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Tyson draws a smiley face across the sand with his finger. He dots the two eyes, draws a line for the nose, and tops it all off with a crooked smile. It’s not impressive, but it isn’t meant to be.
The second his finger pulls away from the sand, the ocean sweeps in to wipe the imprints away. Just like that, it’s gone as though it’d never been there in the first place. It’s a quiet destruction, one Tyson can’t even be mad about.
He blows out a breath and gets to his feet. He needs to finish the rest of his run.
A smoothie bar opens up far enough from the shore that not even the worst of the waves will lap at it, but it’s close enough that Tyson takes note of it even as he’s hovering along the edge of the water.
He’s where the sand is still wet, but the water doesn’t quite reach him. Not for a couple beats, before it lurches forward and skims the foot closest to its path.
He doesn’t care, not for a long while, too busy eyeing up the shack style shop with the straw roof and two panels pulled shut over the window at the front. It doesn’t look open open, but he hadn’t noticed it here before.
Tyson takes note of exactly where it is, turns around, and heads back towards his place.
Interestingly enough, there are already reviews online for the smoothie place, despite Tyson never having heard of it before catching a glimpse of it.
Even Kerfy looks at him like he’s crazy and insists on dragging him there by the ear if he doesn’t head down the second it opens for the day. He feels stupid, having missed out on something that’s apparently a five star joint, because, like, he’s a pretty big fan of smoothies. And fruit. And secretly hiding vegetables alongside that fruit. Only smoothies can really pull that off.
“Here,” Kerfy says, his voice still thick with sleep as he hands over a little card with ten boxes. Six of them are stamped with purple stars. “It’s my rewards card, you buy yourself a smoothie and get JT, the guy at the front, to stamp it.”
“JT,” Tyson repeats, rolling his eyes. “You’re on a first name basis with your smoothie guy?”
“He’s my dealer, you wouldn’t understand.” Kerfy looks back towards his coffee, stirring it tiredly. He‘s been picking up the morning shift at the surf shop and there’s no way he’s surviving this one. Not looking like that. “11 AM sharp. You be there.”
“If it’s good, I’m getting my own rewards card,” Tyson tells him honestly, pocketing the little plastic one Kerfy had handed over.
“Whatever, man, I don’t need you cashing in on my free smoothie anyways.” Kerfy stirs his coffee for maybe the tenth time, and Tyson lets his eyes follow the spoon. “And I don’t know if you know this, but if you lose that thing I’m moving out and we’re no longer friends.”
“The smoothies are that good? You realize it’s just blended up fruit and shit, right?”
Kerfy raises his eyebrows at him, incredulous. He looks like he’s preparing a genuine argument, something to completely slap Tyson in the face with, but then he says, “and your straw colour always matches your drink.”
Tyson rolls his eyes.
The sound of children laughing has already filtered into the air, despite the clock just barely sliding past 11 o’ clock. The breeze smells like sea salt and Tyson would like to say he’s unfazed by it, but he could live on the ocean for years and never find himself desensitized to any of that.
Losing the sights and sounds the beach brings along with it would be like letting his head roll off his shoulders. It’d be like being rid of an arm or a leg, giving up a part of him. It’s not something he wants to do, or something he thinks he even can do.
The little shack actually looks open and welcome for visitors this time around, with a few families all flocking to the few seating areas surrounding it, all with their own juices and smoothies in the cups sitting across from them.
Tyson’s not much of a people watcher, but he can’t help but let his gaze linger on the guy at the front before approaching the bar. JT, presumably, is pouring out some bright orange juice into a plastic cup. He pops a lid on directly afterwards, pairing it off with a straw and handing it over to a girl with this customer service smile going strong.
The panels are pushed open now, the two doors settled on each side of the front window, both complete with a menu written overtop them. One with the fruit smoothies scrawled across it and the other with the various vegetable juices.
Tyson’s eyeing up the sunrise blend option written along the bottom of the smoothie menu with curiosity when he hears a cheerful, “hey, can I get you something?”
