All of the Above

by Quinn Anderson

  “No, I mean, your ends.” He gestured with his fork. “Are they always that color?”

  “Oh no, I just dyed them.” Brendon pulled a section forward and inspected it. “This is a much darker blue than usual. It’ll fade in a week or two to turquoise, and then robin’s egg, which is my favorite.”

  Matt stared at him, wide-eyed and amused.

  After a moment, it occurred to Brendon what he’d meant. “Oh! You mean do I always dye my hair unnatural colors? Yeah, I’ve been doing that since high school.” He fidgeted. “Because of a book called Rainbow Boys.”

  Matt’s expression was a shade too neutral. “I just picked up that book. Same day I met you.”

  Brendon swallowed. This was his chance to prove he wasn’t a complete phony. “I was pretty sure I saw you holding it. I hope you love it. You should be able to spot my favorite character right away.”

  Matt relaxed by a fraction. “Lemme guess. Nelson?”

  “That’s the one.” Brendon smiled. “He was a big inspiration for me when I was younger. He has his fair share of issues, but he’s himself, no matter what anyone thinks.”

  Matt nodded. “I like him so far. So, what colors has your hair been?”

  “I had neon-pink streaks a while back, but they were too much upkeep. They faded to this pastel color that was too gay even for me.”

  At that, Matt burst out laughing.

  Encouraged, Brendon continued. “I usually stick to dip dyeing. Sometimes purple, sometimes pink, but usually blue. I doubt I’m going to get my security deposit back when I move out of my place. My bathroom looks like I killed and exsanguinated a Smurf in the tub.”

  Matt laughed again. “Seems like an awful lot of fuss.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “No, I do. I just don’t understand it, I guess. If it takes more than five minutes, it’s too much effort for me. I roll out of bed in the morning, put on whatever’s clean, and I’m out the door.”

  Brendon suppressed a grin. Yeah, and you look like it too.

  Surprisingly, the things they disagreed on cemented in Brendon’s head that Matt was a perfect match for him. If they’d been too similar, he would have gotten bored. Matt wasn’t shy about sharing his views either, which Brendon attributed to both his personality and his career.

  “They don’t pay me to be wishy-washy,” Matt explained at one point. “They want me to state everything I think as if it were fact. It’s second nature to me now.”

  Wishy-washy was one term Brendon would never use to describe him. If anything, Matt was a bit too honest. He told Brendon a story from his college years involving a dare, a pineapple, and a lit firecracker that Brendon could have lived a long, happy life without ever hearing. And when they broached the topic of work, Matt had one thing to say.

  “I can’t handle fake people.” Matt shrugged. “I know everyone says that, but I mean it. Have you ever worked an office job?”

  Brendon shook his head.

  “Avoid it if you can. I swear, offices are little microcosms where all everyone does is gossip and act like they’re still in high school. It wouldn’t bother me so much if I didn’t have to participate in it to some degree. If I think someone’s full of shit, I still have to work with them, so I smile and say hi in the hall same as everyone else. It eats me up.”

  “I understand completely,” Brendon said. “I have to do the same thing with customers. Someone could tell me they murdered their husband, and I’d have to smile and sell them dry shampoo.”

  “I’m so glad you understand. Sorry for getting all negative. It’s just, that and the lying thing are my two deal breakers.”

  Brendon wet his lips. “The lying thing?”

  “Yeah, if you lie to me, it’s over. I had this ex who put me through hell, always telling me one thing and doing another. I swore I’d never go through that again. I can’t respect someone who can lie to my face, and I certainly can’t trust them.”

  Well, fuck. That didn’t bode well for Brendon.

  Guilt descended on him like ice water. He kept up his side of the conversation, but he second-guessed every word, worried he’d say something that wasn’t the whole truth. Or worse: that he’d confess his whole sordid plot to Matt and end their relationship before it could begin.

