Parsons

The impossible had happened: Dr. Jackson added a fish to her aquarium. I watched the creature explore their new home and eventually rest on a plastic leaf my therapist had suctioned into the inside of the tank. I wondered if it could tell it was fake.

"First and foremost, how were your holidays?" she asked me while skimming through her file. "You said you were having that... bread with your friends' family. With the baby you were scared of."

"Yeah, it's called a rosca," I corrected amicably. "Aaron's dad flew into town, and his siblings came over. His brother ended up getting the baby, thank God."

-

It had been just over a month since I had cut contact with Landon, came to terms with my feelings about Aaron, and, against all odds, nailed my interview. Fawn was the one who had called me to break the news - apparently, Pagliari's tight schedule was no joke, especially during the holiday season. She had been invited to his winter charity gala and asked if I had been hired, only for him to look at her with confusion. He had asked his forgetful secretary to send me the onboarding information the same night we had chatted.

Fawn hadn't lied. Pagliari paid a lot -- like, a lot -- enough to make me ask Aaron to double-check the numbers on my screen. I had never filled out loads of paperwork that fast, scared that this miraculous opportunity would vanish if I took one extra second.

But it was real, and I was set to move in mid-spring. Fawn was ecstatic, seeing as the one-bedroom apartment I was assigned to wasn't too far from her and Savannah's place - they had even offered me to stay while I found another job or place if I chose to stay in New York. She excitedly sent me maps and subway explanations over the weeks. Looking over prices and the ridiculous rent averages kept my eyes wide as I read, even more when I realized I could afford these things comfortably.

So what if it was temporary? You never know, right? A lot can happen in around four months, assuming my new boss' catastrophically busy family was punctual.

The rest of December had gone without a hitch. Aaron's mom invited me to their Christmas celebrations. Kiara, Gill, and I had accidentally started a book club that expanded to my coworkers. Aaron and I had even seen Dianna Fagron perform one last time at his club's New Year's Dragstravaganza - all platonic, but Aaron interrogated me the whole way home.

As for Aaron, my attraction to him only grew more profound, to the point where I was overthinking the most minor actions. I had always known he was kind, so his continuous favors and compliments could easily be platonic. During an after-class chat, Claudia and Jolene convinced me that the reciprocation of my feelings was likely.

Jolene had sipped from her glass of wine. "Sweetheart, you're the first openly gay man I've ever met-"

"Oh, I'm actually bisexual," I corrected.

"I don't care," Jolene continued, "The point is that even if you're not just into women, that doesn't mean the boy brain shuts off."

I wasn't sure where she was going with this. "Like... in an insulting way?" I asked, putting away some spare canvases in the studio's closet.

"No, dear," Claudia piped in, "she means that even if he's gay, he's still a man. He wouldn't be around you like that if he didn't want to be with you."

"Okay, but that's different. He's honest to God just a nice person. I don't wanna ruin our friendship 'cause I confused his kindness."

Jolene set her glass down on a nearby stool between the two women. "What did you say he likes to do when he hugs you?"

It was something I had noticed just recently. "He likes to breathe in 'cause he likes how my hair smells. He just likes how eucalyptus smells. It's all on my shampoo."

"And how often, pray tell, are you all over your friends and sniffing their hair?" she asked. Claudia filled her wine glass again. They both looked at each other simultaneously and took a sip in agreement.

Despite the high odds, I didn't indulge in blatant flirting or any moves. As difficult as it was to accept, I knew I wasn't ready from the get-go. I didn't know how long this whole healing or getting better thing took, but I refused to start anything with Aaron until I was in the right headspace. I had even wondered if my thoughts for him would go away - maybe some fluke of the stressful weekend and dealing with the pain Landon left me - but they stayed, heightening every time he asked if a new coat looked good on him or asked if I could have the mushrooms I took out of my lunch.

Another thing that fed into my reluctance was my job offer. Starting something new only to leave Aaron behind so soon would be terrible. His conflicted look when I told him the news was distressing enough. His parents must've had a hard time with those puppy eyes growing up.

He deserved better, the best. I couldn't give him everything, but I would do it right if I tried.

-

"I'm glad things worked in your favor. Speaking of good news, I got confirmation for our telehealth sessions when you move. You will have to excuse me if I'm not too savvy with the computer," Dr. Jackson laughed warmly.

