The One That Got Away

“It’s okay, I have a thick skull.”

That was about the time when Oliver noticed the unmistakable scent of food hitting his nostrils, and Oliver noticed that both the shaggy-haired man and Ty himself was carrying a bucket of chicken each. His stomach rumbled again almost on command, and the other guy’s grin widened at the sound.

“Hi,” he said, reaching out a hand and grasping Oliver’s in a firm grip. “I’m Chris. I’m guessing you’re Oliver, huh?”

Oliver’s mind immediately flashed to the sign by the doorbell, the name Chris Brown with a pe*is drawn next to it, and Ty’s voice in his head, telling him about their third, often-absent roommate, Chris.

What Oliver should have said was, “Yes I am,” and shook Chris’s hand.

Instead, what came out was, “You’re the pe*is-guy.”

Oliver clearly was not thinking straight–or at all–and as soon as the words left his mouth and he realized what he had said, he blushed a deep red as both Chris and Ty burst out laughing.

“What the hell?” Chris exclaimed, but he didn’t sound mad.

Oliver was wondering if the floor was actually capable of swallowing him whole, if he just wished hard enough. On pure reflex, his head ducked, and his chin nearly hit his chest as he poked at the floor with one socked foot.

“The sign by the doorbell,” he said, and Ty laughed harder.

“I’m going to kill Clarence,” Chris said with a shake of his head, but he still didn’t sound mad. Instead he just sighed fondly then winked at Oliver.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Oliver.”

There was something about Chris that reminded Oliver of Monique. Perhaps it was the hidden laughter lingering in his eyes, or the extreme self confidence of very attractive people. Oliver didn’t know but it was giving him some crazy déjà vu.

“I heard Ty got us a new roomie.”

“Shut up,” Ty muttered, still chuckling, then clapped Oliver’s shoulder and made an obvious attempt at changing the subject, even though Oliver was not even sure why. “Hey, Ollie, why don’t you join us for dinner? There’s plenty of chicken to go around.”

The nickname rolled easily off Ty’s tongue, and Oliver relaxed at the sound of it. The blush had started to fade from his cheeks, and his stomach rumbled loudly again, a reminder of why he ventured out of his room in the first place.

“I like chicken,” he said, and Ty gave him a million-dollar grin.

“Excellent.”

At first Oliver was a little nervous; he hadn’t been around people much since school started, and although he felt pretty relaxed with Ty around, he didn’t exactly know the guy well–not yet, at least. It turned out that he didn’t need to worry, because Chris turned out to be a pretty awesome guy. Much like Ty himself, he seemed to be the laidback type, and he didn’t look at Oliver like he was a big weirdo, so that was a plus.

Oliver watched in fascination as Ty practically drowned his chicken in barbecue sauce. Chris noticed him staring and laughed, while Ty just shrugged and chewed his own in obvious gastronomical bliss.

“So Oliver,” Chris said. “Where in the world do you hail from?”

Oliver swallowed a piece of suddenly too-dry chicken. “San Antonio?” he said, and it came out sounding like a question. “Texas.”

“Bit of a distance from home, aren’t you?”

Oliver blinked and stared hard at his plate. He could do this. He could make conversation. “A little bit,” he got out, fighting the urge to slump down in his chair in a child-like attempt at making himself as small as possible.

Chris didn’t say anything for a while, and Oliver’s mind spun as he was desperately trying to come up with something to say to avoid the silence from drifting into awkwardness. Across the table, Chris and Ty exchange a look that Oliver couldn’t read, but it didn’t feel like they were judging him.

Chris reached out and clapped a hand on Ty’s shoulder. “Ty’s from Texas too, you know?” he said, and Ty gave Oliver a blinding grin around a mouthful of chicken. He’d remained silent until now, but that might just be because he was busy putting away his chicken like nobody’s business.

Oliver just kind of stared for a moment, not sure how to process this new piece of information or what to do about it. It’s a very small town, and the odds of meeting another Texan were not great; much less rooming with one. Plus he guessed he really wasn’t from Texas anymore seeing as his family lived in Miami. He didn’t want to be asked why he left there though so he refrained from saying anything.

“Whereabouts were you from?” he finally asked. It would be wise to turn the conversation on someone else’s past, rather than his.

“Mmpf,” Ty said around his chicken, then stared and wiped his hands on a napkin. “Richardson. That’s cool, man, I thought I heard a twang, but I wasn’t sure!”

“You don’t have one,” Oliver pointed out, and Ty threw his head back and laughed, bright and happy.

“Well, I haven’t been home for a long time,” he said.

It might have sounded vaguely ominous, except Ty’s smile never faltered. He didn’t elaborate, however, and Oliver didn’t push the subject. Partially because he didn’t get a chance to.

“What on earth made you come to this sh*thole?” Chris asked.

And here there were; exactly where Oliver hadn’t wanted to go. He didn’t know if he knew these guys well enough to even mention Monique. Even saying her name was hard enough; and telling them the story of his abortive message was equal parts painful and embarrassing. So he shrugged and ate his chicken; hoping no one would feel the need to chase the subject further. They both just kept quiet too and kept waiting for him to speak though.

In the end he settled on saying, “I wanted to do something different. Be on my own for a while, you know?”

Chris and Ty exchange another look, and Oliver was reminded of he and Monique and when they had one of their silent conversations back in high school. He suddenly missed that with a vigor that took him completely by surprise–he missed being so close to someone that he could read their body language and feel completely comfortable in their presence without having to speak a word. He missed his wife.

He was beginning to realize that Chris had the worst timing on earth or was a mind reader when he said, “You got a girl back home, Oliver?”

He sounded almost gleeful asking it, and Ty immediately kicked Chris under the table–at least Oliver thought he did, if the thunk and the way Chris jumped in his chair was any indication.

“Dude!” Ty said. “Privacy!”

“If he’s gonna be living in this house, he’s going to get used to it anyway,” Chris defended himself, before elegantly polishing off a wing.

Ty seemed to consider this for a second before shrugging and nodding in obvious defeat. “It’s true,” he said then leaned closer to Oliver and explained, “Clarence and Chris had this habit of running into every room without knocking, including bedrooms and bathrooms–you’ve been warned.”

“That’s not true!” Chris looked offended. “We don’t run into your room!”