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Pete Black was a man that knew the value of secrets, mostly because he didn’t have many of his own. At least not great ones. Not ones that would really impress anyone. And not much in the way of what he would consider talent either. But he did have one talent, if nothing else, aside from being okay with whittling, and that was fudging.
For instance, he called himself a Leo despite being born mid-July; too late for fireworks, too early for lions. A Leo was much cooler than a crab anyway. You could only get one at Red Lobster after all. For another, he was a resource manager, which technically was true. Stocking shelves at Target was definitely managing resources. For a third, he liked cool music like SlipKnot and Cannibal Corpse; the screamier the better. He could name all the names of the songs, and the best part was, no one could expect him to know the lyrics if they were indecipherable. And if someone quizzed him, he was an expert at the quick, clandestine Google search.
His real secrets were worth hiding under the bed and never seeing the light of day. At least not with anyone around.
But he had treasures, too, the greatest one of them all soon to emerge from the low brick building of the Midtown Art Center. It was raining, the drops plinking off the roof of his old but serviceable lime green Kia. It was a Wednesday. His manager had given him the stink-eye for taking a half day, telling him without words that the home decor aisles weren’t going to stock themselves. Pete couldn’t imagine anyone that desperate to buy a dusty old lamp.
He still had some time to kill, maybe twenty minutes. He did a quick check around the parking lot, full of wet cars but no people; another craning glance at the glass door of the Art Center, showing no sultry shapes approaching it, and took up his phone to thumb open the HardCore XXX Not for Wimps playlist.
‘Lover’ started to play for the three-hundred and fifty-sixth time. It wasn’t that he liked Taylor Swift; despite the songs being pretty good if you really took the time to understand them. She wasn’t his preferred singer/songwriter and he hadn’t even been able to afford the Eras Tour when it passed through, and couldn’t spare the five hour one-way trip, let alone a hotel. He only had one t-shirt and one commemorative plush hidden in his shoebox under the bed. He just liked to keep his pulse on the finger of what was popular. Just because he liked esoteric edgy bands that no one had ever heard of, like Aerosmith, didn’t mean he didn’t like to be in the know.
His phone buzzed and he hummed along with the song as he checked his texts; flushing with pleasure as he saw it was from Lucius.
[On my way, lover. xx]
Just as TayTay crooned: “Myy~yy~yy lover.”
Yes, Lucius, his lover… Well, more like boyfriend… Of two solid weeks now! The longest he’d been with just about anyone.
Pete texted. [Okay!] Which sounded too simple a response to someone saying lover with two— two— kisses. Lucius deserved more than that. He deleted the okay and typed: [Here, babe!]
No.
[I’d wait all day for a sexy thing] delete [sexy guy] delete [handsome man] delete delete. [a hot single in your area is waiting for you]
“Well that doesn’t make any sense. I’m not even single,” Pete muttered to himself.
[???] popped up before he could even send a text and, half panicked, caught in the middle of deleting, Pete typed ‘here!’ And then groaned as he saw the message sent.
[a hot single here.]
“No, stupid!”
[not shingle hot]
“Why would I mean shingle?!” But it was too late, there was no response and a quick look up showed him Lucius barreling across the parking lot, portfolio hugged against his chest, jacket held over his head.
“Damnit!” Pete closed his phone and frantically pulled up the HardCore XX not for Wimps playlist, managing to jam the pause button and throw it into the little nook by the gear shaft before Lucius opened the door.
“God, it’s slopping out there,” he said. He sat with a flump, shedding rain, shoving the portfolio between his legs— pants riding up to reveal pretty pale shins he couldn’t help but notice— and shut the door.
“I’m not single!” Pete said in a burst, just in case Luicus got the wrong idea. “Or a shingle. Or anything like that.”
Lucius smiled in the wrinkly-nose way that got Pete’s heart tripping over itself.
