by Chris Scully
That made Louie smile. “Were you trying to?” he teased.
One corner of Peter’s mouth curved up. Louie figured that was about as good as he was going to get. “Let’s start over. How did your apartment hunt go last weekend?” Peter asked him.
“Oh, that.” Louie shuddered. “Ugh. Dumps.” The landlord in the first one hadn’t even bothered to hide the tobacco stains on the ceiling; at least he hoped they were tobacco stains. His second viewing had been the middle unit in a triplex; he’d heard the stereo blaring from the top unit from a block away. “I can’t believe how much the city has changed since I’ve been gone. I thought West Coast rents were high….” Louie supposed he’d be a lot more enthusiastic if he weren’t still homesick for Vancouver. “I’ll line up some more viewings for next weekend. I don’t have time during the week. I’m still trying to settle in at work.”
“Do you want some company?”
Louie gaped at Peter. He couldn’t figure the guy out at all. “You want to go apartment hunting with me?”
Peter shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. I just thought it might be good to have a second opinion around.”
Louie tried to tamp down on the sudden fluttering in his chest. “Yeah, I’d love the company.”
“Okay, then. It’s a date.” Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh. I didn’t mean….”
“Relax. I know what you meant.” Louie found himself momentarily transfixed by the way Peter’s face seemed to light up again. “I need to find a place soon. I’m living out of boxes right now and it’s driving me crazy. I don’t know where anything is. Plus, I want to be out before my parents get back from Greece.”
“Things aren’t good between you?”
Louie thought a moment. “They’re not as bad as I’d thought they’d be. But we do better with some distance between us. Having me around makes things difficult for them.” He recalled Mr. Kotsopoulos’s reaction earlier. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been the first.
When they arrived at the courts, Peter’s friends were waiting by the gate. Louie recognized them immediately as the same two who had been with Peter when he picked him up last weekend.
“It’s about time,” complained the dark-haired one. His lips curved flirtatiously when his eyes landed on Louie. “Although I definitely approve of the delay.”
“Joe.” The lean, fair-skinned man with the light blue eyes elbowed him in the stomach and turned to Peter. “What happened to Demetra?” he asked.
“Change of plans,” Peter replied. “You remember her brother, Louie?”
“I’m sure we would, if you had actually introduced us before you scuttled off.”
Peter rolled his eyes and performed the introductions. Louie couldn’t stop grinning at the way they ribbed Peter mercilessly. “It’s my fault we’re late,” Louie offered.
“You’re not late,” the one named Adam said. “Joe just thinks being on time means being ten minutes early. See. The court’s only free just now.”
Louie trailed the three men through the gate. There were three courts, all enclosed by six-foot-high chain link fencing. The other two were already occupied.
“You’re with me,” Peter said, thrusting the extra racket at his chest. “Let’s annihilate these bitches.”
Joe tied back his chin-length wavy hair, and then pointed his racket at them with a steely eyed glare. “You’re going down, Petey. And not in the good way.”
Louie gulped and raised his hand. “Um, I really should warn—”
Adam laughed. “Ignore those two. They’re full of hot air.”
They were all talk, Louie shortly discovered. Adam was right. It really was just a friendly game. No one seemed annoyed by his incompetence. After a few minutes, he got the hang of it and began enjoying himself. He’d never make it to Wimbledon, but he managed to lob a few balls. And he and Peter worked well on the court together.
After almost thirty minutes, Adam called a halt. “I need a time out,” he panted as he bent forward with both hands on his knees. Sweat dripped from the end of his long nose.
Joe shook his head sadly. “He’s got no stamina.”
“Yeah? That’s not what you said last night,” Adam returned.
“I could do with a break too,” Louie added as he wiped the sweat out of his eyes with the back of his forearm.
“Petey?” Joe challenged, twirling his racket with expert skill. “You giving up too?”
“Oh, I’m in, baby. Let those two wimps sit it out.”
