by KD Fisher
They stood up. “How about I get the drinks and you wait for your friends?”
Which I supposed was a reasonable plan. Though I’m always uncomfortable when someone new buys me a drink. I know that’s a little backwards, but it ends up making me feel indebted to them in an endless-cycle-of-debt-repayment-debt-repayment way. No, but you bought last time. Yes, but you bought the time before that.
I realized Sidney had said something. “Um, sure, thanks.”
One corner of their mouth crept up. “I asked what you wanted.”
“Right. Shit. Sorry, I’m a little distracted.” I didn’t even know why. It was just drinks. And Sidney, while attractive and smart, didn’t date people, which was handy since neither did I, historically speaking. “I’ll have a Coke, thanks.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I was still watching their retreat when Oscar popped in as if from the ether. “That the one Mia wants to set up Mase with?”
“Seriously, how the hell do you do that?”
He frowned in Sidney’s direction, hovering over our second favorite table without taking a seat. “That’s the new person, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think I want to talk to new people today.”
I weighed a couple of replies—I didn’t think Sidney would be a drag on Oscar’s anxiety too badly, but drinks in general was a drag on his anxiety, so I also didn’t want to dismiss the possibility—before shrugging. “Next week?”
This got me a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Dec. Make my apologies.”
“Sure. Love ya, kid.”
His hand flapped in a wave as he melted back into the crowd.
Sidney returned with what looked, to my trained eye, like two Cokes. Damn, I should have told them they didn’t have to abstain just because I was. “We’re going to be one person down tonight,” I said, accepting the glass. “Oscar is sitting this one out.”
“Make that three. I just got a text from Mia that said she and Ronnie have some urgent responsibility having to do with Ronnie’s sister.”
“Ooooh. Such intrigue.”
They cocked an eyebrow at me from behind their glasses. “Is it?”
“Kind of? Like, it’s a big deal her sister agreed to be maid of honor, especially because half of her family still deadnames her to her face.”
They grimaced. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah, it’s super shitty. So the wedding is a big thing to start and—” My eyes caught on Mason. My sweet, gorgeous, slightly melancholic ex.
We’d called ourselves the Marginalized Motherfuckers as a joke because for a while in college every conversation we had revolved around...marginalization. Which doesn’t sound like fun, and we wouldn’t do that again, but I think it was probably a developmental stage we all had to go through. And it brought us together as a family in a way that talking about, I don’t know, Kant or chemistry or something probably wouldn’t have.
Mia was the Korean one (also a lesbian!), Ronnie was white (but trans!), I was white (but queer!), Oscar was half-white, half-Mexican (and gay!), and Mason was the self-appointed token black guy (and pansexual!) approaching the table with a guarded smile.
“Hey, Dec.”
I sprang up to give him a hug. “Mase! We’ve been abandoned by the other Motherfuckers. But look, Sidney’s here!” I made an extravagant Vanna White arm motion in Sidney’s general direction because apparently I couldn’t stop being a jackass.
“I’m Sidney Worrell. Nice to meet you.”
“Mason Ertz-Scott.”
They shook hands, both of them looking like models for different things. Mase would be Suave Young Businessman on His Way to an Important Meeting, and Sidney would be Nerdy Person at Cafe Table Staring Contemplatively into Their Coffee. Not that I spend a lot of time coming up with stock photo descriptions for real people or anything like that.
Suave Young Businessman and Nerdy Person at Cafe Table both sat down again, which meant I did too. Except now Mase didn’t have a drink. This would be the perfect opportunity to give them a chance to chat, right? I sprang back up. “Beer, babe?” Horror at the slip almost stopped my heart. “Oh my god I haven’t called you that in years, what is wrong with me? Sorry. Do you want a beer?”
“You’re buying me a drink and calling me ‘babe’? I sure hope you’re planning to text me in the morning, Casanova.”
“Oh shove it—” I broke off. Because Sidney. “Just for that I’m getting you a light beer!” I—okay—flounced off in the direction of the bar, ignoring his laughter behind me.
I’d at least stopped blushing by the time I returned to the table, though the reprieve was short lived. They were talking about Sidney’s video series idea.
“Wait.” I set a beer (not light) in front of Mason. “You’re calling it The Love Study? That sounds terrible.”
Mase punched my arm.
“What? It does! I mean...doesn’t it?”
Sidney nodded, not quite in agreement, more like they knew what I meant and were acknowledging it. “I think it gets across the crudest sense of what we’re trying to do in the fewest number of words. It abbreviates decently, though I did try to think of a name that could be spoken, like AWOL. The Love Study is short, to the point, and easy for people to remember. Which makes it perfect for YouTube.”
“Yeah, but...” I took a disconsolate sip of my Coke. “Doesn’t it sorta make me sound like a tool? I’m the subject of—” I made my voice into Dramatic Movie Announcer Voice, “—The Love Study.”
