As I watch him laughing with genuine delight, doing something he clearly loves, I can’t help but think Marcus might be partially right. Maybe Ihavebeen lying to myself all these years, saying I was okay even though I wasn’t, because I never believed I was allowed that kind of happiness again. I was firmly heading down a path of quiet misery instead. I may have gotten too complacent, just surviving instead of truly living, but with Luke, it might finally be time to change that.
Luke continues interacting with the kids as they gather around Ryder’s phone, studying it closely. It’s impossible to hear what they’re saying, but their conversation seems animated and focused. Then Luke seems to agree to something, and the kids erupt into cheers. He comes back over to me a minute later and shrugs off his jacket, tossing it down on the deck beside me.
“Looks like you’ve made some new friends.” I smirk.
“Indeed, I’ve found my tribe.” Luke beams. “Age means nothing when you’re bonding over musical theater.”
“Isthatwhat’s happening?”
“Did you know Ryder wants to be on Broadway?” Luke shakes his head fondly. “He’s been bombarding me with questionsabout how I started, trying to figure out how he can get there, too. It’s aggressively adorable.”
“Marcus mentioned he’s been a bit obsessed with wanting to move to New York.”
Luke grins. “Well, for now, I’ve agreed to help them learn a TikTok dance,” he says as he begins to empty his pockets, handing me his wallet, phone, and truck keys.
“Do youknowhow to do a TikTok dance?” I arch a brow curiously.
“Ye of little faith.” Luke chuckles.
He spots the beer in my hand, and his lips twist into a feral grin. Swiping the bottle, he gives me a meaningful look before taking a long pull, letting his Adam’s apple bob with what can only be described as overdramatized appeal. My eyes widen slightly, and I can feel the flush on my cheeks as he hums his satisfaction, licking his lips before handing the bottle back to me as if that was a very normal thing to do in a house full of strangers who have no idea we’re dating.
“There,” he purrs softly, only loud enough for me to hear. “Now you can pretend I’ve just kissed you.”
“You’re such a cheeseball.” I chuckle, shaking my head, but I can’t deny the way it makes my heart flutter.
“Yes, but I’myourcheeseball.”
With a final smile meant just for me, Luke turns back and rejoins the group of teenagers eagerly awaiting his tutelage. It’s funny how they’re all looking at him like they’ve found a new god, their faces full of reverence and awe. Ryder especially looks like he really could die and go to heaven with how excited he is, his attention solely focused on Luke. Ryder’s boyfriend, on the other hand, looks like he might be plotting my boyfriend’s murder.
I sit on the edge of the deck, placing Luke’s things beside me on top of his jacket. As I take a sip of my beer, I’m greeted withthe memory of Luke’s lips wrapped around the bottle, and I can’t help but smile at the charming idiocy of sharing an indirect kiss.
I watch the kids follow Luke’s directions like gospel as they slowly move through each step. It starts a little rocky at first. Some of the kids are downright awful, unable to follow the routine with any grace or, in some cases, dignity. Ryder seems to be somewhat of a natural. Aside from Luke, he might be the best of the group. The longer they all repeat the moves, taking helpful tips or constructive criticism from Luke, the more it seems to turn into something resembling a uniform dance.
When they’re satisfied with their progress, someone produces a tripod and sets up a phone to start recording, and they’re off running through the entire thing as if they didn’t only start learning it twenty minutes ago.
By now, there’s a bigger audience watching these proceedings with interest, but I hardly notice them. My eyes are glued to Luke, completely mesmerized by how he moves. I could always tell the man was graceful by the way he simplyexistsin his entire body, every limb a mere extension of himself rather than some gangly protrusion. Watching this only confirms it. He’s fluid, yet precise, hitting each move with flawless strength, and the kids feed off his energy. Even though the dance itself is choppy and almost robotic, it’s clear which one of the group is the professional.