His first instinct is to quickly hand out a, “just a second, sorry,” but then his eyes leave the menus to catch onto JT and his thoughts immediately betray him. His smoothie order turns into a blur of incoherent thoughts all circling around the curl in JT’s lips. Or the way he’s leaning into the counter, and—Tyson sees him and sees the sunshine.
“Uh,” he blurts, and instantly realizes he doesn’t know the words to turn that into a whole sentence. “Yes. Yeah, can I get the sunrise blend?
JT nods, poking at the register. “Today’s special,” he says, and Tyson can pick the brightness out of his voice. “Don’t know why I never thought to mix apricot and strawberry until today, but it turned out a lot better than expected.”
“It sounds really great,” Tyson says, because he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to progress small talk for the life of him. He pulls out his card to look busy, and then the rewards card right along with it.
JT eyes up the rewards card while Tyson taps his credit card on the machine. There’s a beat of silence between them before it’s filled with the quiet thump of the stamp against it.
“This isn’t your first time with us?” JT asks, handing the card right back.
”It is, actually,” he says, smiling sheepishly down at the card. “This is my buddy’s, it’s just my good deed of the day.”
“Oh, shoot, alright. I was like: ‘we’ve barely been open a week, I’d think I’d remember seeing you, like, five times’,” JT says, and waves the receipt once its printed. “Wanna keep the receipt?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“In that case, you want your own rewards card? The sunrise blend as your first choice is pretty bold, you’ll be back.” JT reaches underneath the counter to grab for another rewards card, this one with ten empty spaces.
Tyson nods, and takes it as JT slides it over. “Thanks. But, uh, you’re gonna have to back that up before getting so confident. You know that, right?”
JT looks him over, just once, like he wasn’t expecting anything like that in return. But he says, “I’m not worried about that,” and gets to work.
The smoothie itself is this pretty little piece of work, the yellow of the apricot on the bottom and the pink from the strawberry settled on top. Tyson gets why it’s called the sunrise blend.
And yeah, the straw does match the drink.
JT’s got this little shimmer underneath his eyes as he hands it over, like he’s impressed with his own work, and waits for Tyson to take a sip from it before going, “so, wanna tell me how impressed you are?”
Tyson could give him some snarky remark, something to knock his ego down a peg, but there wouldn’t be very much truth in that. Not when Tyson’s busy trying to decide whether or not this really is the greatest smoothie he’s ever had. There’s a pinch of something saccharine underneath it all. He nearly goes for another sip just to pick at it some more.
So, “I mean, I guess I don’t hate it,” he says dismissively, which isn’t much, but it’s enough for JT to keep looking smug about it.
“Are you a regular now, or am I gonna have to work harder?”
Tyson shrugs, hoping he can blame the warmth nipping at his ears on a lack of sunscreen. “We’ll see.” He offers up a little wave before turning to leave, just because he can’t trust himself to keep it together after that.
It’s hard to look Kerfy in the eyes when he gets home later in the afternoon, staring down the empty smoothie cup sitting on the coffee table, across from where Tyson’s flipping through a new surfing magazine.
It’s hot enough that the ink is melting onto his fingers. He could probably go for another smoothie, if he wasn’t trying to keep at least some of his dignity intact.
“So, you really did go,” is what Kerfy leads with, smiling.
“Yeah, I put your dumb card in your room.”
“Okay, but.” Kerfy flops down on the couch next to him, pulling the magazine free from his hands. “Tell me JT doesn’t make the best smoothies.”
“Uh, yeah, kind of the best.” Tyson says, a little less than reluctantly now that he isn’t admitting it to JT himself. “Which is why I can never go back there, I don’t have the money to spend $4.99 on some organic fruit smoothie, seriously. Who does he think I am?”
Kerfy groans, throwing the magazine aside. “You’ve got the money to blow on a magazine subscription. Trash that.”
“I think I might actually have to downgrade from a premium.”
“Honestly, you’re gonna have to. It’s for the greater good.” Kerfy sounds solemn, and Tyson hates that he understands exactly why.
