Page 54 of Our Own Light
“Fine. I accept it. Begrudgingly,” Oliver said before sighing very loudly, hoping to make a point about how tricky it was to internalize such things. “I’m sorry about earlier, by the way. I was in such a sorry state.”
“Ollie,” Floyd said, his voice suddenly so much softer. His thumb rubbed the back of Oliver’s hand and the feel of Floyd’s calloused skin sent little tingles up Oliver’s arm. “Don’t insult yourself so much.”
Floyd’s warm words wrapped around Oliver like a blanket, comforting and protective. Oliver squeezed Floyd’s hand.
“I’ll try not to.”
For the next little while, they sat in a comfortable silence. Oliver was still enjoying the way that Floyd’s continued kindness was making him feel so cared for and safe. Dazed, Oliver let himself become lost in Floyd for a bit. When his eyes settled on Floyd’s lips—pinkish and plump and oh-so-kissable—he couldn’t hold back his next series of comments.
“I’m not sure if we’re supposed to kiss now. Should we? I mean, I’m not sure if it’s what you were expecting, but we could if you wanted to. Of course, it’s fine if you aren’t interested in kissing, too. It’s not like we need to kiss. I’ve made it twenty-six years without kissing someone. I’m sure I could make it however long I have left to live.”
Floyd was silent for a few terrifying seconds, and then, finally, he said, “I ain’t ready to kiss you, Ollie.”
Shit.
“Oh.”
Floyd’s rejection curdled in Oliver’s stomach like sour milk. Oliver had to look away. Why had he thought Floyd would want to kiss him? Of course Floyd wasn’t as invested in all of this as he was. He had a family. He had a whole pre-established life, in fact. One that was perfectly lovely. In the real sense of the word.
Oliver felt Floyd release his hand, eliciting a tiny prick of pain in Oliver’s heart. But then Floyd’s hand cupped his chin instead.
“I will be ready one day,” Floyd said, forcing Oliver to meet his bright blue eyes. “I promise.”
“Did I...” Oliver’s nausea was preventing him from formulating a proper response. He closed his eyes so that he could try to pretend that Floyd wasn’t looking at him. “Is it me?”
“No,” Floyd said, his tone tender. “Ain’t about you, Ollie.”
Oliver swallowed. “Alright.”
“I want to kiss you. I will kiss you.”
He opened his eyes again and managed a timid, “Alright.”
“Ollie, remember the other man I told you about?” Floyd asked, and Oliver nodded. “I lost him, and I’m still... hurting. I can’t... I can’t figure out how to make myself tell you too much right now, but me not kissing you, that’s about me, not you.”
Hearing that soothed some of Oliver’s pain. It wasn’t him. Oliver repeated that to himself a few times in his head. Before Oliver could thank Floyd for the reassurance, Floyd took Oliver’s hand and started to massage it with both of his.
“I like you, Ollie,” Floyd said. “Don’t forget it.”
“I won’t.” He looked at their hands and watched Floyd’s fingers press into his skin, each touch massaging away some of Oliver’s insecurities. “I like you, too, Floyd. I can’t believe I’ve only known you for a little over a month. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life. Only... not. Because then I’d have probably been a lot happier a lot earlier.”
“I feel that way, too.”
“I can’t believe you have to leave soon.”
Floyd tapped Oliver’s knuckles a few times with his thumb.
“Do you want to come over for supper, then?”
“Jesus, that sounds terrifying,” Oliver sputtered.
“Why?”
“How am I supposed to face Effie?”
“Effie ain’t scary. She likes you.”
“I still feel like I’m ruining your family.”