The Blinding Light by Renae Kaye

straight, so bad luck to me. But he is sexy as sexy. Think of Brad Pitt in the early movies. Skinny, blond, toned. He needs a bit of an attitude adjustment, but I don’t care much about that. It’s not like I can keep my mouth shut, either. Besides, if he was my man I could find a whole bunch of things for him to do with his mouth that don’t require talking, if you know what I mean.”
    Luke roared with laughter, nearly falling off his perch. “Fuck, man. That’s what I hate about you gay guys! You can get away with so much shit. Now just imagine if I said that about my woman? Fuck! I’d have them all yelling and cursing a blue streak at me!”
    I laughed along with him. It was nice to have my friend back.
     
     
    I HALF wondered if I would find evidence of Patrick’s sex life once again on Monday morning, but the house was its normal neatness, albeit with two days’ worth of dishes and washing to do. I still had the blue silicone butt plug hidden away in the laundry cupboard where Patrick wouldn’t think to look for it. So far he hadn’t said anything about it, and I wondered if he had even missed it.
    Dear Jake,
I like bullet points. Don’t you?
What day suits you for dinner?
Can you please take my suits down to the dry cleaner today? I know you don’t usually go until tomorrow, but I need the gray suit on Wednesday. Have them get it ready for pickup tomorrow.
I’ve left a shopping list so that you can pick up some things today, and the rest tomorrow on your usual trip.
Did you have a coffee?
    Sincerely,
    Patrick.
     
     
    Dear Patrick,
Monday and Tuesday are good for dinner. Next Tuesday, then? Do you want me to cook?
Yes, I had a coffee.
    Cheers,
    Jake.
     
     
    Dear Jake,
    Next Tuesday is good for dinner.
Don’t forget the dry cleaning pick up.
    Sincerely,
    Patrick.
    (And handwritten in nearly illegible print on the side was the word “please,” underlined three times.)
     
     
    Dear Patrick,
Your gray suit is hanging in the wardrobe. How do you know it’s gray?
Next Tuesday for dinner then. Shall I cook?
    Cheers,
    Jake.
     
     
    Dear Jake,
I know it’s gray because it says so on the braille label.
Yes, you can cook. Pick up whatever ingredients you need when you shop next. Please.
    Sincerely,
    Patrick.
     
     
    Dear Patrick,
Why did you need your gray suit? Did you have a date? How did it go?
Your gardening guy didn’t show up today. Was he meant to?
    Cheers,
    Jake.
     
     
    Dear Jake,
Can you please post these letters for me?
It wasn’t a date. I don’t do those. It was a business meeting.
Thank you for telling me about the gardener.
    Sincerely,
    Patrick.
     
     
    Dear Patrick,
I’ll post the letters on my way home. I ride past a post box.
    Cheers,
    Jake.
     
     
    Dear Jake,
Why don’t you have a car?
    Patrick.
     
     
    Dear Patrick,
Because I sold it when I needed money. Why don’t you have a car? What’s your excuse?
    Jake.
     
     
    I T WAS silly, but I found myself missing Patrick at odd times over the weekend. It wasn’t like I even saw him, but I lived surrounded by him during the week. I was in his house, touching his things, looking after him. I realized I was… territorial almost. He was mine.
    I found myself smiling about things that amused me and I wanted to share with him. I worked my usual shift on Sunday at The Gardie Tav and found the hours flying past. Sunday wasn’t as busy as a Saturday, but there was plenty going on. I made my way through the crowd of dancers and drinkers with a wire tray balanced high in the air above their heads. At each table I stacked the empty glasses before hoisting it again, fluidly avoiding the tightly packed bodies with ease and experience.
    Back behind the bar, I began to stack the glasses into the dishwasher. Charlie moved up beside me.
    “What’s wrong with you tonight?” he asked in a puzzled tone.
    “Huh?”
    “You. That pretty boy over there has been desperate to get your attention all night. He practically groped you as you went past