“This is a sacrifice. I’m sacrificing my life for this place,” Tyson confirms, staring down the magazine.
“You live on the beach, are you really?”
Tyson considers that for a moment. Two, three. “I think I kind of am anyways. Deeper meanings and shit. If I can’t make collages with magazine clippings what am I supposed to do?”
“Take your own pictures, probably.” Kerfy holds him back with just his forearm when he goes to reach for the magazine again. “Tys,” he says, tone serious.
Tyson sighs, it’s painful all on its own, and tells himself it’s worth it.
Standing on the shore with his shirt thrown over his shoulder, Tyson tries catching his breath, pacing each exhale to the waves that lap at the tips of his runners. In. Out. He can’t hear much more than the sound of his breathing and the splash of waves as they reach out for the dry sand, but it’s enough quiet for him to be able to zone out. Before he heads back to his place to face another morning of a tired looking Kerfy and cold coffee because, “I wasn’t about to wait for you, man.”
He sighs, blinks his eyes over the horizon, where the earth is dripping with early morning pinks, and steps away from the water just to head back.
The crunch of sand whispers in his ear then, but it isn’t from his own shoes, and all Tyson really has to do is throw his gaze over his shoulder to see JT heading for the small shack situated just far enough from the shore. The smoothie bar. Tyson had used it as a marker to end his run.
He gets a little closer before offering up a, “hey,” and a wave once JT looks up. “A little earlier than yesterday, isn’t it?”
JT’s expression goes warm at that and Tyson’s having a lot of trouble focusing on anything else. Especially when he’s dealing with every tendril of JT’s attention on him. While Tyson’s gross and sweaty and probably too shirtless for this early in the morning.
“Weekends are always the longest hours,” JT says, by means of explanation. “You’d know if you checked the schedule.” He jabs a finger towards the side of the shack, where it’s all written up.
“That’s assuming I wanted to come back”
JT says, “well, you’re here aren’t you?” And the smile that catches on his lips right after is what has Tyson hoping he can be just as calm as him in all this.
He gives JT a look, flips the idea over in his head, and gives in, finally. “I’m Tyson, by the way.”
“JT,” he offers.
“I know.” It comes out before Tyson has the chance to consider saying anything but that, so he back pedals so hard he nearly spits out something incomprehensible. “I mean, um. You’re really popular.”
JT huffs out a laugh, unlocking the side door to the inside of the shack before turning back to him. Tyson’s been wavering, but he isn’t too opposed to watching the shift of JT’s shoulders underneath his shirt, or letting his eyes drop to his legs just until he says, “want me to whip something up for you?”
“Oh,” Tyson says, almost startled by the offer. “I don’t have my wallet on me, can’t.”
“You can get me back later.” JT waves his hand dismissively, almost to say it’ll give Tyson an extra excuse just to drop by. “You know, you’re lucky I don’t follow the no shirt no service rule.”
“This is a beach,” Tyson protests.
JT shrugs. “Not like you were swimming or anything.”
He makes a show of slipping in the shop and pushing the two panels above the front counter open, and Tyson meets him at the front, eyeing up the menu.
“What time do you close?” Tyson asks.
JT nods his head towards the side of the shop, towards the schedule again, and smiles at Tyson—nothing but faux kindness. “Check.”
If Tyson’s anywhere during the evenings, he’s either asleep on the couch or around a bonfire with a couple of the guys, there isn’t really any room for an in between option.
He’s not usually on the beach when the crowd thins out enough to allow the night to fall. Not usually the type to let the evening air chill him, while the sun slips beneath the horizon. Not the type to admire the way the sky purples rather than how it pinks up in the mornings.
But. He’s here now.
He watches a small bird in the distance pick at what looks like a piece of bread when he’s jolted to reality by JT’s voice. Not long before closing.
“Hi,” JT offers, not looking exhausted, but maybe a little weathered from the day. He’s got a baseball cap on that he wasn’t wearing in the morning. It’s backwards, which—Tyson doubts that helped at all with protection from the sun.
