“I believe you, Harlan. I do. I’m so sorry for how I behaved,” he whispered. He wrapped me tightly in his arms, kissing my forehead, promising that he would do better. He apologized for ruining our last few days together. The relief I felt when he said he believed me was palpable. I spent so long punishing myself for what happened with Darío. The thought that being honest with Oliver would lead to the destruction of our relationship was overwhelming.
Things between us have still been a bit stilted since that day. I spent his last three nights with him, but something felt different. I can’t identify the shift, really. He had treated me just as he had before the incident, but there was a barrier there that hadn’t existed. Even now, I can’t tell whether I put it there or he did. He texts me every morning to say hello, and he calls me each night as I’m going to bed. When he asks about my day, I bristle, because I wonder if he’s genuinely interested or if he’s trying to catch me in something.
I slow my run as I arrive back on Penelope’s block and check my watch to ensure I hit my steps for the morning. Running as the sun rises is my favorite part of the day, so I’m sad it’s over already. Tugging off my shirt, the crisp air causes goosebumps to rise on my overheated skin. I use my discarded shirt to wipe the sweat from my forehead as I enter Pen’s building. I’ll be moving into my own flat soon, so I’ll have to find a new route to run.
The scent of fresh coffee smacks me in the face the moment I open the door. I don’t know how Penelope drinks coffee that strong, but I know she’ll have my tea set out for me, so I choose to keep my opinions to myself. “Morning, bestie,” she grumbles from her spot on the couch. “Are you done torturing yourself at this ungodly hour?”
“Torture would be not running, Penelope. Waking up before the rest of the world is good for you. Maybe you should start running with me again,” I tell her as I grab my tea from the kitchen counter. I can’t function without my morning run, and she knows that. “Thank you for this.” I lean down to kiss the top of her head.
“Waking up that early is one thing. Exercising at that hour is something entirely different, Harlan,” she snarks. I laugh and head to my room, which isn’t really a room at all. It’s not much bigger than a walk-in closet. There isn’t an actual closet in here,so I’ve been living out of a suitcase while the rest of my things sit in storage.
I found a small flat a few blocks from Darío’s. I considered not going to see it, unsure that I want to be that close to him, but with the market right now, I knew I couldn’t afford to be picky. The living room faces east, so the sunrise lights the space first thing in the morning. It also helps that my favorite bakery is a few blocks away. I love Penny with my whole heart, but living in this shoebox has definitely been a struggle. With our routines for getting ready being so similar, sharing a single bathroom is an actual fucking nightmare.
I haven’t seen Dare since the night I stormed out of the house. He texted me once with an apology and asked if we could talk. I didn’t answer because my feelings for him and that situation are complicated. I didn’t know that he had ended things with Jasper. After running into him in California, I had made the choice to let him go. Carrying around the hurt that I inflicted on both of us, but especially him, was too heavy. I stopped asking Penelope for updates about his life. I kept the conversation short when he reached out about the move back to New York.
If I agree to talk, I’m afraid of what that will do to him. He made it clear that he was still hurting that night. While I still carry a lot of complicated feelings about him, I’m more at peace than I have been in so long. I knew he would regret trying to kiss me, and Oliver’s appearance only made it worse. I was furious with Dare, and initially, I blamed him for the fight I had with Oli. The reality is that Oliver is the only one responsible for the shitty things he said. We all own our behaviors. How we handle ourselves is what matters. It’s taken me a year and a lot of therapy to understand that.
I knew before I left Brooklyn the first time that I would miss Lust & Lace’s New York office. I had no idea just how much I had missed it until I entered it for the first time when I came back. Every single day since then, I haven’t taken it for granted. I say hi to Missy at reception and Carlo, the security guard. The huge gallery-wrapped canvases of the models in black and white on the walls remind me that we are doing truly incredible work.
In the hall, I arrive at an image of Wes and me. The photo is in black and white, and we’re in a huge bed with a white duvet. Wes is sitting up against a white cloth headboard, and I’m straddling him in black lace boy shorts with my back to the camera. His tattooed arm is wrapped around me, with his hand cupping my arse. His other hand is pulling my hair, and he’s leaning in as if we’re about to kiss. I smile, because I was talking so much shit to him that day. Our photographers are magicians because the erotic, intimate scene looks so intense despite the laughter.
“When is Shawn going to let us do that again?” Wes’s voice startles me, and I let out a surprised squeak. I shoot him a glare when he laughs.
“Probably never,” I muse. “Shawn is a fun-sucker. Although, since my trip in August got canceled because of the move, maybe he’ll send us both to Turks and Caicos for the summer campaign we’re working on. It’s been too long since I’ve done anything outside of our studios here. I want to be on a beach.”
