“I know, honey. Except you want to do it as much as you don’t. We only have ten more minutes. Then I won’t push you anymore. I promise.”
It was scary to dance with a blindfold, though all he was doing was standing still with his hands on Tomás’s shoulders, allowing him to move his hips in time to the beat. But there was magic in having his sight taken away, because this time when Spenser let go, he couldn’t open his eyes and make it stop. This time, once the beat got its hooks in him, it stayed there. Even when he panicked.
His self-consciousness floundered for a new target. “I must look ridiculous.”
“You look beautiful,” Tomás said, and kept him dancing.
Spenser didn’t enjoy what he was doing, but he didn’t hate it either. It felt like grinding gears that hurt to turn yet wanted to anyway. It reminded him of the time when he’d gone with his aunt in Wisconsin to the House on the Rock, the one nice family outing he remembered. They’d walked out to the farthest reaches of the Infinity Room, the bridge suspended over the forest. He’d stared down through the plexiglass and felt his stomach flip over in terror while his mind reveled in the thrill that they were doing this incredibly stupid thing and getting away with it.
Dancing felt similar, but with the roles reversed. His mind was full of warnings of his imminent death, but his body, free and happy with Tomás’s touch, said shut up and let me have this. It was so much more than simply letting go. It was being this close to Tomás. He was handsome in his dancing getup, but he was something else entirely to touch. To brush against. To feel those muscles working under his hands. To smell his sweat, his deodorant, his uniquely Tomás scent.
To dance with. Awkward Spenser Harris is dancing with a hot guy, and the world isn’t burning down around his ears.
Yet.
“There you go. Don’t stop, Spenser. Keep dancing.”
Was Tomás still moving Spenser’s hips? Were these moves he made all by himself? Did he look ridiculous? Spenser didn’t know, but when Tomás drew them together, ground their hips in a circle, Spenser’s brain stopped whispering he was an idiot and flipped over, as if it had thrown a switch. It stopped telling him he was awful and pointed out that Tomás looked, smelled, and felt amazing. Noticed this man was handsome and wore his muscles well—muscles holding Spenser close, keeping him tight to Tomás’s body. Remarked that Tomás’s sharp, enticing scent was something Spenser should shut up and pay attention to.
Whispered that maybe this was leading somewhere interesting, and Spenser should find out what was at the end of this road.
When he felt Tomás’s stubble on his cheek, Spenser startled, but he didn’t stop dancing. He turned into the touch, and when the motion made their skin brush together a second time, a pulse began in the center of him and radiated out, shutting down all thoughts and directives except let him touch you again and keep dancing.
“There you go.” Tomás’s breath was on Spenser’s cheek. His voice was low and gruff, his body so close it was practically merged with Spenser’s. “Relax and enjoy it. You’re dancing, sweetheart. You’re dancing, and you’re good at it.”
Spenser felt drugged. Drugged and high and lost, and he didn’t want to be found. Older, sleepier parts of him woke, and he turned his head, seeking…more. More touch. More smell.
Taste. He wondered how Tomás would taste.
He leaned closer, breathless as Tomás’s lips grazed the corner of his mouth, his hot breath against Spenser’s skin. Spenser met Tomás’s mouth, parting his lips for a kiss.
The bell above the door sounded, a discordant jangling cascade of notes clashing with the song, and shattered the moment. Tomás stepped out of their embrace, and Spenser staggered back blindly as he pushed up the blindfold.
Laurie and Duon stood in the doorway, regarding them with wide eyes.
Spenser glanced away, and Tomás cleared his throat as he hurried to shut off the music. “Just an exercise. You know the old trick. Blindfolding a student to get them to let go of their self-consciousness.”
“He was sure letting go all right,” Duon drawled, and Laurie shushed him with a quiet chuckle.
Spenser ignored them all, hurrying to the locker room. He blushed the entire time he changed, angry with himself, embarrassed, and…sad. It was the latter that hung on, carving out an emptiness inside him. Or maybe it illuminated something that had been with him all along.
