“God, now I want to go write more. I just know there’s no way I’ll get anything done in my apartment. I hate it so much.”
“You’ve said that several times now. It still feels sterile? I thought you went shopping.”
“I did, but it’s still bad. I don’t know why I have such a strong reaction to it, but I do. The only time I feel okay about it is when I curl up in bed reading the books you gave me. Which, I hate to tell you, I’ve blown through.”
“Come get some new ones, then. Feel free to raid my personal shelves.”
“Can I come tonight?”
If it had sounded even a little like a come-on, he would have refused. Mostly, though, Rasul sounded desperate. “You can come over long enough to get some books.” He paused, considering. “Well, if you wanted to write in the bookstore, you could do that too.”
It was as if Jacob had told a child they could get anything they wanted from a candy store. “Seriously? What time do I have to be done by?”
“When I go to bed, which is usually around eleven.”
“Deal.” He looked pleased. “Now all I need is a magic wand to fix my own place so I don’t have to bug you.”
“Actually, I might be able to help you there as well. Or rather, I know some people who can. What are you doing next Friday night?”
“Hating my apartment and wishing I could take a walk without being bothered every few feet. Why?”
“There’s a group I go to sometimes for area gay men. I think you could make some connections there of people eager to help you fix your space. Plus you could make some more friends.”
“Just gay, or gay and bisexual and pan men?”
“Yes, sorry. I didn’t mean to exclude. Though I don’t think we have many bi men.”
“Probably the advertising strategy. Do you usually talk about it only being for gay men?”
“I think so. Sorry.”
Rasul shrugged, but he didn’t have the same breeziness he usually did.
Jacob felt awkward, aware he’d stepped in something but unsure of how to fix it. He’d been hating on the group’s name since its creation, but only because it sounded ridiculous. He was mortified with himself he hadn’t considered how exclusionary it was. Should he say something to them? Well, obviously.
What happened if they brushed it off, though? Should he keep pushing? What if Gus or Matt were ones who thought it wasn’t a big deal?
Wrong question. How about wondering how many other bisexual and pansexual men feel shut out? What about trans men?
Rasul interrupted Jacob’s musings by loudly patting his belly. “Well, I’d planned on getting some dessert, but I don’t think I have it in me. What leftovers do you want?”
“You take them all.” Jacob knew his whole face flamed with the still-blooming embarrassment of his faux pas, but he made himself push through it. “I meant to ask you. How are your classes going?”
“Good, actually.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am, I guess. It’s my first time teaching in this kind of setting, but the students are eager. All over the map, but that makes it great. I’m into the lesbian romance author.”
“Oh, Meg? I’ve had signings for her. She does well. I’m not surprised she’s trying to hone her craft.” He hesitated, then pushed on. “Are you interested in coming to the meetup next week?”
“Sure, sounds interesting.”
“Okay. I’ll tell them we’re coming.” Why did he feel so self-conscious? “Um, did you want to have another date before then?”
Rasul’s smile made him dizzy. “I want as many as you’ll give me.”
“Ah. Okay. I’ll… look at my schedule and call you.” Unable to handle it any longer, he pushed out of the booth. “I’m going to run to the restroom quick. But here’s my debit card so they can split the check.”
Inside the bathroom, Jacob locked the door and slid down the wall, pressing his hands to his temples.
When he came out to rejoin Rasul and walk back to his apartment, Avni winked at him. “Come again soon.”
Chapter Seven
RASUL WONDERED why he’d broken form and let Jacob know the local gay group’s bi/pan erasure bothered him.
It wasn’t the first time something like that had pissed him off, far from it. He had a lot of banked anger going all the way back to high school, where he’d kept a tight lid on his orientation and only dated girls because coming out as bi or pan felt far too dangerous. There were several peaks of fury from college, when he’d finally started opening up about it, and gay and straight friends and lovers would wrinkle their nose at him like he’d admitted he only washed his hair once a month. “Are you sure?” was a common refrain. “But you’re dating a guy,” someone would point out, insisting that meant he was gay. “But you’re dating a girl” would come another time, and now his pansexuality—they’d called it gayness—had been a phase. His whole life, people had lined up to explain his orientation to him as if he weren’t personally living it. But as he did with almost everything, usually he pasted on a smile and laughed it off.
Never had he let the awkwardness go on so long he sent his date, or even his fake date, running for cover.
Once Jacob had come back to the table, they’d fallen into something more amicable once again, chatting about how Rasul’s classes were going on the way to the bookstore. This dovetailed, somehow, into a loving discussion about I Capture the Castle, now fresh once again in Rasul’s mind.
“Their poverty astounds me. Every time I read it, I try to imagine what the equivalent would be today. Because back then goods were sold and managed differently. Also, can you imagine everything being made locally? Or rather, trade wasn’t remotely on the level then that it is now. Which always makes me think of how many goods flow across the oceans daily from China to basically everywhere. From everywhere to everywhere. I can’t fly to London without spending an arm and a leg, but I buy cheap clothing made on the other side of the world.”
He’d ended up not writing at Jacob’s place, only talking endlessly about books until he’d seen the time and realized he needed to let Jacob sleep.
“Oh, but I meant to give you this earlier.” Jacob fished in a small drawer in the kitchen and came back with a key. “It’ll only get you in through the back door at the top of the stairs, but I thought this way you could come and go without having to be let in.”
The key felt heavy in Rasul’s hand, weighty with the gravity of the gesture. “Wow, thank you. Do you move this fast with all your fake boyfriends, or am I special?”
Jacob rolled his eyes, but he smiled. “I’m assuming eventually you’ll want to come work while I’m out. For example, Tuesday I have back-to-back meetings first at the hospital and then at the chamber of commerce. If you’re here that day and write past closing, you can let yourself out the back.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it, sincerely.”
Jacob nodded and averted his gaze again. “So… the meeting next Friday night is at six. It happens to be a potluck in City Park this time, but we can pick something up on the way.”