Playing Along

by Louisa Keller

  “Aw, come on, Mom. You know you’d be bored out of your skull without my tales of living it up in Seattle,” I said.

  “Speaking of living it up, tell me more about Paris. Have you had a chance to network much? I hope you’ve left the hotel, at least.”

  I looked around at the massive cathedral towering over a crowd of tourists, the Seine winding around the little island that housed Notre Dame. It was breathtaking.

  “I’m actually standing about a hundred feet from your favorite church,” I said. “It’s a gorgeous day, about eighty degrees with a light breeze, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. I feel like this city keeps sucker-punching me with its beauty.”

  “That sounds like Paris. What are you up to…just exploring?” Mom asked.

  “I’m meeting up with some guy to make a video, actually,” I said. “We’re going to film in a little café nearby.”

  “Was this one of the collaborations your fans requested?” she asked.

  “It was, actually,” I said. “It’s crazy that I’m well-known enough for people to request this kind of thing.”

  “You’ve worked so hard for this,” she said fondly. “You know I’m incredibly proud of you, right?”

  I grinned. “You only tell me every time we talk.”

  “Well, I’m glad the message is sinking in,” she said. “Oh, before I forget—I’m sure you’ll remember, but I want to make sure you don’t forget to call Carson on Thursday. What with the time change and all, it’s easy to lose track of the days.”

  A surge of affection for my mom rushed through me. She had taken Carson in after everything went down with his family, and the three of us had become an incredibly close little unit. It would have been so easy for him to spend the rest of his life without that kind of familial connection, but Mom had swooped in and made it very clear that Carson had a home—a family—in us.

  “Thanks for the reminder,” I said. “I’m planning to Skype him, but I’m sure he’d also love to hear from you.”

  “I’ll give him a call,” she assured me. “How was he doing before you left?”

  I thought it over. This time of year was always hard for Carson, but the past couple of weeks hadn’t been as bad as I had been expecting.

  “I think he’s been alright,” I said softly. “It’s hard to tell, he keeps things so close to the chest. But he seems to be doing relatively well.”

  “Good,” said Mom. “I can always fly you boys out for a visit if that changes though. You know that.”

  “I do,” I said. “Listen, I need to track down this café. Is it cool if I call you in a couple days?”

  “Of course, Dominic. I love you,” she said.

  “Love you too,” I replied with a smile.

  “Enjoy yourself, okay? Don’t work too hard,” she added.

  “Alright, alright. I’ll try to have some fun. Talk to you later.”

  I ended the call and tried to get my bearings. There were people all around me, hurrying off to one monument or another. I pulled a rumpled map of Paris out of my back pocket and squinted at it. Even with my glasses I still had trouble making sense of maps, and the print on there was tiny. It took a while, but I eventually figured out which way to go.

  I headed across a bridge and ended up standing before La Fontaine Saint Michel, a towering nineteenth century fountain featuring a couple of dragons and a saint standing atop Satan. It was exactly the kind of sculpture that made me think of France, and I stood there for a while just gaping up at it.

  Then I saw the café of the same name off to the left of the fountain. I hurried over there, glancing around for anyone with recording equipment. Everyone seemed to be casual tourists, and none of them appeared to be waiting for anyone. I sat down at a little woven table beneath the bright red awning and ordered espresso and a croissant. Then I pulled out my phone and looked over the email I had received from the guy I was supposed to be collaborating with.

  From: smorgenstern@yourtube.com

  To: dbaker@yourtube.com

  Subject: Collaboration

  Hi dbaker,

  I asked my fans to send me contact info for YourTubers they would like to see me work with in Paris, and about fifty of them sent me your e-mail address. I’m planning to meet several people at the café La Fontane Saint Michel on the first day of the conference. If you’re up for making a video, please send me your availability.

  Best,

  smorgenstern

  I had replied immediately and enthusiastically. The weeks before the conference had been a blur of making arrangements with YourTubers I had never met, and I gave away chunks of my time liberally.