Whatever it was, Spenser didn’t let himself dwell on it. He packed it away with his clothes into his duffel, along with all the other silly, unhelpful emotions dancing with Tomás had woken up.
Spenser wasted no time bugging out of the studio with Duon, making noise about homework and laundry, avoiding further eye contact with Tomás the entire time. Tomás, still dizzy and disoriented as he acknowledged he’d practically made out with the man during a dance lesson, was barely able to muster up a “See you later” as they disappeared.
As soon as they were gone, Laurie rounded on Tomás with a gleam in his eye. “So. You and Spenser?”
Tomás tried to throw up a denial, but he could still feel the scrape of Spenser’s jaw on his cheek, their bodies pressed together in a way that told him exactly what their dance would have led to if they hadn’t been interrupted. He sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s cute as hell. But it would never work.”
“Sure it would. He’s a wonderful man. Great with kids. The kindergarten teacher who rescued Duon. And from the looks of things, a promising dance partner.”
Yeah, there certainly was that. “I never have time to date, and he has Duon to think about. Plus I have my family.”
“He’s into you. It was obvious as anything tonight. And you like him too.” Laurie nudged him playfully in the arm. “Think about it, is all I’m saying.”
Tomás noted the I voted sticker on Laurie’s lapel. Election Day. He’d voted absentee weeks ago, and he hadn’t kept track of the days enough to realize the big moment had finally arrived. The election was a good distraction, though, from thinking about dating Spenser. “Are you guys going to stay up and watch the election returns?”
“We’re going to the Minnesota for All Families headquarters. They’re having a watch party there.” Laurie slung his duffel over his shoulder. “Why don’t you come with us?”
Tomás began to give an automatic denial, then stopped. “Maybe I will.”
Laurie hooked his arm through Tomás’s. “I’m going to kidnap you now, before you change your mind and remember an obligation.”
They drove over separately, but they both listened to election coverage on the radio as they drove, and they compared notes as they made their way from the parking lot to the building. “It’s a good sign that the amendment is failing,” Tomás said. “Not by much, but hopefully it starts failing by a lot as more returns come in. Obama’s doing okay too.”
Laurie shook his head. “It’s too early to know anything on any outcome. I’m not getting excited yet.”
The room teemed with people. For most of the evening the campaign had been busy making last-minute phone calls and arranging rides to polling stations, but now everyone was gathered in an auditorium, talking in low voices as the returns were broadcast on a projector at the foot of the stage. Ed waited for them near the back, talking with Marcus and an older woman with a buzz cut, a bright-orange VOTE NO shirt, and a worried expression. Ed excused himself and joined them as they settled into their seats, but after a quick rehash of the same non-news Tomás and Laurie had shared in the parking lot, they didn’t say much. Ed made small talk with a middle-aged straight couple to his left and a pair of young gay men in the row in front of them who were excited because they’d just voted for the first time. Laurie remained quiet, his gaze fixed on the screen showing the returns as they came in.
Tomás checked his phone for texts, but he didn’t have any. On impulse, he opened the chat window with Spenser from earlier and tapped out a message. I hope you enjoyed your lesson. You did great.
It was about a
s bold as he dared to be, and he worried whether it had been the right thing to say or the right tone as soon as he hit send. But a few minutes later, a reply came.
Thank you. It was more fun than I thought it would be.
Tomás tried to tamp down the ridiculous thrill he got at those words, but he didn’t do very well. I hope you come again. You can, you know. Anytime. Group or private lesson. My treat.
He bit his lip and held his breath, sure that would be a text too far, but the next reply made him grin. Maybe I will.
Tomás didn’t want the conversation to end. Partly because he wanted to flirt with Spenser, partly because the watch party was anything but. He texted Spenser again.
I’m at an amendment watch party with Laurie and Ed. I think it’d be more relaxing to walk across the Mississippi River when it was only partially frozen.
This reply was almost immediate. I had the radio on, but I could tell it was making Duon nervous, so I turned it off.