Mason giggled, momentarily pressing the back of his hand against his lips to stifle it before giving in and flat-out giggling, the monster. “Honey, you’ve been the subject of plenty of love studies before. Maybe Sidney will get somewhere when the rest of us couldn’t.”
“Hey! Uncool!” Blushing again. “So uncool.”
“Well, look,” Sidney said, ignoring our childish byplay. “The name isn’t set in stone, though I’d probably have to run a new one by the sponsor, and—”
“Oh, you got the sponsorship?” I interrupted.
“Yes. But I’m sure I can find someone else if you’re not into it. I don’t want to force you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“No one’s comfortable with dating,” Mase mumbled.
Sidney turned on him. “You could do it too! You could both be part of The Love Study. We could compare and contrast your experiences, and the fact that you have a history with each other only adds—”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Er, sorry, I...lost control for a second there. Forget I asked.”
He waved. “You seem like a perfectly nice person and everything, but I’m not going to date for the benefit of your audience. I have a hard enough time dating for my own benefit.” Mason, the man I’d once almost pledged to spend my whole life with, slumped and sipped his beer.
I reached for his hand. “I’m really sorry. Again.”
“I know. And it wouldn’t have been good. I know that too. I want, like, romance and flowers and shit. You aren’t even a little interested in that stuff, which I thought was a compromise I could make, but in reality it would have hurt me too much. It’s just endless trying to meet new people.” His eyes narrowed on mine. “Plus, you didn’t tell me you were dating again.”
“I’m not. In practice. It’s more sort of...theoretical. At this point. Until Sidney puts me in front of their audience, or whatever.” Also, right, Sidney. I looked over to find them watching us, something I couldn’t quite make out in their expression. Not quite sadness, not quite longing? Yearning, maybe, but only at the edges.
A second later it was gone. “Okay, not talking about your experiences I get,” they said to Mase. “But do you think you could come on the show to speak to Declan’s past experiences? What made him the man he is today, something like that?”
“Oh sure. If we’re just roasting Declan, count me in.”
I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Maybe not roasting. I find the...cultural context of having left someone at the altar fascinating. What it means to so publicly commit, especially for queer people, and then to so publicly break up.”
“Ha, yeah, I can totally star as the poor loser who got dumped on his wedding day and never recovered.” He gestured to himself. “I’m basically Ms. Havisham right now.”
I hit him. “He’s lying, don’t listen to him.”
He leaned forward to say, confidentially, to Sidney, “I sleep in my wedding gown every night. It’s tragic.”
“Oh my god.” I did stop it eyes at him. “Seriously, he’s just messing around.”
Sidney looked from one of us to the other, eyebrows slightly raised. “I’ve always wondered if more people wish they hadn’t gone through with a marriage when they did. Or wish they had when they didn’t.”
Mason and I traded glances. “Not us,” I said.
“Nope. I could have seriously throttled this asshole six years ago, and I’m pretty sure our friends would have helped me hide the body, but in a way, he saved us a world of pain. Or at least made it come all at once instead of unraveling for years as we grew to hate each other.”
“You don’t seem to hate each other now.” They pushed their glasses up and I had to stifle the urge to mirror the gesture.
“Nah, I love the bastard.” Mase leaned over to kiss my cheek. “I am so watching The Love Study. I can’t wait. I’m gonna make popcorn. Oh! I’ll have everyone over to watch at my place. It’s going to be dee-lightful to see you going on a bunch of stupid dates and then being forced to talk about them.”
“I’m not forcing him—” Sidney was saying, right as I said, “They might not be stupid—” We stopped, both of us looking away.
“Oh yes,” Mason murmured. “Yes, yes, yes, I foresee a whole lot of popcorn. We’re gonna make a drinking game up for this thing. Maybe we’ll make up a drink too. I can’t wait.”
I pouted. “You’re the worst.”
“You left me at the altar, sunshine.”
For a second I tried to think about a comeback that would somehow make gathering our friends to eat popcorn and watch me embarrass myself on YouTube a bigger crime than leaving him at the altar, but...it wasn’t. “Yeah, okay, you win. Forever.”
“You’re damn right I do.” As if he felt accomplished now that he’d scored that point, Mason turned to Sidney. “What else do you do, when you’re not giving out advice? You work with Mia, right?”
“Yep, though in a different department. I stock groceries. What do you do?”
“I’m a loan officer at a bank. It’s exactly as glamorous as it sounds. I’d like to work my way up to financial manager, but it’s slow going.”
I cleared my throat. “Plus, you don’t really want to be a financial manager.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s a career. I really do want a career.”
“A boring one.”
