“Mate, you’re gonna be fine.” Ronan rolled his eyes at me in our tiny mirror. Wearing only a black tank top, the sleeves of his tattoos roiled in the light as he styled his hair. I shook my head, slipping past him and out of the bathroom.

  “You don’t know that,” I muttered as I peeled my shirt off and dusted the hair from my shoulders. Tiberius picked his head up slowly from my bed, his stumpy tail thumping only a few times before he went back to sleep. I think Pizazz wore him out.

  Another thirty minutes of debating began as I pulled shirts from my dresser, looking over the patterns and colors. I don’t know why I bothered…I didn’t know a fucking thing about matching colors. My mom told me I looked good in yellows once, so I settled on a gold and black plaid shirt. You can never go wrong with flannel, I thought as I buttoned it up over a black tank top. You can also never go wrong with dark jeans and boots.

  My phone buzzed on my bed, and I finally picked it up. My screen was full of messages from the group chat, everyone asking about my date.

  You’ll see, just don’t be assholes.

  Ronan sent several shocked emojis followed by a selfie from our bathroom, showing his half-erect mohawk and a similarly shocked face.

  Things would be okay, I told myself, sitting on the edge of my bed. I could feel my heart in my chest, and I knew those flutters meant a panic attack was starting. I held out both of my hands and began to breathe deeply, my fingers shuddering. Things would be okay. Things would be okay. Things would be okay…

  I stopped shaking just as Ronan poked his head through the door.

  “I can’t decide between the pants with the Union Jack on the crotch or the ones with ‘Fuck Trump’ on the ass,” he whines, wagging both pairs of pants through the door. I smiled, rising and tucking the essentials in my hoodie pockets.

  “Totally the ass ones.”

  *~*~*

  We arrived at Crush, a tiny karaoke bar overlooking the river. Manhattan twinkled in the darkness, looming over us like a massive turtle as we walked toward the bar. We could already hear the music, and sitting at a table on the sidewalk, we found our friends. They immediately rose and pulled us into hugs before forcing me to sit down.

  “Tell uusss.” Rae shook my arms, her bubblegum pink hair bouncing around her face. I rolled my eyes, my face turning a little red. She was covered in tattoos and piercings, which was good considering she was a tattoo artist. Ronan had gone to her for every single one of his.

  “His name is Sullivan, he’s blond, he’s a dancer—”

  “Ooooh, a dancer?” Gavin smiled and leaned against the wall, the cocktail glass in his hand catching his wedding ring. He was the only other gay man in our group, and he had taken me under his wing when I was struggling with coming out. I nodded, looking proud.

  “Yeah, a dancer. And he has a pit bull, and he’ll be here in like ten minutes, so no one be weird,” I pleaded, meeting Savannah’s eyes. She smiled behind her huge glasses, raising her beer bottle.

  “To not being weird!” We all toasted, Ronan and I with our fists, and the group headed inside as I waited. I kept glancing up the streets, my legs beginning to bounce with nervous energy. This was technically our second date, right? Yet this was more of a date. It was eight thirty at night. I was still dressed up, and we wouldn’t have our dogs. I smelled nice, I thought to myself, resting my chin in my hands. I looked nice. I shaved. This would be okay, I exhaled around another shaky breath.

  “Well, hello, stranger!” I jolted back into reality as Sullivan pranced into view. His hair was loose, a dark green shawl wrapped around his shoulders. His sandals flopped against the sidewalk as he held his hand out to me, the same way he did this morning. As a joke, I kissed the back of his knuckles like an old-time gentleman would to a duchess.

  “M’lord.” I chuckled, noticing the flush on his cheeks. Maybe it was from the cold, I told myself as I waved him into the bar.

  Crush was full tonight. Ronan and Rae were already on the only stage, the lights above setting their bright hair ablaze. Gavin and Savannah were roaring with laughter at one of the tables, clutching themselves as Ronan twerked to a Britney Spears song. Jesus fucking Christ, Sullivan would never talk to me again.

  “What’re you drinking?” I asked, shouting over the music and Rae’s atrocious singing. He glanced up at me, apparently enraptured by the wagging ‘Fuck Trump’ sign on Ronan’s ass.

