No matter. Zeb’s sense of accomplishment trumped the small discomfort, and the pliant, satisfied man whispering words of endearment in his delicious Southern drawl was the perfect way to start their Christmas holiday.
Several hours later, after they took warm showers and Zeb’s cum-soaked jeans were spinning around in the washing machine, they sat on the sofa in front of the TV, devouring bowls of homemade mac and cheese Alex had thoughtfully prepared ahead of time. Bacon snuggled between their thighs.
“Hey,” Alex said softly after he put his empty bowl down on the coffee table. “Did you have anything special you wanted to do this week?”
Zeb shook his head. “Being with you is as special as it gets.”
“Likewise,” Alex said. “Having your undivided attention for seven days is the best present I could have received. But, I made a list of activities in case we get bored hanging around the apartment all day.”
“What did you have in mind?” Zeb asked sleepily. He could feel the carb coma taking over fast.
“I thought we could get a small tree and decorate. Then I’ll make us a nice dinner. I’ve already baked over six dozen different kinds of cookies, so that’s out of the way.”
“Really?” Zeb asked, perking up. “What kind of cookies?”
Alex chuckled. “Is that all you took away from my statement?”
“Cookies are my passion,” Zeb admitted. “The first time I went to an American grocery store, I stood in front of the shelves trying to decide what to buy. I ended up with two armfuls and made myself sick.”
“Don’t they have cookies in the Philippines?”
“Yeah, but they’re not the same.”
“What’s your favorite?” Alex asked.
“Nutter Butter,” Zeb said. “Turns out I love anything with peanut butter.”
“You don’t have that back home?”
“Sure they do, but my mom’s a big proponent of fresh food. The idea of buying bottles of imported peanut butter didn’t fly, and the local stuff isn’t quite the same.”
“What else do you like?”
“Anything with chocolate chips, salted caramel, or pieces of toffee. Chewy oatmeal with fat raisins and toasted coconut,” Zeb continued, “and I also like Walkers Shortbread from Scotland.”
“My lord,” Alex said. “I had no idea you were such a cookie monster.”
“Can I taste one of yours?”
“Hold that thought.”
Alex headed for the kitchen and came back with a small plate piled high with an assortment of his freshly baked goods. Zeb felt like a kid in a candy shop, overwhelmed by his choices. He picked one up that looked like oatmeal with cranberries and raisins in it, and one bite was all it took to convince him they were his new favorite.
“I’m never going to let you go,” Zeb said sincerely. “You’re so much more than a GQ cover, Alex. How did I get so lucky?”
“I think I’m the lucky one, sugar,” Alex said. “Finding someone who cares for me so unconditionally is a minor miracle.”
“Come here,” Zeb said, reaching for Alex’s hand.
Alex scooted over and laid his arm across Zeb’s shoulder. They leaned into each other and didn’t say anything else. There would be time for words in the days to come, but for the moment, being together was more than enough.
Chapter 2
Three months ago…
THEY WERE in their dorm room, and Luca was sitting cross-legged on his bed talking on the phone. He looked pissed when he ended the call.
“Want to go to the city with me this weekend?” Luca asked. “I need to check on Chyna.”
“Everything okay?” Zeb asked.
“Not really,” Luca said, frowning. “He’s had a bad reaction to a full body waxing and is covered in hives.”
“Shit, that must hurt like hell.”
“Yeah, he’s miserable.”
“Are you sure you want me to tag along? Won’t Chyna’s roommate mind?”
“I’ll run it by him, just in case, but I think Alex is pretty chill.”
“What’s he like?”
“He’s another model.”
“I suppose he’s gorgeous,” Zeb guessed.
“Better believe it.” Luca added, “And he’s taller than Chyna or me.”
“Da fuck,” Zeb blurted. “I’m starting to get a complex.”
Luca laughed. “Good things come in small packages.”
“Shut the hell up. Five nine is the norm back in the Philippines, and FYI, I’m far from average where it counts.”