“No, but you are pretty hot.” Lucius leaned over and pecked a kiss to his cheek, smelling minty, and all Pete could think of to say was:
“So I’ve been told.” Which came out suaver than he expected and he ran a hand over his head to add to the effect. “Glad I’ve got you that’s even hotter,” he said. Because there was no one as hot as Lucius. From the thick dark hair to the kind eyes to the pretty lips, to other parts that Pete had imagined in various iterations of sizes and shapes. All of Lucius was sexy as hell.
“Cutie,” said Lucius, which made his heart trip the other way. He wanted to ask how Lucius’ session had gone, how his day had gone, if he had any weekend plans. He wanted to take him to Roach’s new bakery on Sun Street and introduce him to the finest cupcakes in the county. And he would ask all that and more, but first they had to get going. He checked his mirrors three times, made sure the headlights were on and the seat was properly adjusted. Then he backed out carefully, checking everything again before putting the car in drive and rolling at a respectable three miles an hour out of the parking lot. A lot of people went too fast and didn’t check everything because they thought it was cool or something, but there was nothing uncool about vehicular safety.
“So, how did it go?” he asked when they were at a cruising speed of thirty-five down Chamberlin Avenue.
“Alright. The model is new so he had a hard time staying still. I enjoyed the challenge, but, God, I don’t think I got a single angle right. He’s cute though so I forgive him.”
“I’d like to see it sometime,” said Pete. “I bet the angles are amazing. Realism is super hard, not that weird abstract stuff.” Because everything Lucius did was amazing. Pete could barely draw a stick figure though had tried for three hours once to draw a picture of Cap’n Crunch from the cereal box before giving up. Hats were way too hard to draw, he reasoned, anyone who could draw a hat and make it look like a hat were freakin’ geniuses.
“Yes, well, it needs work,” Lucius said. And then in a more upbeat tone: “Still, if it gets me to study him more I can’t complain.”
Pete waited for the spur of jealousy he knew he should have. You saw it in all the movies, rom-coms and otherwise. The boyfriend catches sight of someone else and the main character is jealous of the diverted attention. Instead of jealous, Pete just finds himself curious. Who is this guy who Lucius has in his sights? Pete would bet he’s good looking or at least interesting looking.
“I’m a pretty good model, too,” Pete said. “Tons of experience. I modeled for that one famous artist guy once.”
“Oh yeah?” Lucius leaned his head back against the headrest and gave him a lazy smile. “Who’s that.”
“Oh, you know, the famous one.” He rolled to a stop at a four way intersection, peering left and right and left and right again even as the car behind him gave a honk of irritation. Just for that, Pete looked an additional two times before making a left turn onto Forest Ridge lane. He hoped Lucius noticed he was taking the short cut, hoped Lucius knew it was a shortcut. Realized that before he could say it was a short cut and be impressive, he had to think of an artist really quick and not just change the subject or it looked like he was fudging.
“Starts with a ‘P’.”
“Picasso?”
“Yeah, her. By the way, this is a shortcut, babe. Isn’t that cool? Saves us five minutes.”
“Well aren’t you clever,” said Lucius, and he sounded sincere, which was the amazing thing. Pete had never met anyone who would say something like that, to him, and mean it. And send him two kisses over the phone and mean that too. And kiss him by the stairwell before he went up to his own apartment just above and to the right. They hadn’t even done more than kiss because Pete was waiting for the right time and so he could be delicate with Lucius who probably would be tender and nervous. Of course that also required a lot of Google searching and then keeping the site open for more than a few minutes at a time; before freaking out and closing it again, on the lookout for the FBI. Mr. Buttons, the super, said you had to look out for them. The FBI could be anywhere, even in the hydrangea bushes that skirted the side of the building. Pete didn’t want to be arrested before he’d even had a chance to get laid. In his fervid imagination they launched themselves through his window singing: ‘look what you just made me do.’
He shivered and turned up the heat.
“Cold?” Lucius asked. He was so observant!
“Nah, just, you know, thought you might be.”
