7. Ever

7

Ever

On Friday night, I was buzzing with excitement. After Tracy and I ate dinner, I showered and got dressed up in a pink shirt and royal blue suit. Then I went to fetch my roommate, who I found sitting on his bed.

He was wearing his glasses—which made him look so sexy—and reading a book with my cat on his lap. The dark blue cardigan he'd layered over his usual T-shirt and jeans was the only sign that he actually planned to go out tonight.

When he saw me standing in the doorway, he took off his glasses and murmured, "Oh wow, you look great."

"Thanks. So do you."

He frowned at that. "I look like I always do."

"And you always look great." He thought I was full of crap. He didn't tell me that, but his frown deepened.

He got up with my cat in his arms and asked, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yup, and a Lyft is on its way. I plan to have a few cocktails tonight, so I didn't want to drive."

"I'm surprised you drink, since your diet is so regimented."

"I think it's important to allow yourself a few indulgences. You shouldn't feel like you're constantly depriving yourself."

He kissed the top of Phil's head before setting him down on a pillow. "We'll be back soon, cat," he said. It seemed he and Phil had been bonding.

Tracy was quieter than usual as we left the apartment, and it only got worse on our trip across town. When we turned onto Castro Street, which was jam-packed on a Friday night, he crossed his arms over his chest and sort of shrunk into himself. I'd thought a night out would be good for him, but I could tell he was already uncomfortable.

This became even more obvious when we got to the club. It was called Thrust, and it was huge, loud, and packed. Fortunately, I'd called ahead and reserved a table in the VIP section. It was much less crowded, and far enough from the dance floor to let us carry on a conversation without yelling over the music.

Right after we got settled into the big, dark red booth, Tracy's friends joined us. First, he introduced me to a petite brunette named Yolanda and her wife JoJo, a curvy blonde with a radiant smile. They were followed by two cute twinks named Embry and Lark, along with Lark's boyfriend Dylan, who was a tall Black guy with a muscular build and a no-nonsense demeanor.

The last person in the group arrived with a pitcher of margaritas in each hand, accompanied by a waiter with a tray full of glasses. "It's an auspicious occasion, friends," he announced. "We finally got Tracy to come out with us!" He put down the pitchers and grabbed my hand in both of his. "Ever Daley, as I live and breathe! You're even more gorgeous in person than you are on Instagram. I'm Vihaan Khatri, but everyone calls me Vee and you should, too."

"Nice to meet you, Vee. I used to work with a guy whose last name was Khatri. His family was from Chennai, in southeastern India."

"Small world. My parents emigrated from Chennai before I was born," Vee said, as he squeezed in beside Tracy. He was colorful from head to toe, from the dark green streaks in his shaggy, black hair to his low-slung red pants, sparkly orange boots, and cropped, long-sleeved T-shirt covered in iridescent sequins. He was also extremely outgoing, and about as different from Tracy as anyone could possibly be. It was hard to imagine how they'd become friends.

As he poured margaritas and passed them around, I asked, "Are all of you housemates?"

Vee nodded. "Yup, and we're actually missing one. Hal had to work. We all live in an awesome Victorian owned by the lovely Ms. Yolanda."

"That must be fun."

"It is, and you need to come over! We do a huge family-style meal every Sunday night, and you're officially invited."

"I'd love to take you up on that, if you're sure I wouldn't be intruding."

Vee waved his hand, as if to bat my words away. "Of course not! We sometimes have up to thirty people for Sunday dinner. A big crowd makes it extra fun." He leaned over Tracy and lowered his voice, which apparently was his attempt at being discreet. "Tracy joined us last Sunday and told us what happened when you two met earlier this year. Is everything okay down there? No permanent damage to your polska kielbasa, right?"

"My what?"

"Your stick. Your wang. Your baloney pony."

Tracy muttered, "He's asking if your dick's okay after I bit it." When I glanced at him, he avoided eye contact.

"Oh, that. Yeah, I'm fine. It was startling more than anything, but no harm done." Because this clearly was making Tracy uncomfortable, I changed the subject by asking Vee, "So, how did you two meet?"

"I was staying with a friend of mine, who runs a resort on Catalina Island," Vee said. "One day, here comes this hottie and his friend Gabriel, looking for jobs. It took months, but eventually I got Tracy to open up to me. Big mistake, because now he's stuck with me for life." Tracy grinned embarrassedly when Vee planted a big, loud kiss on his cheek.

