Another thing he wasn’t. Elliot had his own private list.
He wasn’t handsome, not like Wolf with that hard slash of his jaw and arresting amber eyes, or Spencer, all sleek and tan in his expensive designer clothes. Even Chester had the rumpled professor look down pat, with his kind eyes, and sweet smile.
Elliot was…average. Thick brown hair, neither long nor short, dark-blue eyes, and even white teeth, thanks to Dr. Milstein the orthodontist. He had the body of a guy who should go to the gym but liked lying on the couch watching television more. But he did run a little and was lucky to have an active metabolism.
He didn’t follow a skin-care routine like Spencer nagged him to do, nor did he bury himself in his work like Wolf. He wasn’t into traveling to exotic places like Chess or cooking cuisines from all over the world. He was a homebody. He wanted a man to love who would love him back, someone who wouldn’t mind not being seen in trendy clubs or restaurants. He wanted someone to order in dinner with on a cold winter night and split dumplings and spareribs as they snuggled on the couch to watch Netflix or a corny holiday movie.
At the sound of a particularly loud rattle, he tossed his windbreaker onto the chair and the keys into the bowl and did what he’d been doing for the past few months—jammed a piece of paper in the bottom of the window and put a rubber band around the broken lock to keep it secure. Definitely time to get it fixed, especially with fall coming soon. Summer would be gone and he’d be alone, the days growing shorter and colder. Maybe tomorrow.
Elliot had a nightly routine of hot tea prior to bed, and while in the kitchen, preparing the water, he peeked through the blinds at his neighbor’s house. Dark as usual. Months earlier, he’d seen moving trucks and a bunch of burly guys hauling stuff inside, but as of yet, he hadn’t met the new occupants. Sporadically he’d see lights on at night, but no sign of life inside. A Jeep Cherokee had been in the driveway when Elliot went to bed the night before, but the driveway was empty now.
Finished with his tea, Elliot washed his cup and left the kitchen. He stripped off his jeans and button-down, and leaving on his boxers, slid on a T-shirt. He threw the pants into the laundry basket on the opposite side of the room, only to remember Spencer’s stupid list was still in the pocket. The last thing he needed was to forget it was there and have it end up in the wash with wet little pieces all over his clothes. Elliot trudged across the bedroom and dug out the crumpled piece of paper.
Hung like a horse…that V…Elliot wouldn’t mind that—he wasn’t a fool—but he was looking for more than the physical.
He picked up the pen and drew a line through each of Spencer’s qualifications, and without stopping to think too hard, added:
Picnics in the park, beach walks at night, fire pits in the fall with marshmallows. Long drives to nowhere. Apple-picking and wineries. The zoo, ball games, mini golf.
No way could he ever reveal this to his friends. They’d probably laugh and call him at best, a hopeless romantic, or at worst, a fool. Even writing those wish-list items made him squirm withembarrassment. About to crush the paper in his hand, he set it on the nightstand instead. If only that man existed.…
“Idiot.” Was he talking about Spencer or himself? He closed his eyes and wished for sleep.
