Page 97 of Angel

While Angel slips it over my shoulders, Hayden pins him with a stern glare.

“What time will you have him home?”

Angel’s eyes go wide and his jaw hangs open in surprise. “Uh, I, um…”

“Gurl, seriously? Don’t wait up.” I give Angel a smoldering look. “I’m not coming home tonight.”

Hayden chuckles as I drag Angel toward the door. “Beware of the spiked punch!”

“I can bring you back after the wedding,” Angel says as he helps me down the stairs in my sexy-as-hell stilettos.

“We can come back here if you want, but I intend on sleeping in the same bed as you tonight, teddy bear.”

He shoots me a shy, but pleased, smile, then tucks my hand into the crook of his elbow to lead me out to his truck. He managed to find a spot not too far away, and gentleman that he is, he opens my door and lifts me up into the cab. Then he waits for me to finish arranging myself before shutting the door and racing around to the driver’s side.

I keep up the chatter all the way back to Staten Island—how the 12 Toys of Christmas project is going, how our second video is doing after it dropped a few days ago, some drama among the drag queens at The Bronzed Rail. But even with all that, I can’t help the nervousness that grows the closer we get to the wedding.

It’s one thing to say “fuck them” when we’re tucked safely away in bed. It’s another thing entirely to show up as a couple, dressed like this, and feel the weight of all those stares. It’s not something I’d ever voluntarily put myself through, but I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about Angel.

Obviously, I’ll draw a lot more attention than he will, but I’ve got years of experience with being in the spotlight—whether I wanted to or not.

Angel doesn’t have the same armor I have. He’s always been accepted as one of the guys. He’s been a member of their fiercely protective community since the day he was born. He’s never stepped outside their circle, never challenged who they thought he was.

Neither of us knows how they’ll react. Stares and whispers would be the least-bad outcome. Things could get so much worse than that.

Am I doing the right thing? Dragging him into the spotlight with me? Wouldn’t he be better off blending into the background like he always has? It would be safer and easier for him to quietly slip away, leave the neighborhood without making an announcement.

But it wouldn’t be honest. And if nothing else, Angel is honest. My respect for him, my love for him, is that much stronger because of it.

Whatever happens, I’ll be there to protect him. I’ll be there to pick up the pieces and bandage up any wounds.

We pull into the parking lot of the local Catholic church. It’s the same one everyone in the neighborhood goes to, including my family on Christmas and Easter. We’ve arrived at the same time as everyone else, and the truck creeps forward as guests dart around us.

I recognize a lot of the faces. Neighbors. Classmates. Cousin’s uncle’s third wife. Most of these people knew me as Dina’s boy, the queer one. And back then, they didn’t use that term the way I use it now.

Angel parks the truck and I force myself to take a deep breath. My heart is beating way faster than normal and my stomach is all tied up in knots. I wasn’t this anxious when I went to Dad’s birthday party at the end of the summer. This is basically the same crowd. So why am I all twisted up and panicky now?

Angel shuts off the engine and turns to face me. “Sweetheart?” The alarm is evident in his voice.

“I’m fine,” I squeak. I’ve done this before. I can totally do this. I’m fine.

Angel takes both of my hands in his. “We don’t have to go in. We can go back to my place. Or back to yours. Wherever you want.”

I shake my head. “No. No running away. Not anymore.”

I meet Angel’s gaze and let myself take comfort in all the emotions I see flitting across his face. Concern, understanding, fear, and love. So much love.

“I left when I was eighteen?—”

“Because this wasn’t a welcoming place for you,” Angel interjects on my behalf.

“It wasn’t, you’re right. And that was the right thing for me to do at the time. But now, I don’t need to run anymore. And I don’t want to make you feel like you need to run. We should be able to be ourselves, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

Angel gives me a decisive nod. His lips tighten into a firm line and his eyes take on a steel glint. “I’ll protect you.”

A laugh bubbles up in me, a mix of joy and self-pity. He wants to protect me, and here I am, thinking I’m going to protect him.

“We’ll protect each other.”

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