“Hey, I just wanted to bring by what I owed,” Tyson says, sliding over a ten dollar bill and watching as JT poke at the register for his change. “Uh, you can keep the extra.”
JT looks up, the calm expression on his face shifting to something warm. “Oh, wow—thanks.” He watches Tyson for a beat, eyes focused. “What’s the occasion?”
“Occasion?”
“I’m five minutes from closing,” JT says, sounding curious. “That’s a little suss.”
“I just.”
He almost asks JT out. It’s on the tip of his tongue. Because he’s a fucking idiot he nearly says, “there’s a little burger truck near the boardwalk, it looks new. Wanna check it out?” Except for the part where he doesn’t say that.
Actually, he goes, “had a lot of homework, you know how it is.” Tyson reaches out to swipe a hand over the back of his neck. “College, I mean. I’m not—I graduated high school a long time ago.”
JT blinks at him, and his mouth curls up into a smile. Something almost pitying, like he’s going to offer up a hug to conceal the embarrassment. “I connected those dots a while ago, yeah.”
The laugh that passes his lips gets Tyson to duck his head and smile, he thinks it might be half from making a total fool of himself, but JT doesn’t point that out.
“You should try today’s special, it’s, uh. It wasn’t my idea, my buddy’s a fucking freak.” JT points to the new addition to the menu, something posted up there in bright green.
“He works here, too?”
“He’s supposed to. I take 4 days of a week, he takes 3, then we switch, right? But I’ve been covering his shifts because he’s a total piece of shit.” JT rolls his eyes. “I’m a lot better with customers, too.”
“You could say that, yeah,” Tyson says.
The grass is greener, the special, doesn’t sound all that appetizing. Especially with the first ingredient listed being wheat grass, but it’s stacked with pineapple and mint, so Tyson tells JT he’ll give it a go. If only to watch him work in the bar, looking content and happy like it’s all he’d ever want to be doing.
Tyson’s head isn’t working straight by the time JT slides over the juice and he prefaces it with, “it’s real healthy, but you’re gonna hate it.”
“I like that confidence.”
Their fingers brush just barely as Tyson’s taking the cup, but it sends enough emotion speeding to his head that he’s gotta go in for a sip just to centre himself.
The straw is green.
“Oh.” Tyson stares down at the cup. “You know what your problem is?”
JT grins, like he knows exactly what Tyson is going to say. “I’d love to know, actually.”
“You make wheat grass kinda tolerable, that’s, like, never been done. Impossible.” Tyson swirls the juice in the cup, and goes in for another sip. “I hate you for this.”
“Really?” JT’s laugh is all honey. Maybe that’s the secret ingredient. “I thought it was shitty.”
“You’re so lucky you make smoothies this good.”
They talk for long enough that JT has to sheepishly tell the one or two customers that come in after closing that he’s shut down for the night, and then he leaves the shack entirely just to tell Tyson a little bit of how the beach is a complete scenery change from small town Illinois. Which is. Yeah. Expected.
Tyson goes back home with a small smile on his face and a flutter of what feels like butterfly wings in his chest. He doesn’t realize for a while that JT didn’t charge him for the drink.
Tyson can see the shadow that falls over him even with his eyes closed, blocking off the rays of sunlight. He blinks his eyes open, because it’s early enough to be sleepy but not if he’s just recovering from a run.
JT’s smile is kind and warm and Tyson almost doesn’t register what’s happening until he hears him say, “so you’re just always here, huh?”
Tyson’s brain catches up with the situation and he immediately kicks himself to sit up, schooling his face into something you wouldn’t be able to confuse with frightened. “Your shack’s a marker for the end of my run.” He tilts his chin up to looks at JT. “You’re early again.”
“I just work the opening shift today,” JT tells him. “You should come by when I get off. I’m still completely lost when it comes to this entire town.”
Tyson smiles and leans back on his hands. He’s got his shirt on this time, but he can still feel his face get warm. “You want me to show you around? You trust me not to get us completely lost.”
“You have a point,” JT says, almost sounding serious. “You want me to take it back?”