“Really?” Luca asked dubiously.
“No complaints so far.”
“Didn’t you just tell me you’ve never been in a relationship?”
“Dude, I didn’t say I was a priest.”
Luca grinned. “Got your eye on anyone around campus?”
“I’ve been too busy trying to figure out where I’m supposed to be at any given hour. I’ll start checking out the scene when I’m settled.”
“Is that Zeb speak for SOL?”
“No, it’s the truth.”
“We’ll have to fix that,” Luca said. “Can’t have my roomie climbing the walls.”
Zeb rolled his eyes. “I can fend for myself.”
They caught the last bus on Friday afternoon and didn’t get into Manhattan until half past eight in the evening. It was close to nine by the time Luca was ringing the doorbell. Alex opened immediately with Bacon clutched in one arm.
“Is Chyna okay?” Luca asked.
Alex’s eyes darted toward Zeb.
“This is my roommate, Zeb,” Luca clarified. “Chyna said he could crash on the sofa.”
“Cute dog,” Zeb remarked.
“Thanks,” Alex said. He moved aside so they could pass. After he closed and double-locked the door, he ushered them into the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” Luca asked. “I want to see Chyna.”
“He’s asleep.”
“I’ll wake him up—”
“Be gentle,” Alex said. “He’s pretty sore.”
“How’s he doing mentally?”
“Taking this allergic reaction as a personal failure,” Alex shared.
“He would,” Luca murmured, shaking his head. “Such an overachiever.”
“Aren’t we all?” Zeb interjected.
“Yeah, but Chyna can be really hard on himself,” Luca replied.
“Then you’ll have to set him straight,” Alex said. “Shit happens, and this was out of his hands.”
After Luca left them alone, Alex turned to Zeb. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I’ll have whatever you’ve got that’s nonalcoholic.”
“Here you go.” Alex handed him a can of Doctor Pepper and pulled out a chair.
They were sizing each other up when Luca returned to the kitchen.
“Everything okay?” Alex asked.
“Yeah. He’s sleepy as fuck, though.”
“Tomorrow will be better,” Alex said reassuringly.
“I hope so,” Luca said. “Do you mind if I go back to the room?”
“You go ahead,” Zeb said. “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” Luca asked.
“I got this,” Alex assured Luca.
“What’s the name of your dog?” Zeb asked after Luca departed.
“Bacon.”
Zeb stared at the adorable black poodle sitting on the floor. The tiny thing wasn’t remotely overweight, and he couldn’t figure out why he’d have such a weird name. Looking back at Alex, he saw amusement written all over his beautiful face.
“I wanted a potbellied pig,” Alex replied to his unspoken question. “My father was convinced I was asking for trouble by drawing more attention to my gangly self. When they came home with this bundle of love, I named him Bacon in protest. It took several days for me to realize they were right, and I was dead wrong. Unfortunately he was answering to Bacon by then, so it stuck.”
“I can’t picture you as gangly and inse
cure,” Zeb remarked.
“You have no idea….”
“Were you already this tall?”
“Close,” Alex said. “My mother is six two, and I could look her in the eye when I was fifteen.”
“Wow, that’s really tall for a woman.”
“I know,” Alex said. “We think her ancestors must have come from southern Sudan. Natives of that region are taller than average. My height has served me well as a model, but at that time, I was all arms and legs, like a newborn giraffe—ungraceful as hell.”
Zeb snorted. “Now I can picture it.”
“Shall we move this convo to the living room?” Alex suggested. “We can watch TV if you’re not ready to call it a night.”
“Sounds good,” Zeb replied.
Alex got a spare pillow and blanket out of the linen closet and handed it to Zeb. “I’m sorry we don’t have a real bed to offer you, but our sofa is pretty comfortable.”
“No worries,” Zeb said. “I’ve slept on a lot worse.”
“Yeah?”
