“Oh, I left a hundy in the cookie jar. Get us some chairs and like, a microwave or somethin’,” he called over his shoulder as he walked inside. I shot him a thumbs up as I headed home.

  The air was cold against my wet arms, and I regretted not bringing my hoodie. I sucked my vape in, relishing in the fruity taste, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke. It looked incredibly douchey, but it had helped me quit smoking, so I hadn’t really cared.

  I reached Sixth Avenue where the Regency Arms apartment building stood. We had actually found an arm on the street once, and my group of friends had been too drunk to recognize it as a Halloween prop, despite all of us dressed up as slutty Power Rangers. I was the black one.

  The good memories stopped as I reached the fifth floor, found number fifty-two, and pushed open the door to my derelict apartment. Somehow, I was hoping that she would bring some of our stuff back. She hadn’t, of course. Tiberius’ excited barking confirmed that as his tiny little legs raced to greet me. He had been asleep on the couch. I sighed, gazing down at him.

  “Y’know, I didn’t want to get a dog at first?” I asked the dog. He didn’t stop jumping up my legs, but he did stop barking. “Yeah, I wanted a cat because it didn’t make much sense to have a dog if we all worked, right? But Princess wanted a dog, so we got a dog, and now you’re stuck with me.”

  The Yorkie leaped up again, this time stopping with his front paws on my shins. His tail was a flurry. Goddammit, I sighed as I picked him up, none of this was his fault. He soaked me with his tongue, and I snickered in spite of myself. Maybe having this little man full-time would be okay. I’d just have to adapt a bit.

  I showered off the smell of work, changed into comfortable jogging pants and a hoodie, and slipped on my Converse. I found the hundred dollar bill in the owl-shaped cookie jar, resting on top of the Oreos, and stuffed it in my wallet. I was about to leave when Tibby jumped on the door, spinning around in circles. I eyed his leash—the one with the ducks on it—and cast him a glance.

  “It’s gonna be hard to carry a microwave with you,” I pointed out, but he didn’t seem to care. I gave up, defeated.

  I walked with Tiberius to the local thrift store, stopping so he could pee on a few trees along the way. People gave me funny looks as I passed. No doubt a six feet four bi-racial man with a teddy bear for a pet was unusual. I pulled my hood up, avoiding the eye contact as best as I could.

  The thrift shop smelled old. All thrift shops had a particular smell like elderly people and cheap fabric softener. This one was no different. It was tucked between a liquor store and a pharmacy and had a gaudy sign in the window. “Titi’s Thrifting” was spelled out in fake flowers and pipe cleaners. The little old Hispanic woman who ran it squealed as Tiberius and I entered and before I could even ask if dogs were allowed, she had scooped him up and began fussing over him in Spanish.

  I didn’t know what to do, so I just let it happen. He seemed to be enjoying it if his madly wagging tail and his non-stop tongue were any indication. She finally set him down, and he ran to the end of his leash, smelling everything he could.

  “Hello, I was, uh, wondering if you had any furniture?” I asked, having to look way down to meet her eyes. She beamed at me, her large hoop earrings whipping as she turned.

  “Yes, yes, of course!” she called, leading me toward the back of the store, pass all the clothes and shoes and books. Two recliners were nestled against the back wall. One was orange and brown and covered in flowers and firm like concrete. The other was purple and sank to the floor when you sat on it. I surveyed both, knowing neither would match anything—ever. Titi ushered me to sit down, and Tiberius quickly joined me. I sighed, running my hand through my hair. The orange one was less than fifty bucks, and I had about two hundred to spend…

  I agreed to come pick it up Saturday when I would have help. She happily put a little “paid for” sign on it even though I suspected it had been sitting there for months—untouched. I looked around and found four chairs, all different colors and shapes, but she threw in a dog bed for free when I bought them, so I suppose they weren’t too ugly. They were very ugly.

  I went to the local dollar store and found a cheap microwave that probably wouldn’t catch fire within the week, along with groceries and other essentials, using up all my rainy-day funds. Thankfully, I hadn’t used any of Ronan’s money, and Tiberius sitting in the child seat of the cart only looked mildly stupid. The cashier was cute, a husky black man named Jackson, who complimented my dog when I checked out. I knew I was blushing with that smile of his and those eyes and left as quickly as I could.

