His Secret

46. Matías

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

MATíAS

I make a point to be purposefully late to the barbecue, only because I don’t want to be the first guest to mingle with the married couple.

I come with a pack of soda and two bags of different types of chips. Martin, one of the neighbors I do know, shows up on the porch right after I ring the bell.

“Hey,” he says with a friendly smile.

“Martin. Hi. How’ve you been?”

“Not too bad. You?”

“Pretty good,” I answer with a smile.

Footsteps approach and the door begins to open.

“Yeah. You look good,” Martin says, giving me a thorough once-over.

I turn my head and find Adrian there, and based on his expression, he overheard.

He quickly paints a smile on his face as he greets us.

“Hey, guys.”

“Hey,” I reply.

“Thanks for the invite,” Martin says, holding up a plastic grocery bag. “I brought a few things. ”

“Come in. You can put everything in the kitchen.”

Martin walks in first and instantly begins talking to someone else already in the house.

I meet Adrian’s eyes as I step inside. “Hello. Sleep well?”

He smirks, cheeks blushing, but doesn’t answer. Instead, he asks his own question. “Was Martin hitting on you?”

I smile back at him. “So, the kitchen?”

He makes a noise in his throat and closes the door. “Yeah.”

Martin’s talking to another man that I know I’ve seen several times, but whose name doesn’t come to me. But besides them, there’s nobody else in the house.

Adrian takes the bag of chips from me and puts them on the island in the middle of the kitchen, and I put the drinks next to some other ones that are displayed near the sink.

“I gotta get back to the grill,” he says. “Greg might be burning my food. Y’all can come out back.”

Through the sliding glass door, I see Charlotte talking to Diane, a woman I’ve talked to quite a bit. Pretty sure she’s married to the guy Martin was talking to.

“Hey,” Charlotte greets us with a wide smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. Thanks for the invite,” I say with a small nod.

They have a rectangular table on their porch, with a large umbrella open and sitting in the middle, blocking out the sun.

There’s also a couple of chairs near a fire pit that’s several feet past the main seating area, and while I’d much prefer to be as far away from the group as possible, I guess it would be weird for me to choose to sit out there.

“So, you guys all know each other, right?” Charlotte asks, gesturing between all of us, including a couple already sitting at the table .

Martin speaks up first. “I know this guy right here,” he says, an arm going around my shoulder briefly. “And I know Greg and Diane, but I don’t think I’ve met you two,” he says to the couple at the table. “I’m Martin. I’m down at 479.” He extends his hand.

“Carl,” the man says. He gestures to the woman at his side. “My wife, Leslie.”

Leslie shakes Martin’s hand, a warm smile on her face. “Nice to meet you.”

I lift a hand at the Black couple, who look to be about mid-forties. Carl has a salt and pepper beard and a bald head, while Leslie has chocolate brown curls, and a smattering of freckles on her cheeks.

“I’m Matías,” I say.

They nod and smile, and I turn to Diane. “How are you?”

She grins. “I’m good. I missed you this morning.”

I laugh. “I slept in for once. Sorry to miss our morning chat.”

Diane smiles, the fine lines deepening around her mouth. “It’s good to sleep in once in a while.”

I met Diane almost five years ago, when I first moved into this neighborhood. She just turned forty-nine, because the last time I saw her, she mentioned it being the last year she can say she’s in her forties.

On Saturdays, I’m usually out front doing yardwork or cleaning my car inside and out. She always stops by during her walks with her little Yorkshire terrier to talk to me, and we also run into each other on my evening jogs when she’s once again out for a walk with her other dog, a long-haired chihuahua. She says they can’t be walked together because they don’t know how to act.

Adrian puts on some low music, and everyone starts talking about where they grew up, how long they’ve lived here, what they do for work, and general get to know you questions.

“The food will be done soon, guys,” Adrian announces from the grill that sits a few feet from the table.

“It smells good,” Diane says.

“Let’s hope it tastes good,” Adrian says with a laugh.