  The thing I didn’t do for most of those people was to look up their videos. I figured that I could just gracefully back out if someone seemed like a bad match for a video. And honestly, I didn’t anticipate that being an issue. Everyone who attended the conference as a content creator was an active voice in the queer community. Surely, I could come up with something to talk about with each of them.

  So, I didn’t know who I was supposed to meet, other than his handle.

  smorgenstern.

  I sent him a quick email describing my outfit—khakis and a short-sleeve button-down with a bright floral pattern. Then I started texting my friends.

  >>DOM: Y’all will not believe the night I just had…

  It only took them a second to start flooding our group chat.

  >>FINLEY: didja get laid

  >>FINLEY: ???

  >>LEO: plz tell me there were at least 2 french men involved

  >>PORTER: Details please :)

  >>CARSON: this better be rom com worthy

  I grinned down at my phone. God, I loved my friends.

  >>DOM: I kissed a guy

  >>DOM: To help him avoid a crazy fan

  They jumped back in at once, desperate for details.

  >>PORTER: How chivalrous of you!

  >>LEO: is he hot?

  >>FINLEY: tell me more

  >>FINLEY: now

  >>FINLEY: don’t leave me hanging you coward

  I stifled a laugh, considering how to encapsulate the entire evening in a couple of text messages.

  >>DOM: There was a mix-up at reception

  >>DOM: They put us in the honeymoon suite

  >>DOM: And we didn’t bother to point out their mistake

  My phone was buzzing nonstop. It was so nice to be the one with a juicy story for once. I knew my friends were probably all sitting together playing video games, and I could practically hear them cat-calling me from across the world.

  >>CARSON: dude

  >>CARSON: DUDE

  >>LEO: ur goddamn kidding me

  >>FINLEY: why doesn’t this ever happen when I travel

  >>FINLEY: ???

  >>PORTER: OMG

  >>PORTER: What happened next?

  I’m not an inconsiderate guy. I think it’s important to retain a modicum of restraint when telling friends about a hook-up, because there’s always that off-chance that you might start dating and your friends will meet them.

  There were so many times that I met my friends’ boyfriends and had to pretend I didn’t know intimate details about their dicks. It was awkward as all get-out, and I wasn’t the kiss and tell type.

  But it didn’t hurt to brag just a little.

  >>DOM: Let’s just say I’d be wearing a scarf this morning

  >>DOM: If I had thought to pack one

  I took a bite of my croissant and smiled as my phone started blowing up again.

  >>LEO: u minx

  >>CARSON: that’s my boy!

  >>PORTER: Proud of you <3

  >>FINLEY: holy shit

  >>FINLEY: tell us everything

  >>FINLEY: dom

  >>FINLEY: dominic baker

  >>FINLEY: jfc you can’t just say that and not elaborate

  I drained my espresso and let out a shaky little laugh.

  >>DOM: It was great

  >>DOM: I actually really like himr />
  >>DOM: Maybe a little too much

  Maybe this was what I needed—to share my little infatuation with my best friends so that they could bring me back to earth. They knew the whole story about Harris, and I trusted them to give me good advice.

  >>PORTER: It’s been a while since you’ve felt like that

  >>PORTER: Why do you think it’s too much?

  I thought it over. There were a few reasons, if I was being honest with myself.

  >>DOM: He’s not looking for a relationship

  >>DOM: He lives in Chicago

  >>DOM: He would never want to settle down with someone like me

  >>DOM: I’m just being needy

  Their responses were rapid-fire.

  >>CARSON: that’s harris talking, not you

  >>FINLEY: you’re not needy bro

  >>FINLEY: i’ve dated needy

  >>FINLEY: and you’re not like that

  >>PORTER: Don’t let your shitty ex stop you from being vulnerable

  >>LEO: chill man

  >>LEO: have u asked him what he wants?