Tyson watches his face. He really likes him, he thinks. It might just be that JT’s friendly, but it’s hard not to like him at this point. What, with his magic hands and the shimmer of kindness in his eyes.
Tyson says, “I think you should hold onto that.” He pauses, and then, “what time do you get off?”
“Around noon.” JT’s smiling when he says it, his hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts, and Tyson nods his head slowly.
“I mean, I’ll see what I can do,” he tells him, like he won’t be there five minutes early with a whole list of things they can do.
JT laughs. He’s very quiet with his laughs, not in the way that it’s indicative of shyness, but more so in the way that he knows how to be mellow. He’s always like that in the mornings, calm, not quite closed away, but calm.
Tyson watches him go, watches until JT’s out of his peripherals, and he’s left alone with nothing but the ocean kissing the shore. He scoops up a handful of sand and watches it sift through his fingers, soft as it hits the ground.
He looks over his shoulder one more time before getting up to go.
The first thing Tyson sees when he drops by the smoothie bar is JT handing someone one of his finely polished customer service smiles. To anyone else, maybe it’d seem a little overused, but somehow even the feigned edges of it get to Tyson. And he’s left staring and staring and staring before collecting himself enough to approach.
JT’s wearing this worn-out shirt with three little holes near the collar. And Tyson is pretty sure that was by choice, but he’s seeing nothing but pale skin underneath them, and he’s got way too vivid of an imagination to keep his mouth from going dry. Even after glancing away.
“Hi again,” JT says sweetly, as Tyson comes up to the counter. “Can I get you something?”
Tyson is about half a shitty line away from responding to that with, “your number,” so he says, “I’m actually here to make a pick up.”
“I’ll be off in a second,” JT says, and waves over the next person in line. “Go do your thing over there,” he tells Tyson.
“I’ll miss you,” Tyson says, frowning like he’s genuinely hurt by having to stand a foot off to the side.
JT laughs and hastily tries to compose it.
“So, you’re telling me—what, these guys have best ice cream in the world? You know I’m gonna have to see it to believe it, right?” JT’s fallen into step with Tyson as they head down the boardwalk, where the air is sickeningly tempting with all different types of food. It’s the kind of place that’ll make you hungry even after a seven course meal.
Tyson knocks their shoulders together. “It’s why I’m taking you there,” he says, smiling over at him. “We’ve got some culture. Food is a huge part of it.”
JT’s looking at him like he strung the stars in the night sky, all intrigued and fascinated. As if he really hasn’t been to much more than the beach in the time he’s been living here. “Only some culture?”
“I’m here, how much were you expecting,” Tyson says. “I’m taking the guy who works at a real fruit smoothie place to an ice cream parlour.”
“I’m just gonna remind you that I’ve only ever seen you post-run or drinking one of those same smoothies.”
Tyson shrugs, smiling with just half his mouth. “I’ve got a lot to me.”
JT looks him over, considering, and then says, “what’s your favourite ice cream flavour?”
Tyson stares up at the sky, eyes locked to the puffy white clouds scattered across blue. It takes a moment, before he says, “strawberry.”
JT seems amused when Tyson looks back at him. “Okay, we can be friends.”
JT almost seems irked by the warm weather after a while, and Tyson knows exactly how it is. How the heat can steal the air from your lips, almost hot enough to suffocate. But there’s still a calmness to him, when he’s telling stories about his old town, how the people and sights and sounds are all completely new.
Tyson nods along, content, listening with a small quirk in his lips as he chases the droplet of ice cream running down the side of his waffle cone. He never quite catches JT’s eyes on him, but he can feel them, even as they’re sitting on the empty shore.
Tyson laughs into his ice cream and feels JT’s shoulder brush his as he dips in closer. The seconds blur into moments, and quiet snippets of their time together turn to sand castle building competitions and JT’s persistence that he has no idea how to even do that. All while somehow pulling together something straight out of a fairytale, topped off with a tiny moat.
“You lied to me,” Tyson points out, hoping he sounds betrayed. Because where did that even come from.
