“Klaus. He’s a tattoo artist. He’s really cool.”
“You wanna fuck him more than you wanna fuck me?”
Sal squeezed the orange peel, embarrassed to have given in to their own hetro cringe. “There’s nothing between me and Klaus anymore. We’re literally just friends. His new partner is really nice.”
Curtis softened. “Sorry for getting all green. I just… it’s hard for me to understand why you could be with another straight bloke and not me.”
“I know,” Sal said miserably. “I don’t want to be a dick, but right now, I can’t handle this whole ‘dating a footballer’ thing.”
To their surprise, Curtis smiled. “Then gimme some time. We don’t have to, like, tell everyone. We can keep things just between us. I wanna see you on the reg. Keep going on dates.”
Sal looked into his handsome face. He was offering the cop-out to end all cop-outs. But did they want to take it? “You mean it?”
“Hundred percent. I just want a shot.” Curtis’s light blue eyes dropped to Sal’s cleavage. “And I’m not tryna bribe you or anything, but if you give me that shot, I’m done holding off. You can come back to mine and do whatever the fuck you want to me, whenever the fuck you wanna do it.”
Sal’s body heated like the candles burning around them. “What if I say I am willing… to become willing… to think about going out with you. Is that enough?”
He nodded, his lips curving into the sexiest smile Sal had ever witnessed. “So, okay, um, what now?”
“We can stay for another drink.” Curtis glanced at the door. “Or you can come back to mine and have a bath?”
Sal dropped the orange peel. Curtis Ingram’s bath was very much a place to which they wanted to go.
3
“Klaus is running a little late with a client,” a receptionist who was more tattoos than person told Curtis. “Take a seat, and he’ll be right with you.”
Curtis dropped his ass into a cracked vinyl chair and tried to look like he knew what he was doing in Rust Tattoo Collective. He didn’t have tattoos, and he’d never considered getting any. He’d made an appointment to see Klaus for reasons that had nothing to do with ink.
Last Saturday, he’d bounced out of a party at midnight to meet Sal at theirs. He’d been hoping for a chat, but Sal had come to the door in a latex bodysuit, and all the thoughts in his head had gone missing. Sal grabbed him by the collar and kissed him hard, and he hadn’t put up much of a fight.
They were making out on the couch when Sal’s housemate, Ammy, walked in. She’d taken one look at the two of them and burst out laughing.
“Thisis the guy you’ve been hiding?” she’d asked Sal. “Wow, what a fucking Frankenstein.”
Curtis had been all ready to get flattered until he’d seen the look on Sal’s face. It wasn’t cute ‘we got busted makingout’ embarrassment; it was real embarrassment. Like Sal had been caught doing something they wished they hadn’t. They’d grabbed his hand and dragged him to their bedroom, where instead of hooking up, they’d had the chat he’d wanted to have. Not that it had gone the way he’d hoped. He’d invited Sal to his next game, and Sal had acted like he’d asked them to sit on nails.
“I really like you,” Sal had said, looking like they felt the opposite. “And I know I’m not being fair, going quiet and then texting you and going quiet again, but I’m fucking terrified of people knowing about us.”
“Why?”
“Because the second people find out who I am, they’ll find out everything else.”
“You mean, like, OnlyFans? Babe, that doesn’t matter, a bunch of WAGS?—”
“I’m not a wife or girlfriend,” Sal had burst out. “Remember? There isn’t even a sexist acronym for what I am!”
“Who fucking cares? I’m into you and once I tell everyone your pronouns, they’ll use them, or I’ll kick their fucking heads in.”
“And if people make fun of you for being with me?”
“They won’t. You’re hot as hell, babe. Everyone’s gonna get it.”
Sal had shoved their fingers into their hair and pulled like they’d wanted to rip it out at the roots. “Doyoufucking get it, Curtis?”
And Curtis had had to admit he didn’t, because no matter how hard Sal tried to explain, it wouldn’t click. He’d left Sal’s place at four, so gutted he was almost in tears. He didn’t know what to do. How to prove his feelings. How to show Sal that he’d spent the better part of his adult life crushed out on them and now that he finally had a shot, he’d do anything to make it work.
Which was why he’d done something stupid. After yesterday’s strength training, he’d gone to Byron Thomas’ office and asked for a word. Byron was behind his desk, still sweaty from running drills, his head clearly somewhere else. “What d’you need, Ingram?”
