Rhys #2
“Tagging along with your brother and Kendall instead of the other way around for once, huh?”
“Something like that,” I confirmed, trying not to sound overly invested in the part that involved Kendall.
“That boy is sweeter than sugar, wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Mrs. Crawford said wryly, giving a few firm nods as she punched buttons on her screen. “Even with a daddy like that.”
“Yeah.” For some reason, I felt like I’d already said too much and implicated myself.
“It’s been good for this town having him here, always being so open and authentic,” she said. “You know, if it wasn’t for him, half the old fogeys in this place probably wouldn’t even know a gay person. Or, at least, they’d think they didn’t know any. You can’t always tell, you know.”
“… Yeah.” My palms slicked over with sweat at her harmless observation, but I wasn’t exactly sure why.
“I think it helps for them to see he’s just a regular person.”
“Uh, yeah. I guess.” I wasn’t sure I considered Kendall Austin a regular person. But if they did, then that was probably a good thing for him.
“Anyway,” she said, waving a hand dismissively as I inserted the chip side of my debit card into the PIN pad to pay. “You boys keep being good. And you remind your mama that she better send me that tomato sauce recipe she promised before I see her at the book club on Wednesday.”
“I’ll, uh, try to remember.”
“It’s Rebecca’s week to pick the book,” she mused, referring to my mom. “I like her weeks. She always picks something spicy.”
“Spicy?” I repeated, confused.
“You know,” she insisted, before leaning in closer to me and wiggling her eyebrows in an obviously suggestive way. “Spicy.”
“Gross,” I said, realizing now what she meant. I didn’t want to think about my mom drooling over some fictional cowboy ripping open women’s bodices or whatever.
Mrs. Crawford’s amused laughter followed me, ringing in my ears, as I made my way to the door.
THE NEXT DAY, I piled into the car with Benjamin and Josie and rode about a half hour over to what we considered the big city. It wasn’t New York or Los Angeles but compared to Cherryvale, it was.
When I very casually asked if we were picking up Kendall on the way, Josie informed me that Keke had taken a Lyft over hours ago to help set up some things.
When I wondered why he’d taken a Lyft instead of his own car, Benjamin snorted from the driver’s seat and Josie chuckled from the passenger’s seat, glancing back at me for a moment with her eyes dancing.
“Well, he doesn’t want to have to worry about leaving his car if he ends up, you know, going to a guy’s house and spending the night.”
“Oh.”
My stomach pitched as I realized I really, really didn’t like that idea, then it squirmed with dread when I thought about how insane that was.
He’d already given me a pity blowjob. He didn’t owe me anything, and he didn’t belong to me.
He was a single, consenting, gay 24-year-old trying to go out and have fun during a pride event. There was nothing wrong with that.
And regardless, I was straight. And he was a guy.
So it didn’t matter to me what he did and who he hooked up with, anyway.
I’d only gone to him in my time of need because he was so…
Warm. And empathetic. And sweet. And I’d known he wouldn’t turn me down or laugh in my face.
And I’d been desperate for attention, which I knew he would give me.
It didn’t mean I was into guys or anything, just because the only person in my life who I wanted attention from at the moment was a guy.
That was just a stroke of bad luck on my part.
My entire life was a series of strokes of bad luck. I was ready for the dark cloud that had been following me for years to finally disperse and give me a fucking break, but no such luck so far. Maybe when my divorce was actually finalized. Maybe.
We arrived and parked in the insanely crowded parking garage, following the crowds of people headed to the same place we were.
There were several blocks barricaded off for the festivities and even the little local park was decked out with booths selling pride merch, food vendors, and local businesses who had presumably helped sponsor the event.
It was just as loud, crowded, and annoying as I’d feared, but at least everyone was smiling and having a good time.
The parade wasn’t for a few more hours, but we milled around looking at the art and colorful displays for a bit.
I very quickly started to notice that a lot of the guys that were hanging around and seemed to be involved with the event were handsome, fit, and very clearly and openly queer.
That was probably the pool of guys Kendall would be picking from to hook up with after all the events were said and done.
I was glad I’d taken Benjamin’s advice and dressed for hot weather in running shorts and a tank top that showed off my physique.
Wait. No. These guys weren’t my competition.
