Chapter 14

I was at the club again. The guy I slept with last year was sitting with me at a table as we drank apple tinis. His name was Owen and he was cute. He had incredible skin and dazzling teeth. He was just very sexy. He was different than Lafayette. He was still nice, but he was very anti-establishment, but not in a lazy douche-bag way. He doesn't like the government and he's not into big business. He still thinks Lafayette Jeff is a great person because he's charitable and really has helped people.

"I don't want to say I'm a communist because then people think I'm, you know, a commie," he told me. "But I'm also not saying I'm not a communist."

"I think I learned more from you in five minutes about the government than my high school government teacher," I said.

He laughed and sipped his drink. "I don't understand how you're still single," he said.

I shrugged.

"What about that guy you said you liked? When you were hammered?"

I sighed. "It's so not going to happen. He's so gorgeous he can get any person he wants. Plus," I shook my head. "I doubt I'm his type."

"What?"

"Well, he's smart, and I'm not that smart. Like, you can say I'm smart with school. Kind of. I'm really good at understanding things. I suck with math, but when it comes to the types of things he talks about with his friends I don't get it. It's all economics and business."

"Hardly anyone is good with economics, Emerson," he said.

"I'm like a blonde in disguise. I'm stupid when it comes to street smarts and common sense. And math. Fuck math. I'm great with English and literature and history. I'm right brained. I create and imagine. Left brained people analyze and comprehend."

"So he's left brained?"

"No. He's a perfect mix of both because he's so freaking perfect and I'm not. He probably wants someone he can talk to about his business and have them share their ideas. He probably wants someone who can attend a seminar with mathematicians and discuss the economy."

"Do you have anything in common?"

"Yeah! We have quite a bit of things in common. He really likes classic rock and classical music and so do I, but I do like some modern music, too. We've read the same books, too. We like so many of the same things, but he's still not like me. If we were in high school, he'd be the golden boy that everyone loved. He'd be popular and athletic and perfect. I'd be the twinkie nerd who hangs out with the weird people that everyone makes fun of. And you know what - that's true! He actually was the golden boy and I actually was the weird guy."

"Let me ask you something. How often do you talk?"

"Everyday. Constantly."

"Do you enjoy the talks you share?"

"Yeah. They're those really great talks, you know? Like, talking to him is really great. You know what those talks are right?"

He nodded, chuckling at my redundancy. "Yeah. I've had them. What do you talk about?"

I shrugged. "Everything."

"Does he enjoy these conversations?"

"I think so. A lot of times he'll spark the conversation."

"Do you enjoy spending time with him?"

I sighed, thinking about just being in the office with him. "Oh yeah. He's my roommate, and so I see him in the mornings and nights. We work together, too. I see him all the time and I never get tired of it."

"Does he like it when you're around?"

"He's the one that asked me to move in with him. He hates it when I go out without him."

He smiled. "See? To me it sounds like you guys are basically together, but you're just not saying you are and you aren't having sex."

I covered my face. "Then why-"

"Why won't he make a move? I-"

"No. I just remembered. He never makes moves on people. Like, ever. He's scared to make a move. I totally forgot his friend said so." I gasped. "Oh my god. His friend Michael told me that he hardly ever asks anyone out. The only time he does is if he just wants to have sex with them, but when it comes to relationships he doesn't. Oh my god. Maybe that's what Liam is. Just some guy he sleeps with. He has to be. They've known each other for a while and they've only ever had sex."

He laughed. "You won't know if you don't try."

"But what if he doesn't like me back?"

"But what if he does and you never try?"

"But if he doesn't then things would be awkward and my job and apartment could be on the line."

"But if he does then you could be happy for the rest of your life."

"Stop doing that! Be pessimistic!"

"Em, let me tell you a story. I was madly in love with this guy in high school. I thought he was perfect, and we were really great friends and everything. So I asked him out."

"Did you guys date?"

"No. He didn't like me, but we remained friends. I got over him and realized that if it's not meant to work out, then the special one will be there for me. We still talk and there isn't anything awkward between us. Yeah, if he doesn't like you back, you'll be upset, but things will move on."

"I'll probably just mope around for awhile," I said, moping.

"Do what you want, Em. I'm trying to give advice."

"I don't want advice. I want a blowjob."

He laughed again. "Alright. Do you wanna go to my apartment?"

"Will you make me breakfast in the morning?"

"I will. Come on."

