blue (book one) - h.s. ✔️ watty's 2019

chapter 108

"Get your ass over here and help us out, Styles."

"Yea,"

"We're sick and tired of carrying dead weight."

"My shoulders actually, physically hurt from carrying your ass, bro. I mean, I respect the fact that you have a child and everything now, but I know you're not that tired. Parker carries the both of you singlehandedly."

"Fuck off," I shout, giving the middle finger to a few of my work buds while laughing. Despite their words, I'm actually in really good with all of them. Most of them are a lot older than I am, only a few falling within my age range. They've all come to really like Parker. Of course, it'd be hard not to with his over the top kindness. Each time he's stopped by to bring me my lunch he'd bring with him an entire plate of chocolate chip cookies and ice cold lemonade. The fellas all really adore baby Nolan. They gush over how tiny he is every single time. He really is a little bundle of radiant joy, isn't he?

The guys have been on me all day about my "work ethic". Recently, Parker's been studying diligently for his first online midterm. To help him out, I've taken on a bit more of Nolan's responsibilities and have been a little lazy at work to say the least. The shits have no idea how hard it is to take care of a child. This experience has made me respect Parker even more.

"We're just messin' with you, Styles," Stephen, one of the older guys here says, patting me roughly on my shoulder. His white hair and extended belly make him look like Santa in the flash. He's been here longer than anyone else. Actually, he has more than enough money to retire and live up the second half of his life. He just doesn't want to. It's beyond my comprehension.

"Come on. We have just one more load before we can get out of here," he claims, chuckling lightly.

The warehouse is pretty much like any other warehouse you might know. The ceilings sit high above us with stacks of cargo reaching just below them. Two extremely wide and high garage-like openings are on opposite ends of the building. The lighting in here is positively ghastly. It's amazing how Parker still manages to radiate in the worn down building. It's pathetic but I miss him a lot when I'm working. He doesn't know this, but it's actually a little depressing for me to have to leave him and Nolan for so long. I think they call it separation anxiety or something like that. I don't know. I'm no psychologist.

The packages of cargo that we're forced to carry ourselves are insanely heavy most days. If not for the gym classes I've been attending lately, the daily grind would suck. When I have the chance to I like to go off somewhere by myself just to think sometimes. I was actually doing this before getting caught by the guys a little while ago.

So much about me has changed lately. Not just emotionally and mentally for the better, I'd like to think, but also physically. My physique has never been more toned. Parker has slowly but surely, completely revamped my fashion. Aside from the more high end ensembles, I tend to dress more. . . normal? I really don't know how to describe it other than "less dark". Sure, every now and then you might see me wearing all black. That's just something that'll never change. But as for all the piercings and tight jeans and that jazz, I don't really have much interest in a lot of that stuff anymore. I hate to waste time focusing on timelines, but I do believe that the earliest change in my appearance can be tracked back to our first night in Nevada. Something about what that prick that tried to feel up on Parker said about me not "fitting in" or something like that resonated with me, even now. I don't like that when standing next to the blue-eyed boy, I'm considered to be an embarrassment. With time, I know that I can be better for him.

With the last box loaded and the final door locked, Stephen and I head to my new truck. Parker, being the little host that he is, has insisted that the guys come over for dinner and a game. I don't know why he tries so hard to impress the people in my life. Aside from his parents, I don't really care what either of his friends, or anyone else for that matter, think about me. Regardless, I asked that he fix these amazing barbecue ribs we sampled while in Chicago. They were to die for! If there's anyone that can remake them, it's him. He was very happy with my suggestion, firing off a list of appetizers and dips that would go great with them.