Page 20 of Perfectly Us
I’m one hundred percent crushing on Shiloh. Hard. He’s fucking hot, and his bashfulness makes him even cuter. Not to pull a Hamlet or anything, but to flirt or not to flirt, that is the question. I’m leaning towardno. Unfortunately.
Dating is hard enough, but it’s even worse when you’re gay. Because there’s a certain degree of expectancy with heterosexuals. Guy likes girl, guy asks girl out. She either says yes or tells him to kick rocks. But it’s different when you’re gay. I’ve been lucky in the past when I’ve hooked up with guys. I sensed mutual interest and just went for it.
Reading Shiloh is hard though.
With how he reacted to the kissing comment, I have a feeling he’s straight. It’s cool if he is. I still want to be his friend regardless.
“This is me,” he says, stopping beside a badass black Mustang. Older model.
“Dude,thisis your car?” I peer through the tinted windows, then check out the rims. “Wanna trade?”
“Not a chance.” He unlocks the door and opens it.
Damn. Leather interior and the stereo lights up red when he sticks the key into the ignition. And the purr of the engine. Holy shit. Total hard-on.
“I think I’m in love.”
His laugh is kind of raspy. I like it. “You and me both. Hop in if you want.”
“IfI want to? Of course I do.” I slide into the driver’s seat and groan as I grip the steering wheel and feel the rumble of the engine. I pet the dashboard. “You want to come home with Daddy Alex, don’t you, baby? That’s a good boy.”
Shiloh coughs. “Should I give you two some privacy?”
“Hey, I’m not opposed to a threesome. Oops. Sorry. Forget I said that.” I get out of the car and face him. “Um, I guess we can drive separately and meet at the theater?”
“Sure.” He stares at the pavement.
Me and my big mouth.
“Hey, Shiloh? If you don’t want to hang out with me, it’s okay. You can go home or whatever.”
“Who said I want to go home?” Though brief, he makes eye contact with me. “I like being around you.”
That’s all I need to hear to feel better.
On the drive to the theater, I blare songs from my favorite musicals and belt them out like I’m the next Hugh Jackman.
Once upon a time, I dreamed of going into performing arts, but as much as I love to sing and dance, I’m not exactly good at it. This realization came to me after I was tagged on Facebook in a video someone took of me at one of Ruben’s parties where I was on the coffee table belting out the lyrics to “One Day More” fromLes Misérables.
And yes, I was in my boxers with a tie—not mine—tied around my head. Whose tie was it? Good question.
The parking lot is close to empty when I pull into the movie theater. Even during summer, weekdays are slow business-wise. Tuesdays bring in a few people because the ticket price is cheaper, but there aren’t many cars as I find a place up front to park.
Shiloh pulls in beside me, cutting the engine. We meet at the front of his car and walk toward the entrance together.
Otto’s at the box office and greets us. “Hey. What are you here to see?”
“Is it cool if we watchInto the Ruins?”
“Yep. Go for it. I haven’t sold any tickets to it yet, so you’ll probably be the only ones in the theater.”
“Awesome. Thanks!” I touch Shiloh’s arm before walking into the lobby.
The smell of popcorn fills the air, and the machines in the arcade ding and play music. A prerecorded voice from the claw machine rings out, “Step right up!” The atmosphere relaxes me. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d live here if I could.
“We don’t need a ticket?” Shiloh asks as we approach the concession stand.
“I get as many free movies as I want, and I’m allowed to bring a friend with me.” I smile at his wowed eyebrow raise. “Cool, right?”
