Chapter Three

Kert

B ack at the apartment, I took it in with less tired eyes than the night before. Apart from the easel in the corner of the living room and a beaten couch, not much had Marin’s touch. The bare wooden floor matched the old townhouse vibe, but a nice rug could breathe some color into the space. The wall around the windows had brush strokes of paint on it as if Marin had been deciding on a color, but the rest was a sad shade of beige.

The single bedroom was not much different, with just two dressers and a closet—apart from the one wall that was like something out of a magical landscape. Well, and a huge-ass bed that took most of the room.

“Half of the closet is yours, I hope that’s enough.” Marin slid the door to the side, showing the empty shelves.

“Thanks.” I opened my suitcase and proceeded to fill in the space he’d given me. “What’s the gallery’s vibe? I need to decide what to wear.”

He sat on the bed and crossed his legs at the ankle. “Queer independent artists. A mix of modern art, sculptures, and smaller installations.”

I nodded. “Okay. So nothing is too weird for that crowd, but I don’t have to shove myself back into a sad clothes closet either.”

He chuckled. Ah, how I loved the sound. “Yeah, something like that.”

I littered the bed with the contents of my suitcase and opted for a purple crop top with Michelangelo’s quote “I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.” It was my favorite quote and often reflected in my sculptures. I matched it with black skinny jeans and a string of silver jewelry chain that went over my hips, through my belly button ring, and around my thighs.

Marin picked out his clothes, and we dressed like we were sharing a dorm room again—seamlessly passing each other socks as if we haven’t lived apart for four years.

In tight chinos and a black shirt tailored to accommodate his two top tentacles, one on each side, Marin looked delectable.

“You only show one set of your tentacles. I haven’t seen the other set since the beach outing way back when.” I’d occasionally spotted the two appendages wiggle out of his midsection in the past; like when he’d needed them to lift furniture, or when we’d gone swimming in the lake in summer.

“People are tolerant in NYC and they’ve seen a lot, but I keep the lower ones hidden when I’m in public. With the current political climate, I don’t want to stir up any trouble. You know I can’t hide these, and two tentacles look less menacing than four.” He waved them at me. The long, thick tentacles would fit under an oversized hoodie, but that would look even more bizarre than having them out.

Reaching out for a set of hoop earrings, I sat next to him. “Menacing. Sexy. Depends on the point of view.” I inserted the row of rings in my left ear without looking into the mirror.

He chuckled. “Yeah, yeah.”

Thank fuck he was used to the aggressive flirting I disguised as friendly banter. Sure, I could flirt the socks off anyone, but with Marin it had always been real. He didn’t know that, and I had to keep it that way for the sake of our friendship, and my getting over a crazy crush on my straight friend.

“I’m ready.” Marin took in my attire. “You weren’t always this—” He waved a tentacle, indicating my appearance.

“Loud? Out? Gay?” I smirked and cocked my hip for good measure.

“Yeah.” He smoothed his shirt down, but his gaze was on my belly button that I adorned with a zirconia-studded dangling ring.

If I blinked I would have missed him licking his bottom lip. Mind was playing tricks on me. I was more smitten than I’d thought.

“I guess it was my natural progression when staying in the art circle. For one, nobody cares. And the more eccentric I look, the more artistic vibe I give off.” I twirled around and headed for the door.

“Don’t forget the parka, Mr. I’m always cold !” Marin caught up to me in a few long strides.

We made it to the opening so early that only several people were inside the brightly lit space. The gallery’s colorful sign Muses & Peculiarities Art Gallery was above a door in a chain of stores, between one selling bohemian clothes and another with music records.

“Marinos, you came!” A woman in pink pumps and a high blonde ponytail opened the door. She eyed me from head to foot, smacking her lips. “And you brought a—”

“Plus one. This is Kert.” Marin touched my lower back with his tentacle, sending tingling warmth through me.

“A pleasure.” She offered me her hand to shake, showing off her pink nails with tiny skulls painted on each one.

“Likewise.”

“Let me give you a tour before everyone arrives.” She led us inside, past a table with hors d’oeuvres and a DJ behind a console, tapping on his laptop. “One second.” She approached a woman sitting on a high chair with her long legs crossed. “These are my friends.”

The woman nodded sharply, but the tight bun on her head hadn’t moved. “Be back before the important people arrive.” She smoothed her black rhinestoned suit down and thrust her chin up, her gaze at the door.

“Of course, Ms. Mina.” DeeDee returned to us and touched Marin’s tentacle. “She’s the curator. You’ll get to meet her later. She won’t talk to anyone until after the initial welcome. She says it’s bad juju or something.”