If I could, I'd bring her right along with me. "We all had to start somewhere, Doc. I don't mind a mini crash course before I leave, either. I'm gonna need you out there to keep me sane."

"Hopefully, I'll get there before that's necessary," she smiled politely, "although I will miss our in-person sessions. Have you noticed the newest addition to the tank?"

"I did!" I said excitedly, watching the violet betta hide between the dancing plants. "What's its name?"

Dr. Jackson pondered. "I've had a hard time choosing one. What name do you think fits him?"

As small as the action was, it felt like a huge honor. "Doc, you're gonna have to let me think about that one 'til the next session."

"Take your time."

-

"Can I ask you something personal?"

The piece of white chocolate that was headed to my mouth stopped mid-air. Aaron's intimate questions weren't new, but he typically just asked outright. Whenever he had a transition, it usually meant the question was sensitive.

"Should I be worried?" I asked, placing the chocolate back onto the charcuterie board Aaron had spent too much time bringing together. In an attempt to clear his pantry (his algorithm had convinced him his kitchen needed a deep clean), he had invited me over to enjoy his creation. I don't know which TikToker told him small pickles should be that close in proximity to a variety of chocolate, but I'd love to have a word with them. Disgusted at the idea of dark chocolate soaked in vinegar, I was eating from the outside.

Aaron looked nervous. He was hesitant long enough for me to reconsider biting into the candy. "Do you... wanna ask me later?"

"No! I just don't want it to be confusing." He leaned back on his sofa, his black t-shirt riding up his torso. Aaron was delighted by his work from home. Seemingly, Kiara and Gill were an anomaly - Aaron hated his work environment. Now, he got to earn money while Elote would rest on his lap. The pet, at the moment, was asleep inside the cat tower in Aaron's office.

"I ask this respectfully," he clarified, swishing sangria in his glass. "I knew I was attracted to men my entire life. How come it took you until so recently?"

"Are you making a profile on me or something?" I questioned, reclining against the arm on the opposite side of the couch.

He gave me an annoyed look. "No, I'm just curious. There's nothing wrong with also being attracted to women; I'm just surprised that it took you this long to feel attracted to men."

"Who said I had never felt like that before?"

Aaron raised an eyebrow. "You did. I thought Ian was your first."

"No, Ian was my first relationship with a guy," I corrected, taking a sip of my water bottle and placing it on his coffee table. "Obviously, I had crushes that I didn't know were crushes, but the first guy I felt it with - like, felt it felt it - was back in college."

-

The first time I kissed a man, I was just shy of the second semester of my freshman year.

My starting sprint of school had gone alright - I knew that with Pell Grants and my credit score having an execution date the second I was handed my degree, I had to focus on my studies. No distractions, no girls, nothing that could tear me away from setting up the foundation for a successful future.

I gave up the perfection goal entirely as soon as our first semester ended.

Landon, who I only spoke to back then when I would bang on our door at 1 AM after being locked out, was humming to himself as he packed his clothes for his trip home. One measly hour drive, and he had enough bags for a year-long stay in Europe. I watched him with annoyance and a little bit of envy.

I had already requested to stay in for the winter break with nowhere to go. There was the occasional offhanded invite from every other friend, but I didn't feel like being anyone's charity case. I had saved enough with my campus job to feed myself comfortably for the next two weeks and kept up with posters around town for some solo entertainment. Not a Hallmark set of plans, but nothing new.

Landon felt my eyes on him and looked over his shoulder, irked. "No one taught you that it's rude to stare?"

"No, actually," I said carelessly, returning to flipping through a worn Batman comic from the comfort of my twin bed. "I'm just curious about why you have so many clothes when no one even looks at you."

His jaw tightened. "Because some of us can afford them."

"Oooh, you kiss your mother with that mouth?" I replied. King Eric of Norania was more compelling than his tired attempt to insult me. "Don't let her find out. She could take your books and force you to make eye contact."

"She might be too busy writing a sympathy card for yours. Couldn't have been easy to raise a prick like you."

