Beauty And The Bookworm (8 page)

Chapter 8

Run
Run Away

Shane and I talked on the phone every night. They were long talks and I felt I was getting to know him pretty well. The more I learned, the more I liked. The calls were just a wee bit annoying for Twyla. She eventually told me that if I was going to lie on “our” bed talking to another man I could just take my skinny ass to the couch. I happily moved to the couch and sat in the dark, listening to Shane’s voice and beginning the long fall into gaga.

The thing about Shane (besides the beautiful face and rocking body) that I loved was the fact that he just wasn’t complicated. He was so calm and laid-back. Not much seemed to ruffle him and he seemed happy with his place in the world. I wondered how he’d made it from the over-achieving kid to the cool customer he was as an adult. When I finally asked him about it he explained it by saying, “I went to a good therapist. She taught me a very valuable lesson. Keeping control is a constant battle that you will never, ever win. I start each day by saying ‘I surrender.’”

By Saturday, Shane’s ankle was healed enough that he was ready for a “test run.” He invited me along and I told him how much I loved running. Technically a lie, I know, but I hadn’t run in so long that maybe I loved it without knowing. There was only one way to find out.

We met at Laurelhurst. Shane was wearing his hunter-green shorts. I was a little disappointed because I’d been hoping for lycra, but I comforted myself with the knowledge that his big, beefy ass was being cradled by that wonderful object of fetishism: the jockstrap. I bought new running shorts and shoes. I’d done my best to scuff the shoes as much as possible on the way to the park. I wanted them to look worn because, you know, I’m a liar.

Shane’s mouth fell open when he saw me. He still hadn’t seen my eye. “Holy shit! Did you get that boxing?”

“Yeah, I let my guard down for a sec. It happens,” I said with nonchalance.

Shane studied me for a minute, then cracked a shy smile. “Don’t think I’m awful, but it’s kind of sexy.”

See, Gran and Twyla, was that so hard? Not “Were you assaulted?” but “It’s kind of sexy.”
“I’m glad you like it. You look like you’re good to go. How’s the ankle?”

“Feels great. You ready?”

“Ready.”

We started our first lap of the park and I kept up for about thirty yards. In my defense, my shoulder’s ended where Shane’s legs began, so it wasn’t exactly a fair race. I think he was used to running ahead of everyone, because he just looked back at me once, smiled, and then ran on.

I eventually loped past my bench. It looked so inviting, sheltered there between the lilacs. I wished more than anything for a book, but I kept running. I did a full lap of the park, seriously considering tripping Shane when he passed me for the second time. When I saw the bench again, I decided it was time to stretch, after I sat down for a minute.

Shane came jogging up. “You done already?”

I did
not
lie. “Yeah,” I panted, “I think I might be having a heart attack.”

He laughed. “You’re just not used to endurance training. Boxing’s more about short burst
s of energy.”

“That must be it.
Have you got a while to go yet?”

He plopped down on the grass. “No, I’m done. The race is next weekend. I think I should baby my ankle ‘til then. Get down here and we’ll stretch each other.”

I sat on the grass and Shane moved opposite me so that the bottoms of our feet were touching. Then he reached out, grabbed my hands, and pulled me forward. My face hit my knees and I was glad because it partly muffled the scream I let out as all the muscles and tendons in my legs were shredded into ribbons.

“Whoa! Are you okay?” Shane said with concern.

“Yes… No, I guess I’m just not as limber as I thought.”

Shane quirked an eyebrow. “I guess not.”

We swapped jobs and I pulled Shane’s arms so his legs would stretch. It didn’t really work too well because of our difference in height. We finally gave it up and I watched Shane stretch on his own.

He gave me that grin I loved when he was finished. “So, I think I’m healed up enough to get out and do something tonight. You want to hit a bar with me?”

Alcohol and sitting? Mother may I?
“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Good. A bunch of my friends are meeting up at Zippers. Do you know it?”

I thought I knew every gay bar in Portland, but I’d never heard of it. “I don’t. And isn’t the name
Zippers
kind of obvious for a gay bar?”

“It would be if it
were
a gay bar,” he laughed, “but it’s a juice bar.”

A juice bar? Really?
“So… no alcohol? Just… juice?”

“We could go someplace else if you want. Do you like Rumors?”

“No, Zippers it is. You probably need to talk strategy about the marathon with your friends, right?”

“Right. Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”

Twyla had gone back to her place while I was out for my run. I was sad she was gone, but happy she was feeling strong enough to be on her own. I, however, still needed support. I called her. “Why did you desert me in my hour of need?”

“What is your need?”

“I have a date with Shane. We’re going to a juice bar.”

“What’s a juice bar?”

“Exactly.
What do I do?”

She sighed. “Have you guys had sex yet?”

“You know we haven’t.”

“Well, then, I guess you’re going to have to go. If you’d already fucked I’d say stay home and catch up on
Drag Race.
”

It was my turn to sigh. “You’re not helping.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. It’s just… I know the place is going to be full of people like Shane. I’m not going to fit in…”

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“Look, Mason. Even though I feel like he’s stealing away the father of my child…”

“He’s not.”

“Let me finish. Even though he’s stealing you away, I think you should probably think about the fact that you never feel like you fit in anywhere. All you ever do is stay home and read. You fit with Shane, so fuck the rest of whoever these people are that go to something called a ‘juice bar.’”