I narrowed my eyes at her familiar gesture towards Marin. Did they have a past?

Marin didn’t react to her touch and kept his tentacle at my lower back. “You may only be the curational assistant, but really you were the head of this whole operation. Everyone knows that.”

DeeDee sighed dramatically. “Well, not the people all the way up. You know how these things work.”

“I believe you’re on your way to your own gallery someday.” Marin’s low voice was soft, rather than polite. He was rooting for her.

“And you’ll have your paintings on display soon enough.” DeeDee patted his arm. What was with all the touching?

Marin snorted. “I doubt that.”

“What? Why? You’re so talented.” I looked over Marin’s front at DeeDee. “Have you seen his art?”

“Only a few pieces of his landscapes, but I absolutely agree with you, Kert. I showed them to Ms. Mina but—” She shook her head. “Marin helped this gallery a lot and I’ll make sure it won’t be forgotten.” She adjusted a small table with an empty vase that had paint styled as blood all over it and a small plaque underneath. “The fundraiser we did last year secured the gallery’s future, but thanks to Marin donating his work, we were able to open this month. He did it three times faster than any crew that quoted me for the job, and they wanted a lot of dough.”

“Now I can say my work is in a gallery.” Marin smirked, but I recognized the hurt twitch on his face.

“It is. Look up, Kert.” She pointed to where the salmon paint met the white cut-off by the ceiling. Tiny poppy flowers decorated the line and below it, the patter of them melted into the shade of the paint. “Every room is a different color and Marin added details throughout to match the themes of the rooms. The blue room has sea motifs, and the green one is like a meadow.”

“That’s incredible.” I touched the wall, admiring the texture. “The discreet detailing is like tasteful wallpaper.”

“He did the crown molding too.” DeeDee pointed up. “Carved it by hand.”

“Shut up, DeeDee. He’s a sculptor, I don’t want him looking too closely.” Marin bumped me with his hip.

“Is he? Kert was it?” She craned her neck from behind Marin to look at me with narrowed eyes. Was it possible she knew my work? Nah, no way.

“My sight is fantastic, thank you very much, and I spy plenty of details executed to perfection.” I snapped my fingers.

“Focus on the art, guys.” Marin elbowed me.

“We are.” I looped my arm over his tentacle and leveled DeeDee with a pointed look. Hands off, blondie.

“Indeed.” The slight nod she gave me added points to my opinion of her. Sure, she walked close to Marin, but she loved his art. “This is what we call The Winter Room, and for the first exhibition we have paintings and sculptures depicting different holidays and celebrations.” She waved a hand, indicating the mixed material wreath with pagan symbols on it. Her watch vibrated and she jumped, looking back. “I have to go. Someone has arrived. Take your time, but please come to the main room for the speech.”

“We will,” Marin said, then turned to me. “What do you think of the exhibit?”

I approached a sculpture of a chicken fighting with a turkey, both wearing tiny boxing gloves. “This one is interesting.”

Marin snorted behind me. “You don’t have to be artistically polite. No one can hear you.”

I sighed and mouthed what the fuck . “Most of these are great, but even after years dealing with art, I don’t fucking get it sometimes.”

Marin raised a knowing eyebrow at me and I swatted him with my tail. “Yeah, I know we’re not meant to.”

“Nope, we’re not. You know as well as I do that each art can have millions of interpretations that can change over time too, no matter what the artist meant. And some are very clear with their meaning.” He scrunched his nose and pointed at the turkey. “It’s a North American thing.”

Marin moved on, stopping to look up at a mistletoe piece with several sets of bloody lips with fangs on them hanging from it. “For some, it’s the passion that counts.” He pointed at the lips with an upnod. “For others, beauty is in the details and precision. For me, Art is meant to evoke feelings.”

My heart leaped at the image of Marin wrapping his tentacles around me, then kissing me slow and soft under the mistletoe. I took a step towards him. His profile, with its slightly large nose, reminded me of Greek marble statues from centuries back. If given a chance, I’d get lost in this man. I could spend hours tracing the clear line of his jaw with my fingers or tongue, nuzzling his neck, or driving my fingers through his black and purple hair.

Heat traveled to my cheeks, but I knew my crimson complexion would save me from making my thoughts clear.

Marin glanced at me, then turned his gaze away. “We should join everyone for the tour.”

I stifled a sigh, reaching for his tentacle instead. “True.”