  The thing was, I hadn’t asked Smith what he wanted. Not explicitly. I had been paying attention to all of the little signs he was giving off, of course, but I didn’t know him well enough to read them accurately. Was it possible that he didn’t see me the way I saw myself? That he might want something more than just a hook-up in a foreign city?

  >>DOM: I should ask him what he wants

  >>DOM: I know that

  >>DOM: But he makes videos about slut culture

  >>DOM: His whole professional life is about sleeping around

  >>DOM: Why would he uproot that for me?

  I could practically see Carson and Porter shaking their heads, Leo and Finley rolling their eyes. We were all intimately knowledgeable about each other’s emotional baggage, and they had each told me time and time again that I was a catch. They didn’t like hearing me put myself down or talk about how nobody would ever want me. So, I mostly kept it to myself. But they were my support network, an extension of my family, and that meant that sometimes my shittiest thoughts came out around them.

  A fresh crop of texts popped up.

  >>CARSON: you’re a catch bro

  >>CARSON: he’d be lucky to have you

  >>LEO: don’t b so hard on urself

  >>LEO: u never know what he might want

  >>PORTER: It’s worth a shot :)

  >>FINLEY: dom

  >>FINLEY: DOM

  >>FINLEY: you’re incredible

  >>FINLEY: he’s gonna fall in love with you

  >>FINLEY: don’t give yourself an excuse to give up on him

  >>FINLEY: before you’ve even started something

  I sighed heavily. Was it possible that they were right? Maybe I just needed to sit Smith down and tell him that I was interested in seeing where things could go between us. Maybe—

  “Dom?” came a disbelieving voice.

  My head jerked up so hard that I practically gave myself whiplash. And there he was, standing before me. Smith, every inch of him devastatingly beautiful, wearing the rumpled jeans I had watched him pull on just an hour before.

  “Smith,” I gasped, trying to reconcile his presence at the little café. “What are you doing here?”

  Did he follow me here?

  Smith’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  “I should be asking you that,” he countered.

  I gaped at him, not quite comprehending.

  “I’m here for a collaboration,” I finally breathed out.

  His brows pulled together in confusion, and my brain finally started to engage. Smith was at La Fontaine Saint Michel, at the exact time I was supposed to be meeting a YourTuber I had never even bothered to look up.

  “You’re smorgenstern?” I asked, my eyes widening.

  “Holy shit,” Smith muttered to himself. Then he looked up at me and added, “You’re dbaker.”

  I nodded, my heart flopping around in my chest like a caged bird.

  “I had no idea…I didn’t get around to watching any of your videos after I responded to that email,” I rushed to explain. “God, this is so surreal.”

  Smith looked rather faint, so I kicked out the nearest chair for him. He sank into it gratefully and reached for my croissant, tearing off a piece and tossing it into his mouth. Neither of us said a word until he had swallowed it.

  “I can’t believe you’re the guy I’m supposed to be collaborating with this morning,” Smith said at last. His shock was starting to dissipate, replaced by something that I hoped was pleasure. God, I wanted him to want to work with me.

  “Yeah, this is insane,” I replied. “Of all the people at the conference…”

  “Well shit,” Smith said, a warm smile breaking across his face. “Looks like we don’t need to bother getting to know each other over coffee before we dive in.”

  I laughed, gesturing at my empty espresso cup. “I can order us another round if you need to caffeinate. I don’t mind having the opportunity to get to know you better.”

  “You know, I think we’ll learn plenty about each other while we shoot this video. My viewers have been responding to a poll and the results just came in this morning. You’ll never guess what we’re talking about in the video.”

  I quirked an eyebrow, hoping desperately that I wouldn’t regret my next question.

  “What’s the topic?” I asked, my voice shaking with anticipation.

  Smith broke out a Cheshire Cat grin.

  “Is it a one-night stand or something more?”

  Well, shit.

