Leah
“I can’t believe you made it,” I say a few minutes later when I’m upright and feeling back to my normal self. Minus of course the butterflies and nerves I have sitting right here with him. The way he makes me feel is definitely not normal.
“Are you kidding me? I had the date circled on my calendar before the invite even came in the mail.”
So my brother, Luke, had invited him and that’s the reason he was here.
“Oh.” I pause and take a drink. “It must be nice that you had a chance to catch up with Luke today.”
“It was, but we only spoke briefly.”
“Why is that?”
“He was busy entertaining.” This time he pauses to take a drink of his clear liquid on two ice cubes. “Amongst other things.”
“Well,” I say, turning my lower body more in his direction without being consciously aware of it at first. “Whatever the reason I’m glad you came.” My shoe accidentally grazes his shin and I notice my legs are crossed but my foot is rocking back and forward like crazy. I need to get my nerves under control.
Change the subject, Leah.
“So you’re overseas a lot these days, huh? That must be fun.”
“It was okay when I first started, but these days I can’t tolerate it as much. I’d like to get a base and work from it instead of racking up the frequent flyer miles and the toll that it takes on your body. That and…you know…it’s more challenging to meet people and have a real relationships with them.”
“But it must be fun in that world of beautiful people and beautiful things. And I’m sure the other guys in your industry are interesting and well-traveled too.”
“They are and but that doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Yeah, more competition,” I say.
“Exactly. Luckily I still get jobs though, but that won’t last forever. I mean I’m the guy who still uses a wall calendar after all. I’m old school like that.”
I try not to smile too much. He’s just so cute. He’s still in such great shape and so full of life it’s hard to think that he’s nine years older than me and that we met nine years ago. I mean he’s only thirty-one, so it’s not like he’s old by any stretch of the imagination, but at twenty-two myself there is a bit of a gap. I don’t think I’ve ever used a real calendar.
“You’re only as young as you feel,” I say.
“Not in this industry. I’m looking into moving into something more of a business role. Something behind the camera. I’m well past my prime in modeling years.” He laughs.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s just hard to imagine that I’m a model. I just always associated modeling with a different kind of person. Whenever I stop and think about it and that I’m doing it it makes me laugh.”
“It doesn’t make me laugh.”
“You’re just being nice.”
No, I’m just imagining you in Times Square standing in a pair of crisp white fresh-out-the-box underwear in a black and white photo while the whole world stopped and admired how insanely attractive you are. And I’m just thinking about that poster of you I had on my dorm room wall. The one of you lying on your back on that bed. Your shirt off and you looking off to the side because if you’d looked right into the lens it would’ve been so hot it would have melted the camera and every woman’s eyes who looked at that poster. Your first campaign. I don’t remember if it was for the jeans you had on, some cologne, or something else. And I don’t even care. All I cared about was that it was you. And you must have been about my age now. You looked so young but still so darn sexy. And the poster was right over my bed, until I moved it to the opposite wall so I could stare at it while I laid on my back and did things to myself in my own bed while I imagined you were there with me.
“No really. I mean…you always stayed in good shape.” I try not to, but my eyes quickly glance across his broad shoulders and thick chest. I think he catches me, but I’m not sure. My mind is racing.
“Thanks, but those young guys are in really incredible shape these days. I’m sure you must have seen them back at U.S.C. I mean it stands for University of Spoiled Children, right? Their rich parents can get them anything. Young boys in Range Rovers with plenty of time to work out and surf and all that good stuff. I don’t want to sound jealous or anything. I mean, good for them. But that’s the reality of my job. I’ve had a great run, but it’s time to pivot into a different role.”
How about you pivot yourself right into me?
“I guess I never thought of it quite like that. There must have been so many other guys.”
“Yeah, the competition is tough and only getting tougher.”
“Jobs are one thing, but your romantic life is another.”
“True,” he says. He takes a sip of his drink. “But I never fought them for girls.”
