November
THEY’D BEEN texting almost every day, and Skyping whenever they got the chance, but hadn’t seen each other since they first hooked up almost one month ago. Alex did his best to answer Zeb’s never-ending questions, and asked several of his own, which were answered without hesitation. In a sense, these virtual dates were more productive. They could shed layers without hormones getting in the way.
Due to Zeb’s classes and Alex’s work commitments, Thanksgiving would be their first opportunity to reconnect in person. Alex couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked forward to the iconic holiday with such enthusiasm. This would be the first time he’d spend it without his family, but Zeb had volunteered—insisted—on coming to Manhattan and staying with him for the four-day weekend.
Chyna and Luca were in Illinois for the entire week, which left Alex and Bacon to fend for themselves until Zeb showed up. It was Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, and Zeb was due in around noon. Alex had intended to prepare a traditional turkey dinner, with some Southern dishes on the side, but Zeb wasn’t American, and their relationship was in its embryonic stage. It made more sense to wait until they were face-to-face to plan the meal.
Meanwhile, he was making dessert. Sweet potato pie and pecan tarts were impossible to resist, and if they couldn’t have black-eyed peas, collard greens, turkey, and cornbread stuffing, they’d at least have this. Alex’s mother had taught him that food was the way to a man’s heart. Later in life he realized that good sex trumped food any day, but by then he’d mastered his culinary skills. Long before he’d become Alex, young Alexis had spent many hours by her maman perfecting her own technique with a rolling pin.
It was in the restaurant kitchen that she’d gotten her first glimpse of male privilege. Most of the head chefs were men, and they were accorded a certain level of respect women in the same industry lacked. Sous-chefs were also male, at least the ones in their family restaurant, and their status was always a step higher than a female doing the same job. After Alexis became Alex, he moonlighted at the restaurant until his modeling career picked up. Immediately, he noticed the subtle differences in the way he was regarded. The regulars who’d known him as a young girl were long gone, and the new staff only saw an imposing man working by their side. They looked to him for decisions he’d never made in the past. Ironically, instead of being pleased, Alex bristled at the unfairness and vowed to give preference to any female applying for a job. Now, the successful family business was mostly run by women, and Alex felt he’d played a large part in this growth.
The timer went off, and he pulled the last of the mini pecan tarts out of the oven. The smell of butter mingled with corn syrup and toasted pecans wafted through the air, making his mouth water. Bacon was pawing at his jeans, begging for a taste, and Alex took pity on his dog and handed him a pup treat to keep him from losing his mind.
“That’ll have to hold you for now, sweet thing. I’ve got to shower before I meet Zeb at the bus stop.”
Zeb… oh my God….
Alex’s heart began to race as thoughts of what was to come filled his senses. Would the physical attraction be the same, or had it been fueled by a fantastic time at the dance club? Loud music, flashing lights, and a shared joint had sort of pushed them beyond their boundaries. He prayed things wouldn’t be awkward. Four days with someone who was having second thoughts could drag on forever.
Alex chose his clothes carefully, wanting to look his best, but not enough to draw attention. If Zeb was having any doubts about being with a trans male, a shitty remark from a passerby was the last thing they needed. Nine times out of ten, Alex passed for cis. His height and studied look were intimidating to most, and even if there was the slightest doubt, they usually kept their distance.
And granted, Manhattan wasn’t Baton Rouge, and you could walk around in a chicken suit and be ignored, but…. There was always that one asshole who zeroed in on something trivial that could potentially generate a nasty zinger. It would be nice to have their status firmly established before Zeb was forced into an unwanted exchange. Although certain Zeb would come to his aid if need be, there was no reason he should have to deal with the viciousness until he was certain he wanted Alex for a boyfriend.
Just thinking in terms of a boyfriend made Alex nervous. He’d never had anyone willing to face the challenge, and he refused to get his hopes up only to have them stomped upon. Zeb was different, though. He wasn’t sure how much his upbringing factored into the man he’d become, but his staying power was surprisingly hard-core for someone so young and inexperienced. Was this capacity for understanding ingrained, or had he learned how to deal with complex layers of humanity the hard way? Zeb had only shared a tiny piece of his privileged childhood, but that had been enough to convince Alex he was just seeing the tip of the iceberg. Where other guys his age had proven shallow over time, Zeb’s undeniable depth of feeling was immensely appealing, and the main reason Alex felt hopeful.