  6

  Smith

  “What’s up my sluts?! Hope you’re all having one hell of a sexy week. I’m here in the heart of motherfucking Paris with the unbelievably gorgeous Dom Baker, as per popular request. So, to kick this off I’m going to ask Dom to introduce himself. Floor’s all yours, man.”

  I turned to Dom expectantly, and found him grinning toward the camera.

  “Jeez, Smith, you’re gonna make me blush,” he teased. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m a twenty-seven-year-old YourTuber based out of Seattle. I launched my channel, dbaker, after I finished college and I have been educating the internet about gay sex ever since then.”

  “And in your personal life?” I jumped in, winking at him. He flashed me a sardonic smile.

  “I’m usually living it up Pacific Northwest Style…you know, when I’m not breaking hearts,” he said loftily. “I’m a big fan of the local cider scene out in Seattle, and I try to hit up at least a few music festivals every year. My roommates and I spend a lot of time hiking and camping. My life is pretty low-key, and that is absolutely by design.”

  “Why did you decide to start making sex ed videos?” I asked.

  “Well, I actually grew up in New York, so I arguably should have had one of the more liberal school experiences growing up,” Dom said. “But they didn’t even start teaching us about sex until high school, by which time a lot of my peers were already starting to experiment. And the information I did get was all about hetero sex. The emphasis was on avoiding pregnancy—there was barely any reliable info about STIs, and nothing about gay sex.”

  “And you felt that queer teens needed more reliable information?” I prompted, my heart swooping. Dom was so passionate, I loved hearing him talk about his work.

  “Exactly,” he said with a smile. “I went to Pettygrove University out in Oregon and met all kinds of people with different gender identities and sexual orientations. The more I spoke with people about their sex education, the more I realized that my experience was actually one of the better ones. A lot of teens get abstinence-only sex ed, or classes that don’t touch on the science at all. I’ve never met anyone who learned about consent when they were taught about sex in school, and I found that really disturbing. And forget about discussing safe sex for trans and nonbinary folks—schools just aren’t touching on that. That was when I decided to start tackling this issue.”

&nbs
p; “Which of your videos have been the most popular?” I asked.

  Dom smirked at me. “Guess.”

  I broke into a laugh, throwing my head back. “God, I can only imagine. Anal? Is that a popular one?”

  “I mean…obviously,” said Dom. “So many people have reached out to tell me that my early videos about prepping for anal revolutionized their sex lives. But my most popular video is actually about blow jobs.”

  I had a sudden, vivid imagine in my mind of Dom deepthroating a condom-covered banana before pulling off to explain what he was doing. I blushed and turned back to the camera, hoping to god viewers wouldn’t guess what had just gone through my head. But who was I kidding—we were sitting there covered in hickies, vibing like crazy. My fans weren’t going to miss the implication.

  “Are all of your videos structured like lessons?” I asked, trying to maintain the last of my dignity.

  You’re a professional, dammit, I scolded myself.

  “In the early days they were,” said Dom, shifting and accidentally bumping his shoulder against mine. I tried very hard to control my breathing.

  Stupid tiny French tables, I fumed.

  “But that changed over time?” I asked, pressing back against him just slightly. His breath caught in his throat and I tried not to smirk. Jesus, I was a mess.

  “Yeah, after a while I had to start expanding my videos. There are only so many sex acts you can explain before people start getting bored. Recently I’ve been working from prompts that viewers send me, and that has been an absolute blast,” said Dom.

  “Speaking of prompts,” I said, waggling my eyebrows at him, “my viewers submitted a whole bunch of them for me to touch on while I’m in Paris. Today, you and I are going to discuss how to determine if a hook-up is a one-night stand or something more.”

  Dom swallowed audibly and I tried to keep a straight face. God, he was making me crazy. I wanted to jump him right there in the café.

  Chill out, Smith.

  Keep your cool.

  You’re at fucking work right now.

  “This is actually a really fantastic topic,” he was saying as I waged a mental war with myself. “I want to shout out to the viewers who submitted and voted for it, I’ve been wanting to tackle this issue for a while now.”