Page 93 of String Boys

“Idohave family stuff,” he said kindly, when the laughter had faded. “My dad….” Fuck. “He died this summer, and we’re taking care of my stupid brother’s little girl, who needs all the grown-ups she can get. And I’ve got three sisters, and they miss Dad so fuckin’ bad. And my mom is trying to keep it together, and she needs me. She just does. It’s not a good time for Kelly to be dating.”

Vashti perked up, and Kelly could almost hear the offer—I could be part of that—because he was a good guy, and Kelly couldn’t put his ego through the grinder again.

“And that music?” Kelly said. “C’mere. Watch.”

They stood there, shoulder to shoulder, and Kelly could smell the richness of the patchouli Vashti used in his hair and feel the heat he let off on this brisk October day. A part of him poked at his brain about needing that hug, but a sudden, more grown-up part told him how cruel that would be to everybody involved, including Seth.

On Kelly’s little screen, Seth finished and said the name—Kelly’s Concerto Number Three—and Vashti clapped his hand over his eyes.

“Oh!”

Kelly chuckled a little and leaned just a smidge away. “Yeah.”

“That guy really loves you.”

“Yeah. That super talented really adorable guy really frickin’ loves me.”

“So, no dating Vashti.” He grimaced and looked sad, but not wrecked, and Kelly was happy.

“No. I’m sorry. No.” And suddenly Kelly knew he had to tell Seth about this. “Here. Let me take your picture. I can tell him about you, that you’re a friend.”

Vashti smiled crookedly for the camera. “Why would you do that?”

Kelly shrugged and checked the shot. Good. Seth would know that Kelly had options, but only chose Seth. “So I’m not ever tempted for it to be anything else. You’re a good guy. A good boss. And you’re hella cute. But… but before I even knew I was gay, I knew I was in love with him.”

“Can’t compete with that,” Vashti agreed, and Kelly nodded.

“Not so far.”

“Thanks for being honest.” Vashti sighed. “Well, they need us in there. Clifton and Marco are still weeping over the shoes, and Raven’s about to beat them both to death with a pair of pink vinyl boots. This place doesn’t run on love, right?”

Kelly laughed. “Nope. Sadly not.”

THAT EVENING—Monday—as he sat on a bench in his night class and waited for the professor, he sent Seth a text. The night was perfectly cool. The briskness of October hadn’t really set in this year.

This is Vashti—he’s my boss, and he’s super cool, and he was crushing on me hard. I showed him your video, and he said, “That guy really loves you.”

And I told him, “That super talented super cute guy really frickin’ loves me.”

I thought you should know, is all. I missed touching you today. I needed a hug so bad. But he wasn’t you.

He sent the texts, one after the other, and the photo, and looked at his phone for a moment, wondering if Seth would pop on like he did sometimes.

It didn’t happen this time, and once the teacher came in, Kelly turned his attention to his work. It was a basic drawing class, and he loved it because it taught him all sorts of things he hadn’t known to teach himself, things he’d overlooked by trying to learn from art books alone.

He spent the evening lost in sketching the teacher’s cat—and wishing he could have one of his own for the twenty-thousandth time—and walked out into the night feeling somehow calmer and better about things.

When he got to his car, his pocket buzzed.

Check your email when you get home.

But thank you for telling me about Vashti.

I wish I could hug you.

I wish I could let you go.

But I can’t do either of them. So I planned. You’ll love it. I promise.