Lovely Shades of Me

MISS not Mister

Josh handed me my toiletry bag and a pink flannel shirt on a hanger.  

"PINK Josh?! REALLY! PINK?" I thought he knew me better than this. 

"It was all that was clean." He shrugged. 

"Bullshit. BULLshit!" I let my most southern draw escape. For whatever reason, swear words just had more of a twang in my mouth that others. 

"I know for a fact there are at least 3 baskets of CLEAN clothes in my room."  

"First of all, how the sans hell am I supposed to know whats clean and whats dirty in that pig pen of yours? Second, even if I DID know what was clean this meeting is too important for you to wear some wrinkled ass shirt from the bottom of the hamper. And you know its okay for women to wear pink sometimes.  Third you could have picked out your own damn shirt if you hadn't volunteered to come do this job for the pastor. So I think the words you were lookin for are "thank you."”

"Correction: volunTOLD. I did not volunteer for s**t!" I started to defend myself,  "My mama heard the pastor carryin on yesterday in his sermon about that attic fan and she took the liberty of offering my services. Convenient how she suddenly loves my work when it suits her..." 

"That's your mama." 

“Thank you. And you know I don’t HATE pink. I’m not some butch lesbian despite the rumors.” I know I wasn’t telling Josh anything new, but I still felt like it needed to be said out loud. 

Not that there was anything wrong with lesbians. I respect lesbians. I just ain't one of them. I barely like my own vjay-jay, so getting close to one that belonged to someone else was just out of the question. But more power to them. The way I see it ,  love is love. I just don't like people tellin' me who I should and shouldn't love based on what I choose to wear and what I do for a living. I certainly don't like being in the middle of all of small town gossip. 

But I just know all the nosy nellies will be talking about how Ryan-Alexander swore in the pastor's house AND wore pink today. Lord, this town needs a better football team. 

“I know. You can be prissy and girly when you want. But you don’t want investors or homeowners thinking you're just some Joanne Gaines… needing a husband to help run YOUR company. I know I know you are your own perfect whole person.” He said with a wink and a smirk. "But if you learned how to use a hanger every once in a while you wouldn't be forced into wearing a pink shirt."  

I sighed as I started lifting up my completely soaked shirt over my head. I tossed it in the back of my pickup. Even though I was wearing a sports bra and a tank top, the door of my super duty RAM wouldn't have been enough to shield me from the eyes of any other guy. Don’t get me wrong there was absolutely nothing between Josh and I, but he was the only guy to ever see me naked. 

We had been naked in front of each other since we were practically babies. Josh had seen it all. And although I will deny this until my last dying breath, especially to my mother, we had even fooled around a little. Okay more than a little. Josh and I…. we helped each other discover ourselves. And well, when there has been a need or if curiosity got to be too much, we found ways to fill it with each other. And boy did he know how to fulfill those needs.

But I swear, there is nothing there. No romance. No feelings. No s****l tension. Yada yada. yada. None of that messy bullshit. Just two friends learning about each other and helping each other. It was completely platonic.

At this point he didn’t even flinch at the sight of my exposed midsection when my tank temporarily rose to my belly button as I lifted off my over shirt. His eyes didn’t linger for a second. I grabbed the toiletry bag and found a pack of cucumber melon wipes and started wiping as much as I could. 

First my face and hands, then my neck and chest. I tried to scrub all the dirt and stink from my breasts. I swear my boobs produced a gallon of sweat a day.  I can't imagine how I would feel trying to do the work I do, if I had ever been pregnant or nursed a baby, like most of my friends my age. The majority of my friends had sags and bags from pregnancy and nursing. But not me. My t**s were still tight and perfectly round. Despite the excessive amount of sweat they produced, the girls were probably my favorite part of my body.

Josh didn’t oggle me like most guys would.  I realized after a minute or so that the tank top needed to come off as well. As I stripped it off and tossed it aside, Josh came behind me and wiped some dust off my shoulders with fresh wipe. With anyone else that probably would have been sexy as hell, but with Josh it was no different than if a girl was wiping my back. It was just trying to help get me presentable. 

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Once upon a time, before my business, I really did think that maybe feelings would develop between us. One day we were sitting in class at University. I remember being mesmerized by his thick luscious lips. For the first time in 10 years I actually imagined what they would feel like on mine. 

Since we were away at college and no one from our small town would ever know,  we decided to actually test the waters. It was our first time experimenting. We tried to go on a date and be all romantic and what not. But we just ended up laughing for hours. We couldn’t be romantic with one another if we tried! And trust me TRIED.

But I am glad all of my awkward firsts were with him. Once we stopped the giggling we were actually able to communicate with each other what we wanted from each other. We were able to figure out how to pleasure one another and ourselves. We grew together in an unusual way. 

But you know that part that is supposed to come after the s*x? The part where your heart just skips a beat and you just HAVE to be with that person. You crave their touch. You hang on their every word and you just become completely consumed by them. Yeah. Well you see, that never happened with Josh and me. We knew right then there would never be anything more. 

It was just a fun experiment. We were two little scientist testing a hypothesis. Evidently we just failed in the chemistry department. 

We made a vow to never let it hinder our friendship. We promised to always be honest with each other and never tell a single soul. 

Since college Josh has had a series of real relationships, he even almost got engaged a year ago. Do you know what?  That just confirmed to me that we are JUST friends! I’ve never been the least bit jealous. After Josh went and got himself a REAL girlfriend, he told me once that being with her was so wonderful and exhilarating. That confirmed it even more. We were both capable of the romantic kind of love, just not with each other. 

