Chapter Twelve
Grayson
Somehow, in the middle of the night at O’Sullivan’s, I had ended up at the complete opposite end of the group as Marco and Demir.
First, Raul and Paolo had gotten up to dance, and Alex had jumped into one of their seats, and then someone else arrived and everyone got up to hug each other. Next thing I knew, Alex was getting me a soda water to be friendly, and everyone was in new seats, and there were two tiny tables between me and the guys.
“So,” asked Raul. “Tell us about yourself, Grayson.”
“Demir and Marco say you’re a ceramicist?” Paolo asked from across his husband. He had a small silver brooch on his jacket that caught my eye.
“And that you’re from Kentucky,” Sasha added by beside Paolo. “Louisville, is that right?”
I raised a finger in the air, ready to jump into the fast-moving conversation.
“That’s where he moved from,” Raul answered for me. “I love ceramics, too. It was a passion that my grandmother passed down to me, along with her thick hair and her chocolate addiction.”
“Who got you into ceramics, Grayson?” Sasha asked, batting her eyes.
“Well, it was kind of…”
“Oh my goodness!” Alex interrupted as he arrived back at the table with a few drinks. “You’ll never believe what I just overheard at the bar.”
“Shhh,” Paolo replied. “Grayson was talking.”
I startled when everyone turned to me, eyes wide and expectant.
Talk about pressure…
“Oh, well, I grew up outside of Louisville, then moved there for college. I didn’t study ceramics, though. I got a sociology degree, but I never knew what to do with it. I only found my way to the craft world recently.”
“An artist,” Raul said, approving. “Very nice.”
“Oh,” I said with a slight wave of my hand, “I don’t really think of myself that way.”
“I caught you eyeing my brooch,” Paolo said. “An artist always has an eye for details.”
“Everyone’s an artist,” Sasha said brightly. “Most people just don’t realize it. But I know what you mean, Grayson. It took me a while to understand that my work as a DJ was art, too. We’re just too used to thinking that art is pretentious!”
I laughed, then relaxed into the conversation a little more. It was nice to think of my work that way, even though it didn’t always reach that level. “Well, I might not be pretentious, but a few of my clients are. Only certain people can afford to do large custom tiling jobs.”
Alex turned his nose up dramatically. “I’d never look down on a bathroom tile.”
I laughed, then turned my nose up as well, trailing my hand through the air with an extra flourish. “Darling, don’t even get me started on the toilets.”
Everyone burst out laughing. Alex smiled at me warmly, and I felt a little shy and a little flattered that we had joked around like that together. When I glanced up across the table, I saw Marco and Demir, both grinning at me.
For a second, I wondered if everyone there knew I was trans. I suspected that Marco and Demir were educated enough to know they shouldn’t disclose that information to other people without my consent, but I also knew that these were their best friends, and I definitely felt they had the right to confide in their friends, too.
If they had talked about that with anyone, though, I certainly couldn’t tell.
“Nice friends,” I mouthed across the group.
Demir nodded, and Marco kissed his cheek. I could have stared at them all night, drinking up every little loving gesture they shared and basking in the warmth of their friends.
But then Paolo cracked a joke, and Sasha and Raul started talking over each other, and I was happily swept along with the night.
MARCO
