Page 12 of Perfect Blend

“Can’t you do a solo?”

“We always close out the show with the duet. People expect it. And I can’t pull a new routine out of my ass with days to go. I’m too busy this week.”

Despite the drama between us, the drag show was one of my favorite nights of the year. It was a blast, and we raised money for a different LGBTQIA2S+ charity each time. Despite our marriage struggles, the drag show had always been something we’d enjoyed together. I had hoped that performing again might loosen some of the resentment scaffolding my heart. Maybe his backing out was the opportunity I needed to finally,publicly, distance myself from him.

“Fine.” It wasn’t fine. Half the reason I’d worked up the nerve to perform was because I’d never been alone. My best friend Bailey would never perform with me, and anyone in town willing to put themselves out there for an amateur drag night was probably already on the roster. I would figure it out. I always did when Travis bailed on me.

“Thanks, Dave. I knew you’d understand. This opportunity could be it.” Every opportunity he’d brought home “could be it.” His bright, eager smile reminded me of what had attracted me to him in the first place and how it didn’t work on me anymore.

Thank god we’d divorced before we’d ruined each other for good.“Good luck,” I said.

Whether the words were for him or me, I wasn’t sure.

CHAPTER4

MIKEY

It wasn’tuntil Dave left with that attractive guy that I realized how much I’d been watching him. Dave’s employee probably thought I was a creep. Hell, Dave probably thought so too. The evidence proved it.

Exhibit A: I’d used his Facebook DMs to ask if I could visit his town and write an article about the Pride festival he was heavily involved in.

Exhibit B: I kept messaging him. Not in an “I’m collecting background information for a story” way but a “You’re even cooler than I remember, and I want to get to know you” way.

Exhibit C: Since arriving in town the other day, I’d spent most of my time at Dave’s coffee shop. Or following Dave around town. Or letting Dave introduce me to people. Or trying to take up all his time during one of his busiest weeks of the year.

Could I be any more pathetic?

Tall Hot Guy was probably an undercover police officer Dave had called to get me to leave him alone.

Normally, I wasn’t the human personification of a barnacle, but I hadn’t found someone so easy to talk to in a long time. Certainly not since the good years with my ex-husband or since I’d met JavaJackOfAllTrades, or Jack as he’d become in my brain. Despite not knowing his name beyond the moniker he used on Discord, Jack had become my closest friend. How sad was that?

Dave’s visitor passed my table, but Dave hadn’t returned. Were they dating? In the myriad topics we’d covered over the past month, neither of us had mentioned our relationship status. I was single with a capital S, but I was afraid to ask Dave because I desperately wanted him to be single while being equally terrified he might be. Divorce could really fuck a person up.

Dave was disarmingly endearing, with his big smile, bigger dimples, and kind blue eyes. I hadn’t relied on a single source so much since my college job at the school newspaper. It was easy to convince myself that my desperate need to be around him was more about the efficiency of going through him—he knew everyone—rather than the weird, tingly feeling I got in my stomach every time he looked at me.

Finally, Dave returned. He smiled at the customers in line and jumped right into making coffees, but something was off. There was a tightness in his jaw and a droop to his shoulders.

My worry about Dave distracted me from work. I couldn’t stop thinking about what that guy had done to upset him. As soon as the customers dwindled and his employee went to do something in the back, I walked over to him.

“Hey, you okay?” I asked abruptly. It wasn’t my place, but I cared. Probably too much, too soon. I hadn’t become so smitten with someone since I’d met my ex in college.

Dave blinked. “Yeah.” He frowned and then studied me for a moment. “Talking to my ex-husband is always exhausting.”

He was divorced too? “Tell me about it. I avoid mine like the plague.” The pain ran too deep. Thoughts of him, what we used to have, what I thought wewouldhave, always turned my stomach into knots, but I wanted Dave to know he could talk to me if he wanted to.

His eyebrows shot up. “You’re divorced too?”

“I am. For nearly two years.”

Dave’s shoulders relaxed. “We should start a club for divorced queers of Spruce High School.”

I considered telling him about the Discord group but held back. I liked having my anonymous space where no one knew me as Mikey. They knew Bricker, the LEGO-loving smart-ass. Jack never judged me, despite giving me well-deserved shit regularly. The others in the group were, overall, supportive.

“We could make T-shirts.” I grinned.

He leaned his hip against the counter. “Remember that science experiment where we had to tie-dye T-shirts with vegetables? Those were so fucking ugly.”

I busted up laughing. “Isn’t there a photo in the yearbook of you looking grumpy as hell wearing yours?”

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