Done with his shower, Alex stood in front of the mirrored closet door, taking in his appearance with a critical eye. He purposely shied away from anything remotely feminine that might draw attention, keeping his tight black curls cropped close to his scalp. Today, he left some stubble on his chin and upper lip to roughen his overall look. There was no camouflaging his beautiful green eyes, however, unless he slipped on sunglasses. They were fringed with thick, dark lashes and slanted slightly upward, catlike and intriguing, one of his biggest draws. Photogs loved the contrast between the dusky skin and light eyes, and he’d often apply a smudge of gray shadow to make them pop even more. Today wasn’t one of those days, though. He wanted this weekend to be positively memorable.
He examined his chest, once again grateful his parents had thoroughly researched plastic surgeons to get the optimum results for his male sculpting. Even his abdomen, flanks, and hips had received the proper liposuction to create a more masculine physique. As usual, his eyes veered away from the groin area, the only thing left of his previous life. Alex pulled on black nylon briefs and inserted his soft pack to give him the aesthetic he preferred. Black skinny jeans and a black cashmere turtleneck completed his ensemble.
Pausing, he realized he looked like an assassin. To offset the depressing vibe, he wrapped a forest-green scarf around his neck. That little strip of color complemented his eyes, and he looked like a metrosexual instead of a ninja. He hoped Zeb would agree.
Alex grabbed his black peacoat, clipped Bacon’s leash to his collar, and headed toward the Cornell Club. Despite everything he’d done to prepare for this visit, nerves were wreaking havoc on his self-confidence. What if Zeb had second thoughts? Alex’s gut cramped painfully, and he could feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat. Big wet spots under his armpits would be a dead giveaway and ruin his casually cool attitude. He forced himself to get a fucking grip and stop acting like a teenager on his first date.
Zeb’s eyes lit up with pleasure when he stepped off the bus and spotted Alex. He walked toward him slowly, and when he was a foot away, he dropped his duffel bag and grinned.
“Can I give you a hug now, or do I have to wait until we’re behind closed doors?” Zeb asked, looking hopeful.
“Come here, sugar,” Alex said huskily, giving him a bro-hug for public consumption.
Zeb’s head brushed Alex’s chin, and he could smell the citrusy shampoo on the silky cap.
“You smell good,” he said.
“So do you,” Zeb replied, looking up at him.
The temptation to bend down and brush Zeb’s mouth with a light kiss was powerful, but Alex hadn’t survived this long by being impulsive. Instead, he whispered, “Kissing will have to wait.”
Zeb nodded and stepped back. He got down on his haunches and gave Bacon his full attention, laughing softly as the dog licked his chin over and over.
Picking up Zeb’s duffel, Alex asked about tomorrow’s meal. “Do you have any objections to a typical Southern-style Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Not at all. I’ve been looking forward to it,” Zeb said. “How would you feel about going to Queens on Saturday for an authentic Filipino dinner with my cousins?”
“You’d take me to your super-Catholic relatives? Won’t they be shocked?”
Zeb stared at him for a few seconds then shook his head. “I don’t think they’ll mind. These people are Americanized and pretty cool.”
“We’ll find out how cool they really are,” Alex said. “Showing up with me on your arm is quite a statement.”
“It’s no big deal,” Zeb said, frowning. “They’re not that kind of people.”
“If you change your mind at the last minute, I won’t object,” Alex said, giving Zeb a pass.
“Okay.”
They stopped at Whole Foods on the way home, and Alex loaded up his basket with everything he needed for tomorrow’s meal. Zeb insisted on splitting the bill and Alex accepted. If their roles had been reversed, he would have also offered to pay, so this didn’t feel out of the ordinary.
As soon as they walked through the door of the apartment, they dropped the bags and ended up in each other’s arms on the sofa. Whatever doubts had flitted through Alex’s brain earlier were quickly banished as Zeb kissed him passionately.
When they broke apart to catch a breath, Zeb exclaimed. “Wow. I thought it would be different this time around, but nothing has changed. It’s actually more intense.”
