Shaking his head slightly, he looks up at me. “Not particularly,” he sighs.
While we both travel a lot, we make it a habit to cook dinner and eat together as often as possible when we’re home. Shifting my gaze to the window, I notice the small garden that neither one of us has managed to keep up on since we moved in. The plant beds are overgrown with weeds, and now I wonder if we’ll ever have a chance to decorate out there. We’ve been meaning to get furniture so we could sit out there when the weather is nice, but I guess none of that will matter if he has to leave. Harlan’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “When is your next home stretch?”
“We fly out to LA on Thursday night. We play there Friday, Saturday, and Sunday afternoon. We’ll be home for a week after that. One more away series, then home until the end of the regular season.” I watch him as he pushes his chicken and ricearound on his plate. “Antonella and Enrique are coming to visit for a few days when I get back from LA.”
Harlan is close with my younger siblings, so I’m hoping that cheers him up a bit. He smiles. “I’m pretty sure I knew before you, babe. I talk to Antonella almost every day. We’re going to get pedicures and massages.” Whenever my boyfriend and my sister are in the same city, you can find them getting pampered like royalty. They are, obviously—royalty, that is. I can’t say no to either one of them, and they are always happy to team up against me to get what they want.
I return his smile. “I should have known better. You two are always plotting.” Antonella is the baby of the family, and my only sister. She’s also the reason that Harlan and I met at RecklessX. My younger brother, Enrique, and my sister visit frequently from Miami. After a game a few years ago, they insisted on going to the very popular gay club. Antonella met Harlan on the dance floor, and they clicked immediately. I was a few beers in, just watching the crowd, when the two of them approached the bar for drinks. In between giggles, my sister introduced me to her “new bestie,” and I was immediately captivated by him.
I had never seen a more attractive human in my life. He had on a pair of loose black cargo pants that sat low on his hips, paired with a skintight white T-shirt. His eyes were dark and smoky, and he smelled like sweat and strawberries. I could not take my eyes off him, so when he asked me to dance, there was no chance that I would pass on the opportunity. I invited him home with me, and he laughed in my face. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, humor dancing across his features—it only made me want him more. The next morning, I woke to a text from a number I didn’t recognize, informing me that I was to take him on a date. I never did thank Antonella for giving him my number.
I was a nervous wreck when I picked him up for our first date. I knew then that he was going to keep me on my toes. He didn’t disappoint. Harlan is quick-witted with a razor-sharp tongue. He’s passionate and throws his all into everything he does, and that extends to our relationship. He has become my biggest cheerleader, and he loves me so loudly and unapologetically that I often don’t feel worthy of him.
Six months after our first date, we moved into the townhouse I bought near Prospect Park. Everything has always felt easy with him. Traveling for more than half the year can be taxing on a relationship, but since his job has its own travel requirements, we’ve made it work for us. There’s a level of understanding for the other that isn’t easy to find in a partner, and we’ve been incredibly fortunate. “Let’s clean up and get some sleep, it’s been a long day,” he says gently, as he gathers our dishes.
“Why don’t you let me do that, and you go take a bath? Your day has been more stressful than mine.” Rising from my seat, I take the plates from him and plant a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be up shortly.” There’s a pang in my chest as he thanks me quietly before he makes his way upstairs.
I make quick work of loading the dishwasher and packing up the leftovers. Before rushing upstairs, I take a moment to pack Harlan’s lunch for tomorrow so he has one less thing to worry about in the morning. He’s curled up in our bed, mindlessly scrolling his phone when I step into our room. He’s removed his contacts, and the image of him with his thick-framed glasses has my dick twitching. He smirks knowingly. “See something you like, babe?”
I growl at him before launching myself on the bed. He giggles furiously as he tries to get away, but I pin him quickly with his hands above his head. We both ignore the clatter of his phone as he watches me, affection painting his face. “I see something I love, sweetness,” I tell him before taking his mouth with mine.He tastes like mint, and I can smell the soft fragrance of his moisturizer. “You are my favorite human.”