Louie found a bench in the shade and Adam sat down next to him. On the court Peter and Joe continued to volley back and forth, their grunts seeming to grow louder with each swing. “Are they always like that?” he asked Adam.
“They used to be.” Adam’s answer left Louie confused, but he didn’t think he had the right to probe.
He stretched out his legs and relaxed. It was like high school all over again when he used to sit in the stands and watch the senior football team practice. He smiled at the memory. Unwittingly, Louie found himself unable to drag his gaze away from Peter. Yes, he’d changed—lost the hair, packed on a few pounds—but he still had those great legs and that ass that had driven so many of Louie’s teenage fantasies. His adult fantasies too, apparently.
As soon as he realized what he was doing, he stopped. But he’d been caught. Adam watched him closely, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” he said.
Louie felt himself blushing. “Peter was my first crush in high school. I was just having a moment of déjà vu.”
The slight widening of Adam’s eyes was the only sign he was remotely shocked. “Does he know?”
“About the crush or that I’m gay?”
“Either. Both.”
“I don’t think he knows about the crush.”
“Interesting.” Adam’s lips curved, like he knew something Louie didn’t.
“What’s interesting about it?”
Adam was stopped from answering by the thunderous arrival of Joe and Peter. Joe sat down right in Adam’s lap. “Ugh,” he groaned, although to be honest, he didn’t look like he was complaining too much. “Get off me. You’re sweaty and heavy.”
“That’s not what you said last night,” Joe murmured.
Louie smiled at their antics, more than a little envious. Physically they were polar opposites—Joe, olive-skinned and solid, and Adam fair and angular—but they fit together in a way that Louie never had with Aaron. On the rare occasion when they had gone out in public together, he wasn’t allowed to even hold Aaron’s hand. When he looked over at Peter, he found him staring off into the distance, clearly uncomfortable.
“We’re going to hit the restaurant for a drink,” Joe said. “Peter’s buying, since he lost.”
“Lost?” Peter griped. “We weren’t even keeping score.”
“Are you coming, Louie?” Adam asked him.
Louie, who’d been having the best afternoon in a very long time, hesitated, not wanting to overstep his bounds.
“Of course he is,” Peter answered for him.
Louie tried to contain his grin of delight. Of course that was before he and Peter piled in the backseat of Joe and Adam’s compact car. The quarters were tight, and his leg kept pressing up against Peter’s—warm and hairy. He did his best to take up as little room as possible. Demetra’s boyfriend, he reminded himself repeatedly. Fortunately it was only a short drive to the restaurant, and he didn’t have to suffer long.
The interior of Kosta’s Greek Grill was blissfully cool compared to the overheated confines of the car. Or maybe it was just Louie who was overheated. Either way, he was grateful to be out of the backseat. Peter found them a booth that hadn’t been cleared yet, and ushered them over to it. Joe and Adam took one side, leaving Louie alone on the other as Peter stacked the dirty dishes on his arm.
“I’ll be right back,” he said before easily winding his way through the crowd while still balancing his load. Louie’s
gaze trailed him all the way until he disappeared through a doorway into a back room.
“You should join us for game night some time, Louie.” Joe’s voice jerked him back to the present.
“Game night?”
“It used to be World of Warcraft, but Adam here can’t play worth a damn. And then Julian got married and Sara joined our circle, and now I guess Demetra will be around… so we do it old school.”
“Board games?”
“It’s geeky, I know—”
“No, I’d love to,” he burst out before Joe could finish. “That sounded a bit too eager, didn’t it?” They laughed, but not at him, for which he was grateful. “Sorry, it’s just that being away for so long, I don’t really have friends here anymore. I didn’t stay in touch with anyone.”
“We take turns hosting,” Joe explained. “Except for the guy who still lives in his parents’ basement, that is.”
Adam snorted. “Nice try, Mr. Independent. That’s tough talk from the man whose mom still delivers us two meals a week.”