“Right?” Alex agreed.
“You’re seriously hot in that outfit,” Zeb said, running his hands up and down Alex’s biceps. “Who knew a black sweater could be such a turn-on.”
Smiling, Alex suggested, “Let’s put the groceries away before we go any further.”
“Lead the way,” Zeb said.
THE TANTALIZING smells wafting in from the kitchen penetrated Zeb’s consciousness and he stirred, slowly blinking awake. He tried to guess what Alex was cooking by parsing the various aromas. Sautéed onions and celery were easily distinguishable, as was the pungent sausage, but overpowering it all was a spice he didn’t recognize. Not surprising since he’d never had a traditional turkey and stuffing dinner. Now would be a good time to get his lazy ass out of bed and lend a hand, even if he didn’t have the first clue what Alex needed by way of help.
Back home, the kitchens were manned by a battalion of servants, and all Zeb had to do to assuage his hunger was make a request and food magically appeared. He sat up, and when the blanket slipped down his naked torso, memories of last night rushed to the forefront of his brain. He and Alex had had sex.
Major sex.
Amazing, toe-curling, heart-stopping, out-of-this-world sex.
Whoa.
It hadn’t been one-sided either. Zeb felt a pang of sadness when Alex admitted no one had ever taken the time to ask what he liked or how he wanted to be touched. Knowing he’d turned Alex into a puddle of goo gave Zeb a thrill of satisfaction.
Zeb’s cock stiffened as he recalled their erotic journey of discovery. Propelled into action by his lizard brain, he got out of bed and reached for the white terry cloth robe Alex had laid out for him last night. Touched by the thoughtful gesture, Zeb shrugged it on, grateful for the warmth. The sleeves dangled past his hands, and he rolled them up his forearms so he could function. Even then, he was dwarfed in the folds. Their height disparity was even more obvious when he slipped on Alex’s clothes.
He stopped in the bathroom to wash up, brush his teeth, and pee before joining Alex in the kitchen. Barefoot, he padded down the hallway and leaned against the doorjamb, watching in silence. Alex’s back was to Zeb, and he appraised the broad shoulders encased in a pale blue T-shirt that stopped short of the sweatpants hanging below jutting hip bones. Zeb’s gaze continued on its downward path, noting the two dimples right above the swell of Alex’s ass. He squeezed his eyes shut, reliving the moment he’d dipped his tongue into those enticing divots, loving the surprised gasp that escaped from Alex’s throat. Zeb might have whimpered out loud, because Alex spun around.
“Good morning, sugar,” Alex drawled, checking out Zeb’s attire. He smiled when he caught the unmistakable rise below Zeb’s belt. “Like what you see?”
Zeb flushed but headed toward Alex and snaked his arms around the bare skin. He looked up at the now familiar face staring down at him curiously and murmured, “I’m enjoying the view very much.”
“I’m wearing rags,” Alex protested. “By the end of this cooking marathon, I’ll be splattered in gravy and other assorted juices.”
“I’ll gladly lick you clean if you’re in the mood,” Zeb teased.
“Stop that or we won’t eat on time.”
“Eating you was part of the offer,” Zeb said.
Alex’s breath hitched.
“Cat got your tongue, big guy?”
Alex exhaled slowly. “No… I just forget how to breathe when I’m around you.”
“That’s funny because I breathe a lot freer whenever I’m in your presence,” Zeb said sincerely.
“Aww, sugar. You’re one nice surprise after another,” Alex noted.
“Good to know,” Zeb said. “What I can do to help?”
“Can you cook?” Alex asked dubiously.
“Not really,” Zeb admitted. “But I’m pretty sure I can peel or stir if you need help with that.”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Alex said. “But first, how about some coffee and a beignet?”
“I’d love some coffee. What’s the other thing you offered?”
Alex picked up a puff of pastry covered in powdered sugar and plated it.
“What is it?” Zeb asked, peering down at the sugary lump.
“A Southern take on donuts.”
Zeb took a bite, humming with pleasure as he chewed and swallowed.
Alex reached for a kitchen towel and wiped a smudge of powdered sugar off Zeb’s nose. “Want another one?”
“Yes, please.”