  There was a tough question he had to ponder: would it be better to tell the truth now, or was it already too late? If honesty was this important to Matt, any amount of subterfuge might be a deal breaker. If only Matt weren’t turning out to be so amazing, flaws included. He was funny and charming and sweet and romantic. Pretty much the whole package. Brendon’s throat got dry every time he thought of upsetting him.

  Once again, Brendon had made a plan that only went so far. He hadn’t considered what he would do after they’d met. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but there was a part of him that had honestly never planned on telling Matt the truth. It hadn’t seemed important until he’d mentioned hating liars. Now Brendon was trapped between the proverbial rock and hard place.

  Sasha would know what to do. I should ask her.

  He was considering slipping his phone out of his pocket and texting her when Marcel brought their check. Before Brendon could so much as reach for it, Matt picked it up, slid some cash into the fold, and handed it back to Marcel. “Keep it.”

  Brendon swallowed. “I’m happy to pay for my half.”

  “I asked you out, so it’s only fair I pay. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t. This time. Thank you for dinner.”

  “My pleasure.” Matt cocked his head. “You’re looking at me like I just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.”

  “Sorry. It’s just . . . the way you paid was really smooth. That couldn’t have taken more than six seconds.”

  Matt laughed, and the sound rolled over Brendon, deep and rich. “Maybe next time we can time it. We can even make a bet out of it. If it’s under six seconds, I win. If it’s more, you win.”

  Brendon smiled. “Next time?”

  “I think so, yeah.” Matt reached across the table and took his hand. “Do you?”

  “I do.” Brendon swallowed. “And if I win, what do I get?”

  “That’s a good question. Let me know when you come up with something.”

  “You’re a tease.”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  They fell silent. It occurred to Brendon that with their dinner eaten and the bill paid, they had no reason to stick around. The date could end at any time. He didn’t want it to, but he was dying to call Sasha and ask for her advice.

  Matt threw his cloth napkin onto the table and stood up. “Care to join me on the balcony? I bet they won’t mind if we slip out there for a moment.” He held out his hand to Brendon as if he meant to escort him.

  Brendon hesitated, not because he didn’t want to go, but because he did. He loved the balcony. He had a dozen wonderful memories of sitting on the ledge and watching the city lights blend together.

  Guilt ate at him like acid. If things between Matt and him didn’t work out, would he think of Matt every time he went out there? Would he think about how he lied to a good guy and ruined something great with his impulsiveness? The balcony could transform from one of his favorite places in town to a physical representation of how he always managed to fuck things up.

  He looked away. “Rain check? I’m pretty tired, and I have an early day tomorrow. I mentioned before.”

  Matt let his hand drop. If he was disappointed, he gave no indication. “Sure. I’m certain we’ll end up out there eventually.”

  At least one of us is.

  They gathered their things and left. Brendon shivered as soon as he walked outside. The night had turned cold, and the wind hadn’t let up. It was strange: he was even more nervous now than he’d been at the beginning of the evening.

  “I had a really great time,” Matt said.

  “Me too.” Brendon hesitated. “Did you drive here? My car is right over there. I could give you a ride.”


  “I drove, and I’m parked over there.” He pointed in the opposite direction. “I think this is where we part ways.”

  Brendon didn’t reply; he didn’t trust himself to. A good-night kiss had been in the back of his mind all night, but now it surged forward and seemed to dangle in the air between them. But would it happen? He wanted it to, even if he didn’t feel he deserved one.

  Matt stepped closer. “Can I call you sometime?”

  Brendon inhaled and caught the faint scent of Matt’s cologne among the aroma of spices from the restaurant. “I’d like that.”

  “When’s the next time you’re free?”

  “I can count on having one day off every week, but my schedule changes. Can I let you know?”

  “Sure.” Matt took another half step closer and touched Brendon’s hand. “You’re freezing.”

  “I usually am.”