“Lucky for them that’s not your thing.”
“Definitely not. Meaningless sex never appealed to me. Never tried it.”
His eyes dart across my body. He didn’t mean for them to, but he couldn’t control it. I catch him looking and does it ever make me feel good. It gives me some hope.
“Me either,” I say.
“Long term thinking is the only way to go,” he says.
“Not even once?” I ask.
“Not even close. After jobs it was straight to my room and in bed…by myself.”
“But there must have been so many other guys...so many opportunities. I mean I thought that thing was rampant in men’s fashion. I heard about those top photographers who got called out last year when the me too movement was at its peak. The guys let people know it’s not always just women getting taken advantage of. I guess as a society we always think that a guy can stand up for himself. That he can fight for himself. It’s not like some out-of-shape old male photographer can really force himself onto a young fit guy, but then again I guess the male models have the same pressures as the women. I think the women have it worse because the men are often bigger and stronger and more aggressive, and a whole bunch of other things, but then again I guess I wouldn’t really know. I’m not getting a lot of unwarranted attention myself.”
“Wow, you really have a good grasp of how things are. A lot of people don’t understand the male side of things. But to your point luckily for me nothing like that ever happened.”
“I guess you don’t set off their gaydar,” I say. I take a sip of my rose. “It might make dating harder but in some ways it helps you.”
His drink is halfway to his lips when suddenly his hand stops. His brow furrows, then one eyebrow raises higher than the other. His hand lowers setting the drink back down on the wooden table in front of us. His eyes narrow as he looks at me more deeply. First inquisitively. Then with a bit of…anger?
“Leah,” he begins. He just stares at me as seconds go by. For the first time I notice the second hand of the clock ticking on the wall behind me. It’s dead quiet and his body is completely still as he chooses his next words carefully. “What exactly is your impression of me?”
“What do you mean?” I say quickly. Something’s definitely off and I’m getting uncomfortable. I’m not scared as in that he’s going to hurt me or anything, but his intensity makes me more scared that I offended him or upset him.
“About my personal life.”
“I just think you’re like most people. You haven’t found the right person yet.”
“What do you mean by person?”
“I mean…” suddenly I’m wondering if I’ve went down the wrong path here. “The right guy?”
“The right guy?”
“Yeah, my brother told me.”
“Told you what exactly?”
“That you’re gay. It’s okay,” I say. And in any other case I would be okay with it, just not with him because I want him for me and me only.
Suddenly his free hand balls up into a fist. I can see it twitching he’s squeezing so tight. Now I’ve definitely made him angry.
“Luke told you that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After that first time you came over to the house that day to throw the football around.”
Now I can see he’s really angry. Really, really angry.
“I’m really sorry if I offended you somehow,” I say.
I watch as his body relaxes and suddenly he smirks. He lifts the drink to his lips and finishes it in one gulp. Something is definitely wrong, but it’s like he’s either come to peace with the idea or he’s figured out how to get revenge. Either way he’s not giving a lot of clues.
“I could really kill your brother right now.”
“What? You’re best friends.”
“And you’re a lesbian right?”
“What? No. Why would you think that?”
“Because that’s what Luke told me.”
“Luke told you….”
Xavier nods. I don’t even have to finish my sentence. “Just like he told me,” he says.
“So you’re not? You’re definitely not?”
“Nope. And I don’t even have to ask you.”
“No. I mean I don’t want it to sound like it’s something bad or anything, but no. Definitely not.”
“There’s only one thing that’s really, really bad here. Well make that two,” he says.
“What’s that?” I know the first I’m so angry at my brother right now I could kill him too.
“First is what your brother did.”
“And?”
“And second for what he prevented me from not doing all these years.”
“Which is?”
He leans into me so quickly I can almost feel the gush of wind follow him.
Before I even know what’s happening his lips crash down on to mine and it’s like someone just gave me everything I ever wanted.
But not just someone. Him. The only man I’ve ever wanted.