“I’m pretty talented on the grill,” Carl announces. “Next time we can do it at my house.”

“I’m always down for a good meal,” Martin says, eyes sliding in my direction to give me another up and down.

I turn my gaze to find Adrian looking at Martin.

“So, how long have you two been married?” Diane asks Charlotte.

“Oh. Not too long. About two years.”

“That’s damn near still newlyweds,” Diane’s husband says. “We’ve been married for fifteen years. Makes me feel ancient.”

Diane playfully smacks him. “Greg, it’s been sixteen years.”

“Oh.” Greg laughs.

“Any plans for kids?” Diane questions.

Charlotte shifts, looking uncomfortable.

“Not sure,” she says. “Haven't thought much about it.”

“Well, you still have time. Or you can choose to never have them, like we did. Either way, as long as you’re happy.”

Charlotte flattens her lips into a tight smile. “Right. As long as we’re happy.”

“I don’t think I ever want kids,” Martin chimes in from my left. He takes a sip of his drink. “What about you?” he asks me.

“Maybe,” I answer. “One day. Not for another five years or so,” I say with a laugh. “Maybe longer.”

Adrian turns to look at me; there’s an expression on his face that I can’t read.

“Are you married yet?” Leslie asks.

“No,” I reply with a smile. “I guess I need to start there, but even then, the process of having babies would be different for me.” Leslie’s brows knit in confusion. “I’m gay,” I tell her.

“Oh. I have a friend who’s been a surrogate twice. The first pregnancy was for a gay couple, and they all still get together from time to time. She’s been able to watch the baby grow up. That’s definitely an option.”

I nod. “Yeah. We’ll see.”

“Food’s done,” Adrian announces.

Everyone gets up and goes in and out of the house to load their plates with chips, hot dogs, and burgers, and to refill their cups.

We sit outside at the table, and Charlotte chooses to sit next to Diane and across from Leslie, and when I sit at the other end, Martin plops into the seat at my left. Adrian takes the one to my right.

For the next forty minutes or so, we all eat and talk—topics bouncing from one thing to the next, and plenty of cross conversations as well. It’s clear there’s some tension between Adrian and Charlotte. They hardly speak to each other, but they’re putting on friendly faces for everyone else.

“Looks like we’re the only single ones here,” Martin says, nudging me with his elbow.

I incline my head. “Oh, yeah.”

Adrian’s talking to Greg, but I know he hears Martin, because his body goes stiff.

“I don’t know about you,” Martin continues, his voice quiet. “But I’d love to have dinner with you. Just us, you know. ”

I turn and look at him, trying to figure out how to respond.

“Oh, hey,” Adrian announces loudly. “I have some corn hole boards. And I should also have this giant beer pong yard game. The buckets are large and you just set them in the grass. We don’t have beer, but it could still be fun.”

Charlotte looks annoyed but quickly hides it when a few people show interest.

“I’ll go grab them. Can you help?” he asks me. “Might need to move a few boxes in the garage.”

I stand and follow him inside. We end up in his garage where he digs into a box and pulls out a large drawstring bag.

“Okay, Martin’s clearly hitting on you, and had I known he was harboring a crush, he wouldn’t have been invited.”

I laugh. “So this is your plan? College games in your backyard just to keep me from accepting his dinner invitation?”

“First of all, people of all ages love games. You and I were pretty good at beer pong back in the day. You could be my teammate again.”

“Mm,” I murmur, crossing my arms.

“What? Do you really want to date that guy?”

“No.”

“Good. Grab a board, will you?” he says, gesturing to the wooden boards in the corner.

“When can you get away?” I ask him.

“What do you mean?”

I step forward, my hand on his hip as I lean in and lick his neck. “I mean, when.” Kiss. “Can.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. “Get away?” A final kiss on his chin.

“Oh.”

“For a decent amount of time without any concern.”

“Um. I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”

I step away. “Soon.”

He nods, and I go and grab the corn hole boards.