We left the club and called a cab. We arrived to a simple apartment that was across from a jazz club and so you could hear the music all night long, which was actually pretty cool. His apartment was small, but it was bigger than the apartment I had before moving in with Lafayette. He told me he was a photographer for many papers and magazines and it gave him a good deal of money. He also cleaned people's houses every now and then. He poured us some drinks and I drank all of mine and a lot of his, too. We had sex on his waterbed, and he was good, but due to the fact I liked someone else it didn't feel as great as it really was, or at least it didn't give me what I was looking for. I woke up the next morning with a big headache and crawled out of his waterbed. I put on my underwear and my shirt and walked into the kitchen area where Owen was making cinnamon rolls.

"Morning," he greeted, smiling. Hm. Never realized how utterly beautiful his smile was. Why can't my damn smile be like that?

"Morning," I replied. I sat at his table and he sat down the fresh-baked rolls with icing and a glass of milk. I indulged myself, cinnamon rolls being my favorite breakfast item.

Owen and I ate together, talking about stuff other than my pathetic love life. He told me he was twenty-five and grew up right in the city. He had two loving parents and his dad owned a record store. He said his parents were pretty big hippies and went to Woodstock and saw many famous musicians like Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and even the Beatles. He also told me they had the same hairstyle (afros) and were almost going to be freedom riders but they got arrested before they could join. They were released about three weeks later though. After a while, he asked if he could take pictures of me, and so I agreed. From the pictures I saw in his home, he made people look good. He was a great photographer, and not one of those "edgy" ones who takes pictures of random things. He really captures the moment. He told me to just go about normally as though I was in my own home. He just snapped multiple photos, but he wouldn't let me see them. He made me sign a paper though, letting him use the photos for magazines. I didn't think he'd actually use them, though.

It was next week when Michael came into the office, carrying a magazine called Homo, a Greenwich Village magazine. "I didn't know you were a model," he said to me, sitting on the edge of my desk.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He handed me the magazine, which was just a local magazine about LGBT people. I flipped through the magazine until I came to a spread with photos of me in it. The photos and author of the article were by Owen Brave. I didn't realize it, but he had basically interviewed me. Luckily, he didn't write anything embarrassing. It was just a feature, because every week when they posted their small magazine, they featured a gay New Yorker, and I was the pick of the week. He explained my upbringing and what I do now, using quotes from me that I had said last night. He also had an opinion section, where he wrote his opinion of the people he featured.

"Emerson Dean Lane is a very interesting young man. With utter beauty, a laid-back and slap-happy personality, Emerson is the type of guy who can become everyone's friend. He laughs at anything that's remotely funny, but tries to hide his smile. He listens intently, and inquires more about people. Emerson told me he really likes people. He likes to listen to them, observes them, and learns many things about many them. He is passionate about other people and their passions, making him a dear friend with class, radiance, and care. He is like the male version of Audrey Hepburn. Completely beautiful, caring, classy, fun, and inspiring. He'd probably be able to rock the little black dress as well. While he may be looking for things in his own life, if you're ever looking for a friend, Emerson Lane is sure to be the perfect one."

"That's so nice. How do you know him?" Michael asked.

"We met at a club a while back. I crashed at his place last night. He did most of the talking, but I guess he pulled enough out of me."

"Owen Brave. He's sexy."

"Tell me about it."

"He looks nice," Lafayette said, startling me because I didn't realize he had joined us.

"That's pretty cool. You're in Homo magazine. Like every gay guy reads this. If he put your number then I'm certain lots of guys would call," Michael said.

"This is really great. Can I keep this?" I asked.

"It's all yours."

I thanked Owen over the phone, saying that I loved the article and the pictures were really great, too. He was a really nice guy. Was he my type? I don't know. I don't really have a type, but something told me it wouldn't work out between us, and not just because I like someone else. I felt like there was someone out there who was really perfect for him. Like he said, I was just a friend.

A few days later, it was my birthday. Lafayette and I still had work to do, though. It wasn't anything big. We just had to go over some paperwork and I had to get my passport, too, which took longer than necessary. He took me to dinner but we had to eat quick so we only got small meals, and he didn't try to shove every single piece of food down my throat. He had to run by his townhouse to retrieve his birth certificate so he could also get his renewed passport. He also wanted to make sure none of his family was using it since he had bought them all places to live. I parked the car and we got out, me still admiring the house. It was just so incredible. I kind of wished we actually did live in it. Maybe in the future...

"I really need a drink," he said.

"I'm in the mood for wine. I'm feeling classy," I agreed.

He smiled and pulled me through the house. We walked down the hall and the second I turned the corner of the den the lights flashed on and tons of people shouted "Surprise!" at me. I chirped in surprise, but laughed in bemusement. I LOVED surprises, especially surprise parties. They were the funnest things ever!

"Whose idea was this?" I asked.

"It was Lafayette's idea to throw a surprise party, but I was the one who organized it," answered Michael.