When Luke locks eyes with me halfway through, I can feel how my heart quickens as his smile grows, glowing more radiantly than the sun and all the stars in the sky, heating me up from the inside. In that moment, it’s like there’s only him and me alone in the entire universe, everyone else falling away. He’s moving his hips just for me, calling out to me with his body, and I’m trapped under his spell, completely hypnotized…
Until the sound of a cell phone rings at my side, snapping me out of the trance like a bucket of cold water poured downmy spine. I nearly jump out of my skin to realize that I’ve been staring at Luke—rather salaciously, I might add—as if I’m not currently surrounded by a million people to bear witness.
Suddenly, it feels like everyone’s eyes are on my back, their heads together, whispering about what they’re seeing, and heat floods my cheeks with unexpected mortification. It seizes my whole body, moving through me in a tangible wave. I’m caught in a full-out war between fight or flight mode, resulting in a debilitating freeze instead. All I can do is stare blankly across the yard, struggling to put air in my lungs. If I didn’t know any better, I’d be afraid I was dying with how my heart suddenly races, the panic attack taking hold.
Quickly, I drop my eyes to the ground, feeling how my brow furrows as I concentrate on the patch of grass at my feet, but the sudden spike in blood pressure makes it difficult to focus on even a single blade. With a monumental effort, I fall back on the only technique I can think of to help me out of this sudden PTSD response. I start to count while I breathe. In for four seconds, hold for six, and out for eight… In for four, hold for six, out for eight. Again and again, I count to myself with each breath phase until I can feel my body physically relax from the effort. As the panic slowly dissipates, logic can finally retake control.
JesusfuckingChrist, I haven’t had that kind of reaction to an external trigger in a while. Especially in such a public space. If anyone hadn’t noticed me before, they must have seen me now. And yet, as I cast a furtive glance around the crowd, I’m shocked to see that no one seems to be focusing on me at all. Not a single eye is turned my way. I’m all but invisible with how engrossed everyone is in watching the dance. The reality of it is instantly sobering.
When I think about what triggered this kind of reaction in me, I can’t help but frown in dismay. I know I have my hangups about being out and open around this particular group of people,but I’m shocked at the intensity of shame that arose at the thought of being caught. I spent our entire date in Detroit being out and open with Luke, where an arguably larger number of people saw uskissing. Why should it fucking matter if these assholes saw me staring at him? I’m dating the man. I’m allowed to stare at him as salaciously as I want.
But I guess that’s the point, isn’t it? They don’t know I’m dating him. They don’t have any idea I’m even attracted to men. These are people I went to school with, played sports with…even some of the women I’ve had sex with. They all have a picture of me in their heads from over the years, but the moment they discover the truth, my whole character will be eternally altered. Can I honestly say I’m more worried about how that flimsy standing will change than I am about being authentic to myself? It’s a lot to unpack.
That cell phone suddenly goes off again, and I finally notice it’s Luke’s phone lying on the deck beside me. When I glance down at the screen, I see ‘Mom’ on the caller ID, accompanied by a picture of a very petite woman with a face that looks exactly like Luke’s smiling up at me. I’d never seen any photos of his mom until now, but the resemblance is uncanny. They have the same blue eyes, the same sharp chin… And if that’s any indication of how Luke will age, he’s fortunate. She’s gorgeous.
We’re too far away for Luke to hear it over the noise, especially as the dance finishes, and the crowd of onlookers applauds, but I don’t think much of it as the call goes to voicemail. Luke should be able to call her back when he’s done. But when the phone lights up again with another call from his mom without a beat in between, my heart immediately jolts to think that this might be some kind of emergency.
I call out to Luke then, holding up the ringing phone, and the way his face drops as he sees it only adds to my worry. He runs back to me and takes the phone from my hands, an anxiousdread evident in the curl of his mouth. But instead of answering in front of me, he walks off to an empty corner of the yard where he can talk without being overheard.
I watch as Luke’s body language changes in an instant. He’s tense, with a worried twinge etched into his brow. He holds his phone against his ear, hugging an arm around his chest tightly, almost like he’s trying to keep himself from falling apart. Then he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, agitatedly running a hand over his neck. He worries his bottom lip at various stages in his phone conversation, and there’s an unmistakable edge of fury in his posture.
