Four years pass by slowly. In Xavier's absence, I meet with Earl Dwyer alone. The older man asks me to call him 'father', and sometimes I do when I'm in a good mood.

I spend the weekends at his manor. Early in the morning, while the sun is nothing more than a soft touch of orange on the horizon, we jog around his estate until our shirts are drenched in sweat. Then we wash, change into casual clothing and meet in the drawing room to discuss business matters.

He wants to know my expenditures for each month and profits. So, I go over the numbers with him, and my mother plays the piano in the background. The two of them are officially married, and despite whatever scorn they draw from other affluent members of society, they are happy.

My father nods as he realizes my store has been profitable two months in a row and gives my shoulder a light squeeze in congratulation. The light streaming in through the stained-glass window brightens his red hair and sprinkles across the dusting of stubble that covers his jaw.

His praise leaves a proud, fluttering sensation in my chest.

I wonder if my parents would still be able to laugh and smile with me if they found out I was no different from Xavier.

***

Monday comes, and I yawn as I sit on a stool behind a counter, sipping a glass of chilled apple juice. Blake and I own a bookstore called 'Loopios'. What I like about our store is the fresh purple paint. The cut-out comic characters that wait at the front of the aisles, ready to jump out at you. There's even a section for erotic fiction with adult toys, but only for people over the age of twenty. It's quite popular with our customers.

A record player in the corner plays soft rock. Blake's got his hair in a ponytail as he sweeps the floor, whistling. He wears a vibrant white shirt covered in purple blossoms, long tapered black pants and high-heeled boots. He smiles as he cleans our display windows, and I go through the notebook with yesterday's sales. It's our second business venture together after a failed restaurant when we were nineteen; we had been young, then, immature, and too hungover in the morning to open on time. We hadn't been prepared to handle that responsibility and shut down within a month.

But selling comics is easier.

Blake returns the cleaning supplies to the backroom and emerges a few minutes later after changing into his Spiderman costume. He slips a toothpick between his teeth and murmurs, "Here he comes, the first Indian Spiderman! Feast your eyes on my sexy body." He winks at me and spins the arrow-shaped sale sign round and round before going outside. A bell dings as the door closes behind him, and he stands on the sidewalk, waving his sign to attract passersby.

Surprisingly, our store does well.

We get a lot of female customers because we exclusively hire handsome men. It's kind of shitty when you think about it, but to make money, you must know your audience. Who cares whose feelings get hurt in the process. The rejected applicants sometimes egg our windows or shit on the sidewalk, but that kind of stuff can be easily cleaned.

As I linger behind the counter, I unwrap one of the free caramel candies and suck on it while I wait on the new deliveries. The truck comes a little after eight-thirty. The guy who brings our newest products is the same as usual. Dark-haired with a strong jaw. A short sleeve shirt reveals his bulging biceps, and his tight black pants show off his muscular legs. He has got a decent tan going on. I bite my lip as he passes, and he winks, but I pretend not to notice.

Jace and I go to the same college, but while my major is Political Science, his focus is Criminology. Jace takes a few boxes into the backroom. I glance outside, checking on Blake before I abandon my station. Blake seems to be taking care of things. He shows the ladies he has attracted a dimpled smile that leaves them weak-kneed. Trusting Blake to keep an eye on things, I go to the back.

The relationship between the delivery guy and me is strictly physical. Neither of us is allowed to fall in love with the other. Jace and I both plan to marry women someday and have a normal family.

We just have to get past this temporary phase of being attracted to the same sex.

I shut the door and find Jace hiding between the first set of shelves filled with unopened boxes. He's squatting down, drawing a line across the tape with a pocketknife, when he hears my soft steps. "You're like a ghost, you know that?" Jace stands, and I walk over to him. He picks me up and jams my back into the wall, temporarily knocking the breath out of my lungs before sucking me into his hasty kiss. My fingers tangle in his short curls. The buttons of my shirt frustrate him, and he ends up popping them free. Jace kisses my bare chest, his tongue swirls around my nipple, and electricity runs through me as I tilt my head back in ecstasy.

