“Have you figured out what poppers are yet?”
I made a frustrated sound. “This again? I don’t understand what video head cleaner—”
Grayson cut me off. “You huff it, Wes.”
“What?” I don’t know what I’d expected, but that wasn’t it. “You what?”
He raised a finger and depressed one of his nostrils. “You huff it.”
“Why?”
“Because it fucking feels good before you fuck.” He huffed, shoulders sagging under the weight of his mood. “It helps relax the muscles, if you get my drift.”
“The mu…oh. Oh!”
That…that was not what I’d expected.
“You can’t call them poppers if you’re trying to buy them because then people will know that you’re not using them for the prescribed purpose,” he went on.
“Which is…cleaning VCRs.”
“There you go.”
The waitress came and brought us two waters, the glasses already slick with condensation. Grayson drank half of his in one swallow before ordering a Bloody Mary and a BLT. He hadn’t even looked at the menu. I got a club sandwich and fries, then quickly erased food from my head, entirely too focused on the conversation we’d started.
“But they have to know that no one even has a VCR still,” I said.
“I don’t make the rules.” He sighed. “Just file it away for a day when you might need it, and never tell your brother you learned about them from me.”
“Cross my heart,” I swore, making the X gesture across the center of my chest.
“Your heart isn’t even right there.” He reached up and swatted my hand toward the left side of my chest. “Are you sure you went to college?”
“I never graduated,” I reminded him with a roll of my eyes. “But you’re being mean as hell, so now that we’ve gotten poppers out of the way, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
Grayson’s eyes shuttered, and he let out a long breath, head slowly shaking side to side. I knew the look well because it was the same one I’d given David the last time we’d talked. Or the last time he’d tried to talk to me and I’d told him no. It was resignation. It was misery.
“I’m very happy that Miles loves your brother,” he said, so quietly I barely heard it over the noise of the restaurant. “And I’m very happy that Colin loves you.”
“Colin doesn’t love me.”
Grayson gave me a sharp look, similar to the one I always got when the poppers conversation had come up in the past. Like I was a precious and naive little kid in need of protecting.
“I’m happy for the four of you,” he said, ignoring me, “but I’m…”
The way his smile tightened and shrunk…it gave me the distinct impression that Grayson wasn’t vulnerable with anyone, not even Miles. I knew that I’d been wrong about calling him out for being mean. He wasn’t mean.
He was sad.
“You feel like you’re alone,” I said.
“There’s nofeelabout it.”
The waitress brought our sandwiches and Grayson’s drink, but the interruption did nothing to break the cloud that hovered over our table.
“You date a ton,” I tried, but Grayson threw a french fry across the table at me. Then he aggressively stirred his drink with an overgrown celery stalk before taking a sip.
“I don’t date.”