Louie relished the playful banter. He was beginning to like these two. They seemed to have the exact sort of relationship he’d always dreamed of having but never quite managed. “Peter says you’re getting married. That’s awesome. How long have you two been together?”
“Since fifth grade,” Joe responded quickly.
When Louie couldn’t hide his surprise, Adam shook his head, as if he’d had to explain this a thousand times before. “Technically it’s only two years. But we’ve known each other since we were kids.”
“It sounds better when I tell it,” Joe insisted.
“No, it sounds like you were a pervy ten-year-old.”
Louie couldn’t help but laugh. He felt he’d known Peter’s friends a lot longer than one afternoon, and he was more than grateful they’d made him feel so welcome. The conversation flowed easily as they waited for Peter. Adam asked about his job, and he filled them in on his move and his apartment hunt, leaving out all the gory details about his breakup of course. He learned that they had known Peter since college—hence the ribbing.
Peter returned with a tray bearing a round of Mythos lager, imported from Greece, and a wet cloth to wipe off the table. He tossed it onto the bartop when he was done and slid onto the bench seat next to Louie. “Food will be here soon. I ordered us some pita and dip, and some spanakopita for you,” he added to Louie with a nudge.
Louie tried not to notice how closely Peter sat, or the underlying scent of sweat beneath his cologne. It really should have been a turnoff, but it was having the opposite effect. He had the overwhelming desire to lean in and inhale the man. Obviously he had been alone for far too long.
As the trio conversed, Louie gazed fondly at the familiar surroundings. The muted TV on the back wall, the kitschy hand-painted murals of Greek fishing villages. In a way it felt like coming home.
“What’s that smile for?” Adam asked.
Louie shook his head. “Memories.” He nodded toward a table in the corner. “I used to sit over there. Remember Effie Fragedakis?” he asked Peter, who politely said that he did although Louie figured he had no clue. “She and I used to fight over the chair on the end. We’d flip a coin for it. It’s got the best view of the grill so we could watch you cooking.”
Peter choked on his beer. Louie pounded him on the back until he raised a hand for mercy.
“Sounds like you had quite the fan club, Petey,” Joe said with a wicked grin. He leaned forward and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Please, go on.”
“Please don’t,” Peter muttered.
But Louie couldn’t resist. “Peter was the hottest boy in school. Not to mention star of our football team. You could practically hear the collective sigh when he was on the field.”
“No. Our Peter? A football jock? How did I not know this?”
“It’s not how it sounds,” Peter protested. “We were terrible. We finished the season with a single win.”
“That’s because the players spent more time trying to get into the cheerleaders’ pants than on the game,” Louie added. “Not my pants, unfortunately.”
Peter pointed a thumb in his direction. “Louie was a cheerleader.”
“Pep squad.”
Joe’s eyes lit up. “With pompoms and everything?”
“Oh, he had pompoms all right,” Peter interjected.
Louie pretended to take offense. “My pompoms were very popular, I’ll have you know.”
“I bet they were,” Peter said in a low voice. He winked, making Louie’s heart beat crazily for a second. His eyes seemed to egg Louie on.
He turned to his audience. “Back then Peter had this long, dark hair that hung below his helmet and blew in the wind when he ran. Drove the girls crazy. And maybe a few boys,” he added with a sigh. He was embellishing now. Sort of. But he loved seeing Peter like this—flushed and relaxed and smiling.
Joe shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe our Petey was a jock.”
“I’m still trying to picture Peter with all that hair,” Adam said drily.
Peter pitched his balled up beer label across the table. “Hey, just for that, you can pay your own damned bill,” he groused.
Louie suddenly wondered if he’d gone too far with the teasing. He really didn’t have the right. Sure, he hadn’t been this immediately comfortable with anyone in a long time, but they hardly knew each other. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“You didn’t,” Peter responded easily. He removed his ball cap and rubbed the top of his head. “You’ve seen my dad. It’s not like this was a surprise or anything.”