“My family has a place by the beach about two hours from Manila. It’s beautiful but primitive. No electricity, so we cook with charcoal and sleep on bamboo floors with woven mats made of palm leaves instead of a mattress. It’s a good reality check and keeps us humble.”
“Sheesh. Our sofa is a definite step up. So you’re Filipino?” Alex asked. “Chyna didn’t mention it.”
“Yeah,” Zeb said. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Where are you from?”
“Baton Rouge.”
“I’m loving the accent,” Zeb admitted. There was a lot more about Alex that held his attention—perfectly shaped lips that were made for kissing and the most amazing eyes—but that would remain under wraps for now.
“It’s a blessing and a curse,” Alex said disparagingly.
“Really? Why?”
“It leads to questions about my origins, and I’m not always in the mood to vomit out details of my past.”
“I’ll try not to intrude,” Zeb said.
“You’re fine, sugar. Is there anything else I can get you?” Alex asked.
“No. Thanks for letting me stay over.”
“It’s our pleasure.”
The next morning started out with Alex coaxing everyone out of bed with the delicious aroma of coffee, frying bacon, scrambled eggs, and Southern-style hash browns. He’d even opened up a couple cans of Pillsbury biscuits—the only thing that wasn’t made from scratch—and popped them in the oven in case anyone was interested in his favorite—biscuits and gravy.
Zeb staggered into the kitchen. “Something smells delicious.”
“Good morning,” Alex said cheerily. “I made enough to feed an army. Do you drink coffee?”
“Yes, thank you,” Zeb replied, accepting the proffered mug.
“There’s cream and sugar on the table,” Alex pointed.
Zeb shook his head. “Black is fine.”
After taking a sip, Zeb moved closer to the range to see what Alex had prepared.
“Do you cook breakfast every morning?” Zeb asked.
“You must be joking,” Alex said. “I have to work, and that usually means showing up at the crack of dawn for makeup and wardrobe. The most I can manage is a traveling mug of coffee. Chyna’s just as bad.”
“For some reason I thought models could pick and choose their hours,” Zeb admitted.
“If that were the case, we’d all start work at five in the afternoon,” Alex joked. “Most of us are night owls.”
“Totally.”
Alex pulled a plate out of the cupboard. “Ready to eat?”
“Yeah.”
“Anything in particular?” Alex asked.
“A little of everything please,” Zeb said. Pointing at the pot of gravy, he asked, “What is that?”
Alex arched a brow. “Haven’t you ever had biscuits and gravy?”
Zeb shook his head.
“You’re in for a treat,” Alex said, spreading a dollop of the savory sauce over two biscuits. He added scrambled eggs, some hash browns, and three strips of bacon to the large plate and handed it to Zeb. “Enjoy.”
Zeb took a mouthful and nodded his appreciation as he chewed. When he swallowed and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, he pronounced, “I’m already in love with you.”
Alex giggled. “That was easy.”
“Seriously, dude. You should quit modeling and become a chef.”
“No thanks. Cooking is fun, but making it a career, not so much.”
“You’re really good at it, though,” Zeb said, stuffing more food into his mouth.
“I’m sure my parents would love you for saying that,” Alex said. “They’re not keen on this modeling business and would rather have me tied to the restaurant back home.”
“They own restaurants?”
“Just one,” Alex said. “But it’s pretty successful. For a brief moment I thought I’d join the family enterprise, but then I caught the glamor bug and that idea went down the toilet.”
Chyna and Luca walked in just then and the conversation ended. Alex poured coffee for the pair, helped to plate their breakfasts, and finally joined everyone at the table.
“How’s the rash?” Alex asked.
“A lot better,” Chyna replied. “Thanks for asking.”
“Say no the next time they make you do something uncomfortable,” Zeb recommended.
“Since I’m starting late in the industry, I’m trying a little harder,” Chyna admitted. “I don’t want them to think I’m uncooperative. They were expecting a female and I showed up.”
“Your name?” Alex asked.
“Apparently it’s causing some confusion. I’ll have to think about changing it,” Chyna mused.
