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He practically skipped back to his apartment and carried his excitement all the way to the final frat party of the year. This one wasn’t quite as garish as some of the other parties that week, but it was still decked out in a fair amount of tinsel and garlands. Frankie met Dustin on the front porch. They exchanged a quick kiss and waded into the crowd vying for the overly sweetened punch and spiced-beer keg. Frankie idly noted to Dustin that whoever bought an entire keg of holiday flavored ale didn’t deserve their diploma.
As they waited for their drinks to be served by a jolly looking fraternity brother, Frankie scanned the room. He had figured out a few weeks ago that the inclusive fraternity Diego had joined was the same fraternity Dustin and Chris were in. He hadn’t seen Diego at any of the parties, but a lot of the grad students apparently joined for the networking and community, not for the parties. How boring.
Tonight proved to be no different. As Frankie and Dustin got increasingly drunker, there was no sign of Diego and by the time the Christmas lights began to blur in his vision, Frankie had given up looking.
Dustin, however, seemed to be looking for, or possiblyatsomeone. They were pressed chest to chest, dancing on the makeshift dance floor, aka the living room rug, but Dustin had eyes only for someone over Frankie’s shoulder. Frankie shifted around, pressing his ass to Dustin’s crotch, and making a big show of dancing back on him so he could scope out who Dustin had been eyeing.
Dustin’s hands came reflexively to Frankie’s hips and Frankie watched as a familiar set of blue eyes tracked the movement. No way… could it be this easy?
Frankie lifted a single finger and made a come hither gesture. Chris, the owner of said sparkling blue eyes, shook his head, bit his lip, and looked away. Frankie let out an annoyed grunt and waited for Chris to look back at them because Frankie knew he would.
It took half a song, but eventually, Chris’s eyes strayed back. Sexy hadn’t worked the first time, so maybe friendly would work better? Frankie gave him his most charming smile and waved him over with his whole hand.
Chris hesitated for just a moment and then slowly began to approach them. Frankie felt Dustin’s breath catch against his back, and his fingers tightened to the point of pain on Frankie’s hip bones. He pressed his shoulders back into Dustin’s chest and tilted his head back.
“Trust me for a moment?” he whispered, and Dustin searched his eyes before giving a stiff nod.
Frankie pressed their lips together for what he knew would be their last kiss. Chris let out a pained noise, and before he could run away, Frankie reached out and grabbed the lapel of his bomber jacket. He pulled Chris down until they were at eye level and grinned wickedly at him. Chris only had time to mutter a confused, “Frank—” before Frankie crashed their mouths together. He heard Dustin gasp, so he didn’t prolong the kiss.
Frankie pulled back and smiled, softer this time. “If you want to taste Dustin again, you’re going to have to kiss him directly. It seems my services are no longer needed.”
He stepped out from between the two men and gave Dustin an encouraging smile and Chris a flirty wink, then spun on his heel and headed for the door. He didn’t get very far before something in the corner of the room caught his attention.
Since Diego’s surgery, he had begun wearing more and more interesting clothing. From geometric print button downs to floral print cardigans, Diego seemed to be coming into his style since he could wear more tightly fitted clothing. Frankie hadn’t dared ask him about his surgery, but over the past few weeks he’d watched energy return to Diego’s gait and his cocksure grin return to his face.
Diego was still wearing the same clothes he’d worn to their final earlier, a red and green herringbone print sweater with slim cut jeans. Frankie had ogled the shit out of his ass as he’d walked to his seat in class. He’d barely been able to take in his sweater, but there it was now, or rather, there Diego was now, sitting on the couch in the corner. His eyes were roving back and forth between Frankie and Chris and Dustin behind him.
Just to be sure his efforts had been successful, Frankie glanced over his shoulder and saw they were slow dancing in the middle of the dance floor. Chris’s head was bent low as he whispered something, apparently quite funny, in Dustin’s ear. Dustin turned his head slightly to the side, skimming his lips over Chris’s jaw, and Chris returned the gesture, finally catching Dustin’s mouth in a kiss so sweet, Frankie had to turn away.
