[Featured in FreetheLGBT: Diverse Literature reading list and Humor: Young. Dumb. Full of Fun list]
Colin Mitchell, a photographer at a well-known store, Snapshot, is openly gay--mostly. His ideal experiences are sexcapades that are always subtle, n...
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Colin had not lost his shit... yet.
Well, maybe he had. Maybe he was just trying to assure himself that he was okay, that was wasn't going to freak out over Marcus being around Peter. But that was a fat lie, especially after how shaken he was after that phone call.
He couldn't have been more grateful that he had decided to sit at the 24-hour diner he found, instead of driving all the way to the apartment. Before he got the call from Peter-- or Marcus, if he knew better-- he had been sitting in one of the booths, surrounded with the savory smell of pancakes and hash browns and coffee that brewed too long. He nursed a coke, praying that the bubbles, which burned their way down his throat, after every sip would take his mind off Peter.
It worked-- for a while. But as the night wore on, hour after hour, as the family with those two little boys who had fallen asleep right after they ordered their food left, and as the waitress moved to another booth, head against the window with a daydreamy look on her face, Colin could no longer clutch on the hope that everything was fine.
He should have gone with Peter. If he hadn't been able to convince his partner, he should have at least made it an option to go with, no matter how bad blood ran between him and Marcus Hall. But he couldn't.
When the call had come through, he had been flooded with relief that Peter had contacted him. He knew his person, knew how stubborn he was, knew how he wouldn't call unless he was deep in some sort of fucked up shit.
Then again, everything related to Marcus Hall was fucked up shit.
And it was confirmed when Peter didn't answer him after he spoke, was more deep-seated when the voice that came was with a melting smile that was almost tangible.
But the grip Colin had on himself loosened when the voice implied that Peter wasn't fully-clothed. To top it off, he was drunk and alone with Marcus. He wanted to believe that it was a lie Marcus was using to fuck with his head, but he could only pretend so far. Marcus had Peter's phone and that was all the confirmation he needed.
He paid for his drink, not waiting for his change even after the waitress called after him. He signalled her to keep it and she beamed, smiling widely.
In a couple of minutes he was back in the lot where he had let go of Peter's hand. The same spot. Everything was the same. Everything wasn't.
This time, he could recognize one of the people who lingered in the parking lot, chatting away with occasional outbursts of laughter. Especially the woman who sat on one of the cars and swirled a glass in her hand.
"Elaine," Colin said once he was close enough. He acknowledged the rest of the gathered with a nod and proceeded to his question. "Do you know where Marcus is?"
Obviously, Colin knew he'd be closer to the party. But he couldn't ask about Peter because Elaine would have no idea who he was. At that moment, he was sure she didn't have any idea who she was either. She seemed too light-headed. But there were others there, and he knew they'd be a good alibi. They all seemed equally tipsy and awfully happy around him to point him out as a suspect if something happened.