  “Want me to warm you up?” Matt looked so handsome in the starlight, smiling at Brendon while his eyes glinted with mischief.

  The answer was yes, but Brendon wasn’t quite comfortable saying it. The silence dragged on.

  Matt’s expression softened. “Brendon, can I ask you something?”

  Please ask to kiss me. “Yes.”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  Brendon started. “What? Why would you think that?”

  “You sort of shut down halfway through dinner. Or, at least, I think you did. You’re more reserved than the people I’m used to.”

  Damn. Should have taken Sasha’s advice and smiled more.

  Oblivious to his internal monologue, Matt continued. “I spend all day with writers, and we’re a talkative bunch. You, however, are about as easy to read as fine print.” He reached up and brushed a finger along Brendon’s jaw. “I don’t mind a little mystery. In fact, I think it’s sexy. But it doesn’t make it easy to judge if I need to apologize for something.”

  “No, you’re fine. I’m just”—a bad person—“I’m not always the most verbose.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Matt licked his lips. “Not about you being quiet. About me not screwing up. There was something else I wanted to ask.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I didn’t get to a lot of the things I wanted to find out about you tonight, and since we don’t know when we’ll get another chance to hang out, I thought maybe I could make up some quiz questions for you.”

  “Quiz questions?”

  “Yeah. I need the practice for my job anyway. I figured I could text you, and you can answer whenever you have some free time between work and school. You can help me come up with new ideas, and I can get to know you based on your answers. It’s win-win.”

  God, that was cute. A quiz was what had gotten them into this mess, but who was Brendon to deny Matt such a simple and well-intentioned request?

  “Sure. I’d like that.” He smiled. “But only if I get to ask you some questions too.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Before Brendon could react, Matt slid a hand into his hair and kissed him on the lips. It was brief but firm. It left Brendon breathless. Matt tasted like the lemon he’d squeezed into his water.

  He pulled away much too soon. “Let me walk you to your car.”

  And Brendon, lord help him, was left so warm and light from that one kiss, he would have let Matt walk him off the edge of the Earth. If it was with Matt, the idea of falling didn’t seem so bad.

  By the time Brendon got home, he was so tired, the overhead light in his kitchen trembled when he looked at it. He suspected all the emotional turmoil had left him more drained than usual. He made the executive decision to talk to Sasha tomorrow. Desperate as he was for advice, he could hardly stand, let alone have a serious conversation.

  But the next morning, when he arrived at the mall—ratty and still exhausted—she wasn’t there. Areesh was, but he was so hungover, he was a husk of his usual self. No help to Brendon at all.

  Brendon tried to focus on work. Really, he did. But his brain was stuck on the same train of thought: Matt and the most wonderful, horrible first date ever. He wanted to focus on the positive—their first date had brought them one step closer to proving his soul mate theory correct—but dwelling on it just made him more miserable. And more indecisive.

  Many times in his life, he’d wished for a crystal ball, but now he wanted one so badly it ached.

  Brendon was so distracted that, by lunchtime, he’d burned himself a half dozen times on his favorite turquoise hair straightener. He was lucky he hadn’t singed anyone’s hair off. The last thing he needed was an irate customer to make working retail even more hellish.

  Three-quarters of the way into his shift, he clamped his thumb between two burning-hot metal plates and decided he’d had enough. This was the twenty-first century. They had these remarkable devices called phones. He’d take a break as soon as he could, call Sasha, and tell her everything.

  When Sasha wasn’t at work, she was either home or at her mom’s. If the latter was the case and Brendon called her, she would put him on speaker and insist he say hi. Mrs. Sharaf was a sweet woman, and he loved her stories about growing up in India, but if he had to sit through one today, he would scream.

  There was one way he could hedge his bets. Areesh.

  As soon as Brendon had finished with his latest customer, he wandered over to Areesh’s kiosk. Areesh had borrowed some sunglasses from the next cart over and was sitting with his head down on the counter. A few of the people milling past gave him concerned albeit judgmental glances, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

  “Rough night?” Brendon asked in lieu of announcing his presence.