Harlan melts into my kiss, going pliant under my hold. He sweeps his tongue into my mouth before nibbling on my bottom lip. Releasing his wrists, I run my hands from his thighs up his sides and back down. He feeds me a moan as he sucks on my tongue, locking me in place with his legs around my waist. Before things get too heated, I pull back, meeting his intense gaze. I kiss the constellation of freckles on the bridge of his nose, making him smile. “Think you can go another round, Mr. Molina?”
Gettingthe call that my visa extension was denied was the worst moment of my life. That probably sounds dramatic, and honestly, I have a tendency to bealittledramatic, but this has the potential to ruin everything I’ve built since graduating. I’ve had a privileged life, and I acknowledge that. The worst thing that happened was moving from Beaconsfield up north when I was ten. I don’t have some terrible, tragic backstory, and I think my family knew I was gay before I knew, so coming out was easy. My relationship with my father is a bit strained because of my job, but being in Brooklyn makes that easier to navigate. I’ve had to deal with shit from people for being gay, for wearing lingerie and makeup, but none of that has ever mattered to me. I’m comfortable with exactly who I am.
Coming to America, finding the job of my dreams, meeting Darío; all of it has been surreal. I spent the first few years of uni exploring what it meant to be an out gay kid in a big city with a vibrant gay community. I had my fair share of hookups and was able to discover a lot about what I enjoyed sexually. Growingup in a small town in the UK didn’t afford me those same experiences. There were a few other out guys in high school, but other than a handful of awkward hookups, it wasn’t exactly a huge pool to choose from. Brooklyn helped me find out exactly who I am, and it has shaped me into the person I am today. By the time I met Dare, I had never been more comfortable in my own skin.
Lust & Lace knew I’d walk away from their employment offer if I couldn’t work from our New York offices. There are plenty of other brands that have approached me to work for them instead, but I knew I wanted to be here. I fell in love with Brooklyn the day I landed in New York. Design has always been my passion, and L&L presented me with an opportunity to do what I love while working for a company that values its employees and the customers they serve.
The company was started by a proud queer man who was unapologetic about what his brand had to offer. L&L sells everything from lingerie to swimwear, sleepwear, and athleticwear. Shawn and his husband ensure there is representation amongst their models and design staff. They treat their staff well, and they pour a lot of time, money, and resources into causes that support the LGBTQIA+ community. While the brand was created and built in Brooklyn, they expanded to the UK, opening a London office to meet the global demand for its products. There’s none of the toxicity that you see in other corporations, and that made my decision easy.
They would happily have me in their London office, and it seems like they’re getting exactly what they want. They’ve been desperate to get a lead designer over there, since the majority of us are in Brooklyn. I trust Shawn to do whatever he can to help, but it would suit him well to have me in London. I am sullen and bitter as I walk into the office. If I didn’t have a shoot today,I would have stayed in bed with Darío, pretending the world didn’t exist.
Just the thought of leaving him makes me fucking ill. The thought of saying goodbye already has dread sitting like a lead weight in my stomach. We rarely see each other as things stand currently. With his professional baseball career and my travel for photoshoots, we sometimes go weeks without seeing each other. I can’t imagine what it will look like if I end up in the UK. If the Scorpions make it to the World Series, they’ll be playing until the end of October, then spring training starts in February. That leaves us less than four months a year where we’d be able to spend a meaningful length of time together.
“Good morning, Harlan.” Penelope, one of my favorite designers and very best friend, is sat on my desk with a cup of tea in hand for me. Her blonde hair is piled on top of her head in a tight bun, her perfectly painted red lips pursed in concern. “Shawn told me what happened.” She passes me my tea, and I accept it gratefully, knowing it’ll be perfect. I taught her how to make a proper cup during our time in uni, and it’s been one of the best contributions I’ve made to this friendship. The look of pity on her face makes me angry. I don’t want pity. I want things to be exactly like they were forty-eight hours ago.
