Midnight Parking in Olmos Park

Chapter 10: Jase

An hour. 60 minutes. 3,600 seconds.

The night's still young, and I asked Michael if he would meet me on the beach again tonight in one hour. 

It was surprising to meet him like that in person. I thought the next time I'd see him would be another late night on the beach, smoking on my pen and telling more of our personal business to each other.

Instead, it was here in my Pop's shop. 

I was right about it being at night, but not the setting I had hoped. 

It still felt like perfect timing because nobody was there to be nervous around.  I tried not to seem surprised when I opened the door for him, but it was obvious the feeling was mutual.

When I saw him under the shop lights I managed to get a better view of him. He has curly, light brown hair that stopped a little above his ears. There were blonde highlights that twisted down the strands - making his hazel eyes stand out more than they already did. His skin was tanned not too dark but not too light, and I could tell he wasn't scrawny. He was wearing a white shirt that was see-through, and his pecks had a good definition along with his faint abs. 

I'd more than likely need to see him without a shirt to have a better view. 

I remember having to move to the counter because my mind was starting to play different scenarios when he turned around to look at the hooks. 

I'm not sure what came over me, because I don't get like this with girls. I used to be with Berevice before we got together but stopped when I knew she wasn't making me happy.

I thought that side of me had died and buried itself far inside. 

Michael's a guy and doesn't give off liking the same sex. Of course, not that I'm expecting him, too.... maybe.

I'm probably way over my head with him because I hardly know him as a person. Who knows if he'll even show up tonight? I'm not expecting him, too. 

Although it would be a little disappointing if he killed the idea of him I had built in my head for the past twenty-four hours.

I know I asked Hillary to stay for an hour longer with Pop, so I could go to the gym after closing up. Hopefully, she doesn't mind if I skip the gym and go straight to the beach. 

After parking my truck in the driveway, I grabbed my backpack and hopped down. I noticed the porch lights were off, but there was a clear view of them in the living room. 

I paused for a brief second when I noticed the two of them were asleep on the couch together. Hillary's head comforted Pop's shoulder as he held her against him. 

When my grandmother was still alive, that's how I would find them on the couch when I was in high school. 

I don't know if it was an intentional thing between them both, but I wouldn't mind.

Hillary takes care of Pop the way my grandmother used to, so I know she's up in heaven rooting for them right about now. 

My grandmother was the one who taught me not to be bitter when good things happen to others because there's always a reason.

Whether that reason was Pop wanted to move on, or stop being sad that his wife was no longer with him, I'll never stop supporting him. 

I skip a step on the stairs so it wouldn't creek, and quietly unlocked the door with my key.

Before I shut it behind me, I make sure they didn't wake up. I turned the knob all the way so they wouldn't hear the click, then let it go once I had shut the door completely. 

It's funny how I used to do this in high school when I would sneak out to go hookup with Berevice, and I'm still doing it but to make sure Pop doesn't catch me walking in on him and Hillary. 

I step out of my shoes at the bottom of the stairs and hook them with my fingers before heading up. When I reach my bedroom, I shut the door and toss my backpack onto the bed. 

I walk inside my closet and put my shoes on the rack, before stripping down to my Calvin Klein's.

 I don't care about what I wear, just as long as I don't look messy. 

However, for some reason, I'm putting more effort into my thinking about what shirt looks better while laying in the sand, and what shorts are good enough to compliment my masculine legs.

I walk to my bathroom in my briefs and brush my teeth, then gargle half a cap of Listerine, then pluck a few tiny hairs from between my eyebrows, then shave so my face can look smoother than it already does, then pat it down with aftershave so I can smell extra fresh, then put on more deodorant because I was sweating a bit when I had to unload the boxes from the back of the shop, then I finally spray myself down with Dior Homme cologne. 

I go back into my closet and debate on if I should even wear a shirt. He's seen me shirtless, so it wouldn't make a difference. 

I know I didn't really know him last night, and I still don't, but he didn't make me feel uncomfortable that I didn't have one on like most girls do when I'm at the beach.

I should probably keep it casual, though, and put one on. I'll wear my favorite black T-shirt since it feels good against my chest and catches a lot of attention. 

Hopefully, the kind of attention I want to get from Michael.

No, wait, I'll just wear white. Yeah, a white T-shirt because if I decide to splash him with water, hopefully, he'll do it back and get me wet and see my body through my wet shirt.

Genius, Jase.

Shit, what the hell am I even saying? Now, I do sound like a girl who's getting ready to go on a date with their crush. 

I don't have a crush on Michael, though... I think. Yeah, he's making me a little more excited than usual, but that's only because, besides Jackson, I have another guy friend to talk to. 

I'm not limited to just Jackson, and his opinions. Even though, I appreciate Jackson and his opinions, it'd be nice to have another guy friend who wasn't a dick like most of the guys back in California. 

Yeah, that's it. I like Michael and the idea of him being my guy friend. There's nothing wrong with two guys hanging out on a beach, at almost ten o'clock at night, having another deep talk. We're going to smoke, too, so it shouldn't be that awkward. 

I'm just letting random shit get to me at this point, and I need to just cool it down. 

Fuck it.

I put on my Stanford hoodie and a pair of baggie gym shorts. I pull my socks off, because who the fuck wears socks on a sandy beach?

I check the time on my phone and I realize I'm still twenty minutes early. Maybe I should still go out there, and take a few hits on the way so I can go back to being calm. The kind of calm and less excited version of me that I show girls. 

Hillary and Pop are still asleep on the couch, this time Pop was snoring and Hillary was hugging him. I grab the blanket on the arm of the sofa and lay it over them gently. 

I'm still tip-toeing around them and past the kitchen to the backdoor when I hear Hillary softly utter, "Thank you, Jase." 

I nod my head with a smirk before sliding the door open and closing it behind me.

When I'm outside, I play it cool. Calm. Collective. There was a small breeze again, but it still felt like the wind was barely hitting my face. 

I was about a few steps in when I noticed that I forgot to bring my pen with me. I patted my pockets and only felt my phone. "Fuck," I whisper to myself, biting my lower lip. 

As I'm about to turn around to jog back for it, Michael catches me by surprise. Except, he's sitting by the water - close enough to get his feet and bottom wet. 

He's holding his knees to his chest, and swiping his hair away from his face. Which was weird, because it wasn't even windy. It didn't even seem like the blowing breeze was even moving his hair. 

It took me a few seconds to realize that he was crying and talking to himself. He was looking at the ocean the entire time, and not once did his face fall to his lap.