“Only if it’s what you want,” Luca defended. “Don’t do it for anyone else.”
“I should have done it when I embraced my male gender,” Chyna said, “except I really like my name. This blows.”
“Hold on,” Zeb said, confused. “You lost me somewhere.”
Chyna glanced at Zeb. “Didn’t Luca tell you I’m intersex?”
Zeb slowly shook his head.
“It wasn’t my story to tell,” Luca said immediately.
“I give you permission to share,” Chyna said, “but save it for another day. Let’s plan our weekend instead. Shall we go dancing tonight?”
“Good idea,” Luca said.
“Sounds wonderful,” Alex said. “Did you have a place in mind?”
“Any venue that’s eighteen or over,” Luca said. “I don’t have a fake ID and neither does Chyna.”
“Me neither,” Zeb added.
“There are lots of places,” Alex said. “A couple in Williamsburg, or we can stay in town and go to Le Bain or Cielo.”
“Whatever you decide is fine with me,” Chyna said. He grabbed Luca’s plate and utensils and headed toward the sink. After rinsing everything, including the frying pans, he loaded the dishwasher.
Turning toward the group, Chyna asked, “Are you guys done? Hand me your dishes and I’ll clean up before going back to bed.”
“Thank you, but we’re not finished yet,” Alex replied. “Are you planning on staying horizontal all afternoon?”
“Yeah, if that’s okay with you guys,” Chyna replied. “I want to hang out with Luca.”
Zeb snorted. “Lucky bastards.”
“You and I will go out,” Alex assured Zeb. “Unless you want to sit here and listen to them mate.”
“Hells to the no. Let me grab a quick shower first.”
“Take your time,” Alex said. “We’re not on a schedule.”
“I want to see as much as possible.”
“Where do you want to go first?” Alex asked.
“Anywhere iconic.”
“All right,” Alex nodded. “How about the 9/11 Memorial?”
“Yeah, I’d like that,” Zeb said. “Although… it might be depressing.”
/> “They’ve done a wonderful job,” Alex said. “It’s deeply moving.”
“Should I bring tissues?”
Alex nodded.
“Why get all emo when you could be doing something fun?” Luca asked, bewildered.
“Because it’s a historical landmark,” Zeb said. “Even though I’ll end up a blubbering mess, I won’t pass it up.”
“Suit yourself,” Luca remarked. “Let’s plan on meeting here around seven?”
“That’s doable,” Alex said. “We can have dinner before we go dancing.”
“Okay,” Luca agreed, and headed toward the bedroom with Chyna.
Zeb gave Alex a pointed look. “Is Chyna still in pain or just moody? I don’t know him that well so I’m at a loss.”
“Maybe a little of both,” Alex said. “If you plan on sticking around a while, you may as well get used to the mood swings.”
“What triggers it?”
“It could be a number of things,” Alex explained. “Most people in the modeling industry are insecure. The sassy smile and posturing is usually a disguise. Any sort of slight, be it real or perceived, can set us off. Tonight, it’s the allergic reaction and possible repercussions. In my case, it might be hormone related.”
“Because….”
“I don’t have the right body parts to make the necessary testosterone on my own.”
“Sorry?”
“Luca didn’t tell you?”
“It seems my roommate left out a few details about you and Chyna.”
“I’m a trans guy.”
Zeb shook his head. “For real?”
Alex gave an impatient huff. “Is it a problem?”
Wide-eyed, Zeb exclaimed, “I never would have guessed.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Alex bit out.
“It’s not meant as an insult,” Zeb assured him. “You look like any other dude I know except you’re taller and better-looking.”
Alex’s hostility retreated and he gave Zeb a wide smile. “Thanks, sugar.”
“I mean it,” Zeb said. “You must have really wanted to change to go through so much trouble with hormones and stuff.”
Grimacing, Alex said, “I’m chalking up your dumb remark to ignorance. You don’t know the first thing about a trans person, do you?”
Being With Him Page 2