PHILLIP GLANCED out the side window of the salon. The day had the good grace to be gray, gloomy, and miserable. He focused on reorganizing the two drawers at his station until even the Bossman would be impressed. Then he sprayed and cleaned his mirror again.
Monique snatched the paper towel from his hands. “For God’s sake, it’s been three days! Text him back.”
Phillip didn’t need to be reminded how long it had been since he’d awkwardly left Tristan’s house. Nor of how he hadn’t responded to any of the man’s texts. What could he have said? He didn’t do relationships? Tristan should find someone better? They could be friends? Or it had been fun….
None of those things would have covered the chaos in Phillip’s brain. He didn’t do love. He didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Avoidance? A ton easier… much simpler. Monique should know him better.
“Mind your own business,” Phillip snapped, harsher than he meant to.
Monique stepped back with a gasp. She slapped her hand over her heart, but she regrouped quickly. “Oh my God! You’re like an emoji with two hearts for your eyes whenever you reread his texts.”
So he’d been reading past texts from Tristan. Never mind that he hadn’t ever kept texts from anyone. But those cherished words had petered out yesterday morning.
The last text tore at Phillip’s heart.
I won’t push, but I’d love to see you again.
Once the “I love you” was out there, it couldn’t be walked back. How was he supposed to react? Even if he might possibly sort of most definitely feel the same way, the whole thing would just implode. No. Simply much easier not to let this go any further. It felt shitty right now, but that would pass.
“Come on, it’s lunchtime and you don’t have another appointment until two.” Monique dragged him out the back door of the salon.
“I’m not hungry. I’m busy—what’s he doing here?” Phillip pointed to Chris, who sat in the car with an intervention-type determination in his expression and folded arms.
Since there was no escape, Phillip slid into the passenger seat and accepted the foil-wrapped grilled chicken sandwich Chris handed him. “Thanks.”
Monique settled into the back and handed him a soda marked Other.
He sipped the root beer, waiting for the onslaught.
Chris studied him. “What’s the deal?”
“With?” Phillip would be difficult if he wanted to be. Screw them for playing two against one on him.
Without missing a beat, Chris said, “With you and your librarian.”
“Not—” He moved Chris’s cell phone out of the cup holder and set his soda in it.
“Oh, shut the fuck up. Your denial is bordering on delusional,” Monique muttered under her breath but loud enough to be heard.
Phillip glared at her in the passenger side mirror, but she appeared beyond done with his nonsense. He snarked, “I don’t remember asking the Queen of Denial.”
She squirmed. Good, she got his reference of the tricks she played on herself when it came to Chris, but fuck if that stopped her. “You’ve been moping around for days.”
“Sorry your token gay can’t always be gleeful. Must be tough keeping me around for diversity.” He turned with his sandwich opened so she could take his tomato and he could acquire her lettuce.
Monique’s growl meant she was considering taking him apart, which he preferred to them analyzing his actions. “We keep you around in spite of you sounding like an asshole, not because you like to be fucked in yours.”
If he wasn’t furious with her, he would have high-fived her creativity.
“Hey. Knock it off, you two. Phillip, who you stick your dick in isn’t our concern unless it’s making you….” Chris paused and seemed to search for the right word.
“A miserable prick,” Monique helped him out as she handed Phillip and Chris some napkins.
Phillip scoffed. “All this concern for my dick. It’s touching—”
“I won’t pretend to know what the hell I’m doing when it comes to relationships….” Chris peeked into the rearview mirror and shrugged, then returned his focus to Phillip. “But I… we want to help if we can, even if that’s just to listen.”
Phillip set his sandwich on the wrapper and put it on the dash. “I know. It’s just I don’t know. Things got a little….”
“Too good.” Monique hit the obvious, ’cause how could anything with Tris not be great?
“Too serious?” Chris nailed his issue to a tree like a dead fish.
Phillip played with the straw in his soda. “He L-worded me.”
Monique squeed.
