A Punch In The Gut Lunch #2
I catch Darryl’s eye and nod minutely in Tristan’s direction. Darryl’s eyes flit from mine to Tristan’s and back to mine, understanding lighting his gaze and then dimming as realization hits.
No, we don’t owe anyone explanations of our sexuality, but leaving Tristan out of something we’d obviously shared with each other broke an unspoken bro code, and Tristan is probably trying to figure out if there’s anything he’d done to render himself unworthy of our trust when, in reality, it had been our own oversight.
Darryl squares his shoulders and turns towards Qiang.
“You’re gonna love the house. You know, if you decide to move in, but even if you decide not to, I’m sure you’ll see it anyway.
The view is amazing, and the rooms are massive.
You’d have two rooms and a bathroom all to yourself,” he rambles out, and I know he’s trying to ease the tension, which works because we all kind of start falling into a bit of random conversation and banter.
Eventually, Qi catches my eye before nodding towards Qiang, and I know what he wants.
The point of this meet-up is for me to give Qiang a good enough impression of myself so they agree to move in with us.
Not quite sure how on board I am with that now.
I mean, not really. I know how important it is to Tristan and Qi, so obviously, I’m on board, but I’m a bit hesitant now, too, because this pretty person with big doe eyes makes me react in ways that are equal parts exciting and terrifying, which, quite frankly, is absolutely… terrifying.
I take a deep breath to collect myself before looking Qiang in the eyes. “So Qi says you run a makeup channel. What’s up with that?”
I know right away that I’ve said something wrong.
Qiang instantly bristles, and I look over at Tristan for some sort of clue on how I just fucked up.
I am not this fucking awkward. Ever. I am smooth, always know the right thing to say, and know when to say it.
I don’t know how this pretty person managed to abscond with my entire personality, but I need it back. Right fucking now.
“What do you mean?” Qiang asks, a challenge evident in their voice, and I realize what I’ve done.
Tristan made it clear that Qiang has been hurt by jocks, most likely by being bullied, and in today’s society, Qiang being a makeup influencer is most likely a part of it. The question came across sounding more like I was calling them out than like I was genuinely curious.
“I mean, how did you get into it? Obviously, you must like it to do it, so is it something you hope to expand on in the future? Do you do makeup that centers on a specific clientele? I’ve seen some that are more geared towards cosplay and others that are more geared towards contouring.
Some are more neutral while others are bolder and more daring, so I was just curious. ”
Qiang’s body deflates while I talk. The tension visibly leaves them as they realize I meant no harm, and I let out a silent breath of relief. I need to do better than this. I normally would be doing better than this if Qiang hadn’t fucked up my brain synapses and sent my head into a tailspin.
Qi nudges Qiang’s shoulder. “They got into it because of clown avant-garde makeup,” he says with a playful glint that has Qiang relaxing the rest of the way.
Not sure what it means, but whatever it is eases Qiang’s discomfort, which I’m thankful for.
I’m walking on thinner eggshells than I’m used to, and shit’s stressing me out.
“I did not, you brat,” they say with an exaggerated eye-roll before focusing back on me.
“I don’t do a lot of the cosplay stuff. Sometimes I do a couple of fun things during Halloween, but most of the time it’s just different everyday wear looks.
I’ve always loved makeup with the way it can shape and change a face, or alter a look, or completely transform it.
The channel isn’t popular enough to be my sole source of income, but I’m hoping a master’s in business with a focus on marketing will help make it lucrative enough.
And honestly, it’s grown exponentially as I take things I learn and apply them along the way,” they say, getting enthusiastic as they talk.
Their eyes light up, and I can see the love they have for their craft shining through them.
It’s intoxicating, and I’m completely drawn in by them and their love for what they do.
It’s something that found its way into them and became a part of their blood, traveling through every part of who they are and where they’re going.
And I completely dig it. Maybe makeup and football are two completely different things, but it feels like they love makeup the same way I love football.
“That’s awesome. Most people just kind of go for whatever’s easiest or most convenient. So few pursue what they really want anymore,” I tell them, admiring their bravery.
