Spencer hums. “Very nice.”
I pick up one of my guitars, bringing it with me as I walk through the studio. “There’s a full fridge. Generous bar. A pool table in the back. Perfect place to record a few songs.”
“And you’re eager to do it,” Spencer says approvingly. “I like that. No more hesitation.”
Eager might be a strong word for it, but I’m channeling my man’s determination, trying to act like a jock about this. “There’s some good material in these new songs,” I tell him with full confidence that it’s true. “The work is solid.”
“I’m sure Fox will think so, too,” Spencer says, and I nod, appreciating his support. “Speaking of those guys, you don’t have to spend the entire forty-eight hours inside, right?”
“Huh?”
“You remembered how I train best at home. Well, I’ve heard you say several times that you need a change of scenery at least once a day if you’re going to stay productive. I was about to remind you to take a ride on your motorcycle, but you could hit up Fox. Maybe Reggie, too, if you want to take him up on his invitation.”
I hesitate. If Fox isn’t excited about my new music, it would be weird to try to hang with him. He’ll probably be mad at me for wasting his time. But I also know making an effort with Fox and Reggie will give Spencer more support by way of Everett, bring him closer to some gay athletes.
“I guess I could see if anyone is free for a drink.” I hesitate, then add, “And you’re still planning to reach out to your dad?”
Spencer goes silent, but he’s not annoyed. Just resistant, which is understandable, and it makes me love him more when he manages to push through all of that. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I know it’s time.”
I smile, proud of him. Knowing Spencer is facing this down makes my own reckoning with my music and Fox today seem easier to face. “Look at us, encouraging each other to do healthy shit we don’t want to do. A true marital exchange.”
“On paper,” Spencer points out. “This is a paper marriage. A real one involves a proposal, rings, a wedding.”
“Don’t you worry, babe,” I tell him as I lean against the recording booth. “I heard you the other night. My man likes to be seduced. And what’s an engagement if not one long seduction?”
“NowI’mgoing to have to jerk off in the bathroom.”
We flirt a little more before we finally manage to hang up. After a week of pure bliss in the honeymoon suite, I’m still craving that man as bad as ever.
Unlike before, though, now I know that this is real. I’m truly doing this. I’m falling in love again, trusting Spencer that he won’t destroy me, trusting myself that I’m good enough for him.
It’s scary as shit, but I’m going to do this right. I’m going to rise to the occasion and be the kind of man that Spencer deserves. I don’t care about partying with celebrities or touring the world. I care about making good music and being with my man, and I’m never going to forget that those are my real priorities.
I turn my attention to the music, working over a few chord progressions as I wait for Fox. I’m giving him the best of what I’ve got, stringing together all the disparate pieces. I’ve even let a few of the cheesy Spencer songs I write to entertain myself slip in, lyrics about Spencer smiling that I changed to be about bonfires and full moons, long riffs that are pained with longing.
“Not a bad start.”
I turn, surprised to see Fox is here. He’s dressed for the office in a collared shirt and slacks, but worn casually with the sleeves rolled up and paired with biker boots.
I lower my guitar. “Didn’t hear you come in.”
He shrugs lightly. “I don’t normally eavesdrop, but I wasn’t sure you’d allow me to hear otherwise.”
I force a chuckle. He’s joking, but I can hear the underlying message. He’s ready to be impressed.
“You’re here to listen. I’m here to play.”
My heart pounds. I could have picked any label in the world, but I went with Fox because I respect him. I need him to like this, to tell me that what I’m doing is working.
When I drag my fingers across the strings of my guitar casually, Fox nods to the recording studio. “In there,” he says. “Let’s do this right.”
He sets himself up in the booth, and I get myself situated at the mic. Every second that Spencer was at the gym in Miami, I was busy at work with my guitar. But I still wish I had put in one more all-nighter, wrestled one more song from the chaos.
“Here goes,” I say in the mic, projecting confidence with my smile. “Let me know what you think.”
Fox nods, and as I lower my head, hair falls over my face. I start off with some of my favorite riffs, opening strong and rolling through a few different moods. The last months with Spencer flow through my memory as I revisit the longing, the joy, the doubt.
Letting myself get lost in the music, I nearly make a mistake and sing out some of the most sentimental lyrics. Luckily, I catch myself in time, throwing the performance back into one of my only full songs. The song isn’t quite as good as I want it to be, but it’s got the structure and hook in place, and I need to show Fox that this album is taking form.