And Michael did a kick ass job of organizing it. All of my friends and family were there and there was great food and drinks. Not everyone brought presents, but I didn't expect them to. I mean, I wasn't expecting a party any way. Mom and Dad got me a set of tank tops because they knew I'd be traveling through hot countries. Michael and Emilio bought me a satchel that was cute and I would never be ashamed of wearing. Alisha bought me some shorts, as in short shorts. The guys from the 23rd floor got me a gift card to a candy store. Donald and Vince bought me fancy luggage. Owen put the pictures he took of me in a book. Then Lafayette bought me all of our plane tickets.

"Who is that handsome fella over there?" Mom asked, nodding to Owen.

"Oh, that's Owen. He's the one that featured me in Homo magazine," I answered.

"Really? He's cute. You should jump on him."

"I thought you wanted my boss and I get together?"

"Well obviously there's something wrong with him if he hasn't jumped on you. Don't wait around if he's not going to catch you while he can."

"But I like him Mom."

"I know you do baby, but either he lets you know how he feels or you let him know. If he doesn't do a damn thing, then forget him."

My mind shifted in a different direction than what Mom told me. I thought about her advice, and ended up making my own. I went the stupid and immature way and decided I'd see if Lafayette gets jealous if I'm hanging around another guy (a.k.a. Owen) and then if he does get jealous I'm just gonna go for it. I always hated it when people would use other people to make them jealous. It drove me nuts, but I wasn't going to lead Owen on and I wasn't going to make him be my boyfriend. I was just going to hang out with him. Hell, I could tell Owen I wanted to make Lafayette jealous and he'd probably be fine with it. So, I hung out with Owen more that night. I mean, he's just a cool guy to hang out with, too. He's the type of guy who has all the stories and is just so interesting.

"And that's how I ended up in a dumpster," he said, finishing his story for me, making me laugh.

"You're like one of those awesome, spontaneous people, you know? When I tell a story, you're the type of person who is the protagonist in a story."

He chuckled. "I really like that. It's a compliment to me. Didn't you say you write?"

I shrugged. "I try. I have tons of failed stories, but I have some ideas that might work in the end."

"I'd love to read them."

"Maybe one day. Hey, is Lafayette looking at us?"

"Hm?" He glanced and spotted Lafayette. "He looked over at us but then looked away."

"Did he look mad?"

"I can't tell. You know, I'm normally great at reading people, but he's pretty hard to read."

I rolled my eyes. "Tell me about it. Either his face is blank or he has this half-smile-smirk thing. I can't tell what that means. Is he amused, sarcastic, mocking, what?"

"Do you want him to be jealous?"

"Hell yeah. I want him to want me to talk to him instead of you."

"Sometimes you can tell if they're jealous. If he acts too casual and says 'we make a cute couple' or 'you should go on another date' then it's clear he's just saying that to make it seem like he's fine, and if he wants you to be fine then he doesn't like that he's jealous."

"And if he doesn't want to be jealous then..."

"He doesn't want to like you."

I nodded. "Great."

"Em, in my honest opinion, I think you're making this a big deal. Just be honest and whatever happens - happens." Honesty was so overrated these days, ugh.

"I know. I think I'm going to be honest with him, but not entirely honest. I don't know how, but I'll find a way. I don't want him to think I'm madly in love with him or want to be with him right now. It's just if he asks me on a date then I will say yes. There needs to be a word for that. I don't have a crush on you or anything, but I'm willing to give you a chance. No, wait. I think we're great friends, and so if you ask me on a date then I'd totally give it a shot." I frowned. "Neither of those sound right."

"You'll figure it out Em. You're smart."

"Maybe I should let him know I'm jealous when he goes out and sluts around."

He laughed.

Then I realized something. "Shit," I hissed. "You're not suppose to know who I like!" I scream-whispered. "Damn it. You're not suppose to know it's Lafayette."

"I kind of had a clue."

"Really?"

He nodded.

"Fine. Don't tell anyone damn it."

"Your secret is safe with me."

The party ended and we saw everyone out, me thanking them for the presents and coming. I was a year older, but I still felt the same. Heck, I felt like an eighteen-year-old more than a twenty-three-year-old. Lafayette and I stayed after to clean everything up, throwing the trash away and putting my presents in the car. Though I asked him if we could actually stay the night at the house, because I wanted to at least sleep in it once. So we did, and he took me up to the room on the top floor. It was a sea green color and was decorated regally. The bed was kick-ass, too. It was the most comfortable thing I had ever sat upon. He had some clothes in his wardrobe and he let me borrow some. He tossed me a pair of his blue pajamas, cotton. They were older and it looked like the majority of clothes he kept in his wardrobe were ones he just wanted to get rid of. He put on a pair of black sweatpants and we climbed into bed.

