Hank started grumbling about being late for curfew and Andrew had drove so there wasn’t any way they were going without him, but the deciding factor had been seeing the tired droop of Chay’s eyes at the end of the night. The poor man was beat. Andrew had called it a night and gone on to drop his friends at their respective houses.



During the drive home, Drew couldn’t stop thinking about Chayton lying in his big lonely bed, exhausted and alone. He couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like if things were different, if he were to share Chay’s bed, to wrap his arms around the other man’s slim body and hold him through the night.



“I’ll be working a double-shift tonight,” Andrew’s mom piped up, blowing out a ring of smoke.



“Okay.” Andrew lifted the lid off the noodles and piled them onto his plate. He added the chicken and sauce, helped himself to a big glass of coke and joined his mother at the table.



He waved the cloud of smoke away as he sat down. “Ugh, Ma, you know you shouldn’t smoke. I thought you were going to quit.”



His mom nodded her agreement as she turned the page of her magazine, took one long drag of her cigarette and crushed it out in an astray full of butts. “I know I shouldn’t smoke, especially being a nurse. But it’s so addictive, yanno. Don’t you ever try smoking cigarettes, Drew. It’s so hard to quit. Even though I know it’s bad to smoke I feel like I just can’t leave it alone.”



Her comment touched a chord with Andrew as he thought of Chayton and his growing fascination for the new teacher. Even though I know it’s bad….I feel like I just can’t leave it alone.



Drew nodded his understanding to his mother as she bestowed a smoky kiss on his cheek and bid him goodnight. When she was out the door he tucked into his food, turning her words over and over inside his head as he assuaged one hunger and contemplated the blossoming of another.