Second Nature (His Chance 2)

I got up to take a look. The drawer was filled with neat rows of underwear in a range of styles and colors, and I asked, “Did you make all of these?”

“Yeah, every last one.”

“Wow, that’s fantastic.”

He glanced at me from under his lashes. “You don’t think it’s silly that I do this?”

“You’re creating beautiful things that make you happy. There’s nothing silly about it.” When he leaned in and kissed my cheek, I smiled at him and asked, “What was that for?”

“For making me feel like my quirky little hobby isn’t ridiculous.”

“It’s brilliant, actually. In fact, you should turn it into a business. I’ll bet it’s hard for anyone besides cisgender women to find lingerie that fits right.”

“I’ve thought about that for years, but do you really think people would want to buy my designs?”

“Absolutely.”

He said, “That would be a dream come true, but I don’t have the first clue about how to run a business.”

“Me neither, but we could learn. I’d be happy to help you.”

“You really are sweet.” He closed the drawer and changed the subject by asking, “Do you feel like going for a walk? You’re probably tired of being cooped up in here.”

I wasn’t just going to forget about the idea of turning his passion into a business, but for now I said, “I’d love to take a walk with you, not that I feel cooped up. Can we go and see the horses? Lorenzo mentioned there are a few of them here at the resort.”

“Sure. We can even go riding if you want.”

“Or not. I’ve just always wanted to see one up close. As far as climbing on its back, hanging on for dear life, and bouncing around for a while, that actually sounds horrible.”

He pulled a pair of black ankle boots from his closet and asked, “You’ve never seen a horse up close before?”

“Nope.” I sat on the edge of the bed and put on my socks and shoes as I said, “The closest I’ve come to being in the country is watching it roll past my window on the drive from L.A. to San Francisco.”

“You grew up in Southern California, right?”

“Yeah, in a working-class neighborhood in Torrance.”

“They never took you on a field trip to a farm or anything like that?”

“No, but when I was in the fourth grade, they paid some guy to bring a cow to our school. Her name was Bernadette, and three kids got called on to try milking her. Sadly, I was one of those kids. Then she took a big dump on the hopscotch. I was nine, so obviously all of this made a huge impression on me.”

He chuckled and said, “That all sounds very educational.”

“Right? I don’t know what we were supposed to learn from the visiting cow, but it was actually one of the best school days ever because we got to go outside and do something different for an hour. I always got in trouble in school because I had a hard time sitting still and paying attention, so anything to break up the routine was welcome.”

“I used to get in trouble for not paying attention too, but in my case it was because I was always daydreaming.”

While he put on a pair of socks and the boots, I asked him, “What would you daydream about?”

“It’s silly.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Gabriel glanced at me, and after a pause he admitted, “A lot of times, I’d fantasize about what my life would be like once I was a grown up. It was all very innocent and totally unrealistic.”

“How did you imagine it?”

“I grew up watching a lot of old movies, so I basically pictured a Doris Day film. I’d have an exciting job in a big city, a swanky apartment, and of course a handsome boyfriend who looked a lot like Rock Hudson.”

I asked, “Did you watch those movies with your mom?”

“No. She had to work two jobs to make ends meet since she was a single parent, so this little old lady in our apartment building would babysit me after school. Her name was Miss Eleanor, and she was wonderful. We’d watch her favorite musicals over and over, and we’d both sing along while I tried to mimic the dance routines.”

“Miss Eleanor sounds terrific.”

“She really was. It broke my heart when she died during my freshman year of high school, but I’m lucky she was a part of my life for fourteen years,” he said. “In fact, she was the first person I came out to when I was twelve, and she was so kind and accepting.”

“I’m glad you had that support.”

“Me too. I needed it desperately back then, and I really wasn’t going to get it from my super religious family.” As I followed him out of his room and up the stairs, he asked, “How old were you when you came out?”