PROLOGUE
Evan
“How’s that wrist feeling?” Frankie asks as he escorts me back to Metropolis.
“It’s fine,” I mutter.
Considering I just met him tonight, it was nice of Frankie to offer to walk me back to my condo building after my ex, Peter, injured me. But even though it hurt when that asshole grabbed me by my wrist and demanded I stay at the bar to listen to more of his lies, it’s not my arm that hurts the most.
It’s my heart.
“The rumors aren’t true, by the way,” I blurt out as we round the corner. Nice as this guy’s being, I would hate to discover he’d bought into whatever everyone’s been saying about me behind my back.
“Evan, if it makes you feel better, I’m not sure what rumors you mean.”
Well, that’s a relief, especially considering I kept hearing the whispers of gossip even as I was making my way through the bar tonight.
Frankie seems nice, but I’m feeling particularly guarded right now, especially after what happened back there with Peter.
“Wanna talk about it?” Frankie asks. “I think the rumor mill can vouch for my incredible listening abilities.”
I laugh, appreciating a joke on such a shit-tastic night. He doesn’t have to do this. He doesn’t even know me—yet here he is, walking me home and asking if I want to talk.
But just as quickly as he got me laughing, I find tears streaming down my face again.
I stop on the sidewalk. “Sorry. I just need a moment.”
God, I’m so emotional sometimes. I thought I’d be able to keep my cool around this hot guy. Just seeing Frankie back at Pump got me all giddy and excited, but the relief was short-lived because I’m still just me…in the middle of a fucked-up breakup with a bastard of an ex.
Frankie leans down in front of me and rests his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, buddy, any chance you like Chinese food?”
“I love Chinese,” I say, my voice cracking as I speak the words.
He slides his phone out of his pocket and asks, “Any requests?”
I should be polite and say, “No, thank you,” but Chinese sounds so good, and I really don’t want to be alone right now.
“General Tso’s chicken,” I mutter.
“You’ve got it.”
Frankie orders some Chinese through an app while escorting me back to my unit. He doesn’t push me to talk, even when we enter my place. He just sits with me on my couch.
As I start to regroup, I’m finally able to look at him again. He notices some magazines on my coffee table before saying, “Holy shit. Are these you?” He riffles through them, checking out the covers, which I’m on.
“Um…yeah,” I say. How embarrassing. “Sorry. I must seem pretty vain. I would hide them, but Peter liked to have them out…to show people. At least now I can put them away.”
“Sounds like you had a real catch,” Frankie says facetiously. “So you’re a model? That’s cool.”
“Ex-model. I’m looking for a new job. It’s kind of something I fell into during high school, and I can’t say it’s been the best thing in the world for me.” I worry I’ve said too much, but he seems too focused on the images to notice.
“These pictures don’t look all that much like you. What’s this face you’re making?”
He tries to imitate it, pursing his lips and squinting his eyes.
“Oh, you mean sexface?” I ask. “That’s my signature expression since I started out.”
I make the expression and he laughs. I feel a little more at ease. I have a sneaking suspicion Frankie’s doing it—finding ways of getting me to relax—on purpose, and I appreciate it.
He leans back into the corner of the sofa, spreading his arms out like he lives here.
He has this sympathetic smirk on his face, the beanie he’s wearing looking adorable with just a bit of dark hair pushing out from under it, angling across his forehead. While I’m glad he came in here with me, I’m nervous he might want to mess around tonight.
I’m not ready for that.
I’ve never been the kind of guy who could mess around with someone I didn’t know. I’ve always felt guarded, protective of that. And of course, that led to me sharing my first time with Peter, the asshole who just broke my heart.
“So you wanna tell me what the deal was back there?” he asks. “Why that asshole Peter was grabbing you like that?”
His jaw tightens, and he balls his hand into a fist.
“No, it’s okay.” I shake my head. I can’t imagine telling someone I don’t know my business like that. Who else would I tell? It’s not like I have any friends I talk to either.…
“Come on. I’m good at listening. It’s kind of my specialty.” He gives me a grin that I can’t help but return. “Please?” he asks again.
There’s something about Frankie…in his laid-back manner and that gentle expression on his face…that makes it easy for me to open up to him. Considering he brought me all the way home and ordered Chinese food for me, I feel I at least owe him an answer. Plus, in case word does reach him through the rumor mill, I’d rather him know my side. “Long story short—when we met, Peter told me he and his boyfriend, Gary, were in an open relationship, and he was so hurt because he’d basically been bullied into it. Then he acted like no one would ever fuck him because he was so old, and his boyfriend was so young.”
The tears start up again.
Frankie sits back up beside me. “It’s okay, Evan. People are assholes, and sometimes you don’t realize until it’s too late.”
“It’s not just that…I mean, it is, but…he was my first.”
I shouldn’t have told him that, but I’m just feeling so vulnerable right now, and it’s nice having someone listen…Frankie’s the only guy who’s been willing to do that much.
“That must have been really hard.”
My face twists up as a knot twists in my gut. I push past it as I continue, “Anyway, like an idiot, I fell for his game. One thing led to another, he acted like he was developing feelings for me…I thought he’d broken it off with Gary, but tonight, I learned all that was a lie. He was just cheating on Gary…just like he cheated on me.”
“Shit, man. I’m so fucking sorry.” His words are so sincere, they catch me off guard.