It wasn't awkward when he was with other people, because we had already worked through all of the awkward firsts. I've seen Josh in love. I've seen him heartbroken and jealous. Never with me. And that is just fine. I'm just happy when he’s happy. Right now we are both happy. If I ever meet someone- if I am every lucky enough to find someone that understands the nature of my job and can accept me for me, well I am sure Josh will be happy for me too. 

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I was buttoning my pink flannel using the large mirrors on my truck. Josh handed me a fresh baseball cap. I tossed my ‘95 world series Braves cap into the front seat. This new cap didn’t have the space in the back to pull a ponytail through, so still using my side mirrors I began to do a side fish braid. 

I asked Josh to fill me in on this investor while I braided my hair. 

He leaned against the side of the truck and started going over details about Mr. Andrew Moore while cleaning off my big sunglasses with microfiber rag. One area that I refused to conform to typical contractor standards was sunglasses. I had to have big large rimmed sunglasses. The nature of my work meant I went through about four pairs a week. The pair that Josh was attempting to clean right now seemed to be on their last leg. But I'm sure I would lose them before the end of the day.  

This Mr. Andrew Moore seemed like your typical run of the mill investor, an old man just looking to put his money in a small company before he kicks the bucket. He usually invests in New York real estate, or maybe even Boston. But he has been drawn to the charm of old southern houses. We had spoke on the phone once a month ago. Josh insisted I call him and beg and plead for him to make the trip down here for this meeting. 

"Moore? Where had I heard that name before?" I thought out loud.

Josh gave me a serious "girl you have got to be kidding me face."

"Oh I don't know maybe the fifty times we have talked about this over the past two months?" 

He was right. Mr. Moore had cancelled on us a few times, saying his health was too poor to travel down here, and over the past week we had cancelled two times. Today's meeting was suppose to start at brunch, and if everything went well, it end at my dream property. 

 I finished my braid and placed the new white Braves cap on my head, I felt good. I looked good. The pink suited me. 

I quickly patted myself down. s**t. My phone! It is probably still lying on the floor upstairs completely shattered. 

"f**k!" I blurted out while kicking a tire. 

Without skipping a beat Josh held up my phone so I could see it in the reflection of the mirror, then he seamlessly slid the perfectly in tact phone into my back pocket. I guess that case was worth a damn after all. Josh was careful to not let his hand touch  my ass more than necessary. 

I'm sure any other man wouldn't have been able to to resit a slight squeeze or a playful slap, but not Josh. He had more self control and respect for me and our friendship. Not that my ass wasn't slap worthy. 

I've learned to appreciate Josh's lack of s****l interest and not get offended. Its not that he didn't find me sexy; in fact when I needed a pep talk he was my biggest cheerleader. We often laughed at the fact that Levi just can't seem to make a pair of jeans that don't tightly hug my greatest asset. No matter how hard I tried, these curves were going to make themselves known. 

 Josh's smooth hands navigated to my wide hips and he spun me around to face him. Josh was not much taller than your average guy, sitting a little over 6 feet tall, but his skinny build and long lanky arms made him appear much taller.  In strict contrast I was just below average, even for a woman, so I still had to look up to see his face. We were opposites in every way. 

His eyes were milk chocolate brown, mine were hazel. He kept his hair short, almost bald, and never wore a hat, and constantly brushed down his little bit of black fuzz. I was lucky if I combed the rats nest out of my wavy light brown hair once a week. It was rare to see me without a hat on. I needed a hat to protect my fair skin from the sun. Lord knows I didn't need anymore freckles. 

"Now game face on." Josh's deep voice interrupted my trailing thoughts. "You can do this." He started his pep talk and wiped some more dirt from my face. 

When it didn't rub off he licked his thumb and went in for another swipe.

"Are you sure that it's not just a freckle?" I asked. 

"You think by now I don't know all of your face well enough to tell the difference between dirt and a freckle?" His question was rhetorical and he sounded playfully hurt.  "Now hold still and close your eyes." He continued wiping and talking. "You are gonna need to smile, but not too much you don't want to come across as flirty." 

"Okay MOM. I know how to woo." I teased. I glanced up just in time to catch those hershey kiss eyes bounce around and he sucked in just a small part of his bottom lip. His face was telling me to shut the hell up and let him talk. 

“I don’t know if he will still want to grab brunch…” Josh ignored me and kept talking.  

I interrupted him before he could finish...

“If you say brunch lunch I’m going to..” I was cut off by the sound of a sports car hastily turning down the street. 

It slowed to a complete stop just a few yards behind us and parked. 

It was an ocean blue 1969 Dodge Challenger. This must be Mr. Moore. I was preparing myself for a man at least as old as the car. I was shocked when a handsome young guy got out of the car and started to approach us. He couldn’t be a day older than 30. In fact I would be flabbergasted if he was even 29.

He was tall. He had Josh beat by a few inches, so I was guessing 6'3. He looked to be in incredible shape, there was nothing skinny about him. He was wearing a cream colored suit with a light blue shirt that was partially buttoned exposing just a bit of his solid chest. By the look of his freshly tanned skin, I guessed  he had spent some time down in Savannah over the past week. Even from this distance I could smell the mixture of salt water and suntan lotion.  As he got closer and removed his sunglasses, I noticed his eyes were the same beautiful color as the car. I swear for a second I thought I saw waves in them.

I normally would have stepped up and introduced myself, but I wasn’t completely sure this was the right man. After all Josh had just told me this was an old retired fella about to kick the bucket. As he got closer I became lost in those eyes. They were calling to me. 

“I am Andrew Moore. Jr. and you must be Mr. Ryan-Alexander,” he said reaching out to shake Josh’s hand.

Hearing the introductions snapped me back to reality.

“Actually, it's MISS. Ryan-Alexander.” I firmly said and reached out my hand blocking their attempted handshake.