Page 6 of Dear Mr. Brody

“Do you think Mr. Brody even realizes how sexy he is?”

He had a quiet confidence, but there was something timid about him. Something nervous behind those wolfish gray eyes of his.

“Probably. And I’d bet money he’s straight and married to some perfect-looking woman and has perfectly boring sex. A man that gorgeous has to have flaws. It’s the way the universe balances shit.”

“You’re probably right,” I said, and he hummed his acknowledgement. “I bet he has a big dick, though.”

“You wish.” Laughing, he flopped backward onto my mattress. “Speaking of big dicks… Tam’s going to be at the club tonight.”

Tam worked with Marcos at an upscale clothing boutique near Piedmont Park. He wasn’t one-hundred-percent my type. I liked my guys to be a little less fragile. Tam was elegant with long legs and pretty lips. His ass was nice, though. I was a sucker for a bubble butt. And it wasn’t a secret he’d be down to mess around. He flirted with me relentlessly whenever we all got together.

“Yeah?”

“Yup, you should go. You never go out anymore. Always sitting around reading, you need to get a life.”

“I guess I could tear myself away from this essay for a few hours.”

Marcos sat up and smiled. “Thank God… you take this school shit way too seriously.”

“It’s kind of important if we ever want to have real careers.”

He stood and sauntered toward my bedroom door with purpose. “We’re just starting our junior year. It’s okay to have a little fun, Park… we can worry about real life later. You haven’t hooked up with anyone in a while. And one-on-one time with yourself in the shower doesn’t count. Be ready by ten. And that’s not a suggestion, it’s an order.”

I huffed out a laugh as he left. I wasn’t much of a hookup kind of guy, it reminded me too much of all the sloppy, under-the-radar shit I had to pull while enlisted. Nothing ever felt real then, it had to be quick blow jobs in bar bathrooms or fucking in a back seat of a car like a teenager, hoping to God no one would find out. I wasn’t into that anymore. I wanted something solid, something I didn’t have to hide. Being out in the military wasn’t impossible, but I’d learned the hard way it was easier if I kept my head down. There were some memories not worth dredging up, and as if the bruises and the cracked ribs had never healed, I struggled to take a deep breath. I’d never change my choice to join, my choice to stay. I’d joined to make my dad happy, even though he’d passed away of a heart attack when I was ten, enlisting was something I had to do for him. I’d idolized my father and the stories he’d told me about serving his country. When he’d died, I’d promised myself I would make him proud. On some of my hardest nights, I’d lie awake, wondering if my father would accept me as a gay man. When I’d come out to my mom, I was only fourteen, and she’d told me he’d love me no matter who I was attracted to. My sister Mandi was six years older than me and had gotten to spend more time with him, and she agreed with Mom. She’d said my dad thought the world of me, and there wasn’t anything that would’ve changed how much he’d loved me. I’d like to believe that was true, that he was up in heaven smiling down on me.

I swiped my finger over the touchpad of my laptop and the screen came to life, my essay staring back at me. Reading over it again, I deleted at least half of it. Marcos could make fun of me all he wanted, tell me it was only an essay, but I’d written enough half-truths to last me a lifetime. I couldn’t do it anymore.

“In fifteen-hundred words tell me who you are, tell me the story of your life. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but it does have to be honest. Real words matter.”

Mr. Brody’s challenge sat heavy on my shoulders. Without knowing it, he’d given me the courage to write what I wanted. What I needed.

Real words. The real me.

Humid air thick with sweat surrounded us as we made our way toward the bar. The Masquerade wasn’t the biggest or the best gay club in Atlanta, but it had amazing music on Tuesday nights according to my best friend and perpetual thorn in my side. The place was decently sized with three bars, a large, circular one in the back, and two smaller ones on each side of the open industrial space. Exposed ventilation and metal beams decorated the high ceilings, and the bright multicolored lights bounced off the concrete walls and floors creating a dizzying effect on the dance floor. The sea of bodies moved to the beat of the bass, pushing us down stream toward the back of the club. Hands and fingers brushed against my bare arms, setting off an explosion of goosebumps across my skin.

“What about that guy?” Marcos hollered back at me once we’d found our way out of the crowd. “The one with the goth vibe.”

“The guy in the leather Speedo?” Laughing, I shook my head. “He has a nice body, I guess, but he looks like he’s in his forties?”

“Nothing wrong with a silver fox.”

“I’m not drunk enough for forties or leather.” We’d been here for about an hour, giving the buzz of my first few drinks time to wear off while we’d danced. “I think I’ll pass.”

“It’s not always about you… I was looking for me.” He bumped me with his hip, and I chuckled. “You really think he’s that old?”

“At least.”

“Fuck, I don’t think I care… look at his abs.” Marcos licked his lips, subtle as ever, and the guy smiled at him. “Oh shit, he saw me.”

“He could probably feel your boner from across the room.”

Marcos flipped me off, and I followed behind him, wishing I had half his confidence sometimes. I was nervous about meeting up with Tam tonight. It had been forever since I’d had any interest in dating. But Marcos wasn’t afraid of anything. He wore what he wanted. Fucked who he wanted, and never apologized for any of it. Like me, he’d hidden his sexuality while he was enlisted. He could say it hadn’t affected him, he liked to pretend everything was butterflies and cupcakes for the most part, but when we’d gotten out two years ago, and he’d decided to move back home with me to Atlanta, a switch had flipped inside him. Maybe he wanted to make up for lost time, and hell, maybe it was time I did too.

Once we found our way to the bar, I ordered our drinks. I took a sip of my vodka tonic and scanned the dance floor. “I wonder where Tam is.”

“He said he’d be here thirty minutes ago.”

“Maybe he changed his mind?”

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