“I guess I deserved it. I clearly wasn’t the smartest guy with him. I’m not known for my brains.”
“What?” Frankie asks, his brows pulling together. “You seem like a smart kid to me.”
“OMG. You sound like my therapist.” And now I really have said too much. “Oh, shit. Now you know how fucked up I am,” I say, and there are the tears again, flowing freely.
He puts his hand on my shoulder like he did outside.
“Ev, relax.” He says it like he’s an old friend, and it disarms me. I’ve never met anyone like Frankie before—someone who could make me feel so at ease…like he’s not judging me for the things I’m sharing with him. “Who hasn’t seen a therapist these days? It’s not a big deal. I’ve been to a therapist.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I had some shit when I was younger. I had my own bastard to deal with. Not an ex, though. My fucking sperm donor, and yes, that’s the only name he’s worthy of as far as I’m concerned.” He doesn’t seem sad as much as angry at this guy.
“What happened?”
“Wasn’t good to my mom and one night…was really fucked up and drunk and just started laying into her…to the point where I had to call 911.”
“Oh my God.”
“See? Could be a lot worse,” he assures me with a smirk that’s sort of bittersweet. “I’m not saying what that asshole did to you back there was okay. I’m just glad it stopped there. Has it ever been worse than that?”
“No, no,” I reply, hoping to soothe any concern he might have about me. “This was definitely the most physical he’s ever been, and it surprised me. I never figured he was capable of anything like that.”
“People are full of surprises,” he says, and I can tell he’s reflecting on his own circumstances. He shakes his head as though he’s trying to pull himself from the memory he’s stirred. “Anyway, my mom and I got out of a bad situation, and we both had a difficult time, and there were therapists and a couple of psychiatrists involved. I had this period of depression. Was on meds and doing CBT exercises every day for a bit.”
“I do cognitive behavioral therapy exercises too!” I say.
I can’t help being excited to know someone else who’s doing them too. My therapist introduced me to CBT, which helps me question some of my more self-defeating thoughts when I’m having a depressive episode.
“That’s so cool!” I add, and I can tell by the surprised look on his face—that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. “Oh, no, no. That came out wrong. That’s just…that’s what I’ve been dealing with for the past few years. And you’re the first person I’ve met who’s actually said that they’ve dealt with it too.”
“Well, it’s pretty common, so you shouldn’t feel alone. Is everything okay on that front?”
“It’s not as bad as it used to be. I’ve been working with a therapist and taking Zoloft, but a lot of what I felt made me want to just sort of, stay around the condo and not leave.”
“Which I’m guessing the asshole loved because it meant he could tell you whatever he wanted, and you’d never find out the truth from anyone else.”
“I hadn’t really thought of it like that.”
“Really? You hadn’t even considered that?” he says, eyeing me skeptically.
Of course, now that he says it, it seems so obvious. “See. I told you. I’m not very smart.”
“Don’t say shit like that. Don’t let him make you feel bad about yourself. You’ve clearly been having a rough time. He saw that you were vulnerable, and he took advantage of you. I’m sorry you had to deal with all this crap.”
It’s nice talking to him…having someone here when I’m feeling so down.
“I’m sorry about your dad…that you had to deal with that.”
Judging by the way his eyes widen, I seem to have caught him off guard, so I feel like I have to explain: “I had a pretty shitty dad. Not that it compares to yours…just…when I came out, he and my mom wanted to send me to some ex-gay therapy crap.”
Frankie’s jaw tenses up again like it did when he mentioned what Peter did to me tonight. “That’s horrible.”
“Don’t worry. I never went. It was just…they didn’t handle me coming out very well, and to cut another long story short, I haven’t seen them since then.”
I feel weird sharing that with him, but considering he opened up to me about his family, I felt comfortable doing the same. And there’s something about Frankie…something that disarms me…like we’ve always been friends. I imagine Frankie’s that way with a lot of people. That he can just sort of, set them at ease and make them feel like they’ve been friends forever.
“I was pretty much on my own after that,” I add. “Until Peter. And now I’m on my own again, I guess.”
“Well, you’re not alone tonight, kid. Now get over here.”
“What?”
“Come here,” he demands.
I’m uneasy, but for some reason, despite some lingering suspicions about his intentions, I trust this guy.
I scoot across the couch, and he comes at me, offering a gentle hug.
At first, I’m alarmed by it, startled even, but it’s a really good hug. I relax into it before I tremble because I could really use a shoulder to cry on.
He runs his hand up and down my back gently. Such a simple movement, but it makes me feel so appreciated. So cared for, especially considering how he was about my injury and how he’s being about all this.
As I force myself to pull away from him, Frankie says, “Free hugs. From one friend to another.”
Suddenly my concerns about him trying to use this opportunity to try and get a lay out of me dissolve as I realize I’m looking at a really good guy.
My lips curl into a smile. If only he knew how much better he just made me feel. “I like you, Frankie,” I tell him.
“I like you too, Evan. But I’ll like you a hell of a lot more when our damned Chinese food gets here.”
He winks, and I burst into a fit of laughter.
It’s nice having a friend tonight. What began as such a shitty night and became so much worse all of a sudden doesn’t seem so bleak, and I know it’s because of him.
It gives me some hope. Frankie gives me some hope.
I’d be lucky to have a friend like him in my life.