Louie sighed in relief. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin this perfect day.
At that moment, the young waitress who had flashed her cleavage at him the last time he was here arrived at their table and set down a basket of warm, fragrant pita and a platter of dips. Today, she was wearing thick eye makeup and a black shirt several inches too short.
“I’m Annie,” she said cheerfully as she handed out four small plates. “Well, hi there,” she added when she saw him. “You came back. I see you found something that interested you after all.”
Louie knew she was only teasing, but the heat crept up the back of his neck nonetheless. If she only knew.
“Annie,” Peter warned.
“I know.” She sighed as she picked up her empty tray. “Table five needs more pita.”
“And while you’re at it, why don’t you find the other half of your shirt?” Peter called after her. “Before Pop sees and fires you.”
“Staffing woes?” Adam asked, already breaking into the pita.
“Nah.” Peter shook his head, like he dealt with this all the time. “She may not look it sometimes, but she’s a great worker.” He used his knife to slather a wedge of pita with one of the dips. “You have to try this one. It’s new on the menu. Feta cheese and hot peppers.”
Louie about died when Peter held it out to him, like he was going to feed him or something. He was aware of Adam watching them with interest from across the table, so he took the offering cautiously, his fingers brushing Peter’s in the process. They tingled from the brief contact. He shoved the entire wedge into his mouth, barely tasting the spicy concoction.
“Mmm, good,” he mumbled as he tried to swallow past his dry throat. As if that was the signal, the other three all dug into the platter.
“Pete, why is your mother giving us the evil eye?” Adam asked curiously after a few minutes.
Louie craned his head and saw the unhappy looking woman scrutinizing them from behind the bar. This had to be Peter’s mom. Only a Greek mother could glare so effectively.
Her hair was a brassy shade of blonde that could only have come from a bottle, cut short and styled around her ears, and anchored in place with enough hairspray to survive a wind tunnel. Like many Greek matrons of a certain age, she wore the requisite black knee-length skirt and accompanying blouse. The buttons strained across her im
posing bosom. Actually, imposing was the perfect word for this woman. He knew in his gut that he was the focus of her attention.
“I don’t know,” Peter replied.
“It’s because of me,” Louie murmured. He gulped as she strode over to their table.
“You?” Joe asked. “Why—”
“Hey, Ma,” Peter interrupted. “Do you know Demetra’s brother, Louie?”
Louie forced a pleasant smile to his lips. “Hi, Mrs. Georgiou. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I speak with you, Panagiotis,” she ordered in Greek, pointedly ignoring Louie’s greeting.
Beside him, Peter tensed. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Now.” She stalked away, leaving the table silent. Louie wanted to crawl under it and disappear.
Peter carefully laid his napkin on the table and stood up. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Keep eating.”
But the delicious food tasted like ash in Louie’s mouth as he watched Peter trail after his mother. It looked like his perfect afternoon was over.
FIVE
PETER FOLLOWED his mother through the back door leading to the storeroom and emergency exit. She was angry. He could tell that much by the set of her shoulders and the march of her heels on the scuffed tile floor. Once they were away from the diners and somewhat private, she whirled around.
“Why are you with that boy?” she demanded, pointing her finger in his face.
“Who? Louie?”
“He is no good for you.”
Peter recoiled. No good? Louie seemed great. “You don’t even know him. He’s Demetra’s brother.”
His mother made the sign of the cross and mumbled something about sin and eternal damnation. He stiffened. It hadn’t always been like this. Sure they went to the Orthodox Church every week—everybody did—but this devotion of hers was new, worsening after Pop’s heart attack. Now there were weekly bible study meetings, and extra services on holy days, and lengthy visits with the new priest, Father Theo.
“Do you know what people will say when they see you together?” she asked. “You with no wife. They already talk.”
