7
Evan
Frankie and I don’t talk on the Uber ride back to Metropolis.
I fidget nervously with my hands, trying to think of how to explain this to him.
I can’t believe he caught me heading out of the Eagle. At least I wasn’t wearing the hood.
What would he have thought about me then?
I side-eye Frankie. He looks like he’s thinking hard about something, puzzled even. Surely he’s trying to figure out why I was there…or why I didn’t tell him I was going.
I talk to him about pretty much everything. He’s the only person in my life who I feel comfortable sharing things that are really important to me with, the only one who knows about my depression, my issues with Peter, and my parents.
I wonder if he’s freaking out. If he’s thinking I’m this whole other person who he doesn’t know, but when we get out of the Uber, he puts his arm around me, like he normally would, as though he’s trying to let me know he’s here for me, which is nice.
When we get back into our unit, he’s still quiet and I’m trying to figure out how to break the ice with this.
Fortunately, Frankie does it for me.
“Hey, Ev,” he says, turning to me and resting his hands on my shoulders. His beanie is tucked a little lower than usual since he was playing with it in the Uber. “I’m sorry if I made all that weird, but I was…a little surprised. I figured you were just nervous about talking to me about a date earlier. Then I saw you with Z, and he had his hand on you like…he was petting you or—”
“Scritches.”
“What?” His brows pull together.
“That’s what they’re called, apparently. Sorry, this was a weird time to bring that up. I’m just kind of uncomfortable about the whole thing, and you know, I don’t even know why I went tonight.”
“Because on some level, it obviously interests you. You didn’t just accidentally wander into a puppy-play event.”
I can feel my face getting warm.
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I just…I’m used to us talking about pretty much everything. Hell, I tell you if I’m going to go get a blowjob from some Grindr trick.”
I chuckle because he’s so right. Typically, if anything comes up with either of us, the other is the first to know.
“That explains why you were acting so weird earlier tonight, though,” he notes.
“I’m sorry. It was strange not telling you, but then I didn’t know how to tell you, and I figured I would go tonight and see if it was even something I was interested in.”
“So this was your first time going to something like that?”
“God, yes. The other day, when Derek and I went to the leather shop and I saw this puppy hood…”
I stop myself. There’s more to it than just the other day, and I feel like Frankie deserves to hear the whole story.
“I saw a hood like the one I saw back when I was with Peter. We were getting some armbands and handkerchiefs for this Pride party. I’d seen some guy at a party, and he was having a lot of fun, so I kind of mentioned that guy and asked Peter what he would think of me doing that. I kind of downplayed it in case he thought it would be weird.”
“What did he say?”
My cheeks warm even more as I’m transported back to that memory. I avoid Frankie’s gaze.
“He started making like these growling and barking noises, making me feel really stupid for even mentioning it, so I acted like I didn’t really care, but I was curious. When I saw it again with Derek, I got to thinking about what you said, about getting out there again, and I know that’s not what you meant. But in some ways, I felt like I stopped myself from exploring things with Peter, because if he said no, I went along with it.”
His jaw tenses, and his grip on my shoulder tightens.
“Are you mad at me?”
“What? No. Don’t ever think that. I’m pissed at Peter for making you feel that way. If you said you wanted to try something, he shouldn’t have made you feel like shit about it. And I’m really fucking proud of you for taking a chance and exploring something you’re interested in…just for you.” His words are so soothing and compassionate that I feel stupid for not having shared this with him sooner.
Frankie has never been judgy or made fun of anything I’ve been interested in, but I was worried he would think it was weird. That’s what kept me from saying anything.
“Z had offered to take me tonight,” I continue. “He said I could just meet some guys and talk to them, but I kind of chickened out. It was all so intimidating, so I asked Z if we could go. That’s when you saw me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“I’m not upset with you about that. Admittedly, I was surprised to see you prancing around the Eagle on Z’s arm, heading out of a puppy-play event, but I think you can understand why.”
I laugh, which eases up my tension even more. “Oh, yeah. For sure.”
“I’m not going to lie, though. I don’t exactly understand it. I won’t pretend to. Do you mind if I ask what you like about it?”
“I’m not that sure yet. I’ve just started looking into it. I was watching this video on YouTube the other day. There were these interviews with a bunch of guys who were into it. All sorts of people do it. Doctors, photographers, accountants. Anybody, really.”
Frankie smirks as though he’s amused that I’m stating the obvious.
“Well, they were talking about what a good way it is to shake off their human stresses in their day-to-day lives. Get back to those aspects of themselves like playfulness and compassion and affection. That all sounded nice to me.”
“Show me this video.” I can tell by the way Frankie says it, it’s because he’s interested in knowing more.
This wave of relief washes through me as I feel the shame and guilt about being interested in this start to dissolve.
It reminds me of when I came out to my parents. Well, except Frankie is actually being supportive and not trying to get me to sign up for ex-gay therapy.
I guide him to my bedroom, and he sits at my desk, my laptop in front of him.
As I pull up the video, I glance at Frankie, who offers a warm smile like he’s letting me know that he’s here for me.
