"He had an issue. I was trying to be supportive."
"What about me? Didn't you think that I'd be waiting by my phone? I sent six bouquets, Grant, not one, but six. I thought maybe you hated them and I was stupid for even considering it."
"It's not stupid."
"Oh, no? Then I guess your conversation with your best friend was more important than your boyfriend, or soon-to-be husband." Tristan got off the bed and walked over to "his" side. He got in and pulled the sheets up, rolling onto his side away from me.
He was really upset about it. I quickly brushed my teeth and returned to bed. I scooted up behind him and stared at his back-it was like a gigantic, tan, muscular wall, intricately carved with black lines. I had briefly seen the tattoo of a dragon that covered most of his back, but I hadn't had a chance to study it until now. I traced my fingers over his scapula where the great beast's eyes were. Tristan wiggled. I wasn't sure if it was a wiggle to get away or an I-like-this wiggle, but I did it again. I kissed where my fingers touched, his skin warm against my lips as I trailed kisses down part of the dragon's wing.
I scooted closer and lifted up on one elbow, kissing his neck, behind his ear, and his bald head. It felt weird kissing his scalp, but as I hadn't kissed anyone's hair except Mel's, I couldn't compare the feeling. I rested my hand on his shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry."
He didn't say anything, but he touched my hand and then tried pulling my arm across his chest. My arms weren't long enough to comfortably drape over his shoulder, so I suggested, "Here, let me try spooning you this time."
I slid down behind him and pressed my body against his with my face tucked by his neck. Tristan quickly grabbed on to my arm as I slipped it around his waist. The position wasn't exactly uncomfortable, since we were only separated by a few inches in height, but he was bigger, and I felt like I was wrapping a stick figure around a sumo wrestler. That was a bad analogy, though, and I was glad he couldn't read my mind, because he wasn't fat-he was simply larger than me.
He whispered, "Press your dick against my ass."
Not exactly something anyone else had ever suggested. I immediately got self-conscious. I wasn't hard, but of course I was getting there thinking about what he wanted me to do. Would he feel me? I was not endowed. I realigned my body and pushed my hips forward, pressing myself against his ass.
Tristan grunted.
When he said nothing further, I was forced to ask, "Was that a good grunt, or a bad grunt? I couldn't tell. Can you even feel me?" I nudged forward again to emphasis my question.
He grunted again, closer to a moan. "I feel you, baby, and it's real good." He reached behind him with his long arms and grabbed my ass, pulling me tight against his rear. "You feel real good," he reiterated.
I was trying to relax and go with it, but he was squeezing my ass and I couldn't calm myself down.
Tristan let go and instructed, "Roll over."
I wasn't sure why. I thought he'd liked me nudging my groin against him. I did as asked, and Tristan rolled over with me. He spooned me like he had done before, pressing his seal club into my butt and wrapping his long arm over my chest. I felt his breath on my ear.
"Calm down, Grant. Just go to sleep."
"You're not mad?"
"It's the first time I've ever sent someone flowers. Your reaction was not what I'd hoped for, but I'm sure the next time, you'll at least say thank you."
One tear slipped from my eye. I'd been a dick. Not the first time, and probably not the last, but I hated the sound of his voice. I rubbed his arm and held it securely.
"Grant?" he whispered.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for going shirtless."
I smiled. I knew everything would be okay.
Chapter 10: Need, Want, And Fearing The Things I've Never Done
I WOKE up and Tristan was gone. I panicked slightly but spied a note on my dresser.
Grant,
I left because it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding … or some shit like that. I'll meet you at the courthouse at 8:15. I'm not mad. I want to marry you.
~T
P.S. Sorry about the sheet. I had a wicked wet dream about you last night.
I walked back to my bed and inspected the sheet. It was dry, but I could see the spot he referred to. I rather enjoyed knowing he dreamed about me so vividly, since I dreamed about him all the time. I pulled the sheets off after tossing the pillows aside and remade the bed. I couldn't leave it until after work.
I walked into the kitchen, and it hit me. "Holy shit, I'm getting married this morning." I tried my best to remain calm as I ate some cereal and made my lunch for work, but my nerves were jumping. I took a shower, only to stare at the cowlick in my hair afterward as I combed it. "Seriously?" I asked my hair. "Of all the days for you to decide to look like Alfalfa."
I was admittedly too young to have watched Our Gang when it was originally on television, but when I had lived with my mom she had often watched reruns of very old black-and-white shows like Our Gang, The Andy Griffith Show, and The Munsters. I thought they were funny, so I had never minded watching with Mom. Now, though, I didn't want to look like the kid with the single clump of hair standing straight up on the top of his head. I was getting married!
I did what I had to do to fix my hair and went to the closet.
I donned the shirt Tristan had picked out. It was white with thick blue pinstripes. A very different look for me, but it matched so well with the sports jacket I had also bought that I was very pleased. Moreover, my new shirt matched the navy blue shirt Tristan had picked out, which meant the pictures we took together after the ceremony would look nice.
Deep breath. I left my house, got in my car, and met Tristan at the courthouse.
THE CEREMONY took ten minutes, and the pictures took two. In no time, we were back in the parking lot standing next to my car. I stared at Tristan, and he stared back. It was obvious neither one of us knew what to say. I swallowed and took a stab first. "Um, I guess that's it." The whole thing seemed anticlimactic.
"Yeah," he responded slowly. I never thought one word could be drawn out so far, but it was as if he couldn't form any other words.
"Yeah," I agreed, tapping the tips of my fingers together and mentally registering the added weight of the rings on my left hand. It wasn't much, but enough to remind me of their presence without looking.
He must have caught my fidgeting, because he took my hands in his and said, "I'm glad we did this. I'm sure once we settle into the idea, this marriage won't sound so preposterous."
"Yeah, you're right." Was he? We had sort of done it to prove a point to his baby momma. That probably wasn't the worst reason in history to get married, but I'd bet it was up there.
"I've gotta get to work and change. How about we go out to dinner tonight. Your choice."
I thought it over. We hadn't gone to dinner except for the one time when I had spilled my drink on him. Dinner could be nice. "Okay," I agreed.
"I'll pick you up."
"Okay."
Tristan brushed my lips with his and caressed my cheek before sighing and running his hand over my hair. He paused and pulled my head down gently. "Um, what's this?" he asked, pulling the pin from my hair. "Is this a bobby pin?" He eyed it curiously.
"Yeah. My hair wouldn't cooperate this morning."
Tristan chuckled. "You're adorable." He kissed me again and then handed over the pin. "I'm going. I'll see you later." Tristan turned and walked to his truck, parked two spaces down. He grinned and waved at me from the driver's seat before driving away.
I got to work early, so I had a few nervous minutes to relive the simple vows in my head. We had promised to love and care for one another. We had promised to support one another and respect one another. I had pledged my life to Tristan Carr; I was his husband, and he was mine. I should probably inform my mother.
I needed Alka-Seltzer.
AT THE bank, I went right to my work window in my "cubicle away from home." I straightened everything, aligned my deposit slips, and made sure my pens were all facing down. My eyes caught sight of the rings on my hand, and for a moment I stared at the diamond. It sparkled. I turned my hand and tilted it so the light caught in the stone at several angles. Something inside caught, like my breath hitching, but not. It was that feeling when you want to sob, but your eyes haven't quite watered. My whole chest seized. I was married.
"Good morning, dear one," Mrs. Snyder said in a sultry voice.
I jumped and pulled my hand down to my side. As she explained her deposit and subsequent transfer, I used my thumb to slide my ring around backward, hiding the diamond inside my fist. "No problem," I said with a smile. I took her stack of money and checks and turned to enter them in.