“You’re sweet,” Lucius said, squeezed his knee. “And I am a bit damp. I cannot wait to get home and get changed. Maybe take a hot bath with some salts. Hmm.” The hum was a little distracting and Pete almost did a rolling stop. He pressed the brakes a little hard at the stop sign, making them both jerk a little and took the time to wipe his damp palms on his jeans. Trousers? Denims? What did English people call them? Probably something fancy like pantaloons or something.
Pete thought about pantaloons as they crossed over to Jenkins Road where Revenge Apartments sat at the end of the street.
“Hey, so, the weekend is coming up. I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Harbor tomorrow.” Which was a pretty swanky bar, hilariously named for the closest thing to any sort of harbor being forty minutes down the road. But it had nice paintings and while it was swanky, it wasn’t so swanky that Pete couldn’t afford it.
“Oh my God, yes please,” Lucius said. His phone chimed and he held up a finger. “Un moment.”
Pete un momented. He pulled into the parking lot and killed the ignition, looking up at the three-story brownstone building that looked out of place, but kind of charming, even if the plumbing could be terrifying sometimes. Frenchie, who lived on the top floor, said the pipes were haunted and Pete almost believed him, but still refused to let him in to perform an exorcism for a discounted price. He could perform his own exorcism if he needed to. How hard could it be?
“Sorry,” Lucius said, tucking the phone away. “It might be a rain check on the bar. The boss requires my services.” He rolled his eyes. Pete couldn’t help but be annoyed. He’d met Lucius’ boss only once, or had seen him and heard him from a distance and he seemed like just another stuck up rich guy complaining about stupid problems. Who cared if places were out of brioche? Pete couldn’t even be sure what a brioche was!
“That jerk,” Pete said, but not too harshly, more like cautiously testing the waters to gauge Lucius’ reaction. “You know you can come work with me if you want. I’ve got the ear of the management and I bet I can get you in on some cutting edge tech.” Or at least the word was the electronics department was looking for a cashier, and Lucius could sell anyone anything.
“Thanks, babe. He’s not that bad though. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s got horrendous taste. Do you know what what was listening to the other day?”
“No, what?” Pete said, prepared to mock whatever it was. It was probably really bad if Lucius hated it.
“Taylor Swift,” Lucius said and Pete’s heart sank to his knees. “Something about someone wearing short skirts and bleachers, I don’t know. But he was dancing to it, too. I mean, I’m all for expressing yourself, but I feel like he probably is the wrong age bracket.”
“Right? Who would do that? Let alone dance?” Pete forced a laugh. It was fine. It wasn’t as if he liked that song. Or, well, he did, but it was probably the lowest ranked one of the Fearless era for him, even if it was hands down his favorite era. It was a little bit country, but also kind of magical and strong and he always liked to imagine himself magical and strong. ‘Love Story’ always made him cry too, but in a good way, in an academic way. Because what guy of his age was a Swiftie? No guy that Lucius dated that was for sure.
“Are you alright?” Lucius asked.
“What? Yeah, no, I’m fine. Just a long day.”
“I thought it was a half day.”
“I mean, well yeah, but it was a long day for a half day.” Pete smiled. “So, I guess that’s a no Harbor then? Maybe next week?”
“Let’s say it’s a maybe Harbor. Let’s put a pin in that. He didn’t say what it was, just that it was important, so it might be an all day thing or it might just be picking his outfit. I do believe there is tea on the horizon and, if I’m right, it’s going to be absolutely delicious.”
“I hope it’s the best tea you’ve ever tasted. Better than overpriced beer anyway.” And he knew that Lucius meant hot goss rather than any beverage, but Lucius did love his drama and Pete loved it too. Hearing about rich people problems just felt great in a way he couldn’t explain. He wouldn’t blame him for ditching the Harbor for that.
“Mm, the beer is overpriced and not that great,” said Lucius. “But the company will be wonderful.”
Pete tried not to beam too much but it was impossible with Lucius smiling at him like that.
