18. Bryce
EIGHTEEN
brYCE
We stand outside another run-down apartment building, and I squint at an ad in the paper that’s supposed to sell what’s inside, but I’m pretty sure it’s only mocking me. “Charming One-Bedroom for Rent.” Maybe, if you’re a rat.
“Bryce, this one’s got potential,” Marsh says, his eyes wide like he just found a unicorn.
He’s wearing a red Fire Island T-shirt that’s a little too snug, but it looks cute on him.
I look up at the building like I’m trying to figure out where the monsters emerge from. “Potential for what? A horror movie?”
Marsh and Data had offered to take me apartment hunting after I told them Anthony kicked me out. I’m finally taking them up on their offer now that Emerson and I are on shaky ground. Speaking of shaky ground, was this current offering built atop an ancient gateway to hell?
“Bryce,” Data chimes in, pointing at the paper in my hand. “It has granite countertops. That’s a win.”
“You know I don’t cook. Unless you count ramen noodles. ”
“Well, look here.” Data points to another part of the listing. “The building has a gym. We don’t have that at the Bigby.”
“No, we have six flights of stairs. That’s more than enough for me.
” I cross my arms, cringing from a disturbing rumble in my stomach that I’m pretty sure isn’t hunger.
“You know, if you two really want me to have a new place to live, I could just move in with you. You both love Bobo, and he adores you. And we’re quiet.
Clean. Respectful. I’ll have no gentleman callers over. ” I hold my hand up. “Scout’s honor.”
Marsh stares at me with a raised eyebrow. “You’re saying you’d rather cram into our tiny one-bedroom apartment than stay with Emerson?”
Emerson’s name slams into my brain like a truck.
“I mean, it’s not my apartment anymore. I need to vacate the premises.”
Data takes the paper from me, folds it neatly, and tucks it into his back pocket. “Would this have anything to do with the, um … noises we heard last night?”
Oops. I forgot the bedroom in my … our … Emerson’s apartment is right above theirs. They’ve joked about hearing Anthony and me.
“I don’t know what you heard,” I say, blinking quickly. “Maybe Bobo was running around. He gets antsy sometimes in the middle of the night.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Data cocks an eyebrow. “What we heard was fornication.”
“I’m truly impressed your bed didn’t break.” Marsh wiggles his eyebrows, and my face flashes with heat. I’m fairly certain I resemble a hothouse tomato.
My lips part, and I smile in that way where only my teeth are showing. “Guilty.”
“Good for you!” Data slaps my back. “He’s tall. Broad. Those blazers. He’s … ”
“Hot,” Marsh says. “Smoking hot. Nice job, Derrickson.”
They both nod their approval, and there goes my stomach churning again.
“The thing is, I woke up and kind of freaked out, so I took Bobo for a walk and didn’t come home until the afternoon. I think Emerson and I had a fight. Well, our version of a fight. And now it’s super awkward, and I just want to move out. But …”
“You have nowhere to go, no money, and a dog the size of a pony,” Data says.
“Exactly.”
“Here’s how I see it,” Marsh says, leaning against the building like he’s auditioning for an action movie. “You don’t need to leave.”
“Yes, I do. After what we did last night and how I left and what he said to me. I can’t stay.”
Marsh places a hand on my shoulder. “Bryce. You don’t have any other options. Just try being friends with him. Rewind to pre-sexytimes. Go back to being roommates.”
“How can we be cordial, let alone friends, after hooking up?”
“We’re gay men. It’s our superpower.”
Marsh has a point. When your friend pool is the same as your dating pool, you learn to adapt to awkward situations like these. But this time with Emerson feels different. It was hot, physical sex, but I can’t call it a hookup.
“You need to talk to him.” Data’s next to me now, the two of them huddling around me with support. “Maybe you can apologize for bolting this morning.”
“And being a dick by not coming back until the afternoon,” Marsh adds.
I toss what they’re saying around in my head. Maybe they’re right. Maybe we can chat. Rewind before last night. Try to go back to the friendly roommate situation.
“I don’t know if I have the emotional bandwidth to be friends with Emerson right now. Not after … what you heard. It’s just easier to pack all my stuff up and move.”
“Okay, let’s keep looking,” Data says. “Something will turn up.”
Data continues walking down the street. I’m about to follow when Marsh’s big hand pulls me back, and we walk a little slower.
“Look, I say this as someone with direct experience, don’t let this distance grow.” Marsh peers at me with genuine emotion, something I’m not used to seeing in him. There’s no windup, no punchline. “You’d be shocked to see how easily people can grow apart if you let it happen.”
“Is that what happened with you and Data?” They may be hashtag couple goals now, but when I first met them, they were separated. Some big fight. Back then, Data lived under his own cloud of sadness, missing Marsh, knowing he needed to move on but not knowing how.
“You and Emerson obviously have some kind of connection. Maybe it’s love. Maybe it’s lust. Maybe it’s somewhere in between. But if you let him drift away, you may not be able to get him back.”
“We’re not all lucky enough to get snowed in with our ex-boyfriends during an epic blizzard and patch things up with boxes of Mallomars.”
“Who knows? With the way climate change is going, maybe you will be. But you can’t count on it.” He flashes me his comforting smile. “When we were split up, I missed Data like crazy. I wish I hadn’t been stupid enough to let him go the first time.”
“Emerson and I aren’t a couple. We’re not in …” I don’t have the guts to admit we’re not in love, because I don’t know yet if I’d be lying to myself. I don’t want to speak that energy into the universe. “I appreciate your concern, Marsh.”