Well, nothing is happening. You’re not missing anything.
Will you tell me if there’s any news?
Of course I will. Do you mind if it comes in late?
I won’t be able to sleep until I know.
Okay. I’ll tell you, then. Whenever it comes through.
Their conversation was more subdued from that point on. Every hour or so Tomás would give him an update, letting him know there was no change. Eventually Duon went to bed and Spenser put the radio back on, but they still texted occasionally, mostly venting their frustration at no definitive outcome.
Tomás hadn’t meant to get so invested in the vote, but after being in Duluth, seeing everyone so excited, he hadn’t been able to disengage his heart. He hoped for the best, but he didn’t know what would happen if the amendment vote didn’t go their way. He didn’t know what would happen for his rights—or his parents’—if Obama lost and Romney won. He didn’t know what would happen either if the amendment did go their way. All he knew was he couldn’t stop his hope. He hoped so hard his chest hurt, each breath an unbearable tightness against his ribs.
When New England was called for Obama, the room cheered, and Tomás and Spenser shared a joyful bevy of texts. As both Florida and Pennsylvania went for him too, the cheers grew louder. Tomás clapped along, but he couldn’t stop staring at the return numbers for the amendment. They were ahead, but not by much.
At eleven, Ohio went to Obama, and the Presidential election was declared over to another round of riotous cheers. Laurie, Ed, Tomás, and everyone around them exchanged hugs and shouts of joy, and Tomás sent Spenser a picture of them all grinning and making the thumbs-up sign. But at midnight, Amendment 1 still hadn’t been called. All signs indicated it wouldn’t pass, but it was too close to know for sure.
Ed began to rub his neck more and more, and when he took the last of the narcotics in the pill pouch he kept in his pocket, Laurie declared they were going home for the night. Tomás stayed another hour, but there were few people left, and he realized nice as they were, none of them were the people he wanted to celebrate or console himself with.
I’m coming home, he texted Spenser.
I’ll still be up when you get here. Stop by, if you want.
Tomás wanted to, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not. If he went over, after all the flirting, after their dance, he’d be starting something. With Duon’s official legal caretaker. With his neighbor. What if it didn’t go well? What if it went too well?
What if they got so close he had to explain his family—and Spenser reacted badly? What if it got in the way of his relationship with Duon?
What if this amendment passed and wrecked all their lives?
He listened to Minnesota Public Radio all the way home, and he drove slowly, prolonging the decision he was about to make. Once he was at the parking lot, he sat in his car, avoiding going inside while he dithered over whether or not it was a good idea to go through this door with Spenser. Admitted the real reason he was nervous to start things with Spenser—with anyone.
What if he fell for someone…and the lawyers couldn’t help his parents? What if his parents had to go back to Mexico and Tomás’s heart was torn in half because no matter what he did he’d have to leave someone behind?
Better not stop by. Better go home and tell him you were too tired. Better to disappoint you both now than break everyone’s heart later.
As he put his hand on the keys to turn off the car, an announcement came through the radio.
“It’s official. They’re calling it. Amendment 1 to the Minnesota State Constitution has failed. The marriage ban has not passed.”
Tomás froze.
He stared unseeing at the dashboard, sure he had to have misheard, but as he listened they kept saying it over and over again, trotting out pundits from the national radio, not local, explaining how it had come about, what counties had given it the final push, and what was expected now that the measure had failed to pass.
Failed to pass. The amendment had failed to pass. There would be no discrimination in the Minnesota constitution. Because the people had said no.
They’d said no.
“It’s the first time in US history voters have defeated an amendment banning same-sex marriage,” the announcer went on. “This is one for the history books. Because if this kind of support carries over, and all signs point that it will, it means Minnesota could easily be looking at full marriage equality within the next year. And with this kind of referendum from a Midwestern state, the tide of public opinion truly has turned on the issue of same-sex marriage.”
Tomás let out his breath. He breathed in again, breathed out. Turned off the engine and let the silence of the car ring in his ears.
