They lived six blocks from a leg of Chicago’s famous transit system, affectionately known as “The L.” Instead of subways, the city’s trains ran above street level on elevated tracks. The L? Short for The El because they wereelevated? Get it?
When her silence stretched on for too long, Cesar caught her eye in the mirror. His expression clearly broadcast,Well? What do you think of what I said?
What she thought was Pete—or, as she liked to refer to Cesar’s boyfriend,The Golden God—was the GOAT. She’d never met a man kinder, funnier or, most importantly, more enamored of all things Cesar than Peter Olsen. And she was beyond happy to hear Pete had finally said the words she was sure had been perched on the tip of his tongue since week two of his relationship with her roommate.
If I ever meet anyone who looks at me the way Pete looks at Cesar, I’m going down on one knee and proposing to him on the spot.
“And you’re not happy about thisbecause?” She rolled her hand.
“Because falling in love scares the crap out of me.” He pulled a long, black wig off the Styrofoam head sitting at the corner of the vanity and ably fitted the Cher-worthy hair over his wig cap. “I don’t like feeling out of control.”
Ah, yes.Her best friend was nothing if not controlled. He always rinsed his dirty dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. His damp towel never fell off the hook in the bathroom. And he made his bed every day. Everysingleday. Even on the weekends.
Who does that?
She screwed up her mouth and tried to remember if she’d madeherbed that day?
Dollars to donuts, the answer wasno.
Cesar was the orderly yin to her disorderly yang. And yet, somehow, they’d managed to live together for seven years without visiting violence upon each other’s person.
Unless, of course, one counted the popcorn food fights they’d gotten into over who was causing the conflict in season one ofQueer Eye.She was a firm believer Karamo was the culprit and Cesar swore Antoni had to be the one making all the behind-the-scenes drama.
“What did you think it was going to feel like?” She cupped her cheek in her hand, absently kicking her bare feet behind her as she watched him slip out of his dressing gown and into the padded girdle that gave him an hourglass figure. “They wouldn’t call itfallingin love if it wasn’t a wild, uncontrolled plummet,” she added.
After doing up the girdle’s eyehooks, he stepped into her favorite cocktail dress. The color brought out the gold in his skin tone. “Exactly. And what’s to stop me from breaking into a million pieces once I hit the ground?”
“Who says you have to hit the ground?” she countered quickly.
He pinned her with a knowing look. “Experience gained by watching friends and family crash and burn.”
“Love isn’t always a pitfall into destruction.” She shook her head. “Sometimes it gives people the softest place to land.”
He crouched on the floor of his closet to sort through the rows of high-heeled shoes. Lifting a pair of red pumps, he glanced at her expectantly. When she shook her head, he offered up a pair of blue ones and she nodded.
“Paired with your sapphire costume jewelry,” she told him.
“See? Youdohave taste.” He stood to balance on one foot then the other as he slipped into the pumps. “Which makes me wonder why you insist on running around in graphic T-shirts, ragged jeans, and Vans that look like they should be tossed into the nearest dumpster.”
“Because Ilikegraphic T-shirts.” She pointed to her current cropped T-shirt printed with a picture of a possum that read: Live fast, Eat trash… “Ragged jeans are comfortable. And you couldn’t pay me enough to teeter around inthosetorture devices.” She hitched her chin toward the shoes that added a good five inches to Cesar’s height. “Also, stop trying to change the subject. Familiarity doesn’talwaysbreed contempt. Sometimes love lasts.”
“You mean like your love for one Mr. Samuel Harwood?”
Her smile was thin and tight. No teeth.
“Sorry.” He grimaced. “It fell out of my mouth before I could stop it.”
“I’m not in love with Sam.”
“No?” He cocked his head right along with his padded, sequined hip.
“I had a crush on him in middle school. That’s all. I mean, what thirteen-year-old girlwouldn’t? You’ve seen his yearbook pictures.”
“Crushes don’t usually last a decade and a half.”
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Isn’t that what they say? I spent sixteen years building him up in my head.”
“I might buy this wholethe reality of him doesn’t measure up to my fantasies of himtact except you forget what you told me the day you saw him again.” Cesar pointed a cherry-red press-on nail at her nose. “When I asked if he was as yummy as you remembered, you said, and I quote, ‘He’s yummier.’”
