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“So, I’ve been…talking to this guy. Um. On the dating app.”
“Oh shit,” Linden breathed out. “You really did it? Have you told Taylor?”
“No,” Peyton snapped. “It was awkward as fuck to know that my best friend and my brother have been discussing my sex life.”
“Love life,” Linden corrected with a sniff. “Whatever Taylor wants to know about your dick is his business, not mine.”
“God, I hate you,” Peyton breathed out. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then shook his head. “Anyway, so I think I’m having a panic attack because I started talking to one guy who seemed nice, but now I have all these…these…”
“Other messages now?” Linden asked, sounding like he was smiling. “My hot baby bro is popular?”
“Please stop. I don’t…” He stopped when his voice cracked, and Linden met him with heavy silence. “I don’t know how to feel ready for this. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to deal with people’s…disgust when they find out about my bag.”
“Hey,” Linden said after a beat, his voice softer. “I don’t have some magic answer because you know I suck at relationships. I don’t think I’ve had anything go past a week and a half in years.”
Peyton felt a sudden pop of guilt because that was true. His love life was never particularly stable, but he’d preferred it that way. Linden on the other hand was the kind of person who wanted something long term. He wanted the whole marriage and kids thing that their gay friends gave them shit about because it was so normative or whatever.
Linden always laughed it off, but Peyton knew that made him self-conscious and afraid he’d never really belong.
“I’m not asking you to solve my problems,” Peyton said after a beat. “I just…I don’t know. I think I need you to tell me I’m not doing it wrong if I choose to talk to one person instead of all those strangers.”
“Is it one that makes you feel safe?”
Peyton laughed because he wasn’t quite sure he’d met that guy yet. But Austin’s name was MarriageMan on the app, which made him feel kind of itchy, and he’d immediately implied he was the jealous sort which wasn’t Peyton’s usual type. But maybe that’s what he needed. In his former life, he would have gone with some grumpy asshole like his neighbor because the sex would have been amazing and there wouldn’t have been expectations for more.
But now, with his illness and getting older, maybe it was time to rethink who his type really was.
And to be fair, he hadn’t really explored the other profiles yet.
“Look,” his brother said when Peyton was quiet for a long while, “there’s no right or wrong way to do this. You need to go with whatever feels most comfortable to you.”
“Yeah. Shit,” Peyton said. He rubbed his hand down his face, then glanced at the café door. “Look, I’m gonna get some coffee, then head back home to start on tomorrow’s orders.”
“Sounds good. Call if you need help, okay? Taylor and I will be there the second we have free time.”
“I know. Thanks,” Peyton told him, reaching for the button to shut his car off.
“I love you.”
Peyton froze, then smiled. Both brothers knew they loved each other, but it was rare when they said it, and he hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear it right then. “I love you too.”
He hung up before either of them could make it awkward, then he grabbed his wallet and headed inside.
The café was cute—bright cream walls with coffee beans painted like they were being thrown into the air. On the far wall was the café name, BrewBiz, in red letters—the shade matching the tops of the tables.
There was faint music playing on the speakers, and a barista with his back to the counter, cleaning the espresso machine. Otherwise, it was completely empty.
Peyton glanced up at the chalk menu, then walked to the counter and waited until the man turned around. He was very tall with dark hair, and when he finally spun toward Peyton, he let out a gasp and grasped the front of his chest.
“Sorry,” Peyton began.
The man’s hands lifted, and it took Peyton a second of his rusty college language courses to realize that he was signing, though Peyton could only pick up a couple of words.
‘Surprise…today.’
Peyton looked at the man’s apron. Normally when cafés hired Deaf workers, they had a pin on their shirt, but there was only the ASL hand-shape for coffee embroidered on the front. Which…oh.
Oh.
