My cheeks heated. “I don’t have a lot to tell. At least not yet.”
“Nuh-uh. There’s a story there. Spill.”
We sat, and I told him all about Miguel and my struggles with my sexuality. It felt good to talk to someone who could understand where both Miguel and I were coming from. “I still don’t know what to do about it. Miguel thinks I’m straight, and he’s started going out on all these dates.”
“He won’t know you’re not straight if you don’t tell him,” Robbie said.
“I know. You’re right. I guess I’m scared he won’t think I’m worth his time.”
Robbie rolled his eyes. “Seriously? I’ll bet he’s one hug away from throwing himself at you. Give him a chance to prove you wrong.”
I spread my hands. “I’m not a fancy guy. I work with my hands. I get dirty. He’s smart and sophisticated.”
“First of all,” Robbie began, “there’s nothing wrong with working with your hands. It doesn’t surprise me that you’re a mechanic. You were always fixing things when we were kids. You were good at it then, and I bet you’re better at it now.”
“Thanks, Robbie,” I said.
We talked more about how our lives had been for the past sixteen years. I told him about being in the Army National Guard. He said he wasn’t surprised, considering how protective I was.
Robbie became a makeup artist after he tried acting first. He discovered he preferred to be behind the scenes and had a knack for doing makeup.
“That’s why I’m down here,” he said. “I was meeting with a bride and her mother to talk about doing makeup for the bridal party and the mothers of the bride and groom. Including the bride, that’s eleven people.”
“Wow. Big wedding.”
“Yeah. They’re spending a lot of money. And I don’t come cheap. I work in Manhattan most of the time. The mom knows one of my clients and asked to meet with me.”
“I’m assuming you got the job,” I said.
“Of course,” he replied with a wink. “The wedding is in June, so I’ll be back down here then.”
“Where are you living now? In the City?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Up in Hoboken. But my parents are still down here in Red Bank.” He looked at his watch. “Speaking of which, I’m supposed to be at their house for dinner. I should probably get going.”
“Will we get a chance to meet again before you go back?”
He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I’d like that. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what my schedule looks like. Maybe I can meet Miguel.”
“That would be awesome. I’m sure you and Miguel will hit it off right away.”
We paid for our drinks and Robbie hugged me again. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Miguel.
I took the stairs two at a time when I got back to our apartment. It was seven-thirty, so Miguel would be home from work. I burst through the door, full of everything I wanted to say. “Miguel! I have to tell you about my day.” I stopped short when I saw a strange man sitting on the sofa in the living room. “Who are you?” I snapped.
The stranger, a tall blond man, rose and held out his hand. “Hi. I’m Brad.”
“Of course you are,” I muttered.
Miguel walked into the room, a frown of confusion on his face. He was wearing a dark-green long-sleeved button-down and black skinny jeans. His makeup was flashier than how he wore it at work. “Zach? What’s wrong?”
I could barely speak because my throat was so tight. I slid my gaze away from his. “Nothing. Everything’s great.”
“I heard you say you wanted to tell me about your day,” he insisted.
I turned away from him to head to my bedroom. “Never mind. It’s not important.” I paused and said quietly, “You look nice. Enjoy your date.”
I closed my bedroom door and leaned against it. I was beginning to think moving in with Miguel had been a mistake.