Qiang tucks their hands beneath their chin and leans in towards me. My breath catches just a bit; their eyes are now close enough to make out the specks of caramel that swim in the pretty dark-brown depths.
“What about you? What do you really want to do?” they ask.
I can feel my cheeks burn with the smile that spreads across my face. “Play in the NFL. Live the dream,” I tell them, envisioning the future I’ve had mapped out in my head since the first game my dad ever took me to.
I already played football at a youth activities club my parents had me signed up for, but it was that first NFL game I saw live when I was twelve that solidified a fun activity into an obsession. The crowd, the energy, the way each player left everything they had on that field.
It wasn’t just a game. It wasn’t just a good time. It was a clash of titans, a fight to the death, a momentous battle that lodged itself so deep in my heart there’s no coming back for me. It’s in me now, in my past, my present, my future. It’s mine and always will be.
“And if you don’t make it in the NFL?”
Qiang’s arguably rational but completely unreasonable question drops me out of that euphoric memory straight onto the linoleum floor beneath us with a thud.
While Darryl guffaws at what he knows just knocked me out of my head, I’m staring at the ceiling, mumbling every apology to the energies surrounding us to ignore the treacherous negativity that has just been laid bare at my feet.
I know wholeheartedly that I am ridiculous, but energy exists in everything we do.
Positive energy begets positivity. Negative energy begets negativity.
My dreams are too big to risk with negativity.
It’s a rule, a superstition that’s rooted even deeper than wearing my lucky durag for every game I play.
Darryl and Qi help pass the rest of lunch by maintaining a steady, light flow of conversation.
I’m out of my head, Tristan is visibly confused by us, and Qiang keeps shooting me apologetic looks like they know they popped a bubble somewhere.
If it weren’t for Darryl and Qi talking steadily, I don’t know if we’d even make it through the rest of lunch without dying of sheer awkward tension.
After a while, Qiang stands up and looks at Qi. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. I have an online panel I need to get ready for. I’d still like to think about things a bit, but it’s been real,” they say, hugging Qi before dabbing everyone up and heading out.
Before I can think it through or psyche myself out, I get up and jog out after them. “Hey, Qiang,” I call out to get their attention.
Qiang turns and hooks me with a questioning eyebrow.
“Um, I know I was awkward as fuck in there. Sorry, it just felt like a lot of pressure, you know. I know how much Qi wants you to move in, and I didn’t want to fuck it up, but I was awkward as hell, and I know I fucked it up.
So, I was thinking maybe we could exchange numbers.
Text a bit. You could get to know me in a more ‘me’ atmosphere instead of that awkward as hell lunch interview or whatever the fuck that was.
” I trip over the words a bit as I rush to get them all out.
Qiang looks at the ground for a moment before looking up and giving me a penetrating stare. “Doesn’t make much sense not to. Even if I don’t move in, it’s not like we aren’t going to get thrown together often enough anyway, right?” they point out.
I smile widely at that and hand them my phone. “We’ll definitely be seeing a lot of each other in the future,” I drop in a low voice that is so vulgarly flirty, even I’m insulted by it. I need to get this shit under control before I see them again.
Qiang drops my phone back in my hand. “No dick pics. I have no desire to get arrested for child pornography,” they say.
I know they’re making a joke, but it’s also a very clear line they’re drawing. They see right through me, and I know they’re right, too. This can’t happen, and the tease is enough to remind me of that.
“Eighteen for the record, and I never send dick pics without consent,” I tell them, wanting them to know I got the message.
They nod. “That’s good. There needs to be more consent kings. See ya soon,” they wave before getting in their car.
I step back, letting them go. I need to talk to Darryl, and we need to talk to Tristan and clear the air with my bro. Bad blood and hurt feelings have no place between us, and I need to get rid of that shit sooner rather than later.
And I need to figure out how to tuck this attraction to Qiang in, because we’re both right; we’re about to get thrown together a lot.
I cannot afford that kind of distraction, because Qiang won’t just be a one-and-done.
As much as I’d like to, I can’t do that to someone who’ll be living in the same house as me and is an integral part of my best bro’s life. I have to lock this shit up tight.