Zeb finished the second beignet in three bites and drained the coffee. After wiping his mouth, he cocked his head at Alex, waiting for orders.
“Let’s start you off with a few potatoes and see how it goes,” Alex said, handing over a yellow ceramic bowl filled with spuds.
Zeb picked out a large potato and the sharp paring knife Alex offered and got to work. He stuck his tongue in between his teeth while he concentrated on his task, inadvertently digging in too deep with each pass of the knife. By the time Zeb finished, the big Idaho spud was the size of a golf ball.
“How’s that?” he asked, looking at Alex proudly.
Alex stared at Zeb in amusement. “Haven’t you ever done this before?”
Zeb shook his head.
“What planet did you say you lived on?”
“Shut up,” Zeb said, embarrassed. “I told you I don’t cook.”
“Apparently you don’t do anything in the kitchen but eat,” Alex said, snorting with glee.
“But I do that so well,” Zeb said, joining in the laughter. “Can’t I just keep you company instead of ruining the meal?”
“Absolutely,” Alex said. “You sit there and look cute while I get everything ready to go in the oven.”
“Why don’t I take a shower instead,” Zeb said. “I must reek.”
Just then, Alex’s phone rang and Chyna’s name popped up on caller ID. He reached for Zeb’s hand to hold him in place, almost certain the roommates would include him in the group hat. Accepting the call, he greeted Chyna effusively.
“Happy Thanksgiving! I’m putting you on speaker so Zeb can say hello.”
“Hey, Zeb,” Luca interjected. “How’s it going, buddy?”
“Great. I’m sitting here pretending to help Alex prepare our meal.”
Luca hooted. “You don’t have a clue, do you?”
“Shut it, Dilorio. How are the dads?”
“Everyone here is good. They want to wish you and Alex a Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Thanks,” Zeb said. “Say hi to everyone for us.”
“Will do,” Luca said.
“What are you guys planning on doing after you’ve had your fill of turkey?” Chyna asked.
“Not sure,” Alex said. “I had hoped to take Zeb to his first Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, but didn’t plan ahead. Most people are lining the streets hours before the nine o’clock start. We might go down to Rockefeller Plaza or Central Park and try our hand at ice skating.”
“That’ll be interesting,” Luca sniggered. “A Southerner and a Filipino on the ice. You might want to sell tickets first. The money will come in handy at the emergency room.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a fabulous ice skater,” Alex said.
“For real?” Chyna asked.
“Just kidding,” Alex said. “Can you imagine me trying to balance on a thin blade? I don’t think so.”
“Zeb might do better,” Luca suggested. “He’s got a shorter distance to fall.”
“Asshole,” Zeb called out.
“We’ll let you guys go,” Chyna said. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”
“Too late,” Alex said, disconnecting before Chyna could reply.
“Five feet nine inches is not that short,” Zeb hissed. Luca’s casual remark had struck a nerve, and suddenly, he was tensing up, worried his height might become an issue for Alex. The guy was almost a head taller than him, and they were bound to draw unwanted attention. He hated the thought of failing him in any way.
“He was just teasing, sugar.”
“I’m practically a dwarf compared to you guys but—”
“You don’t hear me complaining, do you?” Alex interrupted.
Zeb stared into Alex’s earnest face and realized he might be overly sensitive. He took a deep breath and relaxed. “No, especially when we’ve leveled the playing field on your mattress.”
“Don’t let them ruin our day,” Alex said, moving closer. He captured Zeb’s face and ran his tongue playfully along his pouty lower lip. “We can’t all be in the NBA, sugar, and who would want that anyway?”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. You’ve got the grit and determination of a guy twice your size. Apart from your sad performance as my kitchen helper, I like everything about you.”
“Good to know. It bugs me when people stereotype. Not that Chyna and Luca do it, but others have. Because I’m Asian, they assume certain things, and it’s insulting.”
“Like what?” Alex asked.
“I’m a genius at math and have a pencil dick.”
Alex’s laugh came out in a snort. “I know what you mean. I’ve been hit on by a lot of size queens who expect me to pop out a ten-inch cock since I tower over everyone and I’m half black. You should see their look of frustration—and anger—when they realize who they’re actually dating. You’ve never made me feel like an imposter or an epic fail. Not once. When I’m with you, I feel valued.”
