Page 63 of Heart

“Because you’re out of my league. You’re good-looking, you’re a chef, and you own your own business. I’m just a fat schmuck that delivers the mail.”

“You’re not fat. You’re a big guy, and you wear your clothes a little tight... that’s all. And, frankly, I don’t care—because I think you’re hot.”

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. Never underestimate the power of a dad-bod.”

“I like your body too, George. It makes me quiver sometimes thinking about it.”

“Good. Because I don’t foresee any gyms in my future. And as far as working for the postal service... that’s a legit job for an American institution. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“So, why the insecurity?”

Mikey sighed. His hands slid to George’s stomach where they rested. “I don’t have a great track record with dating. Most guys think I’m a joke.”

“You’re not a joke. Sometimes you come on a little strong, but that’s just your personality. You’re like one of those birds on the nature shows, out there flashing your bright colors and your loud mating-call. It’s too much for some guys—it scares them. It doesn’t scare me though.”

“Do I embarrass you, George?”

George sat up, turning. “No. Not at all. I’ve been hesitant—but that’s only because of my own baggage. I like you, Mikey. I like this.”

“Good. I like this too.”

“I especially like this sweet, shy Mikey I’m getting to know... the one that brings me flowers and sings like an angel.”

“What about the one who pops his top before he even gets his pants off?”

“Yep. That one too. I told you, it takes a lot to shake me off. But since you brought it up... how long have you been dealing with that?”

“As long as I can remember.”

“And your method is to just leave your clothes on... pretend it didn’t happen?”

“No.” Mikey chuckled. “I usually bottom. Keep the focus away from my... sensitive area.”

“I see,” George said, nodding. “And tonight we couldn’t do that—because we’re in an office, on a couch, with a tablecloth... no condoms or lube in sight.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like being a bottom?”

“Sure. It’s all good.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“I don’t have much of a choice, George. It’s how I’ve made do.”

“What if I told you I was a bottom?”

Mikey’s face paled.

“Relax. I’m versatile.”

“Oh, good,” he said, relieved. “I think I would enjoy it with you, George.”

“Well, looks like we have some experimenting to do.” George laid his face back down on Mikey’s warm chest, snaking his arms around him. They laid there for a while beneath the crisp gingham fabric in the soft light of the desk lamp. Silent. Present.