Chris paled. “Isn’t that too soon?”
Nodding like a bobblehead doll, Phillip agreed, as he wondered if time factored into the equation.
“No, it isn’t,” Monique answered. She showed off her habit of pulling the answer out of Phillip’s heart—one he’d never let out his mouth.
“It’s been less than a month,” Chris pointed out, showing Phillip he might not be the only commitmentphobe in the car.
Monique snarled, “You should give the whole relationship thing a try.”
“Right. ’Cause I know you have no problem not taking that advice.”
She held out her hands in front of her, clutching the burger, and stated, “This isn’t about me. You know what happens to old twinks?”
He chuckled. “They get fat and die?”
“No, they move past living on their cuteness, and have adult relationships that last longer than it takes to swallow.”
“Going for the jugular!” He glared at her. “Wait, are you calling me old?”
Monique smirked for a second before she probably remembered she was pissed at him and put her glare face back on.
Chris sat back and sighed. “Look, you’re a great guy, and from what Monique says, Tristan’s a great guy….”
His friend always had a way of boiling things down to their simplest form, but Phillip needed to point out the obvious. “It wouldn’t work out.”
“What happened?” Monique kicked his seat back. “Spill, Phillip.”
“We had sex….”
“And?”
“It didn’t feel like just sex.”
“Well, he did say he loved you.” Monique squeezed his shoulder.
“We fucked… but it was more like….” Phillip sighed and bit into his chicken sandwich.
“Like what?”
Around a mouthful, he muttered, “He treated me like something he treasured…. Me?”
“So he made love to you…,” Chris said.
Monique gagged dramatically. “Stop! Don’t make me throw up in my mouth. I hate that expression.”
Chris looked over his shoulder and stared at her for a second. Then he turned to Phillip. “It’s okay for sex to mean something.”
“I’m used to the guy leaving before the condom comes off.”
Monique wiggled her fingers, and Phillip passed her his root beer. “Thanks.” After a long sip, she reminded him, “Tristan’s not like that.”
Exactly! “I know.”
“Are you aromantic?” Chris asked, proving without a doubt he’d been reading relationship books.
Monique laughed. “The boy’s got the tux he’s going to get married in all picked out.”
Phillip turned to stare at her. How did she know that? He’d been in high school, but he still thought the classic styles suited him the best.
She shrugged. “Admit it. You want Prince Charming and the white picket fence.”
No, dammit, I’ll admit no such thing. “It’s easier being an exchangeable hole—”
Monique clocked the back of his head. “Shut the fuck up!”
Chris cleared his throat. “Don’t you like him?”
That was the damned problem. Phillip groaned and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, I like him.”
“A lot,” Monique added.
“A lot….” Fuck, he really did.
Chris scratched his head. “So why don’t you tell him and see if—”
“I’m only good at catch and release.”
Monique laughed. “Well, that’s just déjà moo!”
“What?” Chris waited. He glanced back and forth between Phillip and Monique.
Sighing, Phillip translated, “Bullshit she’s heard before.”
Chris gave him the patented I’m-serious stare. “You should talk to him.”
“I think so too,” Monique added as if Phillip couldn’t read the look on her face.
When cornered, Phillip went with humor. “Well, if you want to, I can give you his number.”
Chris shook his head.
“Look, I really appreciate what you two are trying to do, but I’m calling this intervention a failure. Thanks for the sandwich, Chris. Back to work.” Phillip slipped out of the car. “See you on Friday.”
Before the door shut, Monique called out, “I swear, the smartest thing to ever come out of your mouth is that librarian’s cock.”
TRISTAN WAVED to his grandfather, who was already seated at their usual table at Mario’s. The restaurant’s clichéd Italian atmosphere, with the white-and-red checked tablecloths and candles leaking over wine jugs, didn’t take anything away from the fact Mario’s was one of the Capital District’s best restaurants.
The waiter meandered over. “How wonderful to see you both. The usual?”
