At his words, Spencer let out awhoop, then at Wolf’s sharp elbow, pressed his still-twitching lips together. “Your…auras?” He wheezed. “Blocked chakras?” He buried his head in his arms and waved a hand. “I give up.”
It was Elliot’s turn to glare. “Stop it. You know I was trying to get into spirituality and meditation with him.”
“You must be fucking kidding,” Wolf muttered before drawing a deep breath.
Like an annoying game of Whac-A-Mole, Spencer popped up again to give his opinion, and Elliot wished he had a hammer at the ready to smack over the top of his stylish head. “I know Dakota was always high on something—I mean, he’d have to be, with all that inhaling of wax from his candles—but what the hell is wrong withyou? Did you start smoking? ’Cause you’d have to be high as a fucking kite to believe that load of crap.”
“No, of course not. And stop laughing at me.” Elliot propped his chin in his hands. “I thought it would bring us together.”
“But why did you even want that? You had zero in common with the guy.”
“That’s not true. I loved the candles he made. I even wrote about them for a magazine article, and they started selling from his website. Plus, his jewelry is so unique. He’s a talented artist.”
“What he was talented at, was mooching off you. He lived with you for almost six months—did you ever charge him rent?” Wolf held up his hand when Elliot opened his mouth. “Don’t answer that. I already know. You didn’t.”
Annoyed and miserable, Elliot couldn’t face his friends and concentrated on drinking more of his beer.
“We’re not attacking you.” Spencer pushed his foot. “Come on.”
“Really? Could’ve fooled me.” Elliot never did have the courage to stand up to his friends and sought to explain. “I didn’t charge him rent because I figured once his business got going, he’d pay me back. W-we were making plans. I thought it was long-term, that we had something special.”
“The only thing special in that relationship was you.” Wolf growled. “And if you ask my opinion—”
“I don’t recall Elliot asking, Wolfie,” Spencer chimed in.
“For the last fucking time, stop calling me that,” Wolf snapped, his handsome face dangerously tight and dark. But Spencer had always lived on the edge with Wolf and loved baiting him.
“Considering I’ve been doing it since freshman year, and here we are, over fifteen years later, and I still haven’t stopped, it’s time for you to give it up.” Spencer patted Wolf’s cheek. “I only do it because I love you.”
Wolf froze momentarily, then with deliberation, took Spencer’s hand and moved it off him. “Don’t touch me. I can only imagine where that hand has been, and I’m not due for my physical for another six months.”
A flash of hurt—gone so quickly, Elliot couldn’t be sure he hadn’t imagined it—crossed Spencer’s face, and he rolled his eyes. “You only wish you had a love life like mine. Hmm, you wish youhada love life. Period.”
“Rolling around an unmade bed with someone whose name you probably don’t even know is hardly my idea of a love life.” Wolf sniffed. “At leastIhave standards.”
“Standards?” Spencer cackled. “More like blue balls.” He popped the last dumpling into his mouth. “These are delicious. Anyway, back to Elliot. In my opinion, what you need to do is get out there and have a nice juicy fling to forget about that loser.”
Of course, Wolf had the opposite opinion. “You think meaningless sex is the answer to everything. What Elliot needs is to be alone for a little while and think about what he truly wants from a man, instead of these instant love affairs. Don’t you agree with me, Chess?”
Chester Braxton completed their group of friends. The four of them had been together since they’d first met on campus at the freshman LGBTQ orientation. Now Chess was an associate professor of history at NYU, where during his first year of teaching, he’d met his boyfriend, André Webster. Chess was the only one of them to ever have a lasting, committed relationship, and Elliot looked to them as “relationship goals.”
“Ignore them,” Chess said, then leaned in close. “But I hope you realize you’re better off without him. He wasn’t the right man for you.”
Elliot didn’t know much, but what he did know was that he hated being alone. He’d been played by his foolish, wanting heart into believing someone loved him, and he saw now that once again, he’d rushed headfirst into a relationship without knowing enough about the man.
“I thought this time it would work out.”
“Elliot,” Chess began in his usual sweet way, but for the first time, he heard the undertone of determination in his voice and winced. For Chess to get tough meant it was serious. “You always think it will. Every man you meet, you do so with eyes wide shut, brushing aside any and all potential warning signs to concentrate on the sliver of positive when there’s an ocean of negative.”
“Are you sure your PhD isn’t in psychology?” Elliot grumbled, though deep down he knew Chess was right.
But they didn’t understand. When you grew up fending for yourself, feeling you had no one on your side, that was what you did. It was called living on the crumbs thrown to you.
“Elliot,” Chess prodded. “What do you want?”
“What do you mean, what do I want?”
“In a man, in a relationship. Do you want a boyfriend, a husband? What’s your goal?”