***

My afternoon goes slowly. I sleep through one of my university classes; the wet ink from my notes leaves letter stains on my cheek that I don't bother the wipe off. When the professor's dull voice announces that class is over, I'm one of the first to pack up and leave. I don't make eye contact with anyone. I'm afraid that if I do, they'll see through me and learn my secret.

I exit the building, and after a short jog across the recently trimmed grass outside, I find a round stone table with a matching bench to study at.

The university consists of five or six dusty, red-bricked buildings with glass windows, through which you can see students navigating the hallways or sitting in classrooms.

It's midday, so the sun warms my face as I sit at the table near a small bushy area in-between Buildings A and B. Wispy clouds swim across the azure sky as sleep warms my body. My eyes close, and my head drops before I catch myself dozing off and jerk awake.

I listen to the quiet murmur of other students as they trickle past in one endless stream. I make out a flash of black hair as Jace leaves his friends from the soccer team and takes the seat across me; he is dressed simply, blue shirt tucked into the waist of his black jeans, but he manages to look effortlessly handsome.

He's the only person I make eye contact with, and that's only because we have met outside of school and shared a secret. Jace places his textbook down and smiles at me. Light dances around his brown eyes. "How was class?"

"Boring."

"Doesn't learning about politics inspire you to join the government and run our country someday?"

"Mostly, it just puts me to sleep."

"Then, why did you choose it as your major?"

"The house of lords doesn't have as much power as it did, so my father hopes I can get a proper government position. Something with influence."

"Ah.... I almost forgot your father was an earl." Jace leans forward and watches me through half-lidded eyes as his smile stretches. "You look beautiful today." His large hand covers mine, but I pull back and place my hand on my lap, conscious of the people passing by. Some of the excitement leaves his eyes, and his smile grows forced.

I wonder what someone popular like him loves about me. Is it my money? I would only have access to a small sum until my father died, so there isn't much I can give him.

Honestly, he could have any man or woman he wanted, so why waste time with our little fling? When I looked in the mirror, I saw nothing impressive. And my guilt had caused me to hate swimming in front of large groups. I started to overthink every action, my throat closed up, and I suddenly couldn't breathe, so I had to stop and climb out of the pool. No one wants a swimmer who can't finish a lap and starts hyperventilating under pressure.

When I'm around too many people, I worry that my secret is leaking out of my pores and someone will report me. I picture myself getting arrested and my reputation suffering irredeemable damage.

I have nothing to give Jace.

I tell him, "Thank you, but, despite how impressed I am by your flimsy compliment, we can only have sex once per day."

"Says who?"

"God."

"I'm pretty sure God doesn't want us doing anything at all since we're both men." He pauses, then a mysterious spark brightens his brown eyes as he says, "Would you ever have sex in a church?"

"That would be highly inappropriate. I'm an earl's son, you know?"

"How could I forget when you mention it every ten minutes? Then..." He walks his fingers across the table. "How about having sex in an empty classroom?" Jace removes a set of keys from his pocket and wiggles them. "I'm helping one of my philosophy professors mark quizzes, and he had to leave early... something about his fiancé freaking out over a wrong menu, so he left me to lock up."

I place my hands on the table and lean towards him conspiringly. "It sounds... exciting. But we would both go to jail if we were caught. We would also get expelled."

"Not if we keep the door locked." He chuckles and motions for me to get up.

Not bothering to open our books, we stuff them into our knapsacks and head to Building B. It's a short walk away. Skinny linden trees lean in the breeze, their leaf-laden branches twisting one way and then another. A set of concrete steps leads us into the back of the building. My chest tightens, knowing that we're about to do something illicit. Dangerous.

We take the stairs to the fourth floor, and as we walk down the long corridor, I see a ghost. Xavier stands outside one of the classrooms, talking to the female Geography professor.

