Page 35 of Saint
“My brain operates differently from typical people,” he filled in, answering my silent question. “If you’re a PC, I’m a Mac.”
“Is that why you call yourself a wallflower?”
“Yes. It’s the reason why I do or don’t do many things,” he stated simply, scooping several yellow cereal bits into a pile. He discarded them into a cereal Tupperware container.
“When I was ten, I tried to educate my elementary peers on Euclidean geometry. They made fun of me for it. I had difficulty understanding social cues and body language for a long time. I’m better at it now, but I still struggle with… jokes.”
I sat quietly, continuing to sort and giving him the room he needed to just be. Something told me he had never been granted an opportunity to take up space in such a manner. Tonight and every night – every day – as we advanced, I’d try to give him that.
“I don’t like loud noises. I don’t like my food to touch. Sometimes, I have trouble maintaining eye contact and determining how to empathize with others. I like for shit to be clean and orderly. I don’t like to get my hands dirty when I eat unless it’s your pussy, but your shit is far from dirty,” he mused as if recollecting a recent memory.
“I prefer the left hook in the bathroom, Tori, not the right.”
He rolled his eyes, causing me to school a guilty smirk. I’d been putting my towel on the right hook after showering if it was empty, unaware he held a preference for it. Until now, he never spoke out against my transgression.
“What else, Saint? Tell me more,” I implored.
“The towels have to be folded military style. My clothes, too. They have to be color-coordinated. I can’t… change that. I can’t change any of these things. I need them to remain the same, Beauty. It fucks with my head when they don’t.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He asked, astounded and robbed of syllables.
“Show me how to military fold. That’s not a problem, I shrugged. “And you curl your toes and rub your head against me during the storms if we aren’t having sex,” I added.
“It soothes me—my nerves, my senses. Sometimes, they get overloaded, and I can’t think straight. Tori… It’s why I live here on the secluded end of the beach. I’m not like everyone else.”
It pierced my chest when he called attention to his uniqueness as if denunciating himself. Immediately, the urge to swallow him in an embrace arose. Not because of pity but because I needed to express that I embraced him.
“And that’s perfectly fine, Saint,” I smiled, watching as he released tension amidst a heavy sigh. “I don’t mind any of that.”
It was my truth. Earlier today had been somewhat confusing, but now that he’d given me some understanding of his behavior, it didn’t bother me as much. In fact, there wasn’t much he did that I’d found cumbersome. It had taken some adjusting to his peculiarities, but they hadn’t disturbed me enough to pack my luggage and go running. Not in the slightest.
It drew me closer.
“You don’t think I’m a creep or a weirdo?”
There it was. The apprehensive energy he carried despite his masculine presence. I wondered how long he’d held that inside, lacking the appropriate person to share it with. I wondered how much rejection he’d faced, causing him to retreat into his shell. My words were measured but genuine as I spoke again.
“Saint, I think you’re absolutely perfect the way you are. Anyone who feels the need to try to dimmish you to make themselves bigger is a weirdo. I want to know how I can be here for you. Tell me how I can be what you need.”
“You’re all I need already, Tori.”
Joy made a dwelling of my soul as he stated his claim. Standing to my feet, requiring to be closer to him, I shifted but paused before moving again. “Can I… hug you?”
Saint nodded, scooting his chair back to give me the room required to throw myself across his lap. “I might be weird about many things, but I’m not weird about that, Beauty. I love the feel of your body against me.”
I sat down sidesaddle, wrapping my arms around him and pulling his head toward my chest. We sat like that, unmoving, enjoying each other’s warmth for a stretch of time as I listened to his breaths.
“Tori?”
“Yes, Saint?”
Expectant eyes met me as I looked down.
“I have to finish sorting, Beauty.”
Chuckling as I lifted from his lap, I planted a kiss on his lips. When I returned to my seat, the look of surprise on his face was telling. My lingering presence was unexpected.