I stopped reading, his words stinging, but I didn't look away from my page. Our dorm's door opened, and in came a couple of men in blue polos - movers that worked under Landon's father's company to help him, "Belhomme" ironed onto the back of their shirts. It only upset me further, knowing he had to get men to move his stuff for him while everyone else debated whether or not tossing bags out the window was more effortless than a three-floor struggle.

When I first met him, I wondered how someone as loaded as Landon had ended up at the same public university I had, but the more I learned about how restrictive his parents were, the more it made sense. At the time, though, I figured he was just another Daddy's boy who refused to be anywhere unless he was the best. I wasn't too far off.

The movers took most of the luggage, leaving Landon with a single bookbag to hang on his shoulder. "Well, happy holidays," he forced out as he went to the door. "Hopefully, your financial aid documents will disappear by the time break ends."

"God willingly the brakes on your car do too!" I sang, lowering my comic so he could see my grin. His eyebrows came together -- he hated it when I used God in casual conversation. Truth be told, I didn't have any general issues with religious people, but it was a fun button to press.

He closed the door behind him and I welcomed the silence -- a nearly empty building for two whole weeks with no assignments. Happy holidays, indeed.

-

The first week on my own went by swimmingly. I could leave my clothes on the floor without Landon throwing a fit, push our beds together for ultimate comfort, and indulge in all the Playboy magazines I had been hiding the past few months. A couple of weeks into the school year, Landon had found one on my desk and had proudly told me he had shredded it and flushed it down the toilet. While I'm sure Master Splinter was thankful, I started stuffing them in between my mattresses - yeah, I knew online porn was at my fingertips, but I feared a virus more than anything in 2012. I couldn't afford a new phone just 'cause I was hormonal.

I ended up befriending a handful of people who had stayed behind, a mix of students who either couldn't afford to go home, were international, or didn't have anywhere to go like me. Bradley, who I would run into at parties and knew the best out of everyone, fit into the latter, complaining as we smoked in his dorm.

"And my dad, he..." he broke into coughs. I slapped his back until he cleared up, and I relit our poorly rolled blunt. "He said he wasn't gonna want me back 'til I had a whole career. Shit, if he insists..."

Sober, I would've asked if Bradley's father was being serious. In this condition, though, I understood completely while I took a drag. "Dads are the worst. Why do they even do that if they hate their kids?" I wondered out loud, exhaling.

Bradley was as baffled as I was. "I don't know, but when I'm a dad, I'm gonna be so cool. I'm gonna bring my kids candy and shit when I get home and their mom is gonna be so hot, like Selena Gomez."

He caught my face of disagreement through the smoke that filled his room, restricted by the towels he put under his door. "What? You don't think she's hot?"

"She's hot, but imagine fighting off everyone for your wife if she's famous. 'Cause if we think she's hot, everyone else thinks she's hot. You'll be having to beat guys off."

It wasn't a problem for Bradley. "So? She's gonna be my wife. I'd probably be fighting people she hated anyway."

He was a treat to keep around. Although not everyone was down for a faux sleepover during all moments of the day (not like any lingering floor advisors or security guards made it easy), the times we did enjoy each other's company during that first week were fantastic. We drowned in junk food, shit-talked our classmates, and tried acid for the first time (at least in my case) from the comfort of Landon's bed. Even the foreign exchange students who weren't familiar with English warmed up to us eventually, although we occasionally had to pull up Google Translate with some idioms. To this day, I get emails from Dhiego asking if I finally remember what song was playing when we were losing our shit in my dorm.

On the last Saturday of that first week, a few of us decided to try some late afternoon ice skating at the nearby shopping outlet. I didn't feel like tapping into my emergency piggy bank to fix broken teeth, so I hung onto the wall around the rink, shuffling awkwardly while my friends recreated the Winter Olympics. Jerks.

"Heath!" Bradley called out, skating up next to me. I nearly lost my balance when he grabbed my shoulder to stop himself. "You know Tara from Calc?"

I did not. "What about her?"

"She's here with one of the girls from her sorority. Can you keep the friend busy? I really wanna get her number."

"I don't think she's gonna love having to help me around," I said as I steadied myself.

Bradley grabbed my shoulders firmly and turned me around toward the only two people who weren't here to chaperone their kids. "She doesn't feel like skating, and she's keeping Tara there. Come on, man, you can grab onto me and I'll take you back."