“Yeah, I’m totally digging the company too,” Pete said. He went in for a kiss and Lucius leaned in as well and their lips met and his brain fuzzed all over the place and this, Pete thought, was what happiness felt like. But he had to be careful or he was going to lose it. Had to be careful that Lucius never saw. After all, it wasn’t that Pete wasn’t manly as hell. It wasn’t as if he liked singers that other people thought were silly but were really powerhouses of emotion and fascinating psychological journeys and hidden messages where everything was like a treasure hunt to catch something that couldn’t really be caught. But if Lucius ever thought he did, well, it would all be over.
So he held himself straight and strong, and the froggie umbrella too as they made their way to the concrete awning.
“Glad I brought the umbrella today,” Pete said, shaking it out.
“Me too,” Lucius said. Put a hand to his chest and Pete’s heart burned. “Because you’re very sweet and very kinda.” He smiled with the nose wrinkle. “And very debonair. You’re the hero of the hour, you know, even if you weren’t sitting for Picasso or have the ear of the upper management.” Lucius opened his eyes wider as if he was saying something significant. “I would like you regardless of that, I hope you know.” His phone dinged again, oblivious to Pete wanting to dance in the rain or shout from the rooftops.
“I’d better go see what he wants.” Lucius pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I’ll let you know about tomorrow, yeah?”
“Yeah, sure, babe. My time is yours,” Pete said in the most manly way possible. Lucius smiled.
“Charmer.” And slipped inside with one more parting kiss.
Pete waited until he was sure Lucius was gone, the climbed the stairs all the way to his own apartment and made sure the door was securely latched behind him before thumbing open the Not for Wimps playlist, flicking to his favorite song of all time and sighing as the words poured into the air.
/You’ll be a prince
and I’ll be the princess
it’s a love story
baby just say yes./
***
The next day it was still rainy and Pete couldn’t help but feel a little gloomy along with it. He’d checked his texts periodically, but no news seemed to kind of mean bad news. Or at least: ‘can’t go to the Harbor today, babe, sorry,’ news. And it was cool. It was fine. They could always go next week, but it was really hard to see Lucius during the work week because of conflicting schedules. Lucius had his art and his weird boss and Pete had his asshole of a boss and sometimes after work, especially near a weekend, he felt like he wanted to die instead. He still held out the hope that one day he’d end up a race car driver or an astronaut or one of those guys who appeared on commercials and sold cars; but until then it was stocking and merchandising and crowd control when a new Stanley cup was released. People went absolutely crazy over those freaking things and he only had seventeen himself. Almost eighteen if the package he was expecting from ebay didn’t end up being case of Astroglide instead. That was the third time that had happened to him and while the stuff was good at getting the squeak out of doors, he was otherwise not sure what good it was. Maybe people just had really squeaky hinges?
Not here, though. Pete prided himself on helping himself and his neighbors have the quietest doors on the block. Even Lucius had seemed pleased when Pete and done his doors — he couldn’t stop smiling! And even laughed when Pete told him of the many things that he could apply the lubricant to to make things quiet. Lucius had even taken a tube himself but had said he was hoping for the opposite effect. Pete wasn’t quite sure what he meant but hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed.
Either way, he had a feeling he was going to end up disappointed, since when his phone pinged and he scrambled across the room for it, it was only Frenchie saying he’d signed for a package and was downstairs in the lobby if Pete wanted to get it.
[Thanks, man. Be there in a jiff] Pete replied. Because why not? It wasn’t as if he was doing anything better with his day. He’d either be adding to his collection or trying to figure out why some of this stuff was flavored. Maybe someone liked licking door hinges? Pete filed the thought away for another day and/or potentially asking Mr. Buttons before trodding down to the lobby.
Frenchie was there, sorting through his mail. Pete had always been frankly amazed how much mail Frenchie got. Stacks and stacks of it. Sometimes he had to bring down a plastic bag to carry it all and the recycling bin was always full when he was done with his weekly mail sorting.