A chill runs through me as I remembered how I betrayed him. How we haven't spoken in four years. He has grown a lot since I last saw him; he is over six feet tall. His muscles are a lot more developed. His cropped blonde hair compliments his rugged face. I step back and murmur, "Actually, I have to go. I just remembered that Blake wanted me to help him develop a new advertising costume. Bye."

Disappointment clouds Jace's face, and a cute pout settles on his lips. I give him a quick hug, and then, before Xavier sees me, I turn and sprint down the steps as if the devil himself is chasing me.

***

When we were little, I had the misfortune of running into Xavier's mom a few times. Her body was skinny, while her face was plump with sunken eyes. Her thin, balding, blonde hair was always covered with some hat.

One day, the earl invited me over to do homework with Xavier, and we ended up playing hide and seek instead.

I hid in a closet in the drawing room. I remember the cherry wood that enclosed me; it had the sweet fragrance of Jasmine flowers. Someone came close to my hiding spot, and I, mistaking the light tread for Xavier, stuck my head out to surprise him. But the visitor wasn't Xavier; it was his mother.

The lady screeches, and I shrink back into my hiding spot, pulling the door closed. The next thing I know, she's fighting with me to open it. Since I'm barely half her size, she wins, and I topple out as she flings the door open, my hand still on the knob. I hit the wooden floor hard and landed at eye level with her heels. She starts kicking me in the gut and stepping on my head while screaming.

Xavier appears in the doorway, not much bigger than me. I make the mistake of reaching out to him, and unguarded, her shoe strikes my lip. I taste blood, and my eyes begin to water.

Xavier races to my side faster than I think possible and covers my body with his, screaming, "Stop! You're hurting him. Stop! Dad! Dad, Mum has gone mad!"

The lady stops then, not wanting to hurt her own son. She tells him, "That boy will take everything from you if you're not careful. If you don't want to lose everything, you better make his life miserable, or he'll steal your inheritance." She spits on the ground in a very unladylike manner, fixes her hat that had tilted to one side, and soothes the wrinkles of her white dress before leaving us.

Xavier touches my sore lip. "Are you okay?"

I nod. I hurt all over, but she is no longer kicking me, so I feel a little better. "Who was that?"

He glared at the doorway while stroking my hair to comfort me. "They say she's my mother, but I don't like her very much."

"I don't think I like her either."

***

I get home late at night. A large window in the south wall views the road and the apartments opposite us. Purple drapes, pulled to one side, touch the ground.

In the living room, Blake has the TV on while he sits on the sofa, watching the Jetsons. The brightly coloured family race across the screen as they try to solve their newest problem. Tall speakers on either side of the TV make our living room sound like a movie theatre. Though my steps are always quiet, and most people never notice I'm around till I alert them, Blake senses me and turns his head.

When he stands up to greet me, I realize he's shirtless. My face warms as we watch each other in silence.

Blake's lower abdomen is divided into six hard buns that shiver with every breath. My eyes follow the grooves that separate them. He's attractive, but he's my best friend, and I made a promise long ago to never do anything that would make him uncomfortable. He holds up two bowls. "Do you want the red popcorn or blue?"

"I'll take blue," I say, stepping down into the living room that's a foot lower than everything else, and settling next to him. He places the bowl on my lap, sharing his favourite treat with me. We spend almost every day and night together. Blake rubs my knee and leans his head against mine as if he is too tired to hold up his own. His long hair feels like silk on my neck. I break the silence, telling him, "Have you ever thought of going to Canada and seeing where your grandmother came from?"

"No."

"Why?"

"My family is here, and you're here, and that's more than enough for me."

"But don't you ever wonder what life is like there?"

He pauses, thinking before he speaks. His silence drags on for a few minutes, and I start to believe he has forgotten about my question before he says, "I like being by your side. I don't have any intention to go somewhere you aren't."

***