Data pivots around. “Come on, slowpokes! What’s taking so long? ”
“Nothing. I just like walking slowly so I can blatantly check you out is all,” Marsh says. “That reminds me, where are we going to eat after this?” He jogs up to his husband and gives him a loud slap on the ass.
After another two blocks, we reach the next apartment. Surprise, surprise: it’s too small, smells like onions, and the landlord’s idea of “pet-friendly” is only rats and roaches are allowed.
Marsh checks his phone. “Okay, well, at least there’s good pizza nearby.
I’m texting Preeti. Her apartment is right around the corner.
” He thumbs out a text while talking. “Let’s go there and lick our wounds.
You might have seen your roommate naked, but we can drown your sorrows in extra cheese.
Maybe that will help you forget about Emerson. ”
“Emerson’s not the problem,” I mutter, knowing I’m lying.
“Of course not,” Marsh says sarcastically. “It’s totally not about the hot professor who makes you act like a teenager who can’t stop getting hard in class. That’s not the problem at all.”
We head to Ferrazoli’s, which has the best pizza in New York City.
They even have a neon sign in the window letting you know.
I’ve been coming here since I moved to the city, and it’s always predictably awesome.
If we were searching for the perfect pizza instead of the perfect apartment, we’d have hit the jackpot.
Just as we take our seats at our regular table near the back, Preeti arrives. She’s got this aura of perpetual movement—like a tornado in heels.
“Over here,” Marsh shouts.
Preeti joins us, smiling and giving hugs all around.
“Did you cut your hair?” I ask. It’s at least a few inches shorter.
“I’m in my Velma Kelly era. Glad somebody noticed.” She taps the bottom of her bob with her palm and gives Marsh some side-eye.
“What? I totally noticed,” Marsh says.
“Marshall Goldberg …” Preeti sits next to Data.
“I love you mo re than lesbians love a U-Haul after a first date, but no you didn’t.
I’ve seen you three times since I got it chopped, and you’ve yet to say a word.
” She focuses her attention on me. “But thank you, Bryce, for noticing. It’s much easier to manage and has the bonus effect of attracting even more ladies. ”
“So pretty,” I say, winking at her. “It really frames your face.”
“You, my friend”—she boops my nose with her index finger—“are a doll. I told this clueless one to text me the next time you were with him.”
“You did?” I ask, trying not to look too surprised.
“I did.” Preeti winks at me as Data heads over to grab a pizza for us.
“I’m working on something super secret. Super exciting.
Super gay.” She shakes her shoulders, and her chest jiggles like a bowl of jelly.
“A new sketch comedy pilot. Queer in the Headlights. Think SNL meets Trixie and Katya. But gayer.”
“Gayer than two drag queens talking about other drag queens?” Marsh asks.
“Gayer.” She raises her eyebrows, and gosh, between her and Marsh, I could be entertained enough to forget about my problems for a few hours.
“Anyway, we want to have some dancers. Mostly for between sketches, but also maybe in some of them. There will obviously be musical numbers. Think Fly Girls, but …”
“Gayer,” Marsh and I say together.
“Now you’re getting it.” She nods, and a massive grin forms on her face. “So what do you think?”
“It sounds amazing,” I say. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“No, silly.” Preeti slaps my arm harder than I expected. “About being a part of it. I want you to choreograph and dance in it.”
“But don’t you want …” I pause, fumbling for the right words. “Twinks?”
“Baby, baby, baby.” She takes my hand gently, and my chest settles at the warmth of her touch. “No,” she says simply but with conviction. “We want our troupe to actually mirror the diversity found in the queer community. We want you.”
I blink. Once. Twice. The ground shifts slightly under my feet.
“Oh. Wow. Okay.” My voice comes out thinner than I expect, like the words haven’t quite caught up with the realization.
We want you.
It doesn’t sound like charity. It doesn’t sound like pity.
It sounds like truth. Like someone looking at me and seeing something worthy.
My chest swells as my mind races to keep up—what this could mean.
A steady job. Real money. The ability to move out.
A chance to be part of something, not just orbiting the edges, waiting for someone to notice me.
Marsh is practically vibrating with joy, grinning like this is the greatest idea since sliced bread and crop tops. He definitely knew.
And under all the adrenaline and surprise, there’s this quieter thing stirring in my chest—relief. I didn’t realize how much I wanted an opportunity like this.
I laugh, but it comes out shaky. I hold up my hands in mock surrender, hoping it covers how much my heart is thudding against my ribs. “Okay,” I say, nodding. “I’ll do it.”
Preeti winks. “Amaze-balls. I’ll text you the details. It’s going to be fantastic.”
She gives me the biggest, warmest bear hug, and I’m momentarily lost in her jasmine perfume. When she pulls back, she says, “Full transparency, there will also be twinks.”
“I figured,” I say. “And hoped. I have nothing against twinks. Just want them to share the spotlight a little.”
“Amen to that,” Marsh says.
“Amen to what?” Data returns with a tray of pizza, and we each grab paper plates and napkins from the table.
“Twinks and big boys coexisting peacefully.”
“I fully support that message.” Data holds his slice up, and we all toast, tapping the tips of our own .
I may not have a new apartment just yet.
I might still be squatting on the sofa in a perpetual state of awkwardness around Emerson.
But at least I have pizza with extra cheese, and friends to remind me that even amid the stormy chaos, the sun still waits behind the clouds. For now, that keeps my spirit afloat.