Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 8

Bedknobs & Beanstalks (Gay Fairy Tales).
    She has lived and worked in London, Tokyo and Washington, D.C., but the San Francisco Bay Area is home for now.
    EPPIE Award Finalist and Rainbow Award Winner
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SEE RIGHT THROUGH
    by Sara Winters

    See him? The one in the bottom of the pile? That’s me, Michael. And those two are my best friends, Dev and Sammy. My gay best-friends. I’m straight, by the way. I wholeheartedly love women. It’s just my fate that I have two gays as best-friends.
    The trouble is, I KNOW that they are both crushing on me. That somehow they both wish I’m theirs. But what Dev and Sammy don’t realize, they’re actually perfect for one another. Now I just need help to make them see what everyone else see.
    ~ Ami

    genre: contemporary
    tags: friends to lovers; therapist; athlete; geeks; nerds.
    word count: 23,753
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    SEE RIGHT THROUGH
    by Sara Winters
    Dev stared at Sammy over the table, his dark eyes narrowed to slits. The tip of his tongue darted out to moisten his lips before he pressed them into a thin line, his concentration on the chess board between them. It would work this time, as it always had. Sam was as easy to read as the play book he left lying around the house. With chess, one always had to think three steps ahead. Sam Marshall, though smart, could rarely see the bigger picture. That's what made him an easy mark. It's what made him swear off playing poker with his friends. And that's why Devin Salvo had smiled when he'd made his last move, confident this game would end in yet another win for himself.
    Sammy drummed his fingers next to the board. The battered card table shook slightly. "You're only stalling the inevitable," he said. "I'm going to beat you."
    He paused and Dev watched the telltale dart of his eyes to one side before Sammy returned the steady gaze.
    "Seriously, it's long past time for lunch," Sammy continued. The babbling was another giveaway. Dev had this in the bag. "I'd like to get something to eat before I pass out."
    "If you talked less and paid more attention, you'd win more often." Dev's smug, satisfied smile inspired a frown from Sammy and he glanced down at the board again before returning his gaze to Dev, a hint of doubt now creeping into the hazel eyes.
    "I've won plenty of times," Sam countered.
    Jumpy. Defensive. The final chink in whatever bravado had convinced him he had a chance of winning this one. All that remained was for Devin to deliver the final blow.
    "Not against me, you haven't." Dev flashed a small smile. Nothing that Devin counted, anyway.
    "I've beaten you twice."
    Out of hundreds of games in the two years they'd known each other. Sammy had played no less than three games a week with Devin, the only person he'd met that he couldn't beat with any regularity. Michael found the frequent beatings a source of entertainment. Devin got a personal thrill out of beating the only person he knew who'd been on a champion chess team in high school rather than an athlete like the rest of his friends. Of course, that didn't matter when your opponent could have you second-guessing your moves from the first touch of a pawn.
    Dev leaned back in his the folding chair, stretching his legs out beneath the rickety table. The toe of his shoe brushed against Sammy's. "You only beat me because I was sick. I was on enough medication a fifth grader could've won against me."
    "Only the first time," Sammy said.
    "And I was distracted the second time," Dev said.
    Sam chuckled. The smile brought out a small dimple to the right side of his mouth. "Right. What distracted you?"
    Dev looked up and smiled. "Michael."
    "Figures. He—"
    Dev cleared his throat and nodded at a point over Sammy's shoulder. "Hey, Mike. What's going on?"
    Their roommate closed the front door with his foot and nodded to the pair sitting in front of the window. If Michael's late parents were still there, they would've flipped over their son closing the door with his foot, possibly leaving a huge footprint in his wake. In spite of momentary lapses like that, Michael had kept his family's home nearly the same in the two years since they'd passed. The front room was still filled with pictures of Evan and Linda Russ and their only child, with a few sprinkled in of Michael with his best friend Devin. Mrs. Russ's comfortable sofa and chairs were still in top shape, the deep green and gold upholstery complimented by shining hardwood floors and