He was out of the car before the first tears ran down his cheek, but this time he didn’t try to stop them from falling. He felt drunk, giddy, like this had all been some kind of a dream, one he didn’t want to wake up from. He stumbled up the stairs to the door, pulled it open, and hurried down the hall to apartment three.
Spenser had the door open before he could knock. He held it wide, and they stared at each other, unspeaking, tears streaking their faces. In the kitchen, MPR chattered on, but in the doorway Tomás and Spenser stood frozen.
The amendment failed.
Hope lived.
Tomás didn’t know who moved first. Maybe they moved together, a continuation of their shared, strange, mad dream, the one that had started on the dance floor hours ago. The hope fueled by touch, propelled by the promise of the vote.
Whatever the source, all Tomás knew was one minute he stared at Spenser and the next Spenser’s face was in his hands, their lips meeting in a kiss more benediction than explosion of passion. A soft press of flesh, a gentle point of contact, but it was enough to finish lighting the spark between them. The flame kindled by their dance flickered and swelled as their lips moved against one another, driven by the wonderful giddiness of possibility.
The kiss ended as quickly as it began. Spenser drew away first, but he caught Tomás’s hand, squeezed it. Tomás squeezed back. They stared at one another, the moment heavy with potential as they weighed the decision before them. Tomás saw the hope in Spenser’s face, but he also noted the hesitation. The fear.
If we open this door, what happens next?
Tomás didn’t know. Except as he stood there, the kiss still burning his lips, he acknowledged the door was already open. The only thing left was to go through.
He stepped forward and kissed Spenser again, another tentative meeting of lips. Then, with a reluctant stroke of Spenser’s cheek, he withdrew. “Good night, Spenser.”
“Good night, Tomás.” Spenser’s reply was soft as he held the door, not closing it until Tomás had opened his own. Even then he did so slowly, watching Tomás until the barrier closed between them.
No one was awake as Tomás entered his apartment. It smelled of beans and spice, of fresh tortillas. Of home, of safety, of love. He ate the plate of food his mother had pu
t in the oven by the light of the saint candle his mother kept burning on the kitchen counter, then crept to his room, undressed, and crawled under the covers. Lying on his back, he stared at the ceiling, letting everything sink in.
Marriage equality was going to happen. It had already started. Obama had been elected for a second term, with promises of passing the DREAM act and more.
Spenser Harris had kissed him, tender and sweet like a fairy tale.
With his father’s snores drifting through the wall, his belly gurgling with his mother’s food, and Spenser’s soft lips and quietly eager gaze lingering in his memory, Tomás shut his eyes, tears leaking out as his face split into a grin he couldn’t stop.
CHAPTER SIX
Everyone warned Spenser about the honeymoon period.
Everyone warned him: Ryan, Vicky, Duon’s caseworker, other people in the host home support group. For several months, they said, Duon would be on his best behavior, and things would for the most part be fine. Eventually, however, Duon’s subconscious would decide to accept he was truly in a safe place, and the things he’d been avoiding processing for years would rise to the surface, one by one or possibly even all at once. They told Spenser to be ready and to not set things up too lax and easy in these opening days to make his job harder later.
Since Spenser was still unpacking his own shit and felt his parenting on his best day was akin to putting an elephant in flippers, the thought of his job becoming more difficult made him want to curl into a ball. Also, if what Duon was throwing at him now was part of the honeymoon performance, Spenser quaked in fear of the day his foster son brought the curtain down.
To start, unless Spenser pulled him out of it, Duon never left his room. He had a laptop issued by the school, and he used it as a television, stereo system, and phone booth. He watched random nonsense on YouTube that would never in a million years make it onto so much as local access cable, and yet Duon was glued to it. He loved watching people yell over each other as they played video games or pulled jump scares on each other in a public park. He hooted in laughter over three-minute rants about toilet paper delivered in slurred slang broken up by jarring edit cuts. He listened to music via free streaming services, but the songs were nothing Spenser had ever heard before.
Enjoy the Dance Page 8