He wished the person he was turning towards wasn’t Diego, because he was just drunk enough to admit he wouldn’t mind sharing a holiday flavored kiss with the man.
As their eyes met, Diego gave him his signature smirk, but his eyes were full of mirth and something that looked suspiciously like fondness. Frankie did the only thing he could think to do. He gave a flourishing bow, turned, and left.
Chapter2
Diego
“I swearto God I should remember more about this because this was one of the classes I tookamazingnotes in for you, but honestly… I think I sort of struggled to understand it then, and am definitely struggling now,” Frankie said from Diego’s couch.
Diego was in the kitchen, fixing them their third cups of coffee for the evening.
It was mid-March of Frankie’s senior year, and instead of spending his Friday night at a party or at one of his many paramours’ houses, he was holed up in Diego’s apartment trying to figure out what useful insight they could both bring to the lab on Monday.
Diego hadn’t seen Frankie over Winter break. The last time Diego had seen him was the night he’d matchmade Chris and Dustin at his fraternity’s holiday party. As Winter break passed in a blur of friends and quiet nights in his apartment, Diego had almost forgotten he’d even be seeing Frankie again. Well, no, that was a lie. He’d been looking forward to seeing Frankie again. He hadn’t been able to get a read on the younger man during the first half of the fall semester, but after coming out to him and having him react so well, he’d begun to appreciate his presence. He certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes either, a fact Diego was readily trying to forget. Meanwhile, it was a fact half of the school had noticed.
Diego had nothing against men, women, or nonbinary people who flaunted their sexuality and slept with everyone who was interested in them. He just wasn’t able to do it. If he’d been born with the parts he wanted, maybe he’d have been more interested in casual hookups and silly flings, but he hadn’t, and thus far he’d never felt comfortable educating, enlightening and hand holding any hookups about the anatomy he had. Even if he had been born with the parts he wanted, he still might not have been into casual hookups. After all, very little about Diego was casual.
That hadn’t changed with his transition. If anything, he’d gotten more intense with an added side of brooding. His friends liked to describe him as self-assured, and he’d heard Frankie mumble “cock-sure, smart-ass, bastard” once or twice during late night study sessions the semester before. Diego liked to think of them as compliments.
He’d been meek and anxious as a child, always taking everything “too seriously,” including his own thoughts, fears, and gender dysphoria. Or at least, that’s what his mother always said. He wasmalcriada,or a spoiled brat, also helpfully gendered for a female person, a point his mother always made with her conjugations and words every time he went home, which was why Diego didn’t go home anymore. He hadn’t been home since college, and he hadn’t seen his mother since the morning of his college graduation when she’d brought him a white dress to wear. He’d thrown it in the trash, proudly accepting his diploma while wearing a suit and tie even though many of his classmates also refused to see him as the man he was.
A few days after graduation, Diego had moved here, or more specifically to the city across the river from the university. He made a living managing the books for one of the local gay bars. The pay had been incredibly generous, and the health insurance was phenomenal. Only three years after college, he’d saved up enough to pay for the parts of grad school that grants and scholarships wouldn’t cover, and he had just enough coverage and money in his health savings account to pay for top surgery.
Diego had come out as trans to his incredibly traditional Catholic parents with head held high and back straight, but he had been nearly shaking in his boots the day he’d had to tell the owner of the bar he was going to grad school. He’d asked if there was any way he could go part time and had been fully prepared to be denied the request and lose health insurance. If that had happened, he would have gotten the surgery and delayed going to grad school another year. It’s just that he had been so excited to find out he’d gotten into the university across town. It was like all of his stars were aligning perfectly so he felt like hehadto ask.
To his immense surprise and gratitude, the owner of the bar had immediately agreed, knowing Diego’s desire for gender affirming surgery, and had even kept his pay the same as it had been when he was full time.
Diego was equal parts grateful and ashamed that he’d needed what was in essence a handout from an elder gay, but he was coming to accept how members of the community looked out for one another. He’d just never thought he’d be welcomed in the community.