  “An appletini, please.” He smiled. I felt my heart skip a beat. He was very handsome. I ordered for the both of us, opening up a tab. The bartender thudded his fist against mine with a grin. Our group was a staple here.

  Drinks in hand, I led Sullivan over to the table as Ronan and Rae leaped from the stage, a beer in both of their hands. I swallowed. Hard.

  “Guys,” I said, approaching with Sullivan at my hip. “This is—”

  “Oh my God, you’re the guy that danced to that Glass Animals song!” Savannah squealed. I groaned quietly. “I’m Savannah. I go to school in the city. That’s where I met all these guys!”

  I caught Sullivan looking up at me with a huge grin on his face. We went around the table, introducing everyone to my date as a woman from another table climbed the stage.

  “It’s good to finally meet you, mate, Duane hasn’t shut up since you met.” Ronan laughed, and I buried my face in my hands. This was a mistake. I should have taken him out to dinner first.

  “Oh, well, I imagine. I am quite dazzling.” Sullivan smiled, nudging me with his shoulder. I picked my head up with a sheepish grin, glaring at my friends. Traitors.

  “Tell me a little about yourselves.” Sullivan was sipping on his appletini, watching in rapt attention as everyone summarized themselves for him. The circle stopped at me, and I took a long swig of my drink.

  “So, how long have you guys been…?” Gavin raised an eyebrow, glancing at me with an accusatory stare. “Duane doesn’t tell us anything.”

  “Oh, how long has it been? Not even two days?” Sullivan smiled at me, and I nodded.

  “We met at the dog park,” I added.

  Rae scowled. “Yeah, ‘cuz Cow Bag Supreme left her rat,” she grumbled into her beer.

  I shook my head, bristling at the comment.

  “Hey, come on. Tiberius is a beastly big macho man dog not a rat,” I stated. Ronan nodded on my other side.

  “That little guy is our son now. Don’t talk shit on our baby boy,” he snapped, pointing a finger at Rae. His snort broke the illusion of anger. Sullivan looked to me again, his plucked eyebrow raised behind his glass. I hadn’t talked about McKenzie yet. I really hadn’t planned to on our second date, either.

  Gavin swallowed his drink in one big gulp when the song ended and rushed to the stage. Rae clapped loudly, shouting after him, “Do “Lovesick Blues”!”

  He did sing “Lovesick Blues” by Hank Williams, nailing the yodeling surprisingly well. In no time at all, Sullivan was laughing, snarking with my friends alongside me. His hands found my arm as he laughed or pointed out a quirk with the current singer. I found myself wanting to hold his hand or put my arm around the back of his chair. Would that be too much? I didn’t know.

  “Duane! C’mon, you gotta do it,” Ronan slurred, slumping back into the chair after yet another Ramones song. I shook my head vehemently.

  “Not tonight, guys,” I insisted, but soon, my whole table was urging me toward the stage. I gave Sullivan a regretful smile, giving in too easily to peer pressure, especially from a table full of drunk cheers. The bartender fished an acoustic guitar from behind the bar, tossing it to me and without me asking. As I said, we’re kind of a staple. I swallowed, hard, sitting on the barstool, scooching the karaoke machine to the side of the stage. I could feel my fingers shaking as I locked eyes with Sullivan in the crowd.

  I took a deep, calming breath. I could feel myself start to sweat.

  “This is “To Be Alone”, and it’s by Hozier,” I spoke into the mic, tuning the guitar in my lap before clearing my throat.

  I played the whole song with my eyes closed just like I did every time. I didn’t hear any cheers from my table, surprisingly. Usually, when I played at Crush, they would whistle and cheer me on. I used to play guitar a lot when I was still in college. I went to open mics, and at one time, I thought I was pretty decent at playing and singing, but then I met McKenzie, and she never liked the songs I could play, so I just stopped. And since she insisted she come with me to the bar when we went…

  I twanked out the last note, making it sound funny on purpose. I opened my eyes and immediately saw the look on Sullivan’s face. He looked…shocked? At a glance, I guess I didn’t look like much of a singer. There were only a few seconds of silence before the bar erupted in cheers, my friends banging on the table and screaming. Sullivan was on his feet, clapping and cheering my name. God, I missed this feeling. I awkwardly handed the guitar back to the bartender and took my seat, grabbing my beer and drinking some of it.