  It was 8:30 by the time I hauled my microwave and groceries back to the apartment with Tiberius’ leash wrapped around my wrist. I plopped everything down on my kitchen counters, unhooked the dog, and kicked off my shoes. As I put everything away, my stomach howled. I hadn’t eaten all day. Shit. I always got like that when I was down. Last time, I had eaten a tub of ice cream in two nights. I guessed this time was a no-eating sadness.

  I made some ramen noodles after hooking up the microwave, sitting with a sigh on the only seat left in the living room. Ronan had indeed brought his TV out here and hooked up his PlayStation 4 again. He’d taken it to his room to save it from McKenzie. I ate my ramen, dropping the occasional noodle to Tiberius beside me, and switched the PlayStation to Netflix. I spent the rest of the night in relative peace, watching serial killer documentaries before washing up my bowl and heading to bed.

  I awoke at six the next morning. I told myself before I went to bed that I would get up before work and go for a run. I hadn’t the past few days, considering everything, and now I needed to get life back to normal. The sky was a soft pink, the sun just starting to rise through my bedroom window. I dug out my jogging pants and hoodie from the night before and slipped them over a fresh pair of briefs. Couldn’t have the boys bouncing on a jog.

  I snatched a bottle of water from the fridge and stuffed it into my hoodie pocket and was just about to head out the door when a Yorkie stepped in front of me. He had been asleep next to me, and I tried not to wake him up in case he barked and woke up Ronan. He stretched, looking at me with big eyes.

  “You walk with Ronan now, remember? At George R. Rank Dog Park?” I whispered to him, but his stubby tail started to go, and I could see him gearing up for a bark. I sighed dramatically, snapped on his duck leash, and headed out the door with him. The dog park wasn’t my original goal, but a run is a run, and maybe the park would be kinder to my feet than the sidewalk.

  It was a few blocks away, and Tiberius had already peed on three trees by the time we got there at six thirty. I stopped to read the rules posted beside the gate. He could be taken off his leash, but he was so small, I was worried about losing him if he ran off. I didn’t want to take that chance, so I kept him hooked to me as I ran. There was only one other person in the park at this hour, and I avoided eye contact as I ran by. The guy looked like an elven prince, the kind I used to have crushes on in any RPG I played. His massive pit bull wagged happily as we went by. I could feel his eyes on me, and I tried not to engage.

  “Yoo-hoo!” I heard behind me, and I slowed. Tiberius looked at me expectantly as if to question why we stopped. I turned around slowly, not knowing what I was about to get into.

  Chapter Three

  Sullivan

  Do you know how hard it is to display oneself when one has been running with a dog? It’s damn hard. My cheeks were probably mottled from exertion. My hair was wet with sweat, and my running clothes were sticking to me in ways that, I was sure, did not titillate. Also, I shudder to think of this, I probably smelled like stinky man and slobbery dog. Still, I did have to try to get his attention, even if I was not up to my usual flirty extravagance.

  Tall and beautiful stopped running, slowly turned, and gave me his full attention. I nearly melted like a popsicle under an August sun. The man was breathtakingly beautiful. His dark eyes latched onto me then flared a bit as if he’d spotted a bear behind me. Maybe a man with a knife was creeping up on me, but I did not dare to lose the eye connection I now had. I wiggled a few fingers at him, tossed my disgusting hair over my shoulder, and hit him with my best stage smile. His gaze flittered around then came back to me. The little Yorkie in his arms was adorable and wiggling like a worm.

  “Good morning!” I called and pushed to my feet with all the grace and flare I possessed, which was oodles, and walked over to him, with Pizazz at my side. “You do know that you can take her off the leash in here?”

  He stared. His jaw worked a bit. Then he stared a little more. A small, knowing smile played on my lips. I had this effect on men. I’d give him a few moments to adjust to my sparkling personality.

  “Well, you can. This is my girl, Pizazz, and although I know she looks intimidating she wouldn’t hurt a mouse. Truth! We once had a mouse in our apartment and Princess Pizzy adopted it!” I laughed lightly, giving my lank tresses another fling.

  He stared and gripped his Yorkie a bit tighter. Drat.

  “Well, holding her is good too. She’s simply to die for! Does she have a name?” I reached out to let the wriggly dog smell my fingers. She lapped at them eagerly. Pizzy began whimpering as she sat next to me, her flank tight to my calf. Pizazz was a well-trained girl. That was my number one priority when I found myself the proud owner of a big, beautiful, and incredibly strong pit. Obedience classes for pups that led to adult dog training classes to ensure she was always a well-behaved lady.