I asked, "Is Gabriel still back on Catalina?"

"No, he's currently in Toronto." Vee took his phone from his pocket and pulled up Facebook as he continued, "He runs a successful lingerie brand, and his husband does makeup. They're currently in Canada because hubs is lead makeup artist on a big budget action movie." He showed me a photo of two very pretty dark-haired men at a red carpet event. "This is them. Gabriel's the one with the long hair and makeup." Once again, it was hard to imagine what Tracy and this friend had in common.

"So, now I know how Vee and Tracy met, and you all know how Tracy and I met," I said with a grin. "But what about the rest of you? JoJo, how did you meet your wife?"

"We met the old-fashioned way, in a bar." She turned to Yolanda with an adoring smile.

"I took one look at her, and that was it," Yolanda said, as she caressed her wife's cheek. "I knew my life would never be the same from that moment on."

"They had the most beautiful wedding." Lark sounded wistful. "We were all in the backyard under colorful, lit-up umbrellas because it was raining, and it was pure magic."

While stories and laughter flew around the table, Tracy drank one margarita after another and tried to fade into the background. I kept trying to draw him into the conversation, but it seemed all of this was just a bit much for him.

Eventually, the two couples hit the dance floor, and Embry and Vee went to go "hottie hunting," as Embry put it. That left Tracy and me in the booth. When I asked him if he wanted to dance, he murmured, "No, thank you."

"Okay, but promise me one dance before the night is over."

"I don't dance."

I flashed him a smile. "It can be a slow one. Then all you have to do is sway."

"Every man in this club would be thrilled to dance with you. Why don't you ask one of them?"

"Because none of them are you."

Before he could answer, we were joined by an attractive couple and two waiters, who were carrying loaded down trays. The brunet in glasses and an expensive suit said, "Forgive the intrusion. I wanted to welcome you to Thrust, Mr. Daley. I'm Preston, the club's owner, and this is my husband Sebastian. He's a big fan."

I slid out of the booth, and as I shook their hands in turn, Sebastian said shyly, "You're truly an inspiration, Mr. Daley. I had to stay in shape when I used to work as a model, and there were a lot of days when I could barely scrape up the motivation to hit the gym. But then, I found you online, and you were always so encouraging. You made fitness seem like a form of self-love instead of a chore, and that really changed my mindset."

"Please call me Ever," I said, "and it really means a lot to me to know something I said made a difference. Thank you for sharing that with me."

He seemed thrilled when I suggested the three of us take a selfie together. After we snapped some photos, I added tags and posted them to social media, which delighted both men. Then Preston indicated the items his waiters had deposited on our table. "We brought you a few appetizers and a bottle of champagne, on the house," he said. "If you need anything at all, or if you have a special request, please ask any of my wait staff to come find me. I'll take care of it personally."

"Thanks. That's very kind," I said, "and your club is truly impressive. You should be proud of what you've built here."

His expression instantly brightened. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

We chatted for another minute, and after they left, I slid back into the booth beside Tracy. "You're so nice," he said. "I noticed that at the gym, too. So many people want things from you—a photo, or your time, or whatever. You're kind to everyone and always try to make them feel good. Is that just because you want them to keep following you?" He was getting tipsy, and I was starting to hear it in his speech.

"No. I was always like this, even as a kid. I love meeting new people, and if I can leave them smiling, all the better."

"Were you the baby of the family?"

"No, I was the middle child. My brother is two years older, and my sister is eighteen months younger."

He drained his glass and poured another margarita as he nodded knowingly. "That's what it is. You learned to get attention from others because you weren't getting enough from your parents."

That made me chuckle. "I paid a therapist a lot of money to basically tell me the same thing. I should have just asked you what was wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you. You're perfect. It's weird how perfect you are."

"I'm really not."

"You are, though. I feel like the first pancake, compared to you."

Oh yeah, he was definitely tipsy, and well on his way to drunk. I grinned and repeated, "The first pancake?"

"Yeah, you know. Or maybe you don't, because you barely eat carbs. But like, when you go to make pancakes, the first one is always horrible. You usually have to throw it away, that's how bad it is. But then, the pan heats up to the right temperature or something, and the next pancake is perfection—golden and gorgeous. That's you."

"That's quite the analogy."

He nodded and raised his glass, saying, "Cheers, golden boy," before downing half of it.

I squeezed his shoulder and said, "When you're sober, we're going to talk about the fact that you just characterized yourself as something that should be thrown away. You need to be kinder to yourself, Tracy."