JT uses a water bottle to fill up the moat. “I didn’t lie. I’ve made snow castles before.”
“You must’ve been a weird kid, man, no snowmen? Only elaborate ass pieces of art?”
“What kind of loser do you take me for?” JT laughs, and it’s featherlight and beautiful.
Tyson watches the wind blow strands of his hair over his face and feels something twist in the pit of his stomach, something familiar and aching. It’s not a good feeling, but all at once, he wants to run after it.
The heat has never been too much of a weakness for Tyson, not while growing up on sandy beaches and spending hours lying around in the sun, but JT makes his legs feel like jelly, and his lungs work tenfold, and his heart stutter a little in his chest.
At the end of the day, he ducks into his house and tries to catch his breath while his head floods with feelings drenched in want. It’s all that and his eyes slide shut just for a sky painted in cool hues and JT’s warm edged smile to surface all over again.
When he sees JT the next afternoon, they chat about the summertime, surfing, and possible dinner plans. It’s everything.
Everything until Tyson brings him to a small restaurant with wide open floor to ceiling windows overlooking the ocean.
All evening, JT smiles and smiles and smiles.
The air is crisp as it sinks into the restaurant, the world so much more unfamiliar when its paired off with the white street lights Tyson’s never out late enough to see click on. The faintest hint of stars shimmer in the sky, with a moon that ties it all together. And Tyson taps the sand off his shoes.
He smiles back. He always does.
It’s just fun until Tyson realizes that the swirl of nerves in his chest everytime JT looks at him isn’t just the part of him that’s still anxious with new friends. It’s easy until it’s clear that dizzying feeling in his head everytime his skin brushes JT’s isn’t his imagination. It’s okay until he can’t get his breath out correctly the second JT’s laughter fills his ears.
And then it’s something else, which didn’t seem to happen before. Then the moments of them together on the beach don’t blend into simple summer memories, but rather something that Tyson runs through with his heart rather than his head.
It’s never a smart choice, to dive into something like that. The reasonable voice in the back of Tyson’s mind will go on and on, but he stomps it all down without a second thought.
His rewards card has nine boxes stamped, which means he’s eligible for a free drink. Something he’s gotten more than enough of.
Tyson silently slides the card under Kerfy’s bedroom door and leaves it at that.
He swirls the juice in his cup with the straw, staring down the blu-nana special, complete with blueberries and bananas just as the name suggests.
The sky is soaked in violet, the same shade as his drink.
He watches JT from the corner of his eyes, getting a perfect view from the little table he’s seated at.
His shift is set to end soon enough, and Tyson decided to stick around to see him through to it. Because—fuck, he doesn’t even know why. He just didn’t want to go back. Wanted to spend more time with JT than he did at home.
He hears the click of a lock.
“I’m flattered you stuck around, but you’re gonna catch a cold,” JT says, the minute Tyson looks up to catch his eyes.
It’s chilly. The nights are always chilly the closer they get to winter months. And maybe it wasn’t his smartest decision to come out in shorts and a thin shirt, but he’s not going to start complaining about it now.
“I like it, it’s a lot better than a heat stroke,” Tyson tells him, ignoring the goosebumps prickling his arms. “I’m Canadian, you know. Used to it.”
JT rolls his eyes, stepping out to stand in front of him. “You’ve seen like one snowfall in the past decade.”
Tyson barely registers it when he pulls his own jacket off, and he’s thinking nothing but incoherent thoughts as he feels warmth sink into his chilled skin, where JT lays the jacket down over his shoulders.
“Hey, you don’t have to—“
“You’re, like, shivering,” JT says, taking the empty spot next to him. “Seriously, jacket. Invest in one. You’re gonna have a bad time.”
Tyson leans in against him, just to share some of the warmth. He pulls it tighter around himself with his free hand and tries not to think about just how much the jacket smells like JT. Tries and fails, actually.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, taking a small sip of the juice. “You want some?” Tyson asks it mostly off of the urge to fill in the small beats of silence between them, so he isn’t at all surprised by the curious look that falls over JT’s face.
