Page 2 of The Masks We Wear
He hesitates for a moment, then says, “I’m studying pre-med.”
“Ah.”
His mouth flattens for a moment, then he turns to me. “You?”
“This might make you laugh, but I’m actually a dance major.”
“Why would that make me laugh? I think it’s pretty cool.”
“I hang out with mostly girls. There’s the occasional gay dude, like me, but most guys find it amusing that I’m a dance major.”
“Hey, if they don’t respect your interest, then screw ‘em.” We pause for a beat, gazing out at the streets below. The sounds of the party don’t even register out here. “My old college didn’t have any dance programs. I’ve always wanted to try it.”
“Really? I’m also captain of the competitive ballroom dance team. You should come by if you’re so inclined.”
“Maybe once I get my studies down pat.”
“Well, I hope to see you at a tryout, if not next semester, then next fall.”
“Alright.” His Southern twang once again jolts into my balls. Between his deep voice and the way his longer, muscular neck catches the lights, I find myself having to will my erection down. At least I’m only wearing black costume spandex from the waist up, outlining my performance-arts-made abs. “I’m excited. I’m always down to try new…things.”
Even in the mask, it’s obvious that Superhero eyes me up and down. A shiver goes up my spine, and I pray to every spirit I know that this attractive stranger is single. His eyes could be all mangled for all I care—everyone knows the vibe is way more important than looks. Most importantly, Superhero makes me feel wanted. Our conversation on this terrace has been the most exhilarating connection I’ve made in over a year. The idea of seeing him at a future ballroom dance tryout is titillating. Maybe he and I can become friends or…more.
I decide to play it coy and clear my throat, looking away. “So pre-med? That’s noble.”
He huffs, his body deflating as he looks out at the city with me. “Yup.”
“Why don’t you sound thrilled?”
He sighs and rotates his body. “I’m from a small town in Mississippi. My dad owns a practice there, but we don’t make much. It’s altruistic work, and the county could use more physicians. I got good grades in high school.” His voice trails off and he looks down. “Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.”
I chuckle and nod, letting him continue. “We always knew there was a need for a new generation of doctors down there. So, it was implied that I’d become a private practice MD like my pa.”
He huffs a self-deprecating sound, then looks back up at the night sky. “Then I’d get married to a small-town girl, have small-town babies, and bring money and success to the rest of Mississippi.”
The idea of him dating a girl doesn’t sit right with me, and it’s not only the jealousy. Sure, I’d like to kiss his pretty lips, rip both our masks off, and sixty-nine on the floor until the cows come home, but it’s more than that. Superhero seems so dejected, and I want to help him.
“Is that…what you want, Superhero? To become a doctor and marry a…girl?”
He laughs a defeated breath again, then leans on his right arm. His whole body is turned to me, and I try not to ogle at his trim waist in the full-body spandex suit. “I get to ask you a question now, Kitty Cat.”
I snicker. “Are we taking turns?”
“Obviously.”
“Alright,” I reply with a grin.
“Why aren’t you in there partying with all yer friends?”
I shrug and lean on my left elbow, mirroring him.
“I needed some air.”
“That’s bullshit,” he says with a snort. “Air is everywhere. That’s code for something pushing you outta there. Aren’t they your friends?”
“Yeah, but…” I take a deep breath in and out. “They all treat me like I’m a clown. And okay, yes, I go out of my way to make people laugh. I’m kind of a ball of energy in that way. But sometimes, man…” I stare at the stars as the truth threatens to spill out of me. “Sometimes I just want someone to emotionally support me through the quiet times. Times I can be chill. Times I don’t have to be ‘that dancer guy’ who’s always trying to entertain people.”
I look down to see Superhero already nodding. “I get that.”
