He shrugs. “It’s different for everyone. I’ve known I was gay since I was twelve. But figuring it out later in life doesn’t make it any less valid. And you don’t have to put a label on it if you don’t want to.”
I take a sip of my drink and we sit in comfortable silence for a bit longer. I say goodnight to my brother fifteen minutes later and head back down the stairs to my apartment. As soon as I step in the door I get a text from Bentley.
Cowboy: Peyton’s birthday party is next weekend and you’re invited. She goes to the same Karaoke bar every year with her friends. You can ride with me. Though I probably won’t stay very long, because people
I chuckle.
Me: Lol, sounds good, cowboy
Chapter Fourteen
Bentley
It’s Monday evening and Alex has just left for work after spending the majority of the day with me. After going grocery shopping together we did the usual, watching several episodes ofSupernaturalbefore he read to me some more. I never thought I would enjoy books as much as I do when it’s his voice I hear, soft and soothing, warm and sweet.
I’m enjoyingPride and Prejudiceas much as I enjoyedLittle Women. Elizabeth Bennett and Jo March would get along pretty well I think. Or maybe they would butt heads like crazy, I can't decide.
I’ve just finished my dinner when there’s a knock on the door. When I open it, a smile splits my face.
“Hey there, small fry,” I say, and Pierre gives me a soft smile. “Come in.” I step aside so he can enter and then close the door behind him. He seems a little timid. More so than he was when Alex and I were at his place for our game night. Maybe because it’s just the two of us now and he doesn’t know me quite as well as Alex. He’s wearing a blackleather skater skirt, black fishnet tights, and a black cropped shirt. He has sparkly pink eyeshadow on and eyeliner around his pale blue eyes. His lips are full and shimmering from the lip gloss he’s applied and he has a cat ear headband on his head overtop his blond hair. He really is a pretty little thing.
In his slender arms are mixing bowls and ingredients for baking the macarons we had at their place, because after tasting one I shamelessly begged him to teach me how to make them, and he agreed.
As soon as he steps in the door, Marble is twining her way between his legs and purring up a storm. Pierre smiles and crouches down to pet her. She stands on her hind legs and purrs even louder when he scratches her neck. “Bonjour, pretty lady,” he coos, his smile only getting bigger.
“Are you sure you still want to do this?” he asks, looking up at me. He seems more comfortable already thanks to Marble, and it makes me happy. Alex left her here and I told him I’d bring her home before I went to bed.
“Absolutely,” I tell him. “Come on, you can put those things down in the kitchen.” It’s not usually like me to invite someone over to my house, but I’ve really enjoyed Pierre’s company the few times we've been together, and it wouldn’t hurt either of us to get to know each other more and be friends. I know he has his OnlyFans he works on, and he’s in school right now so I’m sure he keeps plenty busy, but it might be nice for him to take a break from working and studying. He also seemed sad when we were there, though I never did find out why, and I am hoping maybe I can cheer him up, or just be supportive and give him someone to talk to if he needs it.
“I’m glad you came,” I say. “And not just because I’m dying to have more of these cookies.”
He gives a soft smile as he sets his things down on thecounter, and I get out the things he didn’t bring; butter, granulated sugar, a mixer, piping bag, a baking sheet, and my food processor. He grabs the powdered sugar, almond flour, vanilla extract, cream of tartar, and salt and puts them on the counter near my things. He also has a glass with egg whites in it, covered in plastic wrap with holes poked in the top. The yolks are separate, in another covered dish.
“Trust me, it helps,” he says with a giggle when I stare at it.
“You’re the boss,” I say, as he sets the glass down near the other items, then grabs the sifter and starts giving me instructions.
I sift, and blend, and mix, and fold, and sift some more. Once everything is mixed Pierre tells me to pipe one inch dollops onto the baking sheet he’s lined with parchment paper. When that’s done we let it sit for about 40 minutes while we work on the buttercream filling.
We heat the sugar and water on the stove and beat the egg yolks in the mixer. When the water and sugar mix has reached the desired temperature and consistency, we remove it from the stove and drizzle the syrupy mixture into the bowl with the yolks. We then add butter, vanilla, and salt, and Pierre adds pink food coloring, giving me a smile when he does. “Not necessary but way more fun,” he says.
Since we have a few minutes before it’s time to put the macarons in the oven, I offer Pierre a drink.
“Nothing alcoholic,” he says softly. “It interacts with my meds.”
“I have ginger ale, tea, and lemonade,” I tell him.
He smiles again. “Lemonade sounds nice.”
I pour both of us a glass and hand him his. He takes a sip and his eyes widen. “Oh mon Dieu, that’s amazing.”
I chuckle. “Thank you. I make it myself. It’s my Gram’s recipe. We used to spend hours in the kitchen together.”
He smiles. “That sounds really nice. I taught myself a good deal of what I know, but my parents were both really good cooks and taught me a lot before they died.” He pauses, hesitating a bit, it seems, worrying his bottom lip before he speaks again. “Thank you for inviting me. I’m really sorry if I’m not being the best company. It’s been a rough couple weeks and I’m not in the best headspace. I was honestly nervous about coming, not because I don’t enjoy your company, because I really do, but I struggle to believe sometimes that people actually want to spend time with me, and that I am not inconveniencing them. I mean, not all the time, but more so when I’m depressed or anxious.”
His eyes are on the floor now and my chest aches at the thought that he doesn’t think people would enjoy his company. “I’m sorry you're having a hard time,” I tell him. “For what it’s worth I think you’re a really cool guy. You’re smart, and fun, and kind, and Alex likes you so I know you must be a good person.”
He chuckles.