I felt a little insulted and a lot better. “You’re right. Fuck ‘
em.”

Twyla sounded a little hesitant. “Ca
n we talk about me for a second?”

“Sorry, of course.”

“I’ve got an ultrasound on Monday.”

“Can I come?”

“I love you, Mason.”

I reluctantly decided not to wear a cardigan. I kind of felt like that night might be
the
night and I wanted to look at least kind of hot. I ended up in a polo and jeans tight enough to let the world debate the aesthetic merits of circumcision. Gran looked me up and down before I headed out the door. She shook her head and said, “You won’t wear chaps, but you will show everybody your johnson.”

I blushed. “Is it that obvious?”

“Looks like you’re trying to sell weiner-wraps. Is that what you’re doing?”

I covered my eyes. “Yes.”

“Then you’re wearing the right jeans. Head out.”

Zippers turned out to be an ultramodern bar in The Pearl District. It was snuggled in between million dollar art galleries and lofts. When I walked in I thought of
A Clockwork Orange
. The place was packed. I did what I do best and got nervous. I scanned the room, hoping Shane was already there. He was.

Shane walked up to me and bent forward to kiss me. I kissed back a little hesitantly. I’m not big on PDA’s.

Shane frowned. “You okay?”

“Sure.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the middle of the crowd. “Come and meet everyone.”

Then began a round of introductions to a series of underwear models, pro cyclists, gallery owners, and one Olympic athlete (not sure of the sport, but she was a big girl.) I smiled politely at each of them
and got very good at explaining my black eye in as few words as possible. Not one of them assumed I’d been raped.

Shane seemed to be known and loved by everybody. I’d like to say I swelled with pride, but I actually shriveled with jealousy. It didn’t make me feel good to be on the arm of the most gorgeous guy in the room. It made me feel like a fraud.
Every conversation hinged on either sports and fitness or fitness and sports. Not one person mentioned books or art or anything I was remotely interested in.

We were chatting with the Olympian. She was saying something about
BMI and RPG or RHR. I couldn’t follow her. Shane was rubbing the small of my back, he knew I was out of my element. “Mason here works at the library. Cool, huh? He’s been reading
Anna Karenina
.”

The Olympian’s face went blank, then she smiled and said, “That’s nice.”

I always respond to condescension with sarcasm. I opened my mouth to ask if steroids were behind her total lack of breasts, but I stopped myself and spit out, “So, where do you train?”

The Olympian was back with us and we kept chatting about
the newest training techniques until I couldn’t take it anymore. I finally just wandered away and looked for the bar, hoping that maybe, just maybe they might have a bottle of rubbing alcohol I could mix with fruit juice.

The bartender had her back to me. When she turned I was not at all
surprised to see the face of Mona Lisa from the health food store. Of course she had two jobs, the girl was a real go getter.

“What’s your poison?”

I clicked my heels three times and said, “Rum and coke.”

Mona Lisa frowned. “You know we don’t serve
alcohol.
” She said
alcohol
the way sane people say
shit
right after they’ve stepped in it.

“Okay,” I said with defeat, “what do you suggest?”

I waited for her to say kale, but she surprised me. “I can whip you up a wheatgrass-pineapple smoothie.”

Sounds revolting.
“Okay.”

“You’ll love it. It’ll really improve the taste of your semen.”

“Make it a double.”

I tried to mingle while sipping down Mona Lisa’s concoction. It wasn’t really that bad and who can argue with tasty spunk? Not me.

Shane sidled up to me and put his arm around my waist. He leaned down to whisper in my ear. “You look miserable.”

I, of course, lied. “No, this place is great. I wish I’d known about it before.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Wheatgrass-pineapple smoothie.”

“
Really?
” Shane asked, his voice sounding like a leer.

“Really.”

“Well then, that’s two reasons we have for getting out of here.”

The hint of a suggestion that Shane might suck my cock was enough to send blood flowing in all the wrong directions. Since my pants were too tight to begin with, I decided to think about Gran having a date with Millie. Bye-bye, boner. “What’s the first reason?”

“I already said it – you’re miserable.”

“I’m not,” I insisted.

“Drink that down and let’s get out of here, you little liar.”

We got back to Shane’s and he pointed me to the couch while he went to the kitchen. He came back with two bottles of beer and handed me one. “I think this is more your style.”

“Thanks.”

Shane sat down next to me. He gave me a look that made me nervous. I could tell things were about to go further and I needed a clean slate before they did. “Shane,” I said, “I need to tell you a few things.”

“Okay,” he said nervously, “you’re not in a relationship are you?”

Now, that was a laugh. “No, not that. It’s just… well, for starters, that first day in the park I wasn’t reading
War and Peace
and I wasn’t reading
Anna Karenina
either.”

“But you have read them?”

I was offended. “Of course.”

“So why’d you lie?”

I shrugged. “I guess I wanted to impress you. That’s the other thing I need to tell you – my boxing lesson the other day was my first boxing lesson ever.”

“You got a black eye to impress me?”

“Yeah. Are you pissed?”

He considered. “I think I should show you something.”

He went to his bedroom and came back out carrying a book. He handed it to me and I had to laugh when I saw that it was
War and Peace
.

“Why on earth would you read this?”

“I didn’t actually read it, I tried, but…”

“Why did you try?”

He looked a little hesitant. “To impress you.”

I was struck. “You impress me by just being you.”