“Here for my package?”
“Yeah, just a sec. Look at this.” He waved an envelope in front of Pete’s face that had Frenchie’s name on it written in glittery red gel pen. “Does this look cursed to you?”
“Uh…I dunno. What’s a cursed envelope look like?”
“Not sure. It’s not reacting to the rabbit’s foot. Might as Mr. Buttons to take a sniff of it.”
“He can sniff curses?”
“Hmm.” Frenchie looked upwards. “I mean, probably? This building hasn’t fallen down despite being right on a ley line and no one has gotten possessed that I know of.”
“Oh, yeah, guess you’re right,” said Pete since the building was definitely still standing and if someone did get possessed he really did not want to know.
“Let me find your stuff, hang on.” Frenchie tucked the envelope in his back pocket and crouched over a pile of mail, lute shifting against his back.
“Hey,” Pete said. “You’re a musician right?”
“Yep. Have a gig next week if you’re interested.”
“Hell yeah I am. I’ll see if I can get time off.” Which he doubted, but that was beside the point. “I guess… I’m wondering… what do you think of Taylor Swift?”
“Oh, good question.” Frenchie straightened, holding the package which looked distressingly large for a Stanley cup. “I think she is a power-house of performer, a decent lyricist and has a great business sense. Really knows how to pull fans along.”
“Right?” Pete said. Then caught himself. “I mean, that’s what I hear. But I’m not, you know, a fan.”
“Me either. I’m still giving her a trial run. So far net signs are positive, but if she does another sixteen song drop at five a.m. on a weekday, me and her are going to have a fight.”
“But it’s good stuff!” Pete said before he could help himself. How could Frenchie deny that?
“I don’t care if it’s transcendent, mate. I need my beauty sleep.” He thrust the box at Pete who took it. He began to pick at the tape, just to give himself reason to stay.
“What if… say, for a wild example, your significant other was really super into her though. What would you do?”
Frenchie gave him a long look, then scratched the back of his neck just under his curls.
“I don’t really think it matters what I would do. I’m not Lucius.”
“I never said I liked her!” Pete’s cheeks flushed hot. “I never said it was about me! I was just being theoretical.”
“Well, even being theoretical, I’m still not Lucius. But if I liked something…whatever it was…enough to ask other’s advice about it, I’d talk to my significant other directly.”
Which was a good answer and Pete knew that Frenchie was right, even if he didn’t like it. But Frenchie wasn’t dating someone as cool as Lucius and so wasn’t at risk of losing someone as cool as Lucius.
“And what if you thought, theoretically, that you liking something might make your significant other not like you anymore.”
“Well, I think that if liking a fairly innocuous musical artist is enough to turn them off me, maybe we weren’t meant to be to begin with. Life’s too short for that kind of thing.”
Yeah, that was what Pete was afraid of. He didn’t know if he was as brave as Frenchie either, to just— to just tell someone whatever he felt. To be whatever he liked. You could do that if you were already pretty cool, but if you weren’t, it wasn’t really a good idea.
“Or…you could just kinda hide it. No one has to know, right?” He’d hidden it so far. Hell, he’d hide it forever if he needed to. Frenchie frowned.
“I mean, you can, but it seems kind of sad, you know? If you have to hide something that gives you so much joy and they never get to see that side of you… It’s kind of a disservice to you both, I think.”
Well, maybe, but it was only a tiny one. And it would be worth it. …Wouldn’t it?
“Yeah, thanks, man,” Pete said trying not to sigh. He lifted the tape, peeled open one flap of the box and peered at the box inside. “Oh goddamnit!” The cheerful purple of Astroglide awaited him. “You’d think they’d get it right the third time!”
“Maybe you should order from someone else,” Frenchie said, peering into the box as well. “You know, if you like, I can help you shift it.”
