The So-called Boyfie | MewGulf ✔

Part 5 💖

^Pc to the rightful owners

'Look around,' Perth had told his business-genius socially retarded brother, 'make an observation about something that you see.'

"There's a lot of bird shit here," Mew said.

"What?" Gulf blinked up at Mew, and for the second time, he wanted to touch the younger man's eyelashes. How was the most beautiful man he had ever seen selling art at the beach and not modeling for some exotic fashion magazine?

"On the ground. There's a lot of bird shit on the ground," Mew repeated himself. Now he sounded like an idiot to his own ears.

Gulf's amazing smile returned, and Mew had to take a step back or be blinded. "Welcome to the beach, boss. Tourists fed the seagulls and the seagulls return their offerings on the sidewalk."

Mew found himself smiling back at Gulf at the sheer ludicrousness of their conversation.

"Want to sit down and help me sell seashells on the seashore?" Gulf quipped.

Mew sat awkwardly on the thin blanket while Gulf hawked his wares to passersby. He noticed that Gulf lowered his prices for young couples and raised them for more affluent individuals and teenagers. Mew thought that was kind of romantic of him, and soon he was smiling and helping Gulf sell the things on his blanket. It did not take long with Mew's silver tongue to sell everything.

"I've never sold everything on my blanket before," Gulf said as he folded it up neatly and put it on top of his surfboard. "You're really good at this, Type," Gulf could not stop grinning at him.

Mew grinned back at him. He had smiled so much that day his face hurt. "Let me take you to lunch in celebration," he requested.

"I'm supposed to offer, since you helped me out," Gulf counter-offered. "C'mon, let's put my board and my blanket up, and we can go get food."

Mew was a little surprised at Gulf's forty-year-old VW van and the amount of sand that came pouring out of the open back doors. He was extremely nervous as Gulf offered to drive them to a little place that he knew and apologized for Mew's busted seatbelt. Mew held on to the busted seat belt for dear life as Gulf swerved, waving out the window at almost everyone in town who all seemed to know him and consider him their best friend.

They got their dinner at a seafood restaurant where Gulf knew the manager and half of the wait staff, and it was apparent that he had gone to high school with most of them or their brothers or sisters or cousins. Gulf and the manager of the restaurant conferred in whispers for a minute, and then the manager nodded and sent Gulf up the back steps where Mew was shocked to find himself in a tiny screened-in room that made them feel like they were right on top of the ocean.

The room kept swaying with the tide, and Mew was a little nervous at first but seeing as how Gulf seemed completely laid back about the situation, he decided that he would be okay with it.

The manager himself brought up their food, and Mew did not even order. They had tons of shrimp and crab cakes and lobster with a mellow red wine that Gulf did not drink, preferring pineapple juice over the free alcohol. And shockingly to Mew, the entire thing was free. They were only interrupted a few times when various waiters or waitresses came to steal some of the food for themselves, which Gulf shared with a big smile. Mew was introduced as Gulf's friend from out of town, and he learned so many names that it was all in one ear and out the other by the time it was over.

They ate so much food that they hurt, and then Gulf took them back to his car. "Did you drive to the beach?" Gulf asked.

"I drove in. I parked my car by the beach..."

"Which parking lot?" Gulf asked, turning on his turn signal to go back to Atlantic Beach.

Mew couldn't remember, and then he couldn't remember which car he brought, so he and Gulf were stuck circling parking lots while Gulf laughed his ass off, Mew pushing the button on his key chain that would unlock the car doors. "I'm sorry," Mew apologized. "I'm really bad with things like this. Perth usually takes care of stuff like this for me."

"How long has he been with you?" Gulf asked, still giggling.

"Since I was... nine?" Mew asked out loud.

Gulf was startled. "Is... are you two together then?"

"No, my mom married his dad. So he's my brother. He's had my back since I can remember. He's three years older than me, but he beat up my bullies and fought our parents in my defense. I picked my college because of him..."

"Sounds like you two mean a lot to each other," Gulf said. Was Mew in love with him and just not being honest with himself about it?

"There it is," Mew said, referring to some lights flashing down an almost deserted parking lot.

"Why did you come today?" Gulf asked, parking next to Mew's Porche 911 Turbo. It was shiny and black with red details. If Gulf hadn't been drowning in Mew's money already, he would have been completely shocked.

"Oh yes," Mew said, patting the pockets of his pants like there was something that was going to appear in his hand to give him an excuse. "I um... I wanted to talk to you about working with me again," Mew tried not to wince. He didn't want to make this day about work. This day was going to be written down in his Journal and read and reread for years to come, memories of one perfect day.

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