Anger bubbles to the surface, and I snap. “Yeah. Sucks, right?” I shrug helplessly. “Is makeup ready for me?” She flinches at my nasty tone and the quick change in subject, making me feel guilty. Pen was the first friend I made when I came to the States. While Darío is the love of my life, Penny is my person. I swear we share a brain sometimes.
We studied design together at Brooklyn School of Fashion, and we were both offered permanent jobs with L&L following incredibly successful internships. She was actually one of the biggest reasons I knew I wanted to stay in Brooklyn. She would accompany me to the gay clubs in Manhattan on the weekends,playing the part of wingman like a pro. When I’d get homesick, she’d come to my dorm with pints of ice cream and watchMean Girlswith me while we recited the whole movie together. I’d spend Thanksgiving break with her and her family every year, which quickly had me falling in love with the American holiday. She’s always had my back, and I truly couldn’t ask for a better best friend.
“Sorry, I’m being an arsehole,” I apologize. She doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of my shitty mood.
She reaches out a manicured hand, placing it over mine. “It does suck. If you want to talk about it, you know I’m here. But yes, makeup is ready for you.” Taking a beat, I relish the comfort from my best friend. I’m not ready to talk about it, but it feels good to know that I have someone on my side. I squeeze her hand before making my way to makeup.
Today was supposed to be amazing. We’re starting the shoots for ourSaLACEiouscampaign, and the designs are honestly incredible. I pitchedSaLACEiousto the marketing team, and they loved it. The hours, days, weeks, and months which went into designing and selecting fabrics were supposed to culminate in this magical experience in my career. They’re talking about advertising in Times Square, Vegas, and LA. Leave it to the US government to ruin a good thing. At least my beautiful arse will be plastered from coast to coast when I’m gone, I guess.
Ezra, another model, is shooting with me, and he’s so much fun to work with. He’s a beautiful, dark-haired twink, and I’m obsessed with how pretty he is. He’s sweet and easy to get along with, but we’re not very close. Part of me wishes I were working with Wes today, since we’re closer, and he wouldn’t take my foul mood personally. Shawn tends to limit my time with Wes, since it inevitably turns into a circus when we’re together.
After hair and makeup, I catch up with Ezra in the dressing rooms. He is either unaware of the potential of my impendingdeparture, or he has decided it’s not a good idea to mention it. My outfit is laid out for me, so I take a moment to appreciate the intricate design of the black lace. The booty shorts I’m wearing for this shoot barely cover my arse. They have the most stunning pink satin banding that sits low on my waist, with L&L’s logo embossed right below my navel. The thigh-high lace stockings are stitched with pink satin ribbon down the back. I know before I put it on that it’s going to look incredible with the dusting of pink glitter on my bare chest and arms.
Ezra is standing in his white lace jock and matching tank. He looks ethereal. While all white would wash me out, it looks immaculate against his brown skin. His makeup is far more subtle than mine, but he doesn’t need it. His skin is absolutely flawless, and as always, it makes me a little jealous. “You look beautiful, Ez.” He smiles warmly at me.
“You’re going to, too,” he says sweetly, as he adjusts his top in the mirror. “I hope we’re not at this all day. I did not sleep last night, so getting out of bed was not easy this morning.”
I also had trouble getting out of bed this morning. Darío was sound asleep when my alarm went off, and he didn’t move a muscle when I slid out from under his arm. We didn’t talk about the visa when he got in bed after me last night, and it took me a long time to fall asleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about how things will change if I have to leave. While I’d have my sister close, living on a different continent from my parents has done wonders for our relationship. They are supportive to a degree, but they definitely don’t love my job. Having them within driving distance is a nightmare I’m not prepared for.
“Let’s go make some magic so we can both go home and get some sleep,” I exclaim with far more enthusiasm than I feel. I need to keep my feelings in check here, so I draw on my years of smiling for the public and lead us to the set. Normally, getting into work mode isn’t difficult. Creating and designing are secondnature to me, but I thrive in front of the camera. I love that not only do I get to wear what I create, but I can help fight the stigma of what men ‘should’ wear. If plastering my arse all over the world helps just one person feel seen, then it’s a win in my eyes.
