❝"I don't do straight guys," Art said with the kind of confidence Brady had always wanted.
"I am not asking you to do me." He scoffed defensively crossing his arms over his chest.
"Then why are you looking at me like you want me to?"❝
Playing...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(unedited)
I knew my mother had come around to the house when I woke up on Saturday morning to see the last of my closet along with my records and record player placed neatly placed on the floor, Pam's handy work no doubt.
But when I got up she was gone and uncle Mario was seated by the table, Pam across from him with breakfast on the table and yet no mom in sight. She must have dropped it off early and made a run from it and by the looks on my new guardians faces my suspicions were right.
"So what you doing today kiddo?" My uncle asked as I dished myself an omelette.
"I don't know." That was a lie, I did know, I would probably sort out my records and lay in bed the whole day.
"Well, I'm going to the hardware store if you want to come?" Mario suggested.
"Or you can come with me to the flea market?" Pam suggested as an alternative.
"Okay," Was the only word I could find.
"You wanna do both?" Pam asked slightly taken aback to which I merely shrugged. "Okay well go shower and get dressed, we leaving in an hour."
"Let the boy finish his breakfast first Pam," Mario rolled his eyes at his wife who was getting way too ahead of herself.
The rest of breakfast was filled with small talk of whatever was going on in the newspaper and what aunt Pam was hoping to find at the flea market. Scoffing my omelette down to retire to what was now my room, I guess.
The first thing my eyes found was my records, the second thing was the window where just across the way I knew Brady would be doing whatever Brady does. Grabbing a new shirt and pants from the black bag my mother had stuffed the last remains of me as I headed to the bathroom to shower up.
The cold water pebbling down on my back a much-needed refresher from the heat. My mind lulling over the week and the unexpected car-pooling situation I had found myself in. Brady, what a strange creature, I thought to myself in the shower before realising I should probably not be thinking about boys in the shower.
I need a smoke.
It was my cue to get out of the shower as I wrapped a towel around my middle. Going over to the tiny little pink sink where I brushed my teeth every morning, the sink matching the bath which matched the shower and that matched the pink tiled floors. It all comes together to scream PINK.
I, myself, liking pink as much as the next gay guy but knowing it was not inapt for a bathroom colour scheme.
Looking in at my narrowed eyes in the mirror as I brushed down my premolars. My eyebrows sharp and the hair which fell in front of my eyes ink black. With a sigh, I spat, rinsed and got dressed. Going back to my room where my eyes once again caught my records and then the window. Knowing I would find what I'm looking for in yesterday's pants as I took out a smoke and walked over to the window in a different pair of black rip jeans and a black long sleeve shirt.