I sit on the desktop, the way I usually do when I’m showing him a video clip of something I’ve found online, although usually it’s a hilarious comedy sketch that I can’t stop laughing at or the latest Halsey music video.
As the video plays, Frankie is quiet. He bites his lip and narrows his eyes like he’s trying to process what the guys in the clip are describing about their experiences and everything that they feel puppy play has done for them.
It’s a short clip, but I feel like it’s a good introduction for him, and when it ends, his expression doesn’t change.
“You think it’s weird, don’t you?” I say quickly.
He takes a breath before turning to me. “It was kind of cool, actually. A lot of these guys were just talking about playing with other dogs and kind of having fun. You know Bentley Friggs?”
“Yeah.”
“This is going to sound strange, but he does this sort of cosplay thing where he dresses up as an elf. I helped him get into costume one time for a big…war…evidently.”
“What?”
“He meets up with a bunch of guys who pretend they’re elves and wizards and fairies and they all have these battles out in the park. But he loves this stuff, and he says it helps him destress from work so much—even better than when he tried yoga. So, I can see this is kind of the same thing. Or am I way off base?”
He glances around uneasily as though he’s trying to figure out if he might be totally thinking about this in the wrong way. I laugh, enjoying that I’m not the only one who feels crazy right now.
“Yeah, like role play,” I say.
He bites his bottom lip again. “But you weren’t wearing a hood tonight.”
“It’s in my bag,” I confess. I slide it off my shoulder onto the desk beside him.
“You own one?” Again, his question isn’t judgmental. He’s curious. He’s almost asking the way he might if I had said I’d bought some sort of kinky sex toy.
“I bought it at the shop the other day. I brought it with me, but Z said I didn’t have to wear it the first time if I wasn’t comfortable. He was just encouraging me to meet some pups and figure out what it was all about. I didn’t have the balls to put it on.”
His gaze is on the bag as though the hood is going to pop out at him at any moment.
“You mind if I see it?” he asks.
I blush before unzipping the bag and retrieving it.
I start to hand it to him when he says, “I’d rather see you in it if you don’t mind.”
I chuckle. “I feel kind of dumb about it.”
He leans toward me. “There’s nothing for you to feel dumb about, Ev. If this is something you’re interested in, you owe it to yourself to explore it. There’s nothing wrong with this any more than there’s anything wrong with you being gay. I hope you know that.”
He’s right. Frankie’s always right. And as always, his compassion and understanding open me right up.
I glance at the hood for a moment before convincing myself that if I can’t do this in front of Frankie, then who the fuck can I do it in front of?
I hop onto the floor and stand in front of him, putting it on the way I did with Z in the leather shop.
As soon as I’m seeing through the eyes of the hood, I feel like this weight has been lifted off me. I take a deep breath. Feels like the first decent breath of air I’ve gotten since Frankie caught me at the club.
Frankie leans back in the chair, smirking.
“What? Is it weird?” I ask, my voice a little muffled because of the snout. Although, even with my uneasiness, I notice there’s a confidence I have behind the hood.
“Hell no.” Frankie shakes his head. He pushes to his feet and approaches me. “You look cute as fuck in that. I think being a pup suits you.”
I laugh before he adds, “Listen, Ev. This is something you want, and fuck Peter or anyone else who doesn’t get it. This is about you.”
His expression turns serious, his jaw tensing the way it sometimes does when I can tell he’s upset. Almost like it did when he got upset about the woman who was abused by her boyfriend.
“But…honestly,” he says. “I know Z’s a great guy, but I don’t feel very comfortable about you doing this with someone who you don’t know very well. I’m your friend, and I want to be there for you, if you’ll let me.” When I don’t reply, he adds, “If you’d rather do it with someone else, I understand but if you want me, we’ll do this together.”
“Really?” I ask.
This was not how I was expecting the night to turn out at all.
“Jesus, Ev. When are you going to get it into your head that I’m kind of an amazing friend? Come here.”
He wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug.
“If you’re going to be a pup, you’re going to be the best damn pup out there.”
I chuckle, and I don’t know where exactly the impulse comes from—I know, at least in part, it’s because of the confidence wearing the hood gives me—but I growl softly.
I just meant it to tease him, but the way it comes out surprises me.
Frankie pulls away quickly, apparently just as surprised by my growl. A wide grin stretches across his face.
“Oh, I like that,” he says. “Have you been practicing?”
I snicker. “I thought it would be funny, but I kind of liked it.”
“It was funny…and kind of hot.”
We share a laugh before he asks, “You mind if I…pet you?”
It’s such a strange question, but I find I’m glad that he asked. And curious about how it will feel to have him do that to me. “Go ahead.”
He pets my head, his grin as big as ever, and I appreciate getting to share this with him.
“You’re a little runt is what you are,” he notes, earning another laugh from me. “Okay, so show me some of this other stuff you’ve been looking up. If I’m going to be doing this puppy play with you, I want to be a pro.”
“Sure,” I say eagerly, reaching to pull the hood off.
“Keep it on,” he says. “Pup Evan can show me.”
Once again, I’m reminded of what a truly great friend Frankie is.