“That would be amazing. Ben and I have been talking about going somewhere tropical,” Wes tells me as we make our way to the offices.
“You’d bring your brother instead of your boyfriend?” Wes and Bennett’s relationship never ceases to amuse me. I love Amelia, but if given the choice, I’d be taking my boyfriend. Wes’s eyes widen a bit before his features shift to indifference.
“Wesley, is everything ok with you and Layton?” I’ve been so absorbed in my own mess that I’ve been an absent friend. Wes and Layton seem perfect, but as with anything, people only let you see what they want you to see.
“Yeah, we’re ok. It’s just been an adjustment since Ben and Lana divorced,” he says without meeting my eye. I’m unclear how his twin getting divorced would impact his relationship with Layton. “Layton is annoyed that Ben is around a lot.”
“I didn’t realize your brother got divorced. Is he still in the same building as you?” We pause a few doors from my office and lean against the wall to finish catching up. Our conversation is interrupted by my phone buzzing, and someone calling for Wes to hurry up and get to makeup. We share an eye roll and a promise to catch up over lunch one day this week. When I pull my phone from my pocket, Dare’s name is on the screen.
Darío
I’m going to be by L&L for a PT appointment. Please meet me for lunch. I really want to talk to you. I hate the way things went at the party and I owe you an apology. Please, Lan.
Inhaling deeply, I reply with the name of the café I usually grab lunch from. I get a quick ‘thank you’ from him before I silence my phone. It’s the least I can do for him, I think. As soon as I get to my office, I get lost in designing swimsuits without regard for the clock or the chaos of the rest of my colleagues going on outside my office door.
In typical Harlan fashion, I am late leaving the building to meet Darío. When I approach the café, I see him sitting at a tableon the sidewalk with a puppy at his feet and the waiter flushing red at whatever they’re talking about. I smile in spite of myself. Whether Dare is recognized or not, he has a tendency to make pretty boys quite nervous in his presence. I’ve always found that charming, because he doesn’t carry the arrogance one would expect of a man who looks likethat.Nerves and excitement propel me forward.
I wasn’t expectingHarlan to agree to lunch today, so I’m feeling out of sorts as I wait for him at the café down the block from Lust & Lace. It’s a perfect fall day, so I have Craig with me as we occupy a table on the sidewalk. I keep checking my phone, even as the time we were supposed to meet comes and goes. Harlan is never on time for anything—or at least he wasn’t before. I suppose I don’t know much about his routine these days. Without realizing it, I’m fidgeting with the napkin in front of me as a waiter approaches the table.
“Hello, I’m Jor…Jordan, and I’ll be your server today. Would you like to order a dr-drink while you wait for your friend?” Jordan stutters over his words as he introduces himself, and his bright green eyes meet mine. This kid can’t be much older than twenty. I notice him blushing, and I smile warmly. “I’m sorry, I’m being so uncool. You’re Darío Molina,” he tells me, the awe in his voice evident. Craig’s ears perk up as he eyes the stranger curiously.
“I am,” I confirm with a laugh. “I’m uncool all the time, Jordan. It’s nice to meet you. I’ll take two glasses of water with lemon, please.” Jordan takes notice of Craig by my feet, and his smile widens.
“Sure thing. I’ll go over the specials when everyone is here,” he says, sounding a bit less intimidated, even as he continues to blush. I thank him, and he rushes back inside.
“Are you still making young twinks nervous, Darío?” Harlan approaches from behind me, and as always, his beauty steals my breath.
“It’s not me, it’s him.” I gesture to Craig under the table. Without any further acknowledgement of me, he’s on his knees, babbling nonsense at the puppy. It’s so endearing that I find myself grinning as he fusses over a very excited Craig.
“Aren’t you the most precious thing! Hi, sweet baby,” he coos, causing Craig to wiggle his butt at warp speed while he tries to climb into Harlan’s lap. Harlan laughs loudly, and a pang hits me right in the chest. It’s been more than a year since I’ve heard him laugh so freely. I blink back unexpected tears at how much that realization hurts.
Harlan rises to his feet with a preternatural grace. Everything about him is extraordinary. The way he moves, the way he talks, the way he looks like he could hit the runway at a moment’s notice, no matter what he’s wearing. He’s dressed casually in loose pants and a baggy sweater with blue and white stripes that make his eyes shine. His face is clear of makeup, except for his lashes. “You look incredible,” I tell him honestly. I grip the armrests on my chair to stop myself from standing to hug him.