Tristan almost said yes without thinking, as he’d done for the past five years he’d eaten his weekly lunch with his Pop-Pop, but he was done with settling for the same old thing. “Um, no, Angelo. I’ll have—” He quickly peeked at the menu. “I’d like to try the wedding soup and the spicy meatball sandwich.”
“Very good. And a Diet Coke to drink?” Angelo should get bonus points for memorizing his drink of choice, but considering he never altered it, maybe not.
If Tristan had learned anything from the past few weeks, it was change invited discovery. Exploration meant he might find something he didn’t know he liked… or needed. He shook his head and took another gander at the menu. “May I have the Italian lemon fizz soda?”
Angelo nodded. “Yes, of course. And for you, sir?”
Pop-Pop stopped staring at Tristan, closed his mouth, and told Angelo, “I’m too old to change. I’ll have my usual.”
“Of course.” Angelo disappeared through the swinging doors.
Pop-Pop’s laser focus turned on Tristan. “Wow, you’re switching things up.”
“Someone taught me change isn’t a bad thing.” God, he missed Phillip. His outlook and approach to life made Tristan see vivid colors, and he didn’t want to go back to a world filled with gray. Even if he didn’t have Phillip….
“Phillip?”
Tristan nodded. “Yeah.”
Pop-Pop leaned forward. “Your frown tells me something’s wrong. What happened?”
Shrugging, Tristan sighed. “I moved too fast. I knew I shouldn’t have told him how I felt, but—”
“Sometimes people run not because they want to, but because they don’t want to.” Pop-Pop shook his head. “You appear to be grabbing the opportunities life is throwing in your direction… not everyone can.”
Not knowing how to handle the self-reproach in Pop-Pop’s tone, Tristan tried to play it off. “It was just a different lunch order.”
Pop-Pop shook his head. “No, it’s more. You dress differently, carry yourself taller, and yes, for the first time in five years, you ordered something new.”
Tristan had changed. For the first time, he allowed himself to want all the things he never thought he could have. Even though going for what he wanted meant he got punched in the teeth, and he might be completely knocked off his feet, there was no going back. His transformation couldn’t be undone. “Maybe I am different.”
“You love him?” Pop-Pop made the question more of a statement.
“With all my heart.” Though the admission made his heart burst with joy, a throbbing, painful need that would now go unmet followed, slicing through his happiness.
“Where are things between you two?” Angelo delivered Pop-Pop’s coffee and Tristan’s new lemony beverage. “Thank you, Angelo.”
Angelo nodded and slipped back into the kitchen.
Tristan took a sip. The soda wasn’t what he was expecting, but he’d give the tart lemon buzz a chance. “Phillip stopped answering my texts a few days ago. So my last one put the ball in his court.”
Pop-Pop sipped his coffee while he studied Tristan. “Give him some time. As big of an impact as he’s made on your life, I’d bet you made a much greater one on his.”
“Well, that will be easy, because at this point, there’s nothing else for me to do.” He sighed and took another sip. Ew! Tristan waved the waiter over. “May I have some water?”
“Of course, sir.” The waiter hustled to get the water pitcher.
Pop-Pop pointed at the lemon poison, grimacing. “Some changes don’t work out.”
“Hopefully, some do.” Tristan couldn’t help but hold out hope Phillip would reach out to him.
TWO MISERABLE days later, Phillip sorted the magazines on the glass tables in the waiting area of the salon, grouping them by category: fashion, gossip, and organization.
The words of his friends did follow him. He’d thought about calling Tristan, but to say what? He could—
“Phillip, you don’t have any other appointments, so you can leave if you want,” the Bossman said as he breezed through the salon with his significant other in tow. They were headed to the boss’s office and would probably be locking the door.
Just what he needed—more time not to be able to do what he wanted to do. The more time that passed—
“Or you could go talk to Tristan,” Monique pointed out.
His cell phone rang, saving Phillip from answering her. “Hello.”
