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To that, Richie grins. “I find I don’t mind at all.”
[ THE TRAIN OF DESTINY ]
Six days, eighteen hours, and twelve minutes have passed since the last night Zak and Richie spent together in his apartment. Riding the crowded train, Zak instantly notices the stench of someone gripping the bar nearby, who has clearly come from an intensive, sweaty workout, as indicated by whatever funk is fuming from his exposed armpit. But he bears the unbearable odor, because it would be rude to gag. Well, that, and his only other option is to squeeze next to Mack and Lex on the bench and be sucked into a tedious discussion about something very specifically dorky—and Zak has far too much on his mind to endure that. Namely: Richie, and wondering if he’ll get to see him tonight.
15
“You heard from him yet?” asks Mack.
It’s like salt to the wound every time he asks. “Not since the last time you inquired.”
Lex leans into Mack. “You’re annoying him.”
“I’m not annoyed,” I throw over my shoulder.
“He is,” Lex insists a touch quieter—but I still hear him clearly.
The two of them had been deeply engrossed in a heated argument (which they insist was just a friendly chat) about something called Full-Metal Alchemist—whatever that is—for the last half hour. Why they are suddenly paying so much attention to me now, I don’t know.
“He’s in a mood,” grunts Mack.
“Yeah. Probably cock-blocked by his big-daddy boyfriend,” Lex agrees.
I don’t know when my former arch nemesis and my stripper buddy became so chummy. But if I wasn’t sweating over waiting for a text back from Richie, I might be able to bear it more.
We’re on our way to a party Brett invited us to tonight. It was just three days ago when he caught me coming home from a shift at Aubergines and, just inside the doors of Piazza Place in front of the mailboxes where I was checking mine, he told me, “My boyfriend Sky and I are throwing a party this weekend! It isn’t here, don’t worry. It’s across the river at his place. You’re invited! Everyone in this building is invited! DJ Parish will be there spinning his tunes—You know him, right? ‘Course, you do! Everyone does! Hey, Lex told me you’re seeing some hot daddy guy. Bring him, too!”
It wasn’t until I mentioned the party (jokingly) to Richie that same night online that I even gave one moment’s consideration to actually going. But since Richie planned to visit me for the weekend anyway, he would manage to come in a day early and join me for the party.
That day was supposed to be today.
Richie still hasn’t flown in.
I texted him the address. Meet us there, if you can, I told him, assuming he switched his flight for a later one, but still haven’t gotten a reply. I figured by now he might’ve canceled his flight altogether on account of juggling twelve things at once.
Richie’s busy life would be a lot easier to deal with if I wasn’t also dealing with the him-not-being-here-all-the-time part.
It’s alarming, how fast my life split apart to fit Richie right in. Without him, I feel incomplete now.
“Is it true that he flies in to see you?” asks Lex. “Doesn’t that get expensive? Not that the sex you guys undoubtedly have wouldn’t be totally worth the mileage, but—”
“His old job required him to fly everywhere,” I explain patiently while still stomaching that terrible gym-boy stench somewhere to my right, “so he has countless flyer miles. Pretty much a lifetime supply. It’s nothing to him.”
“In other words, he’s rich as fuck.” Lex gives Mack’s bicep a squeeze (his version of a nudge), which I also noticed Mack finds substantially less annoying than he used to. “Zak really struck a gold mine with this one, didn’t he?”
“A regular sugar daddy,” Mack agrees with a snort of amusement at Lex.
“You two lovebirds can shut it,” I tell the pair of them, smirking. “There’s nothing regular or sugar daddy about Richie.”
Mack wrinkles up his face. “Lovebirds? Nah, we’re just friends.”
“Just friends,” agrees Lex, giving Mack’s bicep another gratuitous squeeze.
Yeah, sure, just friends. I leave well-enough alone the rest of the train ride, holding my breath every other inhale to protect my precious nostrils from the persistent gym stench next-door.
When we arrive at the party, which is held at a large two-story townhouse across the river that is nearly exploding from the amount of people fitting inside it, I am instantly ditched by Mack and Lex, who disappear into the noisy throng. Somehow, a colorful beverage finds its way to my hand despite my not wanting to drink tonight (with an umbrella that’s stabbed through a cherry and a fat chunk of pineapple), and I end up lurking in the corner of a small den, sandwiched between a potted plant and a tall glass table that holds the artwork of a big porcelain avocado.
