Page 10 of Axes and Ohs

Erick

Also I may have just agreed to sub here again next week. They initially said they’d prefer someone bilingual, since it’s an ESL preschool program, but I guess I’m the best of what’s around.

My heart does that little skip again, the one I can’t seem to control.

Erick’s taken a couple of six-week Spanish intensives to refresh the Spanish he learned in high school, and he’s been talking about getting more involved with Spanish-speaking kids since December at least. This week, he’s finally doing it, working at a school in Queens.

Or maybe just the best, full stop. Obviously they love you or they wouldn’t have asked you to stay.

Erick

And yet I’m still fucking terrified I’ll accidentally tell someone their kid’s a beautiful potato instead of a beautiful child.

Papa hermosa instead of niño hermoso? Common mistake.

Erick

Lol.

Seriously, though, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Parents would roll with it and the kids would correct you. No one expects perfection, just effort.

Erick

See, this is why I need you. You make it seem so easy.

Ugh. The casual way he says, This is why I need you, melts me into a puddle. But it also makes the questions in my head louder.

Do I need him back? Or am I just caught up in the novelty—the impulsiveness—of it all? Fuck knows, I suck at relationships, even the ones with women, where I theoretically have some experience.

If Erick were here right now, would I still want to kiss him?

Fuck yes. One hundred percent. Without a doubt.

“Carlos!” Beckett shouts. “You just finish what you’re doing, buddy. It’s cool. Take your time. I mostly pay you for the joy of standing around holding heavy shit while watching you stare at your phone with gooey eyes.”

I catch Freddy’s eye, and we both smirk a little.

If there’s one person on this crew who’s got his gooey eyes glued to his phone more than I do, it’s Beckett. At least since Griffin Mercer exploded into his life and Beckett fell hardcore, capital-L in love.

Unfortunately for all of us, though, Griff’s been super busy working on a big Winsome tourism campaign at his new job, and Beckett’s been working long hours here, which means the boss needs to get laid. Badly.

And Jesus fuck, so do I.

Ideally, by a certain hot New Yorker who makes me laugh, who makes me want to tell him shit I’ve never told anyone else, and whose texts and phone calls feel like more of a “real” relationship than any I’ve ever been in before.

Unless, of course, I’m misremembering that one night back in October. Unless the phenomenal heat that flared between us wasn’t really as wild and consuming as it is in my memories. Unless I’m making all this shit up.

Look, I’m not usually this guy. Doubting myself, questioning my feelings… that’s not how I roll. If I feel something, I act on it. Yeah, impulsively.

But this feels different. I don’t want to mess it up.

You’d think it would be easy enough to answer this question by just visiting Erick. But it’s not that simple. Axford Lumber’s got a bunch of new work that’s kept me hopping, and my mom still needs some help, though she insists she doesn’t. I can’t just leave town, no matter how much I want to.

Besides, Erick’s started volunteering and substitute teaching. He sublet an apartment, and money is tight for him right now, so it’s not like he can take a vacation either.

It sucks that I’m in limbo—we’re in limbo—but my brain keeps reminding me that life’s like this. For all that “impulsive” deeds make good stories, that’s not what being an adult’s about.

“Coming!” I yell back to Beckett, who’s still waiting on me. But I can’t help typing one more message.