“You don’t have to thank me. It’s called ‘gay code.’ I wouldn’t out anyone…ever. It’s the epitome of uncool.” He bit his bottom lip and blinked before continuing. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you seem like you need a gay buddy.”
I snorted. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Who do you talk to about your homo happiness?”
“No one…because I don’t say shit like ‘homo happiness.’ I’m not that gay, Phoenix.”
“Call me Nix. My mom is the only who calls me Phoenix. And that’s only when she’s pissed at me.”
“I’m not gonna call you Nix.”
“Why not?”
“It sounds too much like Max. Max and Nix sound like a bad comedy act or a deejay duo who’re trying too hard.” I hid my smile when he busted up laughing. “Do you want a fuckin’ burrito or not?”
“How gay are you?”
I frowned. “I thought we were talking about burritos.”
He shook his head. “I don’t care about burritos or even french fries right now. Are you gay or bi or—”
“I’m gay, Phoenix. One hundred percent gay.”
“Have you ever been with a girl?”
“On dates, yes.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant. I’m just wondering why you’re grilling me.”
“I’m not grilling you. Okay, fine. Maybe I am, but it’s because I’m on the verge of making an indecent proposal and these things matter. Maybe they shouldn’t, but I’m detail-oriented,” he said in a rush.
“What kind of indecent proposal?” I prodded in a low voice.
“I can’t tell you until I ask a few more questions.”
“About my gayness?”
“Yes. ‘Get to know your next-door gay’ type questions. Like…have you ever kissed a girl?”
“Yeah. In high school. But less than five times and in every case, it was a high-pressure situation.”
Phoenix squinted. “Is that the same as a peer pressure situation?”
“Maybe. Not kissing your beautiful and extremely flirtatious date on prom night is a form of social suicide. But I never went any further than kissing. It just didn’t feel right. I’m attracted to muscular, athletic guys. Not skinny girls who smell like gardenias and laugh at every dumb thing I say.”
“Good to know.”
I cocked my head. “What about you? I mean, I know you’re gay, but who’s your type? Are you into silver foxes, muscle daddies, theater geeks, or jocks?”
He chuckled softly. “Yes.”
“Be more specific,” I prodded.
“I don’t label people, Max. If I’m attracted, I go with the feeling,” he replied breezily.
“Bullshit. Everyone has a type. Have most of your boyfriends been taller than you or had the same color hair or interests? C’mon, be real with me.”
“Okay. I have a very short list where boyfriends are concerned…three to be exact.”
“That’s one more than me, gigolo,” I teased.
“Ha. They were all taller than me with dark hair like yours and…”
“And what?” I poked his side playfully.
“They may have been athletes,” he admitted before pretending to check his cuticles.
I fixed him with a slow-growing, mischievous grin. He was so freaking obvious, it was funny. And interesting too. I couldn’t wait to see where he went with this.
“Sports guys like me?” I asked, pointing at my chest as I widened my eyes. “Are you saying I’m your type?”
Phoenix scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You’re everyone’s type, Max. Looks-wise, anyway. You’re tall, dark, and dreamy. Your gay aptitude is frighteningly low, but otherwise, yeah…you’re my type. And I’m not yours, which is—”
“Hey, I didn’t say that,” I intercepted awkwardly.
“You inferred it, and that’s okay. In fact, it’s perfect. It’ll remind me not to fall in love with you. I tend to romanticize everything. See, I mistook you for Prince Charming, but it turns out you’re more like the sexy UPS guy who accidentally delivered the wrong package.”
“The UPS guy?” I huffed. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“It can be totally hot. Even hotter than Prince Charming. It depends on what you’re looking for. And that’s my problem. I’ve been holding out for something that doesn’t exist when I should have placed my order and waited for the UPS guy to deliver,” he said matter-of-factly.
I furrowed my brow so hard that my forehead ached. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. Do you have a delivery guy fetish or something?”
“Not really. But my UPS guy is kinda hot.”
“Mine isn’t. Like at all. So why don’t you go back to your ‘indecent proposal’? What is it?”
Phoenix opened his mouth, then made a funny face and bent his head as if to hide his face. When his crown slipped over his eyes, I plucked it off and held it out of his reach.
“Hey!”
“Hey, yourself. I’ve never been indecently proposed to in a Del Taco parking lot. I can’t decide if I should be turned-on or insulted. Don’t leave me hangin’ now. Start talking.”
He swiveled in his seat to face me. “Okay, well, I was thinking…if you’re not with anyone and I’m not with anyone, maybe we could…”