But it still sucks donkey’s ass. So I hold on to the fact that I’ll finally see him for real in just two days, on my birthday. He has a couple of days with no shows and is flying over for a quick visit while the bus travels to the next destination.
I can’t freaking wait to see him, to hold him, to kiss him, tosmellhim. To make sure he’sreal, that we’re still good, that we’re stillus,and that we can still do this.
“Why don’t you come with us, Ty?” Bob asks, hauling me out of my depressing thoughts.
“Where to?” I ask, popping the last piece of burger in my mouth, not having a clue of what they were talking about.
“To Tight Spot? It’s drag show night,” he says, naming the only queer club in our part of the world.
“Yeah, I figured that,” I say with a wave at the outfits on him and Manuel, who’s now seated on his other side, drink in hand. “But I don’t think you have a pair of heels in size thirteen. Otherwise I would gladly tag along.”
Manuel snickers around the rim of his glass, eyes twinkling. “Sure, honey. You really want to take that bet? I think we can get those heels pretty fast.”
“I bet you can.” I smile at the duo but tap at my phone. “I’d love to accompany you guys, or girls, some time, but I’mexpecting a call and to be on the phone for some time. So I have to decline politely.” I wink at them.
“Ahh, to be young and in love again,” Manuel muses, letting his head drop on Bob’s shoulder. They both give me small smiles, knowing all about me and Jace.
It’s like a romantic love story, they say. A dream.
Feels more like a nightmare sometimes, to be honest.
“You need to come with us next time. Going to Tight Spot is like a baby gay’s rite of passage around here,” Bob goes on.
I have to purse my lips together to suppress my laughter, and his brows soar in understanding.Yeah, been there, done that. Had my first actual kiss with a dude there to prove it,falling into the abyss like a baby giraffe being born instead of a baby gay.
“Ah, take their offer, Tyler honey,” Mom butts in, enjoying a margarita herself, cheeks flushed from the drink. “You need a bit of fun to cheer you up. Does this Tight Spot have one of those dark rooms as well? I’ve heard of those. If so, I want you to avoid that, Tyler. Those sound unsanitary.”
Oh, Jesus. “Mom!”
“What? Well, if you really want to go, at least bring some antibacterial cream from the diner. I think I have some in my purse as well.”
Oh, God. I’msonot going to tell her I ravished Jace in one of the dimly lit hallways of that particular club, so I open my mouth to say something to divert the subject, when my phone dings with an incoming message, making my heart skip a beat.
Jace. It says he’ll call me in a few.
I check the time, calculating the difference. If I’m correct, he just finished up a show.
He calls every night. And I meaneverynight. He’s being so damn good at this. He texts me throughout the day, sends pictures of everything he does and encounters on the state-widetour, calls me every single night either before he has to go on stage or after, depending on the time difference. And when there isn’t a show, we just video chat for hours on end, deep into the night, he in his small bunk on the tour bus and me in my now too big bed at home.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes, it’s almost like he’s right next to me.
He seems happy on the tour, though. And Iamhappy for him.
I’m just not happy forme.
Going into this, I thought I would be the one to breeze through this, to tackle this long-distance thing head-on and own it, do it, conquer it. To be the one to keep Jace sane, to be the one to reassure him, to calm him, guide him.
But I’m not the one thriving; Jace is.
He’s the one doing this, breezing through this. He’s the one who keepsmesane.
Because I struggle, oh how I fucking struggle. Every day I miss him more, and every day I miss him worse. But then the night hits, and the call comes, and I’m able to breathe again.
And in a couple of days, he’ll be here. I’ll be able to take my first real breath in months.
When my phone buzzes, I excuse myself and head over to our place, the knot in my stomach loosening when I pick up as I enter the empty house via the back porch and hearhisvoice.
“Hey, babe. Missed me?”