***
Ten minutes later and three boxes of Astroglide poorer (but slightly richer in a potential split of whatever profits Frenchie made) Pete found himself back in his apartment as empty handed as he left it. The apartment felt emptier than usual and Pete felt out of sorts. He tried to distract himself by watching TV, nothing on, by thinking about cleaning the sink which seemed more of a chore than a distraction. He even tried playing Animal Crossing only to get frustrated by a villager coming in every time he wanted to decorate the house.
Finally he ended up lying on his back on the sofa, staring up at the fine cracks in the ceiling and hearing the creaks of Wee John Feeny wandering around above him. One day he’d have to ask the guy why he was called that. Lucius had said once that he was pretty sure Wee John and Frenchie were dating, or, at the very least, in a situationship. Pete wondered if either of them had secrets like his. He knew Frenchie was brave enough to talk about his feelings, but was Wee John? Probably, Pete thought, feeling even worse. Wee John was pretty outspoken at tenant meetings.
So that just left him. Pete Black. Stinking coward.
Maybe he should tell Lucius. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe Lucius might even come to like TayTay— or at least some of her songs.
His phone buzzed. His heart raised when he saw it was Lucius and lowered when he saw it was a frowny face.
[Sorry, babes. It’s not a no, but it’s definitely a probably not. I can try to get away but don’t let me stop you from doing whatever]
[The only whatever I wanna do is you] Which was true and maybe the right thing to say because he got a gif of some actor he didn’t know, putting a hand over their heart and looking touched.
Though since he had Lucius on the line, maybe this was a good time to tell him. After all, anything could be said through text and if Lucius reacted badly, he could just claim that Frenchie stole his phone. Though if he did that he’d have to let Frenchie in on it and let him keep more of the profits maybe. Anyway, it was a good plan, a solid plan. Pete levered himself into a sitting position and held the phone between his hands.
[I like Taylor Swift] No. Too blunt. Delete. [I don’t like Taylor Swift but I think she has a strong musical presence] Delete Delete Delete. Why couldn’t he sound as good as Frenchie when he talked about that kind of thing? [Are you sure you don’t like Taylor Swift at all?] No! Fuck. Delete. [Would you hate me if I] Delete. [Would you think I was stupid if I] Delete. Delete. [I won’t like it any more I promise] Delete.
[Seeing those three dots bouncing a lot] Lucius texted. [Are you alright?]
Pete stared at the phone. He should say ‘no’, or even: ‘we should talk’. Instead he was even more of a coward and typed.
[Just asking if you need a ride]
[In this weather? I wouldn’t do that to you. I might carpool home with Olu or see if this lunatic will spring for a cab if I call it a work expense.] A pause and then: [I’ll let you know if it changes.]
[okay] and then, feeling bold, Pete added: [xx] Closed his eyes. Pressed send. Silence. The phone buzzed.
[xx!] Lucius had texted. Pete’s heart was full.
He flung the phone onto the coffee table and got up. Probably a night in then, which was fine. Might as well make a snack.
“Alexa, open spotify,” Pete said as he wended his way to the small kitchen.
“Opening spotify,” she replied pleasantly.
Pete had forgotten it was on the sad playlist until he heard the opening of Begin Again. Which seemed fitting somehow.
/Took a deep breath in the mirror
He didn't like it when I wore high heels
But I do
Turn the lock and put my headphones on
He always said he didn't get this song
But I do, I do/
She sang soft and sweet and full of hope, but it was kind of a sad hope too.
“I’m with you,” Pete said with a sigh. He pulled the tortilla chips from the upper cabinet and began to prepare for the long evening. Hiding it forever would have to start soon maybe, but it didn’t have to start now.
***
But, hey, maybe hiding it forever wouldn’t be so bad, Pete thought. After all, he wouldn’t be glued to Lucius’ side, like tonight. And, even if he was hiding it, there were still complete bangers to enjoy. He had danced through: Cruel Summer, attacked the sink and the toilet to the tune of Bad Blood and was now on a stepstool, dusting his Stanley cup collection, singing along.