It didn’t matter if I looked good or not.
I wasn’t cruising around the pride event looking for someone to hook up with, and I wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
I was there to support my brother’s friend, support the community, and pretend to have fun. Easy.
But as the minutes passed, it nagged at me.
It didn’t matter. Kendall could do what he wanted.
The last thing he needed was some divorced, jobless loser hanging around analyzing him and ruining his fun.
The last thing I needed was the human version of a glittery sunshine bomb hanging around giving me random boners with his compliments.
“Hey, I’m going to… look around a little bit,” I piped up, while Josie and my brother were waiting in line at an artisan booth that sold pride-branded baby items like pacifiers and onesies. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
“You sure?” Benjamin asked, and I held up my phone.
“Just text me when you want to meet back up. Or I’ll text you,” I added, and they both agreed.
Making my way through the dense crowd of people, my eyes scanned over everyone as efficiently as I could. Under normal circumstances, Kendall would stand out and be easy to spot but in a place like this… His unnatural hair and general sparkly demeanor wasn’t exactly a rare commodity.
After a few minutes of fruitless searching, I felt a large hand clap down on my shoulder.
“Free sticker?”
I turned around to see a woman with huge blonde hair, lots of bright makeup, and an outfit to rival any modern day pop star.
She probably would have been just about my height, but her wild platform heels forced me to tilt up my chin to stare into her face.
She was clutching a stack of sticker sheets in her hands, covered in various colorful flags.
“Ah, no,” I said, shaking my head slightly. “I’m not gay. Or… whatever those other colors mean.”
The corner of her bright red lips perked up and she gave me a tiny, slightly condescending nod.
“Alright, sweetie. You look lost. Let me help.”
“I’m not,” I denied. The collection of pins on her ample chest had sayings like drag queens do it better and suck it in and tuck it in on them. “I’m just looking for a friend.”
“What kind of friend are you looking for, handsome?” She wondered, twirling a lock of her shiny hair around her finger.
“We’ve got leather daddies, gym bunnies, corporate finance gays…
” She trailed off after gesturing to various groups in our line of sight.
“Or maybe you’re looking for a lady friend. Like me. I’m Dolly, by the way.”
Clearing my throat, I resisted the urge to wince. I wasn’t small, but it looked feasible that she could bench press me if she wanted to.
“N-no, I mean I’m looking for someone that’s already my friend. He’s here and I want to talk to him.”
“Ooh, okay. Interesting. Well, who’s your friend? I might be able to help.”
“Kendall Austin.”
She heaved a giant sigh, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead like a Victorian era woman about to faint from an overly tight corset.
“Oh, of course you’re looking for Kendall Austin. Can’t you closet cases like anything else?”
Heat flooded my face as my throat tightened.
“I’m not in the closet!” I stammered out, looking around to see if anyone had heard. “I’m just- I want Kendall. I want to talk to Kendall,” I corrected myself quickly, when she popped up a thick, manicured eyebrow.
“Alright, sweetie. Let’s get you to Kendall,” she said, sighing wistfully again before planting her palm on the crown of my head and ruffling my hair like I was an adorable, yet foolish puppy.
She led me through the crowd with a sense of purpose and direction I had previously been lacking which I was grateful for, despite the fact that she’d called me a closet case.
Which I wasn’t. I’d always liked women. I’d never been curious about guys.
And I’d had plenty of opportunity, with all the locker rooms I’d shared with other young, built athletes.
What flag colors were for when you were completely beaten down from your toxic, shitty marriage, but your little brother happened to have a best friend who’d had an adorable crush on you for basically forever?
And he didn’t have any qualms about making it clear how attractive he found you, and loved showering you with praise and compliments.
And he was so cute and so sweet that when you were with him it actually made you forget how everything in your life was in actual shambles?
And you were so stupidly and humiliatingly touch starved that you started to feel like you’d actually combust if you didn’t get some kind of sexual contact, but he was the only person who felt safe to go to?
So even though he was a guy, and you weren’t into guys like that, he’s who you couldn’t stop thinking about?
I’d wear a sticker with that flag on it, if they made one.
“Oh, Keke,” she finally called out in a singsong voice when we milled out into a less dense area with a circle of little booths in it. “You have a visitor.”