Thomas and Carter argued again on the way to the party. Focused on each other, they drove through a stop sign, almost broadsiding a delivery van.
Thomas, driving, swerved right, jumping the curb. Carter, in passenger seat, braced his palms against the dashboard, preparing for an impact that never came. A bottle of wine, their gift for Warren and Ed, bolted forward from the rear floorboard, shot under the passenger seat, and wedged itself between Carter’s size twelve Oliver Cabell sneakers.
The delivery driver, oblivious, drove on. Thomas and Carter sat frozen, breathing hard. A moment passed, then two. Thomas pounded his fist on the steering wheel, put the car in reverse, and backed out into the street. Carter bent down and fished for the wine bottle.
For the rest of the drive: not one word.
At Warren and Ed’s party: lights strung from pine to pine, balloons bobbing from bushes, and a band playing on the pier. A hundred people laughed, hugged, air-kissed. Identical waiters — black hair, blue eyes, athletic builds — proffered prosecco flutes and finger foods.
Thomas pulled off the dirt road and onto a thick carpet of pine needles. He glanced at Carter. We’re late.
Carter grabbed the wine. Not my fault.
They followed the sloping path toward the lake house’s sprawling jumble of gables and decks. As they walked under the banner (“Warren and Ed — Celebrating 30 Years of Love”), several couples spotted them, bounded toward them, shouted their names.
Hugs for Carter, Thomas thought. He was right. Rick and Stephen, the couple who were always on vacation, squeezed Carter hard and long, despite having seen him last weekend. Alan and Quinn, the May-December pair with twenty years between them, did the same.
The men greeted Thomas, too, but with tight smiles and terse waves, except for Quinn, the gray-haired elder of the group, who gave Thomas a stiff handshake without making eye contact.
“Good to see you … two … together,” Rick chirped, saluting them with his drink.
Thomas glared at him.
“Oh my God,” Stephen said. “We’re just back. From Chiang Mai.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “You must go.”
Carter, head and shoulders taller than everyone else, beamed down at them. “Gimme the one best moment.”
“Riding the elephants. Through the jungle. Eating sticky rice.” Stephen put his hand over his heart. “You must go.”
Carter grinned. “Sounds amazing.”
Thomas fidgeted. “I need a drink.”
Quinn arched a gray eyebrow. “Do you?”
Without a word, Thomas set out for the bar.
On the way, Thomas ran a gauntlet of friends and acquaintances. A few, spotting him, scanned the sky for passing clouds or studied the plates of food in their hands. Most nodded or spoke. Lawrence — the needy perpetual dieter — looked right at Thomas and mouthed the words, “Are you okay, sweetie?”
Thomas acknowledged some but dodged them all, not stopping until he reached the lakeside bar. The twenty-something kid behind the counter — a bear of a guy, as tall as Carter but carrying a lot more weight — gave Thomas a wink. “Lemme guess: an IPA guy.”
Thomas shook his head. “Gin and tonic.”
“I dunno,” the kid said. “Tops drink IPAs.”
“What?”
“Only bottoms drink gin.” The kid waited a beat, then burst out laughing. “I’m just fucking with ya.” He offered Thomas a huge paw of a hand. “I’m Tevin. Like Kevin, but with a T.”
A firm handshake. “Thomas. Like … Thomas, I guess.”
Tevin tossed ice in a glass, doused it with gin. “Okay, Thomas like Thomas.” He looked Thomas square in the eyes. “I gotta say, I kind of like Thomas, too.”
Thomas narrowed his eyes. “You must work for tips.”
Tevin laughed again — a big, genuine laugh that lit up his face and shook his belly. “Dude, I’m no bartender. I was just helping myself to the beer when this hot, curly-haired, older bottom walked up and started bossing me around.” He garnished the drink with a lime and presented it with a flourish. “Fortunately for us both, I’m kinda into that.”
Thomas returned the laugh and took the drink. “Sorry, didn’t realize.” He frowned. “And as for older, I’m probably five years older than you, ten at most.”
Tevin cracked open a beer, waggling his eyebrows. “Right about the rest, though, eh?”
Thomas ran his free hand through his hair. “I gotta get back.”
The younger man came around the bar. Sunlight in his beard, that intoxicating grin. He clinked their glasses together. “For cheese and crackers?”
Thomas sipped his drink. Heavy on the gin, like he liked it. “For the husband.” He held up his left hand, pointed to his ring. “Nine years.”
Tevin drew close, his size making Thomas look less like a man and more like a skinny kid. Tevin rested a big, gentle hand on the shorter man’s shoulder. “Thomas like Thomas, I’m gonna tell you the secret to living your very best life.”
Thomas waited.
Tevin leaned in, his lips nuzzling the most sensitive part of Thomas’ ear. “You gotta live in the now.” He pulled away, letting his lips graze Thomas’ cheek, then lingered just a beat too long with his lips close to Thomas own. “Why don’t we find a spot where you can boss me around some more?”
The moment hung between the two men: a magnetism, a vibration, a heat shimmer in the humid air. Thomas felt a familiar surge of raw desire: the simple human need to be with someone who wanted to be with him.
And then, right behind Thomas, two men screamed.
Characters in this Chapter
[[Thomas Arnold – MC]], [[Carter Lamm]], Warren, Ed, Alan, Quinn, Rick, Stephen, Tevin
Commentary – Contains Spoilers
While I knew going into this chapter that Thomas and Carter were going to be at odds, I didn’t know, until their friends were so cool to Thomas, that Thomas has recently been unfaithful to Carter. That just … happened as I was writing, and feels like an authentic basis for their unhappiness.
Some Revision Samples
Original Draft
At Warren and Ed’s place, a party in full swing: lights strung high in the pines, balloons bobbing from bushes, a band playing on the lakeside pier, a hundred people laughing, hugging, air-kissing. A small army of identical waiters — slick black hair, blue eyes, chiseled cheekbones, tight white shirts, youthful, athletic, practically clones — circulated with flutes of prosecco and trays of finger foods.
Revised Draft
At Warren and Ed’s party: lights strung from pine to pine, balloons bobbing from bushes, and a band playing on the pier. A hundred people laughed, hugged, air-kissed. Identical waiters — black hair, blue eyes, athletic builds — proffered prosecco flutes and finger foods.
- I’m favoring word economy and simplifying sentences whenever possible.
The Deleted Opening
Chapter One originally opened with Thomas and Carter at home in their condo, together but separate. It was overtly narrated, and I realized I was breaking the old “show, don’t tell” rule. I converted that chapter to backstory and started closer to the action.
I’m really proud of the scene that replaces it — the terse little accident scene, which says a lot through implication instead of explicitly spelling out (or talking out, through dialogue) the state of Thomas and Carter’s relationship.
The Deleted Ending
The very first draft of Chapter One ended with Stephen elbowing his way between Thomas and Tevin and making some comment about Thomas “not learning lessons.” It was too on the nose, I thought. Rather than just defuse the erotic spell being cast here, I wanted to close with a cliff-hanger to carry the reader over into the next chapter, a practice I hope to carry over throughout the rest of the novel.