I could only assume my mom got wind of something between us—at least from my end. It was before I was out, before they couldn’t avoid the subject any longer. I had finally said the words aloud my junior year of high school, and of course they’d already had their suspicions. To their credit, they fully accepted me, but they still tried to steer my decisions. They wanted me to have the best experiences without the worry of stigma, and I got it. Being gay in a hetero world wasn’t something anyone would willingly choose.
I took the elevator to the parking garage, slid into my car, and punched the address into the GPS, still thinking about how much I’d looked forward to gymnastics and my friendship with Skylar. I knew Mom looked down her nose at them, particularly when Skylar’s mom picked him up wearing a too-tight blouse or shorter skirt than Mom approved of. Though she was perfectly polite to her face, behind her back she’d sometimes gossip with other parents, which embarrassed the hell out of me.
However, like most activities kids were involved in, gymnastics was bound to end anyway, but my leaving had been abrupt, and I’d wondered about Skylar over the years. And not only because he was good at the sport—really good—especially when it was put to music during floor exercises. And now that I knew he worked at the Playground as a dancer, I’d be more than curious to see him in action.
My stomach was full of swooping butterflies when I walked inside the restaurant. I spotted Skylar instantly, having gone through his social media that morning to get an idea of what he currently looked like. And he was essentially the same. Pouty lips, mischievous eyes, free spirit. Unabashedly himself, and it made me smile like it did when I was a kid.
“Hey,” I said, approaching the table.
He stood, reached out and squeezed my shoulder, and damn, this was wild, seeing him after so many years. He was wearing tight black jeans and a white crop shirt with Naughty Boy on it, and I grinned because it was so Skylar Davison.
“Oooh, the glasses are very Clark Kent,” he said, giving me the once-over. I had the urge to push the square black frames farther up my nose, but I resisted. He added, “You’re still fancy as ever.”
I laughed as I took a seat across from him, feeling a bit more relaxed than on the drive over, if only my stomach would cooperate. The texting last night had helped too. We were fundamentally the same kids, only twelve years older.
“Um, yeah.” I pushed my glasses up, couldn’t help it. “Sometimes contacts make my eyes too dry, so I have a few stylish frames I wear depending on my clothes—and okay, I’m rambling, which I tend to do when I’m nervous. Sorry.”
He cracked a smile. “I remember. I like your glasses. Bet you drive a nice car too.”
“Oh, it’s just an Audi.”
Why in the hell was I acting like this? Like some rambly, nervous thing when normally I was cool as a cucumber. Even on dates. Not that this was a date. But Skylar was someone I had looked up to once. And had a crush on.
Skylar smirked. “See what I mean?”
A moment of awkward silence descended as we stared at each other.
“You look good, Clark,” he finally said, and my stomach did this little dippy thing.
Dippy thing? How old was I?
“Thanks, so do you.” For the first time I noted the gloss on his lips, the liner on his lids, the sparkly nail polish. Guess seeing him again had been too overwhelming to spot all those details right away, and now I found myself hiding my hands under the table so he didn’t think I was too plain in comparison.
I’d never really had this thought before about a person, but it was like Skylar was full of sunshine with a touch of spice, while I was…without color. Not in the sense that I was down in the dumps or feeling sorry for myself, but more that even as an adult, Skylar shined so bright when he walked into a room, it would be impossible not to notice him.
We placed our orders for Mar Far chicken, then launched into a conversation about our jobs, where we lived, and random stuff in the news.
“How’s your mom?” I asked, feeling like I owed him the question after the way mine had treated her. Skylar’s mom had always been kind to me, and probably wanted to give the other parents the finger more than once. Except, she mostly seemed oblivious, which in retrospect might’ve been an act and made her more gracious. Plus, you could tell how much she loved Skylar. They seemed close, and sometimes I envied that. Not that I didn’t have a decent relationship with my parents, but occasionally I watched what I revealed to them about my life, especially when my mom got too pushy about settling down with the kind of guy she approved of for me.
“She’s good…or she will be.” He winced, looking off in the distance as if recalling something. “Still picking the wrong men.”
“I remember,” I replied, thinking of one of the times he’d confided in me after we’d finished class early and were waiting out on the sidewalk together for rides. Sometimes his mom would pull up in a car driven by her latest boyfriend, and Skylar would swear under his breath before putting on a happy face.
“Eh, is what it is,” he said once he took a sip of his drink. “It’s taught me to steer clear.”
“What do you mean?”
He motioned with his hand. “To keep everything light, no commitments. Definitely not letting myself go through all the shit she does.”
I frowned because it was hard to make sense of that for someone like Skylar. Or the Skylar I used to know.
He must’ve noticed my reaction, because his eyebrows knitted together and he said, “For the record, I’m happy. I have my share of great sex, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
I felt my cheeks heat because he was right. There wasn’t anything wrong with two consenting adults hooking up.
He added, “Let me guess, marriage and two point five kids are in the cards for you?”
My face flushed deeper. Sure, it was a heteronormative ideal, but I couldn’t help wanting that for myself someday. “Maybe.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that either.” He leaned closer and smiled. “There’s no right way to make it through life. It’s all about what makes you happy. And happy doesn’t always equate to marriage and kids.”
“You’re right.” Sometimes I forgot that, given my parents’ expectations. But I’d shown properties to enough couples that didn’t seem to be married or have kids.
“And your parents?” Skylar asked, but I could tell the words were hard for him because he was so protective of his mom.
I rolled my eyes. “As successful as ever.”
He smiled. “I see the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”
Thankfully our food was served right then and we could dig in, because I was starving. I also didn’t want to talk about how successful I was or wasn’t, because it really wasn’t important. I’d give it all up to have other things in life.
“So good,” he said, his eyes practically rolling in the back of his head, and I agreed.
We kept the conversation light after that, and when our plates were cleared, I tossed him a fortune cookie.
“What does yours say?” he asked me once I tore open the wrapper, then the cookie.
I looked down and frowned. “You have a wild heart that cannot be tamed.”