Page 17 of Romance Languages

“Am not.”

He turned to me, only half-amused. “You’re straight, Seamus. Your opinion comes with an asterisk.”

“I mean it. You’re a good-looking guy.” Fuck asterisks. I gave him a once-over and stood by my assessment: Julian was attractive. Yes, he was on the bigger side, but that made him cuddlier. Who wanted to cuddle with a skinny person? Their shoulder blades could poke your eye out. “If I were gay, I would totally stick it in you.”

We burst into laughter. It was good to see him smile again. He had a great smile, which in my book, was a more valuable asset than all the abs in the world.

“How romantic. Have you thought about writing Hallmark cards?”

“I’m too busy making stupid videos.” I believed that if you could make someone laugh, then all was not lost. I still wanted to find that date and whoop his ass, though.

“Things are different in the gay world,” he said. “Guys only care about how jacked you are. The more you can look like Captain America or Thor, the better.”

“Have you read about what those guys had to go through to look like Captain America and Thor? The grueling workouts that nearly destroyed their bodies and minds? The diets where they were only allowed to eat boiled chicken and steamed broccoli?”

I shuddered at the thought of ever having to get into superhero shape. I would forever be a scrawny kid at heart, and I was okay with that. While I’d put on muscle as an adult, I was still on the slim side. That was just genetics at play. I wasn’t going to mess with supplements and excessive workouts to change that. I watched student athletes obsess in front of the mirror after workouts, and it broke my heart a little.

“Maybe I should try that,” Julian said.

“No!” I knocked him with my elbow. “Please don’t. There’s no guy out there worth a diet of boiled chicken and steamed broccoli.”

Julian nodded that he understood, but it was one of those bullshit nods that my students gave me when I asked if something made sense. I hated seeing my friend crushed like this. Julian had so many wonderful qualities. He was so fucking intelligent and kind. Who cared what the scale said?

I rubbed his back. “You know what I like to do when I want to work through a shitty day?”

“What?”

“Drink.”

* * *

A little bit later,we found ourselves in Stone’s Throw Tavern, Sourwood’s local watering hole, kicking back beers.

“Hmm,” he said, his face twisting as he gulped down another Bud Light. It reminded me of being a kid and having to take a spoonful of cough syrup. “I usually don’t drink beer. I’m more of a wine drinker.”

“But some things are better suited for beer.”

In other words, it was easier to chug beer than wine.

“I don’t want to think about wine,” he said, pounding down another beer. “I met my date at a wine bar. It’s my favorite wine bar in town, and he’s now ruined it for me.”

“Fuck him,” I yelled, letting my New York accent really come out.

“I spilled wine on him.” He rubbed an embarrassed hand through his hair. “It was not my best moment.”

“He deserved it.”

“I technically assaulted a police officer.” He laughed and burped at the same time. It was adorably sloppy, his refined exterior slowly slipping off. “Nobody told me dating would be this hard. I thought since we’re all out and open nowadays, it would be easier. Closeted men a hundred years ago probably got more play than me.” He chugged the remaining third of his beer. “Can I have another one of these?”

I signaled the waitress and through hand gestures ordered another round.

“Jules, don’t be so hard on yourself. You have a lot going for you.”

“Like what?”

“You’re a great teacher. You have a great group of friends. I see you fuckers cracking each other up in the bleachers at assemblies.” Julian’s friends had the buzzy energy of guys enjoying one long-running inside joke. They were always fun to be around.

“And not just that. You have your shit together more than anyone else I know,” I said. “You’re acing this adulting thing.”

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