  “Tibby,” he replied. Oh, his voice was sinful. Deep and pure. The sun was climbing higher now, and I could see his wonderful face better. His skin was a few shades darker than mine, and I bet under that hoodie hiding his head was tight, thick, dark hair. Mm, I did love men of color. Well, I loved all men but did have a special affinity for those who were not the pasty queen that I was. Six out of ten of my exes were men of color. Did I truly have ten exes already? God, I was a slutty Susan. Oops. I was drifting and so was my future husband. Or maybe that was fear in those stunning eyes. Lord but his lashes were incredible…

  “Tibby! That’s too cute. Just like she is.” I cooed and fussed over the Yorkie, scratching her head and bending in to let her kiss my nose. “She is precious. How long have you had her? What’s her favorite treat? Pizzy, that’s my dog.” I drew in a breath and patted my pooch’s blocky head. “Princess Pizazz Periwinkle is her full name, but we just call her Pizzy for short. Anydoodles, Pizzy likes those jerky stick things but they make her breath just horrid. Do you find that the chewy sticks do that to Tibby as well? You know what? We could jog across the street to the coffee shop on the corner and get some coffee and talk dogs! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  “Uh,” he said then began backing away, his eyes darting around the park. “I have to go to work.”

  “Oh, of course, I do as well. I teach dance.” I threw up some jazz hands and giggled. Tibby’s owner gaped at me. “Modern, ballroom, jazz, you know? Dancing?”

  “I don’t dance.”

  “Well, I can teach you!”

  “Okay. So, uhm…”

  “Yes, well, if you’d like that coffee some other time, I try to run every other day so come Sunday I’ll be here. Like right there!” I pointed at the bench I’d been sitting on a few moments ago. “Same time, same bench, same sexy Sullivan.”

  “Okay, yeah. Bye.”

  He spun, ran off, and never once looked back. Oh damn. Damn, damn, damn.

  “Fuck!” I spat angrily as I stomped a foot in vexation. “Oh, Pizzy, I dazzled him.” She whined a bit, upset to see a possible new friend leave in such a hurry. “Curse my vivacious and gregarious ways.”

  I stood there for a moment or two, cursing myself for coming on so strong. Hell, perhaps the man was straight. Although, I rather thought I’d seen some attraction when he’d run past. He’d looked at me with longing, or maybe I’d read it as such. I watched Tibby and her man, whose name I never did get, reach the gates of the dog park. Then he looked back. Our gazes touched. He inclined his head then ran away as if Satan’s minions were nipping at his heels.

  “Fuck me and my sparkle.” I sighed then schlepped back to my apartment. Aliyah was still snoring on the floor. This time I poked her with the tip of my running shoe. She rolled to her back, lip curled in warning, as I stood looking down at her.

  “I just met the man of my dreams, and I dazzled him into stupidity,” I announced.

  “You woke me up for this shit?”

  “Yes! Don’t you dare roll back over. I’m serious, this man was the man of my dreams!”

  “You said that already.” She pulled the throw over her face. “You say that every time you meet a new man. Stop saying that. Stop saying words in general. It’s too early for words.”

  I sat down beside her, folding my legs into a lotus while carefully avoiding the probably still damp paint on the floor. She groaned in misery under the cover.

  “I do not say that about every man I meet. Just the ones who star in my dreams.”

  “Sullivan, please, you know I don’t like the world until at least noon.”

  I glanced at the windows facing the street. “I think he might be my dragon master.”

  “You’re not going to stop talking are you?”

  “Not until I tell you about him. No. I have to talk. If I don’t, I’ll burst, and you’ll be left cleaning up sparkly homo chunks.”

  “Ugh. God, I hate how you you are all the time.” She sat up and glared at me with bloodshot eyes. “Is there no way you can dim it down a little? Maybe until lunch?”

  “Honey, I’ll be at work at noon.” I tucked some hair behind her ear. She sort of smiled, but it could have been a grimace of pain. “So, I met him in the dog park…”

  To give her credit, she did sit through the whole story and only snarled like a rabid raccoon once or twice. She lit a cigarette as I prattled on, waving the smoke away from my face because dancers needed healthy lungs. I finally wrapped up the mournful tale five minutes later.