  “Aren’t you full of surprises.” Sullivan chuckled in my ear as my friends slapped my back, laughing.

  “I get that a lot.” I returned his soft smile, catching a flash of desire in his eyes as he watched me down my beer.

  The night went by quickly, and before we knew it, it was close to one in the morning. Gavin was Rae and Savannah’s designated driver, and after Ronan tripped and ate shit on the pavement, I told him to let Gav take him home too. He spilled into the car, and Sullivan and I watched them drive away, a bright blue mohawk dangling from the open back window.

  “So.” Sullivan looked up at me, weaving his hand through my arm. “I like your friends.”

  “Really?” I snorted, looking down at him. “You can be honest. I know they’re a lot, sometimes.”

  “I am being honest! They’re all lovely people.” He crossed his finger over his shawl as we began the walk home. I wasn’t sure where he lived, but I was for sure walking him home. We continued in comfortable silence for a block. “You never mentioned you could sing like that.” He smiled up at me, nudging me with his elbow. I shrugged.

  “Eh. It’s a hobby,” I replied nonchalantly, but he elbowed me again.

  “Honey, watching TV is a hobby. That was a talent, a talent you clearly worked on. Was that what you went to school for?” I swallowed hard again, looking up at the streetlights we passed under.

  “No. I, uh, only went to college for a year. I was going to be a music teacher, but…” I let the sentence hang. Another elbow to my ribs. “Money got really tight. And I didn’t even like the school I was at, so I dropped out.”

  I glanced down at Sullivan, who was still smiling up at me. “That’s fine, Duane. College isn’t for everyone. You’re no lesser for not going.”

  I released a breath I wasn’t aware I was holding. “Any other burning questions?”

  “Cow Bag Supreme comes to mind,” he teased, and I winced. I told him everything. How we met, how our relationship was, why we broke up. I could see by his expression he was just as mad about everything as my friends were, but he didn’t say anything until I was done.

  “She sounds like a royal bitch, and I will kill her,” he swore, looking up at me. I laughed.

  “You’ll have to join Rae and Savannah on that one.” I grinned down at him.

  After more questions and answers, we arrived at his door. It was in a nicer part of town not too far from Crush, looking out over the river. He turned to me at the door, his blue eyes sparkling in the city lights.

  “I had a really good time tonight,” he said, his voice low in his throat.

  “You’ll have to come next week too.” I moved closer, tucking a flyaway behind his ear as the breeze tussled his hair. “Would, uh…it be okay if I kissed you?”

  His arms were around my neck before I could even catch his response. I was taken aback for a moment but eased into it quickly. I could smell his shampoo as his tongue teased my bottom lip. I wasn’t sure how long we stood on the doorstep to his apartment, but I eventually broke away, my breath short and fast.

  “I’ll see you soon, Duane.” He smiled before backing into the doorway. I walked home, though I don’t remember any of it. I found my fingers running over my bottom lip in a trance, and it wasn’t until Tiberius was jumping up my legs that I snapped out of it.

  Ronan had passed out on the couch, pants off, with a half-eaten Pop-Tart on his chest. I took the Pop-Tart from him and stuck it in the fridge then tugged the blanket from the back of the couch and covered him with it. I turned the lights off and headed to my room, kicking off my boots and shucking out of my clothes.

  “Goddammit.” I sighed, looking down at my still erect dick. After I rearranged it in my boxers, I flopped on my bed, placed my glasses on the nightstand, plugged my phone in, and sent one last text to Sullivan before passing out.

  Goodnight, handsome.

  Chapter Seven

  Sullivan

  A week after that first date and I was still walking on sunshine. Oh, that kiss haunted my dreams! Duane and I had become texting hurricanes because we hadn’t been able to hook up at night since our karaoke date. He’d been moved to the night shift for a few days to cover someone on vacation and I worked days so all that was left was texting. Our conversations kind of veered into sexting but not quite. There had been no dick pics shared because I’d already informed him that when I saw his cock for the first time I wanted it to be in person. Yes, I was that confident I’d see his cock. We were one private moment away from some seriously hot sexy times. I’d planned something intimate out for tonight at my place. Just me, Duane, and our dogs. Aliyah had been asked politely to leave.