“But I keep crusin’! Can’t stop, won’t stop movin’. It’s like I got that music in my mind sayin’ it’s gonna be alright. Hey! Hey! Hey!”
“Babes?” Lucius’ voice drifted through the apartment and Pete stumbled off the stepstool with a squawk and banging his elbow so hard on the wall behind that his fingers went briefly numb.
“Alexa! Stop! Cease! Shut up!” Pete bellowed. Thankfully the music stopped just as Lucius wandered in, looking alarmed and damp from rain.
“Are…you alright?”
“Pfh, yeah! Of course I’m alright,” Pete said, He tried to grin but it felt more like a grimace. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“Me either. I texted you…and I knocked a few times but… I guess the music was too loud.”
Oh crap, oh no, he’d heard it. Pete had to do something, to say something, and quick.
“Yeah, Wee John likes to blast it and it comes through the ventilation shafts. Kind of annoying, but you can’t blame a guy for his hobbies.” The lie came quick and easy and immediately Pete felt bad about it. Bad and a little worried about what Wee John might do If he knew Pete threw him under the bus. Maybe he could give Frenchie all the profits if he managed to convince Wee John not to bend Pete into a pretzel. Lucius’ brow furrowed as if he didn’t believe him, casting a glance at the vent high up in the ceiling before saying, maybe uneasily?
“Okay….”
Yeah, that was not good. But would be fine. All they had to do was to have a really great evening and then Lucius would forget about it and Pete could erase all the music from his spotify and pretend it didn’t exist.
“Sooo, wanna go to the Harbor?”
“Well…” Lucius made a face. “Not really. It’s absolutely horrendous out there. I don’t even want to be out in it, let alone have someone drive me in it.”
“Oh… Well I don’t have any booze on me right now. I mean I usually do, but I haven’t stocked up. But I can make a mean virgin cocktail. I can make another batch of nachos… and…maybe you can show me your angles?” And then just in case he had it wrong or had somehow ruined it. “If…you still wanna hang out.”
“Yeah, no of course.” Lucius seemed to relax a little, though his smile was still a bit tight around the corners. “It sounds great. Let me just get my portfolio.” He gestured back toward the door. “Do you want me to knock or…?”
“No, no, God, no, just come in.”
“Alright.” Lucius wiggled his fingers. “See you soon.”
The moment that he left, Pete scrambled to get things ready. There wasn’t a whole lot of time, but he could at least whip together a couple of cocktails and get the cheese going. Most importantly, he chose a decent playlist. Though he couldn’t help but sweat a little as he tried to decide what Lucius might like. Finally he settled on the Beatles. They were British, right? Might be nice for Lucius to hear something nostalgic. He took a brief glance in the mirror to make sure he didn’t have any weird stray hairs and spritzed on a bit of cologne and when Lucius said:
“Hellooo?” In a sing song tone, Pete managed to emerge from the bathroom a lot more suavely than he went in. Lucius looked a little drier now, wearing a striped blue shirt and navy jeans.
“You look great, babe!”
“You smell great,” said Lucius. “And that cheese, oh my god, my stomach is growling like crazy.”
“Should be ready really soon.” He nodded toward the portfolio. “Wanna show me what you got?”
“Yees,” Lucius said, frowning. As if he was still unsure. Pete sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him, glad when Lucius sat as well. Still he clutched the portfolio instead of opening it, one hand toying with his little neckerchief. He looked so cute and coy that Pete wanted to kiss him about it and might do it after a while, if everything turned out okay.
“You don’t have to show me if you don’t want,” Pete said, wondering if that was what Lucius was worried about. “But I’m sure it’s amazing.”
“Well, it’s… I don’t know if it’ll be your…thing.”
Pete couldn’t imagine how it wouldn’t be his thing. Everything Lucius did was far and away his thing.
