shirt hides nothing.
“Sorry—” he starts to say with an apprehension that softens his voice.
“Uh … no … um, it’s not your fault. Um … it’s just a little chilly in here.” I hasten toward his dresser. “Mind if I borrow a sweatshirt or something?”
“Second drawer from the bottom.”
I grab a gray hoodie and slip it over my head.
“I didn’t mean to—” His forehead tenses.
I wave him off as I hop back up on the bar stool. “Stop, it’s not your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have bit you.”
I shove a bite into my mouth. “It’s cold in here, that’s all,” I mumble over my food. “Stop thinking you turned me on or something ridiculous like that. You’re gay for heaven’s sake.”
He purses his lips to the side and nods once slowly. “But you’re not.”
There they are, the words that make me question this most incredible friendship. He’s just acknowledged the part of our relationship that I fear with such heart-wrenching intensity.
Taking in a shaking breath, I release it, feeling the tugging of that knot in my belly. “No … I’m not.” I look up at him, completely open and vulnerable, and I wait for him to tell me what this means—what we mean.
He gives me a half smile; it’s forced and I know it. “Come with us to the party this weekend and bring a date.”
“Like a double date?”
He nods, watching me with reservation in his eyes, like he’s watching for me to hesitate or give away something that might say what I’m sure he already suspects—my feelings for him are murky.
“Okay…” I feign confidence “…I’ll scrounge a date.”
He smiles. “You could always check with your father’s escort service.”
My face scrunches. “Hardy har har! I don’t have to hire a date; thank you very much for your confidence.”
Without a doubt I’m going to have to hire a date. Jeez, what is it with the Carmichael family?
*
“An escort?” Nana gasps then falls into a fit of laughter.
The waiter at the Local Root, one of my favorite Chicago restaurants, refills our water glasses and simpers at my Nana failing to retain any sort of composure.
I give him a tightlipped apologetic grin.
“Do you have to announce it to everyone in here?” I say in a hushed voice.
“Oh dear! I never thought I’d see the day …”
“It’s not for sex and it’s not because I can’t find a date. It’s just short notice and I don’t know many guys that would understand my relationship with Trick.” Hell, I don’t understand it!
“So you need a professional?” She takes a drink of her water with a grin still plastered to her face.
I sigh. “I need someone that … ugh! Yes, I need a professional.” Resting my elbows on the table, I drop my head into my hands. “How did I get to be so pathetic?”
“Don’t fret it, dear. I’ll find you someone.”
Great. My nana is hiring me a date. It’s like she’s a pimp or a madam. No, that’s not right either. This is all so very wrong.
“Is it going to be hard for you to see Trick with Grady?” Nana spears a cherry tomato with her fork and pops it in her mouth.
“Truthfully, yes, but what can I do about it? I have romantic feelings for a gay man, and I’m certain Trick is not gay by choice. I tell myself that if one day he woke up straight I’d be the love of his life.”
“Hmm, does that help?”
“No,” I mumble in a pouty voice after biting off a piece of warm ciabatta. “But he genuinely wants to be my friend and I his, so the problem is mine to figure out. I don’t think the answer is severing ties at this point.” I shrug. “I don’t know … maybe seeing him with Grady will bring me out of the infatuated funk I’m in right now.”
“Sure, two hot guys touching each other … that should do it.” She winks at me.
There must be a Betty White club Nana belongs to. If she doesn’t lose her mind first, I’m certain she will die with her last comment being completely snarky.
“I’m
“Sorry—” he starts to say with an apprehension that softens his voice.
“Uh … no … um, it’s not your fault. Um … it’s just a little chilly in here.” I hasten toward his dresser. “Mind if I borrow a sweatshirt or something?”
“Second drawer from the bottom.”
I grab a gray hoodie and slip it over my head.
“I didn’t mean to—” His forehead tenses.
I wave him off as I hop back up on the bar stool. “Stop, it’s not your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have bit you.”
I shove a bite into my mouth. “It’s cold in here, that’s all,” I mumble over my food. “Stop thinking you turned me on or something ridiculous like that. You’re gay for heaven’s sake.”
He purses his lips to the side and nods once slowly. “But you’re not.”
There they are, the words that make me question this most incredible friendship. He’s just acknowledged the part of our relationship that I fear with such heart-wrenching intensity.
Taking in a shaking breath, I release it, feeling the tugging of that knot in my belly. “No … I’m not.” I look up at him, completely open and vulnerable, and I wait for him to tell me what this means—what we mean.
He gives me a half smile; it’s forced and I know it. “Come with us to the party this weekend and bring a date.”
“Like a double date?”
He nods, watching me with reservation in his eyes, like he’s watching for me to hesitate or give away something that might say what I’m sure he already suspects—my feelings for him are murky.
“Okay…” I feign confidence “…I’ll scrounge a date.”
He smiles. “You could always check with your father’s escort service.”
My face scrunches. “Hardy har har! I don’t have to hire a date; thank you very much for your confidence.”
Without a doubt I’m going to have to hire a date. Jeez, what is it with the Carmichael family?
*
“An escort?” Nana gasps then falls into a fit of laughter.
The waiter at the Local Root, one of my favorite Chicago restaurants, refills our water glasses and simpers at my Nana failing to retain any sort of composure.
I give him a tightlipped apologetic grin.
“Do you have to announce it to everyone in here?” I say in a hushed voice.
“Oh dear! I never thought I’d see the day …”
“It’s not for sex and it’s not because I can’t find a date. It’s just short notice and I don’t know many guys that would understand my relationship with Trick.” Hell, I don’t understand it!
“So you need a professional?” She takes a drink of her water with a grin still plastered to her face.
I sigh. “I need someone that … ugh! Yes, I need a professional.” Resting my elbows on the table, I drop my head into my hands. “How did I get to be so pathetic?”
“Don’t fret it, dear. I’ll find you someone.”
Great. My nana is hiring me a date. It’s like she’s a pimp or a madam. No, that’s not right either. This is all so very wrong.
“Is it going to be hard for you to see Trick with Grady?” Nana spears a cherry tomato with her fork and pops it in her mouth.
“Truthfully, yes, but what can I do about it? I have romantic feelings for a gay man, and I’m certain Trick is not gay by choice. I tell myself that if one day he woke up straight I’d be the love of his life.”
“Hmm, does that help?”
“No,” I mumble in a pouty voice after biting off a piece of warm ciabatta. “But he genuinely wants to be my friend and I his, so the problem is mine to figure out. I don’t think the answer is severing ties at this point.” I shrug. “I don’t know … maybe seeing him with Grady will bring me out of the infatuated funk I’m in right now.”
“Sure, two hot guys touching each other … that should do it.” She winks at me.
There must be a Betty White club Nana belongs to. If she doesn’t lose her mind first, I’m certain she will die with her last comment being completely snarky.
“I’m
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