Monique asked, “Is it Tristan? Tell him I said hi.”
He waved her quiet and moved toward the window of the salon, hoping for better reception. “Granddaddy? I can’t hear you.”
More static. Only “hospital” and “Tristan” got through.
Terror ripped through him. That can’t be right. “Tristan’s in the hospital?”
A scratchy yes came through, along with a string of cutoff, grumbled words.
“Albany Med?”
Another yes.
Monique threw him his keys. “Go. Drive safe!”
Phillip ran toward his bike. He forced himself to drive the speed limit. But fuck it if he didn’t hit every light from the salon to the hospital.
Each red light allowed the questions to turn into a vortex of panic. What happened to Tristan? Why didn’t he see him? He should have texted him back! Hell, he should have walked across the street. What if he could never see him again? What if…?
Oh dear God! Not another fucking red light! Get out of the way, jackass in the blue Honda. Learn to drive another time! Could that truck drive any fucking slower?
He parked his bike as close to the door as he legally could and tripped over the curb. A sapling caught his fall. He ran through the hospital door and to the information desk. “Tristan Cooper. What’s his status?”
The older man behind the desk shook his head. “I’m sorry. We don’t have a Tristan Cooper.”
“What? Yes, yes, I was told—”
“Phillip?” His granddaddy peered around the corner.
“How is he?”
Scrunching up his face, Granddaddy said, “Fine. He’s in the recovery. A bit ornery, but between me and Tristan—”
“Wait? Who’s in recovery?”
“Thomas tore his meniscus completely, and the pain was so bad they did his surgery immediately. He’s in recovery. Tristan’s with him.”
Phillip stumbled into a waiting-room chair. He took the hand he’d unconsciously slapped over his heart and grabbed the handle of the chair. The panic that had seized him eased. “I thought….”
“You thought it was Tristan?”
Nodding, Phillip couldn’t even speak.
His granddaddy touched his own chest. “I’m sorry to have worried you. The phone reception got impossible. I tried to call you back, but the doctor came out.”
Phillip released the breath he’d never fully let out since the phone call. “I thought he was in the hospital and I’d lost my chance, and….”
“Sometimes life gives us wake-up calls. Life is short, Phillip. Your grandmother always encourages us to find happiness and grab it with both hands. You need to do that.”
Phillip swallowed back all the horrific images he’d envisioned.
His granddaddy cleared his throat. “The question is, what will you do with your new perspective?”
The doors opened.
“Phillip?”
Phillip rushed to Tristan and pulled him into a hug. This was heaven. He’d been an idiot. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
Over Phillip’s head, Tristan said, “Conrad, he’s being moved to his room soon, but the nurses asked if you’d go in with him.”
Granddaddy chuckled. “Ah, is Thomas causing more chaos among the nurses again?”
“Threatening them, mostly. I think you might be able to—”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got your grandfather.” His granddaddy marched through the doors with the confidence of a lion tamer.
“Can we talk?” Phillip squeezed Tristan one more time and released him.
“Of course. Let’s go outside. I could use some fresh air.”
He led Tristan to a bench away from the smokers clustered around the door. “I’m sorry I’ve been silent.”
Tristan shrugged. “I freaked you out by telling you how I feel. Too soon.”
Phillip didn’t want to give Tris the words that would hand over the ability to decimate him, but fuck the bad habit. “It’s how I think I feel too. I just—”
Tristan yanked him into a tight embrace. “Really? You don’t have to say that if you don’t mean it.”
Fuck fear. It was time for Phillip to go for what he wanted. “I know it’s crazy, but I do. You’re the best person I’ve ever met. I adore everything about you. When I’m not with you, I wish I was…. I’m falling in love with you—already in love with you, and it’s terrifying and scary, but… wonderful.”
Phillip tipped his head back and stretched up to find Tristan’s mouth. He tried to cram all his feelings into the kiss, and it felt searing, happy, and a bit sloppy.