There was nothing hotter than a guy clinging onto his fellow guy friend's arm while he escorted him back. Tara waved shyly from the bench. Had I known I'd be in a love triangle with a sociopath and her in the future, I would've warned her to transfer to another college while she could. Right now, though? Bradley needed a wingman.

I clumsily turned to face him. "If I keep the other girl away 'til Tara wants to head out, you owe me big time."

"I will give you anything; just make it happen," Bradley begged.

I took a breath and shut my eyes, taking some crooked steps backward until I lost my balance. I told Bradley I had wailed dramatically to sell the lie, but it really was that harsh of a fall. I had fallen on my arm and kept a nasty bruise for weeks. I could hear the girls' gasps.

Bradley heroically crouched down and helped me to my feet, whispering a quick thank you as he helped me onto the bench the girls had sprung from. Once I assured I'd be okay, I conversed with Tara's friend - whose name turned out to be Natalie - while the two skated away. Neither of us was enthusiastic to hit the ice, so she suggested we head out. She knew of a band playing nearby at a club.

"How are we gonna get in? I got my fake taken away." Turns out even some of the shadiest liquor stores can tell when you're not a twenty-five-year-old named Steven.

"Who cares? My brother's the manager, and he can hook us up. You can call your other buddies too. It's either this or third-wheeling your friend the rest of the night."

She made an excellent point.

-

My wounded arm made all of us squeezing into Natalie's buggy difficult, but the atmosphere at the venue wasn't half bad. Her brother got us in but warned that he'd be lingering by the bar if we tried to sneak a drink. Since he was huge and Natalie agreed without protest, we figured it was best not to risk it in his presence.

It was fine at the end of the day since the band they hosted made up for the sobriety. They blasted some energetic rock out of the building's low-quality speakers, but we didn't mind blending into the crowd that jumped around to the beat. It was really hot, especially with the coats we had equipped with the expectation of skating. I've always been fond of having shaggy hair, but back then, it went two inches past my shoulders, a dangerous addition to a guy who was already boiling.

Noticing some staff members were passing out water near the stage, Natalie grabbed my hand and pulled me to the barricade. We got our hands on a singular cup of water.

"Are you gonna share?" I asked loudly. With the singer only a few feet above us, angrily marching around the stage while he controlled the audience, there was no guarantee that she'd hear me at an average volume.

She took a sip of the water, acting as if she was deciphering its flavor. "It's a little cold!" she explained, sliding an arm around my neck and pulling me in. "Here, check the temperature!"

I put my hands on her waist when we began to make out, my tongue catching the last bit of coolness left in her mouth. Her bangs tickled my face while I pulled her against my body. I didn't care if anyone around was annoyed - I wasn't about to pass up kissing a pretty girl.

I cracked my eyes open while we continued, eyeing the stage. While one of the guitarists attempted a solo, the singer stepped back, his eyes fixed directly on mine. I expected him to look away when I caught him, but he lingered and licked his mouth.

I was already excited because Natalie was still playing with my tongue, but the way he was reacting sent a chill down my spine that I had only ever felt with women.

The energy was too high for me to overthink about it. In the privacy of my room, I would've probably freaked out. In the venue, though, with Natalie's fingers moving south of my body, her lips nibbling on mine, and the singer sneaking flirtatious looks in my direction whenever he could, I just knew I wanted one thing, no matter who provided it.

We spent the next hour rubbing up on each other with occasional breaks to cheer with the crowd. Bradley and Tara had also caught up to us - Tara's intrigue in Bradley was gone when he asked if she was cool with him jumping into a mosh pit. Guess she wanted someone more mature.

The music finally ended, with the band thanking us for coming out and not-so-subtly imploring us to follow them on Facebook. As they packed their stuff and the crowd began to disperse throughout the venue, I finally let go of Natalie and told her I needed some air; it was a bit hard to hook up with someone when you're seconds away from heat stroke. She told me to find her after she checked on Tara at the bar.

I didn't want to compromise re-entry, so I followed a group of roadies taking the band's equipment out a door beside the stage. Trusting the door would stay open while they loaded up their van, I walked further into the alley, the cool air of the night bringing my temperature back to an average level. I took a deep breath and watched it fade away, my ears still buzzing from the past few hours.