  “I think I dazzled him.” I sighed dejectedly. “You know how brilliant my light is. Some men are blinded by my luminosity. Are you sleeping with your eyes open?”

  “No, I wish I was.” She patted my cheek, snubbed out her smoke in an overflowing ashtray, and got to her paint-speckled bare feet. “Maybe he’s shy. Or straight.”

  “Straight men are the bane of my existence. They’re always fascinated with me but never want more than a glance. Jim Pelican, you remember him from college, he was a cellist. He once said I was like an eclipse. Look too long at me and your eyes are damaged. Of course, Jim was straight and so, I reason, straight men have inferior pupils.” I fell back to the floor in a theatrical way, tossing an arm over my eyes. “Shy men are delightful though. All blushes and sheepish glances. I hope he’s just a timid lad. I love to ease the shy ones out of the shadows and into the glowing sunshine that is Sullivan Haines!”

  I threw my hands and feet into the air and waved them around.

  “Why is there no law against you in the morning?” she groaned and left me on the floor.

  “Make coffee while you’re up,” I shouted.

  “Fuck off,” she shouted in reply then I heard the slamming of her bedroom door. Guess coffee was on me this morning. I hefted my trim backside up and made my way to the kitchen where I set into making breakfast.

  Coffee perking away, I smiled down at Pizzy in her comfy bed soaking up a fat beam of the morning sun. She was snoring in a most unladylike fashion. While the coffee chugged away, I fished a peach out of the fridge, washed and peeled it because peach skin makes me gag, and then set it on a tiny cutting board beside my cup of vanilla yogurt. I pulled my phone out, propped it up against the Splenda bowl, and started talking to my followers as if they were here.

  “So I just met the most beautiful man at the dog park today,” I said while carefully pulling a paring knife through my peach. My fruit had to be cut into tiny little bites before it went into my yogurt. “He was dreamy. Tall, beefy, shoulders so wide he could drape me around them like a mink stole and shy as a little lamb. Or I think he was shy. Maybe he was just bedazzled. Now I’m fretting that I came on too strong.” I paused in my peach cubing to look at my phone. “How fucking hard is this mating game we’re all in? I know I’m a little effervescent, and my bubbliness can be intimidating.” I frowned and laid down my knife. “But that’s just me. That’s Sullivan. Should I hide my spirit under a crummy old bushel basket? What would that say about me? That I was ashamed of who and what I am, and you all know I am a proud gay man, and I will sing that off the rooftops. But is my kind of gay too gay for other gay men?”

  I had to stop and ponder that point. God knows I’d been told by many men that I was just too…everything. Too loud, too proud, too energetic, too brightly dressed, too damn flamboyant. Was that what my burly dragon master thought of me? That I was too full of life for him?

  “Sorry.” I quickly came back to the here and now when the pot gurgled loudly, signaling it was done brewing. “I was lost in gloomy thoughts. See, here’s the thing. As single young people, we’re always faced with how much of ourselves do we put out there for prospective partners to see. Do we glam up or tone down? Do we let the world view the glitzy true us or do we tamp down the flashy side so not to scare people off? Maybe the thing to consider is if we’d really want to be with a person we had to curb our colors for. I mean, Tibby’s owner is a gorgeous man, like fan my face sexy, but if he’s not into the real Sullivan—box stepping, eye-high kicking, foxtrotting and skanky-legging me—then do I even want him in my life?”

  I licked the peach juice off my fingers while I pondered.

  “I’m pretty sure the answer is no.” I sighed deeply. “But hope springs eternal in my breast so I am going to make sure I’m at the dog park on Sunday with two coffees and a glimmer in my eye just in case he accepts the invitation that I threw out there. Okay, so I have to eat and shower for work. Make sure to click on the links and follow, follow, follow! Also, I promise on my new red poncho and tote set that I will have a new dance routine up for you soon. I think spring recitals are on the horizon at the studio, so I’ll be crushed for at least a month there. I’ve read about two shows looking for dancers for the summer runs, so I’ll be hitting those as well, but I know you all are waiting for a new dance video. I’m thinking something by Jaded.” I gave them a wink and smoochy kiss. “So make sure to check back for that and probably a video about spring hair and skin care. Winter has been brutal on mine. Damn, look at the time. Off I go! Sing loud and dance with love in your hearts!”