  Areesh made an unsettling grunting sound. “No, last night was fun. It’s today that’s not agreeing with me.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “A cure for hangovers. Or a noose.”

  Brendon laughed. “Do you really want to hang yourself while your head feels the way it does?”

  Areesh groaned. “Good point. Just thinking about it hurts.” He managed to push himself upright. “You need something?”

  “Yeah. Where’s your wife today?”

  “She’s at home. She was supposed to work, but as punishment for getting drunk, she made me come in instead.” He muttered something in Hindi. Brendon was far from fluent, but he was positive Areesh had said “devil woman.”

  “I need to talk to her. Think she’s available?”

  “Sure. Call her.” He rolled his shoulders in a gentle approximation of a shrug. “She’s probably sitting at home, eating bonbons, and basking in my misery.”

  “That’s a bit harsh,” Brendon said, even as he fully believed that was what she was doing. “But I will, thanks. Lemme know if you need anything.”

  “The quiet and darkness of death.”

  “I’ll work on that. In the meantime, I suggest something greasy from the food court.”

  Areesh’s garbled noises of distress sounded behind Brendon as he trekked back to his post. He hopped onto the kiosk stool and made the phone call he’d been both anticipating and dreading.

  Sasha picked up on the first ring. “Did my husband con you into calling me?”

  “Afternoon to you too. And no, this call is pleasure, not business.”

  “Good, because I’ve already told him a dozen times I’m not coming to get him. He did this to himself. You know we’re not even supposed to drink, right?”

  “Yeah, I was pretty sure that’s one of the bigger tenets of your religion.”

  “It is! And what does he do? He gets drunk. I swear, he—”

  “Sasha,” Brendon interrupted, “I called for a reason.”

  “Arre, haan. Sorry, beta. Forgive me. You probably want to talk about your date last night.”

  “Yup.” Brendon’s stomach churned with nerves, but he kept his tone light. “I’m surprised you didn’t call me first to beg for details.”

  “Believe it or not, I had thing
s to do this morning that didn’t involve living vicariously through you.” She paused. “Though since I’ve got you on the phone, you might as well tell me. Did you have a good time?”

  “I had a fantastic time. Right up until I didn’t.”

  “What happened?”

  “I . . . ran into some issues. I tried to use everything I knew about him to show him how much we have in common, but I think he saw through it. He got all stiff and weird at one point.”

  “Sounds like he’s an intelligent man. I had a feeling he would catch on. Is that when you told him the truth?”

  Brendon nearly dropped his phone. “What? Of course not. I didn’t want him to hate me. I played it off instead.”

  Sasha was silent for a long moment. “Brendon, my friend, you did eventually tell him, right?”

  “Well, that’s sort of why I called.” He switched his phone to the other ear. “Lying to him felt terrible, but I don’t want to lose him. Do you think I should—”

  He never got to finish that sentence, due to the high-pitched shriek that pierced through his speakers. Brendon had to hold the phone away from his ear.

  “You didn’t tell him?” Sasha screeched. “Ya Allah! Bewakoof insaan—”

  He continued to hold the phone at arm’s length while she yelled several more phrases in Hindi that he suspected were less than complimentary.

  When she paused for breath, he said, “You know, insults are less effective when the insultee doesn’t know what you’re saying.”

  “I don’t care. Seriously, Brendon? How could you not tell him?”

  Fearing another outburst, Brendon kept his answer brief. “He hates liars.”

  “All the more reason to stop lying to him. What were you thinking? You botched the final part of the plan.”

  “Wait a minute, you never said telling him was part of the plan.”

  “Because it was so obvious, I didn’t think it needed to be said! I can’t imagine what you were thinking, or how you made it through the whole date without confessing. What did you do? Pretend you didn’t know anything about him?”