Page 93 of Emerson

Sleeping with the same woman gave me a new perspective I hadn’t gotten from sleeping around. Spending one night, an hour or so with someone is different than night after night. Week after week. So I’m ashamed of that, but I’m not ashamed to admit now that I’m gay.

Still, the idea of sharing that with a bunch of blue-collar dudes makes me sweat.

One of the things I’ve always admired about Emery is his sense of self and expression with no apology. He is exactly who he is and isn’t afraid for anyone to see it. The makeup that started when he was small, his femme-leaning style. His ability to mix masculine traits like his facial hair with a perfect lip liner and gloss combo and a set of wicked sharp nails. I love that about him.

I love that he was never ashamed of any of it.

He never had a big ‘coming out’ confession. He didn’t need one when he had a poster taped to the outside of his bedroom door of Chris Hemsworth with a heart drawn around his face.

But people don’t look at me and automatically draw the right conclusions. I wipe my mouth with my napkin and let them have their moment.

“Boss, you celibate or something?”

“Nah, Matt, I’m just gay, and the man I want isn’t here.”

I smile at his shocked face and bite into my burger.

Someone hoots a laugh from the other end of the table.

James says, “Well, shit.”

My tense shoulders loosen with each laugh.

Nate smacks my arm again. “Why the fuck didn’t you say something sooner?”

Much, much sooner.

Draft saved 9:02 P.M.

To: EBStyles

From: DMont95

Subject: missing you volume 102

I came out to the guys at work tonight. I tried to channel some of that confidence you carry around, and just spit it out. Nothing horrible to report. They were surprisingly chill about it. We’ll see how that translates over to the job I guess.

Left early like I always do, but now I’m kinda wishing I would have stayed longer. It’s so quiet here. Too late to call Sabrina and listen to Pen babble. I could call Warren, but that shits hard to do when I want to ask about you with every other breath.

How are you?

Do you miss me as badly as I miss you?

Less than two months, baby.

I swear to God, Emerson, if you’re moving on I’m not too proud to beg.

Night, baby.

Once upon a time, I used to be able to fall asleep damn near as soon as my head hit the pillow. Now I toss and turn, I flip my pillow a hundred times, and I can’t decide if it’s too hot or too cold with the blanket on.

I stare at the ceiling and think about dark brown eyes.

I wonder what he’s doing with his Friday nights now that he’s not in bed with me. Is he dancing at a club with his friends? Drinking and laughing and forgetting that there is a man out there aching for him?

But he wouldn’t fucking know that, would he?

I cover my face with my bent arm and sigh, kicking the blanket off my legs for the tenth time. Some nights, it’s a physical burn in my goddamn bones, and knowing that a five-hour drive is all that separates us pisses me off. Some nights, I dream of his smooth skin under my hands and wish he was here so I could press my nose into his neck and drown in his amber warmth.