“Wow, that’s really sad,” Zeb commiserated. “I’ve never thought of you as anything less than a man.”
“A precious gift, in and of itself,” Alex said gently. “Your big heart makes up for whatever you lack in height. There’s nothing about you I’d change. Not a goddamn thing.”
“Thank you,” Zeb said. “That means a lot coming from a famous model.”
Alex snorted. “Fame doesn’t do squat for your self-esteem unless other elements in your life are in sync. Dozens of famous people have reached for booze or drugs to counteract the loneliness, and they end up overdosing.”
“True,” Zeb agreed. “You keep reading the same desperate story over and over. Promise me you’ll never do anything dumb like that.”
“Come on, sugar, I’m in my twenties. Who knows what the future holds.”
Zeb gave a half smile. “I know we’re only starting out, and there’s no telling where we’ll be a year from now, let alone ten, but I’d like to think we’ll always be friends. Any time you feel despondent, pick up the phone and call me. Promise me, Alex.”
Alex seemed to consider his reply, and Zeb had to wonder how often the stunningly attractive man had looked in the mirror and anguished over something out of his control. The thought was chilling, and he reached for both of Alex’s hands and squeezed.
“Give me your word,” Zeb insisted.
“All right,” Alex said hesitantly. “You can be my anchor whenever my ship gets tossed around by life’s waves.”
“Good,” Zeb said, relieved.
“I should be done with the food prep by the time you finish your shower,” Alex said. “Then we can sit and watch the parade on TV while we wait for everything to cook.”
“I’m on it,” Zeb said, heading for the hallway.
By the time he strolled back into the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed in black jeans and button-down shirt, the counters had been wiped down, sink emptied, and the roasting pan with the stuffed turkey was in the oven.
“You look rejuvenated,” Alex commented. “Let me hop in the shower so I can clean up. I can smell myself and it’s nasty.”
“Don’t be silly,” Zeb said. “You look like someone who’s just cooked me a fabulous meal, and I appreciate it more than you know.”
“Let’s wait until you taste the food before you dish out the compliments.”
“Hurry up,” Zeb said. “I’ll give you a good neck and shoulder massage for your hard work.”
Alex faltered. “You can do that?”
Zeb’s eyebrows shot up. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“No, but I’m glad you do,” Alex said. “See you in a few.”
Zeb straightened out the living room, plumping up throw pillows and folding the twin afghans Chyna and Alex kept handy on one end of the sofa for snuggling. In their rush to jump each other’s bones last night, they’d left everything in a mess, and Zeb was certain Alex would be grateful if he tidied up. He might suck in the kitchen, but he could compensate by being a good houseguest.
Bacon had been yipping and whining at his heels the entire time, probably ravenous after the delicious aroma wafting in from the kitchen. Zeb wasn’t sure if it was past his mealtime, or what Alex usually fed the little guy, so he topped off his water bowl. Apparently he’d guessed right, judging by the noisy lapping. Would he need to be walked after so much liquid?
Before Zeb could decide what to do, Alex appeared in a flowing white tunic-type shirt over dark leggings. He’d wrapped his hair in a white turban that had jeweled ends hanging over one shoulder. Alex’s eyelids were smudged with dark gray shadow, and he’d dabbed his mouth with lip gloss. Zeb stared, openmouthed.
“Too much?” Alex asked.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Zeb exclaimed. “You’re like drop-dead gorgeous.”
“Thanks, sugar. These are dregs from my last photo shoot.”
“Were you acting the part of a Saudi prince?” Zeb asked.
“Something like that.”
Zeb stepped closer and inhaled near Alex’s neck. “What’s that wonderful cologne?”
“Tom Ford Extreme.”
“I love it.”
Alex grinned. “So do I. Feel free to use it while you’re here.”
“Maybe we can go shopping tomorrow and I’ll buy my own,” Zeb suggested.
“Black Friday usually has good deals.”
“Oh, I forgot the whole Black Friday thing. Will the stores be crowded?”
“Ridiculously.”
“Maybe we should wait until Saturday?”
“You can decide tomorrow. Shall I check on the food?”
“Yes, and then come back here so I can give you that massage.”