“I’m sure it’s fine, babe,” Pete saying, trying to be encouraging. Lucius nodded, took a breath and opened the portfolio. It was…
Well…
Pete wasn’t sure what he was looking at. There were cool lines and vibrant colors here, pale colors there, strange geometric blotches. Pete couldn’t tell where his model was in the painting.
“You hate it, don’t you?” Lucius said.
“No, baby! No. I just…don’t get it.” His heart jerked as Lucius started to close the portfolio. “I mean, I want to!” He blurted. “Even if I don’t get it, I want to hear you talk about it because you’re so passionate and…and you did this! So I want to know about it!”
“Oh…” Lucius flushed prettily. “Pete… you are such a sweetheart.” His fingers drifted cool against Pete’s cheek and the kiss was soft and sweet and perfect. Then Pete abruptly realized what Frenchie had been talking about. About how sad it would be to hide the good parts of yourself from someone that cared about you.
“Lucius…” Pete said. “There’s…something I want to tell you.” He took Lucius’ hand, just because he could, and was relieved that Lucius twined their fingers together, his expression serious.
“Go on…”
“I… I…” He just had to say it. Had to let it out. If Lucius could be brave, he could be brave too. He screwed his eyes shut tight and blurted: “I’m a Swiftie.”
There was a pause. A long pause. Too long a pause. Lucius’ hand never left his though so Pete opened an eye cautiously and found Lucius giving him a blank look.
“Sorry, a what?”
“I um…I like Taylor Swift’s music,” Pete muttered, looking down at their joined fingers, awaiting Lucius’ to pull away at any moment. “I know it sounds lame but I really think she’s interesting. There’s a mythos there and…it’s just… it really speaks to me and…and I know you think it’s dumb…”
“Oh, baby….”
“But it’s not dumb to me. But…I don’t have to play it around you if you don’t like it, I…I just thought you should know…”
“Oh Pete,” Lucius said, covered their hands with his other one. “I’m sorry if I made you think… I mean, to be honest I haven’t heard much beyond what the boss keeps playing incessantly. Something about the tide bringing the lover in and she can go on and on and on and on, and believe me, she does, on repeat sometimes.” Lucius huffed. “It would be easier to bear if I knew who he was crushing on.”
“That’s This Love,” said Pete, surprised and annoyed that Lucius’ boss had some refined taste and knew what he was about. Now when he looked up at Lucius, he saw the beautiful man was surprised.
“You can tell that just from random lyrics?”
“Yeah…” Pete grinned feeling sheepish. “I’ve kind of been obsessed for a while. Iiit’s a pretty maudlin song…” Oh, here he was, doing it again. “But I like it when…I’m in the mood to cry…Which…which I am sometimes because…it feels good …to cry.”
To his relief, Lucius smiled.
“It really does.” He took a breath and sat back, tugging Pete’s hand onto his lap still caged between both of his. “Well, I may not understand Taylor Swift, and I might not even like Taylor Swift, but I’d like to understand it. Or, I’d like you to tell me about it, because you’re passionate about it and it means so much to you.”
Tingles raced through Pete even stronger than when he banged his elbow, right from the top of his skull down to the soles of his feet and he felt like he’d drank two two liter bottles of Dr. Pepper and was still feeling the bubbles. He felt brave now. No, more than that, he felt fearless.
“You know,” Pete said. “You’re a great guy. Handsome and talented and kind and all of that stuff. I think…that I could fall a in love with you…really easy.”
The smile bloomed on Lucius’ face was more translucent than any song could ever be.
“You know,” Lucius said. “I think I feel the same.” And then he wrinkled his nose. “But can we stop with the Beatles please?”
Pete grinned. “I know just what you need. Alexa, play the Good Feeling playlist.”
“Oh,” Lucius’s eyes widened. “Now this is a bop.”
“Isn’t it?” Pete laughed. “Now, show me your stuff!”
And as they leaned over Lucius portfolio, the music shimmered through the air:
/Once upon a time
A few mistakes ago
I was in your sights
You got me alone
You found me
You found me
You found me /