“I’m not easy to put up with,” Patrick admitted, uncertain, emotion written all over, nothing concealed, and ohPerry loved that: his little luscious revelation, right here in front of him, no deception or secrets or betrayal. “I stay up late when the words are shouting at me, I get quiet when I’m thinking, I watch people a lot. I need space—I always will, I think. And I like expensive sheets and buttered muffins and fresh orange juice.”
“Not seeing a problem with any of your first points, there.” Perry borrowed the shrug-gesture from earlier, and took Patrick’s hands into his. “Never had the expensive sheets and fresh citrus part. Could try that out, if you’re offering.”
“Yes…?”
“All of it.Wecould try, you and me. Meeting up. Travel. Sharing rooms. I’m starting to like this hotel.” He waited, added, “You said you want me. I want you. I want more.”
“You want more,” Patrick whispered. “Of me.”
“I don’t do this, usually. You don’t do this, usually, you said. And you walked right up and looked at me and invited me back to your room. And, God help me, I said yes.” He touched Patrick’s cheek, drew them closer together. “Maybe we’re both wanting something new. Maybe we’re wanting the same thing, and you asked me for it, and now you’ve got me thinking about it. Finding out. What happens next.” He touched Patrick’s mouth, this time. “Not used to that. Seeing a future that’s…a surprise. A different shape. That I like the picture of.”
“So do I,” Patrick said, under the fingertip against his mouth. “Perry…”
“Only if you want, though.” He meant that, too. He wanted this—he knew he did—but Patrick had also talked about needing space. Patrick might not want someone older and trail-dusty and scarred and rough-edged. This was fast, maybe too fast. A whirlwind, a cyclone. They should both be suspicious.
He couldn’t unsay the words. Didn’t want to.
“Perry,” Patrick said again, his name in that voice; and then flung both arms around Perry’s neck, so they ended upnose-to nose. The lamplight wove tapestries with his hair. “I said I was glad you’re here. I am. And…you know…I do know people in publishing, or in Hollywood…they always need consultants, advice on plots, scenario writers…you can’t tell me you wouldn’t be good at that, with that knack for dialogue.” He was not quite laughing, in the way of someone overflowing with too much emotion: bubbling and fizzing under the surface, tugging at his voice, his eyes. “Interrogation techniques.”
Perry wanted to kiss him, leaned in to kiss him, felt the newness and the rightness like opening blooms in California desert hills, unfolding scents of orange blossoms and sage. Undiscovered countries. Explorations. Possibilities.
He said, on the brink of the kiss, words against Patrick’s mouth like a new horizon, “Happy birthday.”
Broken Resolutions by Shelly Greene
Miguel was beginning to wonder if Sean’s New Year’s Eve party was cursed.
Sean had thrown a grand blowout party every New Year’s Eve since they graduated law school and got real jobs—Sean at a prestigious corporate firm, Miguel at the public defender’s office. Even though he and Sean still lived in the same city, they moved in different circles and worked very different schedules; it wasn’t all that easy for Miguel to see his best friend. For that reason—and the fact that the party itself was incredible, with fireworks and performing acrobats and an open bar—Miguel did not want to miss it. But he was starting to think he ought to.
Because every year Sean threw a New Year’s Eve party, and every year Miguel fell in love with the worst—or at least worst forhim—person there.
The first year had been Seth, a shy sweet paralegal whom Miguel doted on for ten months…until Seth reconnected with his high school sweetheart, leaving Miguel devastated and on the rebound just in time for the next New Year’s Eve party.
That year he’d met the hot and glamorous Raquel, someone else’s plus-one who had publicly dumped her boyfriend at the party, then torn Miguel’s clothes off in a closet—but that went nowhere in a hurry. It turned out that all he and Raquel had in common was sex, which was spectacular but not what Miguel wanted in the long term. They parted ways, amicably enough, by April.
Most recently, after a long—for him—dry spell, he’d met Sabrina, a partner from a rival of Sean’s firm, at the third year’s party. She had proceeded to turn Miguel’s entire brain inside out for months, before eloping with his cousin the day before Thanksgiving.Thathad made for an awkward family dinner.
“My party is cursed?” Sean repeated when Miguel toldhim his theory, pacing his apartment with his phone in one hand and the party invitation in the other. “That’s what you’re taking away from this? Not, say, an indication that you jump into relationships way too fast?”
“Wow, way to blame the victim,” Miguel said.
“I’m right and you know it. You always think someone is your soulmate based on warm pants-feelings and ten minutes of conversation. And the only time you meet new people is at my parties.”
“None of that is true!” All of that was true.
“I think you should definitely come, Miguel. You’ll meet a new soulmate, or at least a new Raquel—that didn’t turn out too badly. Some awesome rebound sex is just what you need.”
“No. I don’t want a rebound. I don’t even want a date. I want to stop getting my heart broken over and over. The woman I wanted to marry blew up my worldandmy family just a few weeks ago. I want torest.”
Sean’s voice gentled. “Well, stay home then, dude. I’m not gonna get my feelings hurt about it, I promise.”
“No. You know what? No!” Miguel dropped the invitation to smack one fist into the other. “I’m gonna come, and see my best friend, and have a great time, and not pair off withanybody, and break the stupid curse! It’ll be my New Year’s resolution: go to your party and fall in love with absolutely no one!”
Sean laughed. “I don’t think that’s exactly how New Year’s resolutions work, but okay, sure. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Damn straight you will!”
* * * *
