Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 9

practically hear the "Duh" at the end of her sentence.
    "Yeah, well that doesn't mean I want to hook up with him! Do you have the hots for every straight guy out there? I'll be sure to tell that creepster Ben down the street that he has a chance with you since your only requirement is that he's straight."
    "Michael," Ang's serious voice and brought him back to the present. "You never go out. You never date. I'm beginning to question whether or not you're really gay. Aren't gay guys supposed to be all horny and slutty and shag anything that's male and moves?"
    "Did you just say shag?" Michael tried to deflect.
    "Michael, I'm serious. I worry about you."
    He sighed. "I'm fine, Sis. Really. Besides I just don't have time for dating between work and taking care of the house for Mom. I assure you, however, that I am most definitely gay even without all the shagging."
    Resigned, his sister replied, "Fine. But you deserve to find someone, Michael. You can't use Mom and the house as an excuse forever." He could hear the smile in her voice when she quipped, "At least think about getting some cock while you're away! I'd feel much more certain about your gay status if you did."
    He was awkwardly standing in the kitchen staring at the call ended screen on his phone when Cole emerged from his room. Michael allowed himself a quick glance up his body. He was wearing a T-shirt that said "I'm a Baker, Look at the Size of My Cannoli." Well, he wouldn't mind a peek. "Nice shirt."
    Cole glanced down at himself and shrugged, "Thanks. My staff likes to ply me with inappropriate T-shirts. They know my weakness for corny attire. You ready to go?"
    "Yeah, I'm starving. Swimming always does that to me." Michael tried to turn toward the door to go, but his feet wouldn't budge. Cole was looking at them again, and the intensity of his stare held Michael in place.
    "You gonna put on some shoes?" Cole asked.
    "Oh. Umm, yeah." Michael blinked and finally moved to go. "I left some flip-flops by the door. Let's go."
    The Shack wasn't very far from the cottage, but it was tourist season so the streets were packed with traffic. Cole was glad he was driving and had to focus on the road. He had jerked off in the shower, hoping his dick would be satisfied and stop thinking about Michael with his solid bronze abs and sexy smile. "So did you say you're in advertising?" he asked, trying to focus his mind on something safe.
    "I'm a graphic designer actually. I own my own firm in Cincinnati."
    Cole asked, "Is that how you know Elijah then? Did you get suckered into letting him write an article about you for his series on LGBT owned businesses?"
    Michael chuckled "No, I've known Eli since he was braiding my sister's pigtails in elementary school. Although he did write an article about my business. That's how I landed the Atlantic City job."
    "Those articles sure were nice for drumming up business weren't they? The shop has never been busier. I've even been thinking about opening up another branch somewhere." In fact, Cole had actually been worried his business would suffer once it became known it was owned by a gay man. Although there were a few obnoxious and hateful people who refused to eat anything he made for fear they'd catch the gay cooties, for the most part people didn't care.
    "Me too actually," Michael agreed. "I've been getting calls from all over the country from other gay men and some lesbians who want to hire my firm and support the LGBT community. It's amazing. I know a lot of people have horror stories from living openly gay lives, but I have to be honest and say I have never experienced it like that. I'm thankful every day for the love and support I get from my family and my friends," he gushed. When he looked toward Cole full of embarrassment, he wasn't prepared to see the stony expression on his face. Realizing his mistake, he quickly apologized. "Shit, man. I'm sorry. From the look on your face, I can tell it wasn't so easy for you."
    Cole had felt Michael's words like a punch in the gut. He was fourteen again, sitting at the dinner table listening to his father rage about the faggots he worked with at the office and how they all deserved to fry in hell for their perversions. His mother sat there nodding her head in quiescent agreement as his father spewed, "This world is going to hell. I just want to raise my sons in decency so none of them will ever grow up and turn queer." His oldest brother, always eager to please their father, also