"So are you and that Owen guy dating?" he asked me.

"No. He's just a friend."

He nodded. "He's pretty hot," he said.

I laughed. "Yeah. So are you and that Liam guy dating?"

"No. We're just friends."

"Friends with benefits huh?"

He smirked. "Not that much anymore."

"Why don't you just date?"

"He's not my type really. He's very independent. I want someone that I can depend on, and someone who wants to depend on me. I want to be someone's knight in shining armor, but still be able to rely on someone else. A neutral relationship mostly, but one where they depend on me a little more than I depend on them. You know who people ask gay couples who's the man and who's the woman?"

"Yeah."

"Well, there isn't a man and a woman in those relationships, but I guess if I date a guy then I kind of want to be the man in the relationship, which would piss off other gay couples because they try to diminish the man and woman roles."

"You should just say you wear the pants."

He laughed. "That could work, too. You know what I want, though?"

"What?" I asked, curious, because I'm so pathetic I'd change myself just for him. Probably not, but I'd want to.

"I kind of want an old-fashioned relationship. I want a housewife, but the housewife could be a man or woman. They don't have to start off as a housewife. Like as we date they have a job and everything, but I want someone to stay home with the kids. So after we start a family then they can stay home. I mean, I'd be willing to stay home but look at this business I've created. I can't really stay home until I retire. Though they don't have to be out of work. They can work online, too. Maybe be an online teacher or something. Then they don't have to clean or cook. I can have servants do that. Or the kids. I'll probably have servants, but I'll still most likely make the kids have chores. Humble them. But I want someone to stay home with the kids. Send them off to school, pick them up, take them to the park, play with them. Then I come home, we all play around or maybe my spouse and I make supper together and the kids are outside the window playing. I don't know. It doesn't have to be exactly old-fashioned. Just something like that. I might even retire after some time, when my kids are still young. Or otherwise I hire more people, make them do a lot of my work, and then only work a couple of hours a day instead. I'll still own the company, but have someone else do my job. Then if one of the kids wants to take over they will. I hope one of them wants to take over. The business will forever be passed down, as in ownership, but if they don't want to be CEO then they don't have to." He sighed, looking towards the ceiling, probably imagining it.

"How many kids do you want?" I asked.

"I really want a lot of kids. I grew up in a big family so I want a lot. At least four."

"I was an only child for most of my life, until Alisha visited more, so I think I'd want a lot of kids. Alisha told me she'd be willing to be a surrogate mother for me and whoever I choose to have kids with. She said she would be artificially inseminated with my partner's sperm, so that way the child has his genes, and then it has Alisha's genes, which are also mine. I mean, Alisha and I are noticeably similar looking. And even if the baby gets more of her genes, then that's fine because her mom kind of looks like my mom. My dad really likes the short blonde type of women. I don't know how many kids she'd be willing to have for me, though, you know? I'd want to adopt, but I'm so afraid the kid would feel as though I didn't love him or her as much as my own child, because they're adopted."

"I'm certain they'll feel very loved by you Em. You're a pretty loving person. Owen even said so in his article."

I laughed, covering my mouth. "Kids are scary. If I adopt then I would have to do a huge background check on the family because I'd be so terrified to adopt a child who has bad genes. It sounds bad, but I would hate to have a child for seven years, have them get cancer, they die when they're fourteen. It's terrifying. But then again, I'd probably take the child and let it feel as loved as possible, so if it does end up passing away before I do then it will know it's loved. I guess I won't do a background check. I'll just adopt whatever child comes my way. My parents use to tell me they found me in a dumpster, so who knows?"

He laughed, asking, "Why would they say that?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. They'll be amazing grandparents, though. My entire family will be amazing to my kids. I think I'd like to live back in my hometown. That's where all of my family lives. Like, before my husband and I have kids, we live in the city, but once we have kids we move back home. Most of my family lives on the same street or around the corner, so I'll probably buy a house there. Or build a house. Who knows? It's all in the future."

"Yeah," he sighed, closing his eyes. "Not for a few more years."

I closed my eyes as well. I thought about what he said and things changed in my mind. Lafayette Jeff was completely perfect for me. What he wanted - what he just said he wanted - was what I wanted. I wanted the same things as him, and that changed things. He could not just be a boyfriend, but he could be a lot more. It was strange, because I was actually starting to think about my entire future. I decided that if I was going to be honest with him, I had to do it in the right way. I might have to wait a little longer than I thought to tell him, but it'll be worth it in the end.