Bright explosions of colors lit up the sky and reflected in the water. Spencer marveled at the display, but knowing that his new neighbor was watching from his apartment took away some of the majesty of the moment.
2
Patrick
The Fourth of July landed on a Saturday this year, giving Patrick an extra day to prepare for his new job as a paralegal at a law firm in the Loop. He wouldn’t be a true Chicagoan until he undertook his first El commute.
He hadn’t slept well. His bedroom air-conditioning unit was loud and raspy and made the room frigid, while the hallway remained a sauna. Another thing he hated about summer: the inability to be cool. When it was hot, there were only so many layers of clothing one could take off.
Patrick’s momentous first walk to the El was dampened by his new neighbor walking a few feet ahead of him. He was probably headed into the Loop, too. Patrick made a note to get in a different El car. He followed behind Spencer for the entire five-minute walk to the station, praying that he didn’t feel an urge to turn around. Patrick wanted to avoid him like a Memorial Day parade after the awkwardness from the rooftop.
He had enough self-awareness to know that he was in love with fall more than most people, but Spencer had just met him, just had one conversation with him. And he and his friends were writing him off as a weirdo? So much for being neighborly. Hell, so much for LGBT solidarity.
Patrick sighed. People were predictable in all the ways you didn’t want them to be.
The Belmont El station was a logjam of morning bustle as it housed the intersection of the main North side train lines. A row of gleaming turnstiles awaited commuters, who then climbed two flights of stairs to their platform, Spencer included.
Of course, Spencer was also headed to the platform going to the Loop. Patrick hung back a few people to better blend into the crowd behind his neighbor. He paused his hatred of Spencer to admire the messenger bag strap slung over his muscular shoulders and his toned butt going up the stairs. He made sure to glare at the fine ass.
Patrick jostled for space on the platform just as a red line train pulled up, bodies crammed against the windows. He politely waited outside the door for the few people to get off before making a mad dash into the travelling sardine can. He didn’t want to wait for the next train, where he’d had to fight a whole new group of commuters on the platform.
He pushed inside and shoved himself into a wall of bodies. Fortunately, the air conditioning was pumping at full blast, but unfortunately, he was already sweaty.
And standing right next to Spencer.
It was too late. They made eye contact.
It was a standoff. Who would blink first? Patrick put on a fake smile to match Spencer’s half-grin. He was about to say hi when Spencer put in his airpods and shuffled his body to look out the window. Patrick had only been an El commuter for a few hours, but he knew instantly that airpods in the ears was the universal symbol forfuck off.
Patrick’s life appeared to be a puzzle box of torture because they had the same stop in the Loop and thus Patrick had to avoid eye contact for his entire commute. Spencer’s pouty lips and stubbled jawline made this a bigger challenge than expected. That was why Apple invented iPhones, though.
When they got off at the State and Lake stop, one of the few underground stops in Chicago, Spencer broke right at the turnstiles and took the escalator to ground level; Patrick darted left and took the stairs, drenching himself in more sweat. He hated sweating in work clothes. Summer didn’t care.
He walked down State Street to his office, passing large department store display windows. Soon, they would be full of fall and back-to-school scenes instead of beachy setups. Patrick remembered going to the beach in Santa Monica with GFA for drinks after work and cuddling on a blanket as the sun went down, the salty breeze mussing his hair and GFA’s arm keeping him warm.
He and his friend Libby had come up with the GFA nickname for his ex over homemade margaritas last week when he first got into town. She argued that calling him by his real name would keep Patrick’s ex alive in his mind. It was the Voldemort approach to getting over heartbreak.
GFA = Giant Fucking Asshole.
He fought against the rush of hurt that the beach memory with GFA brought. It came in strong like high tide and receded just as fast.
Luck was on his side, though. His office was above a Michael’s craft store. Patrick lifted his head and smiled at the hallelujah chorus. He checked his watch. Still had a few minutes before he had to be in the office.
Crafting stores stocked holiday and seasonal decor all year long. He needed some fall magic to forget about GFA, his obnoxious neighbor, and his obnoxious neighbor’s lovely backside. Patrick soaked in the fiery red and orange fake leaves, the red plaid farmhouse pillows, the wooden sign that readFall is where the Heart is.
Soon, he told himself.
Soon summer would begin to wind down, and he would finally be able to enjoy his first real fall in three years, something he never was able to do in Santa Monica. It would be the break from California and GFA he needed. He didn’t realize how much he loved fall until it was gone. He found himself missing it and its traditions the lonelier he felt in California.
He held up a fake branch sprouting red maple leafs and twirled it in his hand.
Glorious.
* * *
After his unceremonioustrain ride with Spencer on Monday, Patrick spent the rest of his week leaving his apartment ten minutes early to catch an earlier train that Spencer would not be riding. Patrick enjoyed his El commutes undisturbed by awkwardness and occasionally caught a seat on the train. He also made sure to listen for footsteps before taking his laundry down to the basement so they wouldn’t bump into each other.
On Friday, he met Libby and some of their college friends for happy hour drinks downtown at a usually-way-too-expensive bar that was only worth it because it was on the river. Boats sailed up and down. People crowded the sidewalks. Trains chugged over the bridges. Maybe there was something to Chicago in the summer.