  “It’s my fucking place,” she had grumbled but packed up her bags and went to see her mother over on the island Manhattan as Rita Moreno had said in West Side Story.

  The same place I was now. Well, I wasn’t over at Gramercy where Aliyah was, I was currently standing outside the Ralph B. Jay Theater on 42nd Street, feeling as good about my chances of being picked as a lead dancer in a show as I had ever felt. I’d answered a casting call for dancers that I’d seen online for a new off-Broadway musical called Andy’s Last Balloon Ride. I had blown them away. That wasn’t just pride talking. The director had called me down from the stage after I’d auditioned and kissed me on the forehead.

  “I think I have my Andy,” he’d said then smiled at me. I knew I’d be perfect for the role and I’d sang and danced my fucking heart out. None of the others before me had half my skill. Again, not pride just fact.

  So, while I was shivering with glee and cold—I must find a heavier poncho for these cold April mornings—my fingers were a blur as I texted all my friends and Duane, who was more than a friend, to tell them the good news.

  As I walked to the nearest subway entrance, I did a quick vlog to tell my followers about my fantabulous audition. I had this part. I could feel it in my bones! I was so glad I’d taken the initiative and had Minnie handle my two classes today. A whole day off in the middle of the week! My day was shaping up wonderfully. I’d stop at a little shop by my place for some fresh food to cook for dinner. Duane would show up around six according to his latest text from work. Then we’d eat, sip wine but only a few sips because the stuff is insanely fattening, and I had to be a svelte Andy for the show! I had to be strict about my thousand calories or less a day. No more fatty doughnut bites or appletinis for me after tonight.

  After wine, well…anything could happen.

  I fanned my face just thinking about getting my hands on all that burly Duane flesh. The ride home was spent mentally arranging all my ducks. Once I was back in Brooklyn, I did some shopping, grabbing a small roast, some baby carrots, and a few red potatoes. Then I stopped at a bakery, drooled over myself as I stood in line eye-fucking the peanut butter cannolis, and picked up a loaf of salt-rising bread and one cupcake for Duane. It was an impulse buy. After shopping, I scurried home, took Pizzy for a fast walk in the park, and rushed back home. It was already noon when we got back so I grabbed a plum and a cup of yogurt for lunch. A bath was drawn after lunch, and I soaked for over an hour.

  I had manscaping to attend to and a deep oil treatment for my hair that needed to be done desperately. After the hard work was finished, I soaked a bit longer, sipping some raspberry sparkling water and poking the bubbles in my bath, my mind wandering to opening night for Andy with me in the lead. I then daydreamed about Duane and his beautiful smile and enchanting laugh. Oh, and those deep brown eyes. My dick was growing hard, and I considered jerking off just to lower the lust level, but instead, I thought of other things. Less erotic things. Like all the bills lying on my dresser. That took the starch out of my noodle let me tell you. I hope the pay for the show would allow me to get out from under a bit. My student loans were grinding me into beggar paste.

  By the time Duane showed up, I was smooth as a baby’s backside in several key areas, my hair was luxuriant and shiny, and my outfit was hugging my body like a second skin. His gaze went down to my toes in gold flats then slowly worked up my legs wrapped in soft rose leggings, over my belly and my chest, which was covered in a gold lame top with a floppy collar that bared my neck in a provocative way. I’d plucked and preened and used just a bit of eyeliner and lip rouge.

  “Wow,” he whispered in the doorway that I’d draped myself on in a great Garbo manner.

  “Is that all you have to say?” I teased, batting my lashes at the man.

  “You look incredible.” He gave himself a quick once-over. “All I did was wash some jeans and press this shirt I bought on the way home from work.”

  I crinkled my nose. “Tell me you’ve showered after being in a stinky kitchen.”

  His eyes flared behind his glasses. “Of course!”

  “Mm, good, come on in. Dinner’s ready.” I took him by the hand and led him to the living room where I’d set up a small folding table I’d found in the storage apartment. I’d draped a sheet over the table and set it with the finest dishes Aliyah owned and plunked two candles on it along with a fake floral arrangement in a gold dish, also from the storage apartment on the second floor.