He shook his head. "You don't even know. You only see what I'm trying to become, not what I was. But I'll always be trash, no matter what I do."

I was about to argue with him, but his friends returned to the table just then. I popped the cork and poured the champagne, and they all talked excitedly as I passed around the glasses and the snacks. Meanwhile, Tracy turned down everything I offered him and seemed to withdraw into himself.

After another hour, I decided to call it a night. I wasn't sure how drunk he was, but Tracy clearly wasn't having a good time. We said goodnight to his friends, and as we began to make our way through the crowded club, he grasped my arm and stayed very close to me.

A few minutes later, when we were on our way home in the back of a cab, Tracy whispered, "I'm sorry I drank too much. I didn't mean to ruin your night."

"You didn't ruin anything."

"Yes, I did. You didn't even get to dance."

"There'll be plenty of other nights for dancing."

"I won't come along next time, so you can have fun."

"The whole point of tonight was to spend time with you and get to know you, Tracy."

"You really are a nice person," he murmured, as he tilted his head and rested it on my shoulder. "And beautiful. My god, you're beautiful. It's hard to be around you, because I want you so bad. Getting together would be a huge mistake, though."

"Think so?"

"I know it. I ruin everything, and I'd ruin this, too. If we keep it as a friendship, then I'll still get to have you in my life. At least until your gym is built and you get too busy for me."

"You should probably stop talking," I said gently. "You're going to regret saying all of this in the morning."

"It's all true."

"You'll still regret it."

"That's nothing new," he muttered. "My life is full of regrets." I was curious what he meant by that, but this wasn't the time to ask questions. Not when he was drunk and already revealing more than he normally would.

Tracy was unsteady on his feet when we got to our building, so I put my arm around him and helped him get upstairs and into the apartment. Phil was sitting on the bed when we reached Tracy's room, but he cleared out quickly at the sight of the two of us weaving and staggering.

Once he was seated on the edge of his mattress, I helped Tracy take off his sweater and sneakers. Then he stood up suddenly and announced, "I have to pee."

"Want help?"

"No. Too embarrassing."

He wove his way out of the room, while I paced and listened for crashing sounds. Soon, I heard the toilet flush. He didn't return though, so after another minute I went to find him.

It turned out he was curled up on the bathroom floor. "You need to get up," I told him.

"This feels good, nice and cold." He patted the white tile floor. "I'm gonna sleep here."

"Not on my watch. Work with me, Tracy."

I grabbed his arm, and after a lot of cajoling, I managed to get him up and moving again. Once he was tucked into bed, I told him I'd be right back and went to the kitchen, where I filled a large sports bottle with water. I brought it back to his room and placed it on his nightstand with a bottle of ibuprofen as I told him, "Be sure to hydrate when you wake up. It probably won't be enough to avoid a hangover, but it should dial it down a couple of notches."

As I shut off the light, he asked, "Will you please stay until I fall asleep?"

"Sure."

I took off my jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. Then I rolled back the sleeves of my dress shirt as I took a seat on the edge of his bed. "I'm going to hate myself so much in the morning," he muttered. "I'll be so embarrassed that I probably won't be able to look you in the eye."

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about. We all over-indulge from time to time."

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"You really shouldn't."

He kept talking anyway. "Most of the time, when I find someone on the hookup apps, it's not about sex. I mean, it sort of is. I really wanted to suck your cock the night I went to your hotel room. But even more than that, I wanted to feel your hands on my skin, and I secretly hoped you'd hold me afterwards."

I admitted softly, "I would have liked that."

"Do you think maybe you could hold me now, to make up for missing out that night?"

"I can definitely do that."

I took off my loafers and slid under the covers, and he curled up with his head tucked under my chin. After a while, he whispered, "I'm sorry I'm so needy."

I held him securely and told him, "Don't apologize. I'm getting as much out of this as you are." It really did feel amazing.

The next morning, I woke up alone in Tracy's bed. After collecting my shoes and jacket, I went to find him.

It turned out he was deep cleaning the already spotless kitchen. "Good morning," I said. "How do you feel?"

I expected him to be embarrassed, but instead he was… different somehow. "I'm fine. Sorry about last night."

"It's okay."

"No, it isn't. I was self-indulgent and irresponsible. It won't happen again."

When he met my gaze, I could almost see the walls he'd pulled up around himself. He'd told me he'd gotten through his time in the military by shutting off his emotions. Seeing him do that now made my heart ache.