2024 Top Ten Gay Romance

Chapter 3

Chapter 3December 7, 2022

Evan

An evening event at the bookstore was always a clusterfuck, though the customers didn’t seem to mind. There wasn’t enough parking in the neighborhood at the best of times; after five, during the run-up to Christmas, was not the best. All the Melrose restaurants that had survived lockdown were packed, as was every retail establishment where a shopper might find a gift for that person on their list who’d appreciate something less ordinary.

Such as, for example, a signed, rare, or out-of-print book. In the past, Mr. Cohen moved a lot of used stock, but at a certain point he winnowed out the chaff and brought in only the things he could sell for a multiple of their cover price. Thus, for certain highly desirable authors we had fresh new paperbacks and pristine hardcovers, plus a fair selection of first editions and signed copies. One of those highly desirable (to me, at least) authors was shaking hands with the last of the fans who’d shown up that night.

Simon turned to me and smiled as the person went out. “Whew! I didn’t expect so many people!”

Neither had I, but I wouldn’t say so. “My one regret is I can’t restock your shelf. The final order went in last week.”

He shrugged. “It is what it is. I appreciate the opportunity. And I appreciate you handling this yourself.”

“Like I would’ve left you with our part-timer. Besides, he’s down the street slinging tapas.” Fact: a good server could make bank in LA, whereas a bookstore clerk was doomed to poverty. But that didn’t matter now. “We’re still on for dinner?”

“Absolutely.” Simon leaned against the cash wrap, still smiling, staying out of the way while I did the minimal tidying-up required. “One thing about selling out, there’s less to clean up every night, right?”

“I’ve had that exact thought a few times.” I counted out the register, ran the day’s automated report, took the printout and the cash to the safe in back. Quickly cleaned the restroom, set up the coffeemaker for the next day, triple-locked the back doors. (A wrought-iron security door outside a steel door with a peephole; it’s not best practice to make breaking in too easy). When I returned, Simon had his jacket on. “Ready?”

“I’ve been ready.” He gave me a hot look. I walked up and kissed him.

This was not our first kiss. I’d seen him five times now. Dinner the night we met, a coffee here, a drink there, he dropped in once during the day to shop, and now today. I kissed him every time, or he kissed me. And tonight’s dinner would be at my house, three blocks away. He’d parked there and walked over to the bookstore, as I had, so we’d have two spare parking spaces in back if we needed them, which we did.

Aware that I was somewhat distracted, I gave the store another long, attentive look before adjusting the window display and returning a stray pen to the mug on the counter. Walked out with Simon, switching off the interior lights on the way and locking the glass door. Pulled down the metal grill that protected the facade. Snapped the padlock shut and straightened. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

“You and me both,” he said, reaching for my hand. We strolled down the street together, away from the noise on Melrose. “So, uh, how hungry are you?”

We both cracked up. Let’s face it, we were both past the half-century mark. We’d survived so much to get here, and we knew what we wanted, and also we were both physically fit, single, gay men. It was a foregone conclusion that we were going to f**k, and only our schedules had prevented that from happening already. Anyway, I said, “There’s something I’d really love to have in my mouth.”

“Jesus, yes, can we pick up the pace?”