Second Hand (Tucker Springs) by Marie Sexton, Heidi Cullinan

“What, pawning people’s stuff? It’s not rocket science, no.”
    He shook his head. “Being happy, I mean. Accepting what you have and being happy with it.”
    That was how he looked to Paul? “I wouldn’t say I’m happy.”
    Now Paul focused on him, his sweet, gullible gaze searching. “You’re always laughing and teasing. And you’re always so put-together. Nothing upsets you.”
    El should tease now, he knew that, but he couldn’t. “You know what they say about comedians. They laugh so you don’t see them cry.” Except that was way too far, so he shrugged and turned back to the park. “I’m not unhappy, I guess. Accepting, maybe. Life is what it is. Can’t change it, can’t quit the game.”
    But you can avoid playing as much as possible .
    Paul didn’t seem to like El’s answer. “Of course we can change it. We can do better. Find the right thing to say. Plant the right flowers.” That made El eyeball him, earning a blush as a reward. “There’s a neighborhood contest to make our yards look nicer. I want to win.” He scowled into the distance. “Of course, maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t win.”
    “I never said that,” El pointed out quickly.
    Paul wasn’t listening now, though. “I never can. I never have. Not in high school, not in college, and certainly not now.” His scowl turned painful. “Larry was mad at Stacey last night, so she came home. To my home. I let her stay.”
    Why did that confession feel like a bucket of ice water? El tried to sound neutral. “Oh?”
    “She slept in bed beside me and nothing happened. Because I didn’t want to push her. Because I knew she probably wouldn’t want to do anything. Then I woke up and she was talking to him on her phone, everything straightened up. I was a mistake, that’s what she told me. I tried so hard to be good and not take advantage, to do what she wanted, and I lost. Again.” He’d been ripping up tufts of grass while he spoke, and he tossed a handful out onto the sidewalk in disgust. “Why do I do that? Why do I keep hanging on, trying to be her first choice? I don’t even know that I care about her anymore. I just want to be the first choice for someone for once. Just once .”
    El couldn’t help but think how, had anyone else appeared in front of him on the sidewalk, even Denver, he would have continued on his solitary way instead of suggesting rollerblading. “I bet you’re first choice a lot of times and you don’t even know it.”
    “Well, I want to know it.” He looked adorably fierce now. “God, and I want her to see it. I want everyone to see it.” He pointed out across the park. “There. That. Those two, necking under that tree. Right where everyone can see them. I want that .”
    El’s stomach fluttered, and his cock sat up and paid attention. “You want to make out in the park?”
    Oh, more adorable blushing. “No. I mean, yes, but not that specifically. I want to be wanted like that. For something. Anything. And I want everyone to see.” His flush deepened. “Just once.”
    The just once kept ringing in El’s ears as they climbed back to their feet and bladed clumsily back to the pedestrian mall, where they probably weren’t supposed to blade but did anyway. They stopped to catch their breath and descended into more juvenile laughter against a recycling bin. El took a moment to enjoy the sight of Paul relaxed and beautiful, not awkward or shy, just Paul, the best thing that had happened to an afternoon. El was aware of strangers watching, getting caught up in his and Paul’s mirth, their happiness.
    Caught up in it too, El moved before he could check himself, catching Paul’s chin and brushing a soft, chaste kiss across his lips.
    Paul’s startle frightened El back into his own personal space, made him paste on a sideways grin to disguise his panic. Nodding to the audience, trying to make it clear it was all a joke, he quipped, “There. I think everyone saw that.”
    El was ready for