On our way back, I stopped by an installation. “I like this.” I pointed to the abstract figure with a strong body with feminine facial features half-covered by long, flowy hair. Her arms were cut away from the body and connected with copper wires, making them inhumanly long. Each hand was holding something else, from a dirty plate, a band-air, to a condom.

“It portrays women doing so much for society that they’d need many hands to fulfill the roles still expected of them.” Marin slid his hands into the pockets of his chinos and tilted his head.

The plaque next to the installation said “she”. Simple and to the point.

“I met the artist when I was touching up the paint in the room.” Marin continued walking. “I love her unapologetic art.”

We joined the gathered guests and listened to Ms. Mina’s speech, thanking the donors, and praising the art she’d collected. Within an hour of everyone wandering around the gallery, the music and the conversations turned louder.

“Is there a dance party?” I asked Marin, raising my voice over the beat.

“It’s a queer exhibit, so yes, dancing is required.” DeeDee appeared out of nowhere. I didn’t jump. Did I? “ Have some champagne.” She handed flutes to me and Marin, then disappeared into the crowd.

“Here is my Marinos! Mon ami !” A middle-aged man with a gray complexion and a strong French accent approached us. He took Marin by the shoulders and touched his cheek to Marin’s making a kissing sound, then did the same to the other cheek. “I heard you turned this dump into a gallery-worthy space and Mina was not exaggerating.”

“You’re too kind, Pierre. Meet Kert.” Marin wrapped a tentacle around my waist, giving me a smile with raised eyebrows. Was he trying to tell me something? I’d play along, whatever it was.

The man looked at the gesture and sighed dramatically. “I so wished you wooed my son, but he loves being rancunier. ” He waved a hand as if grabbing words from the air. “Spiteful. Now, he’s declaring he’ll move to Chicago. I was hoping you’d keep him in New York, but I see I should bury those hopes.” He pouted at me, and holy hell could the man pull off a pout.

“I used to share an apartment with his son Gabriel for a few weeks,” Marin told me, then turned to Pierre. “Yes, my boyfriend finally joined me here.”

Pierre tsk-ed and eyed my belly button ring with appreciation in his gaze. “Well, best of luck to you, mon ami . And you, Kert. Ah, champagne.” He grabbed a flute from a tray a server carried by and twirled off into the crowd.

“The people are more fascinating than the art.” I drummed my fingers over Marin’s tentacle still around my waist. He didn’t take it away. So that’s how we’re playing, huh? I can be Marin’s boyfriend for the day.

A voluptuous woman in a tight leather dress approached us and graced Marin with a sultry smile. “Hello there. I thought your long-distance open relationship was made up to get away from commitment.” She tossed her long red hair over her shoulder. The lively green tone of her skin matched the color of her eyes that shone with mischief.

Marin had definitely made interesting friends, most of whom looked at him with fuck-me eyes, including ogres.

But they hadn’t crushed on him for nine years. I got this. “I’m Kert and I’m definitely real.” I spread my arms to show off the body I worked hard on, and the waist jewellery that had several people around us doing a double take.

“I can see that. I’m Evelyn. Welcome to the fun side of New York.” She clinked her glass to mine then turned to Marin. “Are you two open when Kert is here?” She traced her tongue over her fangs. She was a sexy ogre and she knew it. “You could bring him with you.”

Marin shook his head and pulled me closer. “No. We’re enjoying the time alone.” His tentacle tightened around me. Was he protecting me? Or hiding himself behind me?

Evelyn scanned me like I was her prey and I thrust my chin up.

“Oh, a feisty one. How exciting.” She offered her hand for a shake, but when I reached for it, she looked at my palm instead. Wide-eyed, she looked at me, then Marin, and back to my hand. “Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” She finger-waved at us, retreating.

I stood on tiptoes to talk directly into Marin’s ear. “Why is everyone assuming we’re a couple? Don’t they know you’re straight? What did you tell people?” I fired off the questions in rapid succession in case we’d be approached again.

“That I’m taken but in an open relationship. When they started asking more questions—” He snapped his mouth shut and nodded to someone passing by. “I’ll explain everything later. Sorry.”

Ah, my people-pleasing friend didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings so he made up a relationship. Ingenious, considering he knew I’d go along with any antics. Standing close to him felt wonderful and hurtful at the same time. Being his boyfriend, albeit a fake one, opened the chasm in me that I’d been patching with stolen touches. I schooled my smile and nodded. I could do this and go back to pretending I wasn’t in love with him.

Yup. A crush wouldn’t hurt so much whenever I imagined him with someone else.