But then, “yeah, sure,” he says, and takes a sip from the straw when Tyson tilts it towards him.
JT chuckles, quiet, when they fall back against each other. It’s easy, all gravity.
Tyson smiles. Gentle. “What?”
“I dunno, I keep telling myself you just keep coming back here because I give you smoothies on the house sometimes, but—then it’s shit like this.” He waves his hand between them, the practically not there space between them. “It’s just. It’s funny.”
“It’s kind of stressful,” Tyson admits. He downs another bit of his juice, a small sip, and swallows. He thinks about JT’s lips on the straw. “I, uh, like it, though. Spending time with you. I think that’s why I keep coming back, if you really wanna know.”
“I did wanna know,” JT says. His eyes fall to where Tyson’s rubbing at the fabric of his jacket with his thumb, and Tyson almost stills it. Just because he feels self conscious about it. “Tyson, you are—so fucking complicated. So complicated. You’ll say exactly what you’re thinking sometimes, and other times it’s. Just.”
“I think,” Tyson starts, glancing between JT and the darkening skies, “it’s because you make me happy. And feel good about things, about myself, and life, and literally everything. I just don’t wanna lose that.”
He feels like he could shrink to nothing underneath JT’s gaze and his jacket, like he could disappear if he tried hard enough. But it’s not bad. It’s something else.
JT’s expression is careful, everything meticulously put together. “You’re not going to,” he says.
Tyson peers down at his drink for what feels like an eternity and when he glances back at JT, he takes in a slow breath.
JT catches his eyes and kisses him. Slow and delicate and as easy as that.
Tyson trails his fingers over the back of his neck, and settles his thumb on JT’s chin with the same softness the kiss holds. He can feel the prick of a stubble underneath his fingertips.
It’s enough to throw him for a loop, but something to still him all at once. Like holding on will ground him, but maybe the earth beneath him will split if it goes on for too long. Everything about that is raw and brand new.
It’s exhilarating is what it is, and Tyson can feel his pulse in his throat by the time he’s pulling away.
“Oh,” he says, the second he can actually get it out. When JT’s eyes are gentle on him, when they’re still close enough that Tyson can feel his breath on his lips.
“That’s honestly what I thought you’d say,” JT tells him, and that gets a smile caught on the corners of Tyson’s lips. Just as there are words caught on the tip of his tongue, words he isn’t sure he wants to say, but that he considers spilling anyways.
Instead, “look at you,” he mumbles lazily to JT’s lips, and kisses him.
“I still can’t read you,” JT says, when Tyson’s walking him to his car.
“Well, you’re doing pretty good so far,” Tyson insists. He gives his hand a squeeze.
JT’s jacket is still thrown over his shoulders.
Tyson watches JT make a smoothie, the same as always, tracking his movements with his gaze. Watching the way his hands work, how his eyes are zeroed in on just what he’s doing, how he’s lost in his own world while he works.
“If I tried to talk to you while you were chopping up kale or something, would you just ignore me?” Tyson tries, feeling a little jolt of pride in his chest when he gets JT to glance over.
“So you wanna learn the hard way, huh?”
Tyson shrugs a shoulder, pressed in close to the counter. “Seems pretty easy so far,” he says, and it feels weirdly freeing. Just to talk to JT without feeling some tense weight on his shoulders. Even if this is still new enough that every other second his stomach flips at the reminder that it’s real.
When JT slides the smoothie over, Tyson bridges the gap between them to peck his lips, taking the smoothie with a smile.
“Was that my tip?” JT asks.
“You’re definitely setting me up for a dick joke here,” Tyson tells him, and rolls his eyes. “I’m not that classless.”
“Still classless because you thought it.” JT shakes his head and pulls a pink straw out from under the counter to slide over. “I can’t believe you.”
Tyson laughs. He leans in to kiss JT again, probably crossing over the line of being that gross mushy couple at the beach, but he just can’t bring himself to care.
In the distance, the waves crash against the shore. The sand crunches under his feet. The world is still spinning. And Tyson is happy.