“Not everyone can live the glamorous life of an office temp forever, Dec.” He took a pull on his beer and since we had company I resolved to leave him alone. “Sidney, you gotta tell me how you moved up here. I hyperventilate if I even think about moving, it’s so fucking expensive.”
“It really is. I’d been working as a server in a restaurant, and making decent money I guess? But I was skipping sleep to get videos out, and I rented a room in a house mostly because moving is awful, but I had no control over background noise.”
“So you were making money but hated your life?”
Sidney laughed low, like the laugh itself acknowledged it was being kind of dark. “It was time for a change, let’s say.”
“What’s your, like, long-term plan? Keep stocking groceries and doling out advice on YouTube until you make enough to do it full-time?”
Which was a super good question and I was a little chagrined I hadn’t asked it myself, though I had been sorta distracted by the whole going on YouTube so Sidney could advise me thing.
“I’m not sure I have a concrete plan right now. I didn’t start out thinking I was actually going to make any money on YouTube. But in the last year I’ve received more interest from advertisers than before, so at this point it’s looking like that might be a semi-reasonable goal.”
Mase nodded. “It’s hard for me to imagine being comfortable being on video that much. Like, I could come on to poke Dec, but I think if I had a channel of my own it’d be overwhelming.”
“It can be, for sure. But I think it helps in a way that I...” They paused. “I guess I’ve always been really awkward face-to-face? So being on video is easier for me. It’s a way of connecting to people that doesn’t rely on in-person human interaction. Um. That sounds terrible.” Their nose crinkled up. Adorably. In a vaguely intriguing way.
“Yeah, I can sort of see that. Would YouTube be your primary job if you had that option?” Mase gestured with his beer. “In a perfect world, would you do it full-time?”
“I’m not sure...in a perfect world? I think I would be able to quit the store, keep doing videos, and go back to school. Maybe become a therapist, or a psychologist.”
Oooooh, I could totally picture that. “Wow, that would be amazing.” I poked Mason meaningfully. He’d been thinking about grad school basically since we graduated from college.
“It’s so expensive, though,” he said. “At least when I’ve looked into it, it was.”
“Exactly. I still have student loans from undergrad, how can I sign up for more?”
They lapsed into a conversation about the ins and outs of financial aid for graduate school and I listened with only half of my brain reporting for duty. I was pretty sure the “humans only use 10 percent of their brain” thing was a myth, but whatever the percent, I was using quite a bit less than that on tracking my companions’ conversation.
Mostly I was thinking about how great it would be to have more queer therapists in the world. Or more specifically, how great it would have been for me to have seen a queer therapist after the whole attempted-wedding-freak-out thing. Not that my straight AF therapist had been bad! She’d been nice! But I didn’t think she’d totally understood the, like...cultural phenomenon that was suddenly being allowed to get married. It was 2015, it was legal, everyone was doing it, so it seemed like we might as well. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Mason. I loved him a lot. I loved him so much that I failed to realize until it was too late that I didn’t really want to get married at all.
Then I was there, and he was there, and everyone we knew and loved was there, and I couldn’t breathe. The rest of my life was a blur of impossibility because I didn’t know if I was going to get through the next thirty seconds. I didn’t calm down until the limo was miles away. The therapist eventually told me that thinking you’re going to die right where you’re sitting is some kind of classic panic attack thing, but I didn’t know that then.
What I knew was that not getting married felt better than getting married. So I’d decided to save myself and everyone else the hassle of ever going through that again.
No more romance. Full stop. The end.
If that wasn’t the end, if I was going to try doing this again, how could I ever ask anyone to put their faith in me? Most days I could only commit to getting out of bed if I had to go to work. I regularly skipped breakfast because I hit snooze too many times.
I’d left my last boyfriend at the altar. How do you ever prove you’re trustworthy if you’ve done something like that?
Sidney laughed, bringing me back to our second favorite table at The Hole, back to this moment, in which I was nursing a Coke and ruminating over the past. Not the best idea.
I leaned forward and said confidentially to Sidney, “Do you want to hear about the time Mase moaned so loudly we thoug
ht the gay history professor was going to bust in on us while we were having sex in the empty office next to his?”
They grinned. “Hell yes.”
Mason pulled out all the dignity he could manage while slumped into a bar booth. “I still maintain that he would have joined in, which means technically I should have been louder. He was super hot.”
Sidney and I laughed. After a second Mase gave up the stoic act and grinned. Weirdly, I thought old Sidney might make it back to drinks again. Maybe the trick was not banging any of the Motherfuckers. Good plan, I thought at them, and started another story.
Don’t miss The Love Study by Kris Ripper, out from Carina Adores!
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Copyright © 2020 by Kris Ripper
Don’t miss these great romances from Carina Adores!
Carina Adores is home to highly romantic contemporary love stories where LGBTQ+ characters find their happily-ever-afters.
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