He waved back to a couple on the other side. The young, tall man with blue skin and gills on his neck stood in high stilettos, leaning against a white man straight from a Tom of Finland drawing, leather pants and muir cap included.

“I see kinky and art circles don’t only overlap in Berlin.” I nudged Marin with my elbow.

“I guess so.”

Did he know them only from the art side? I scanned Marin’s tense jaw. Could it be he was into more than vanilla?

A petite woman with dark skin and a flowy peach dress approached us, looking around as if she were trying to disappear. “This is crazy, isn’t it?”

“Yes. We love your installation.” Marin pointed to the one with many arms. “This is Kert.”

“Lovely to finally meet you, I’m Rowena.” She kept her hands in her dress pockets, but leaned closer to me. “We were half-convinced Marin made you up.”

I laughed. “Flesh and blood here.”

“I’ll bring my husband to meet you.” She pointed to a muscled guy with a leather collar around his neck, which was in stark contrast to his snow-white skin. Only then I noticed the delicate chain on the woman’s neck with a key on it.

This was a BDSM club in disguise. I was loving it. But what did Marin think of it all? Was he aware of the subtle hints? Or did he consider them eccentric like most of the society had?

“Oh look, you’re under a Mistletoe.” She cooed, then ducked towards her husband.

I looked up at Marin, who licked his lips. My breath got stuck in my throat. Would he kiss me after so many years? In front of all those people? And only for show…

He tilted his head to the side and sent his tentacle up my arm and along my exposed collarbone.

Should I kiss him back? Not if he was doing it only to keep his cover.

Marin’s gaze was on my lips, his gills moving at the sides of his neck. “I need air.” He pivoted on his heel and shot out of the gallery.

I followed him, running out into the winter air.

The light from the street lamp illuminated his frown and the sharp angles of his face. He stood with his tentacles around his waist, taking long, slow breaths.

“You didn’t bring your coat,” he said without glancing at me.

“Are you okay?” I reached out for him but snatched my hand away. “Marin?”

“I’m fine. But you’ll freeze.” He turned to me and rubbed his tentacles over my arms, heating up every sliver of skin he touched. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

“I’ll wait here, but you need your coat.” He stepped back, taking his warmth with him.

Running inside like my ass was on fire, I grabbed my coat and waved at DeeDee.

We rode the subway in silence, surrounded by the raucous laughter of the drunken public.

The seemingly innocuous pretense that we were a couple had turned into a giant fuck-up. Yup, that was precisely what I’d been swearing I’d avoid. Marin didn’t want to kiss me, but he almost did for the sake of his lie. Not for me.

That hurt more than I could process. As much as I craved to know the taste of his lips, I’d rather not know it than for the kiss to be fake. I wasn’t sure if it was a sexuality crisis-related panic or being ashamed to kiss a man in public that stopped him. Either way, I felt sick to my stomach.

I came to this city to experience it in the winter, just like in the movies I watched as a kid, and spend time with my best friend who I haven’t seen in years. I did not come here to seduce him, or get into his pants.

Deep down, though, I was afraid it was all a lie I was telling myself.

Marin’s presence, his warmth, smile, and acceptance of my touch fucked with my head. And my dick. I needed to bury the feelings I’d been harboring for him for the last nine years or I’d get hurt, destroy our friendship, and ruin the holidays for the both of us.

But I just fucking couldn’t. I’d been an emotional disaster all my life but Marin made me do crazy things. Maybe if I pushed him further and he’d push me away, my brain and my dick would finally get the memo.

Yeah. I had to face the truth the hard way. By Marin rejecting me and us agreeing that platonic friendship was the best course of action. Sure, it would hurt my heart and dignity, but I’d have to orchestrate it somehow and not fuck up our friendship in the process.

I could create a twenty-foot sculpture but not tell my best friend that I loved him. That he’d stolen my heart when he’d first introduced himself in broken German and pointed to the second bed in our dorm room. I was a nineteen-year-old boy fresh out of the closet when a nice and caring Greek God with tentacles entered my life. I stood no chance.

Plan, plan… I needed a solid plan.

The subway screeched to a halt in what I recognized as our stop, and Marin guided me out.

I zipped my parka all the way up. I had to break the silence to make sure we were okay. “Could we go to see the tree at Rockefeller Plaza?”

Marin turned to me, blinking as if he’d been lost somewhere deep in his thoughts. “Of course. That was one of my points in your New York City sightseeing tour.”

His eyes were sad. I hated it. I’d start my plan by keeping him busy. “Tomorrow?”

“Yup. Tomorrow is great.”