Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 9

chimed in, "Jake at school is a faggot. He's such a loser. I'd never be like him." Cole's heart had broken right there at the table. Every day he worried his dad or brother would see something was different about him, and they would know. Every day he lived with the fear of what would happen if they did.
    The utter despair written all over Cole's face nearly crushed Michael. He reached over and placed his hand on his arm. "Hey man, I'm sorry for what you went through. You didn't deserve it, and if you want to talk about it, I'm all ears."
    "Thanks, but it's not a big deal, and it was a long time ago," Cole tried to say nonchalantly. God, no one had ever been so genuinely concerned for him. The sweet, reassuring touch of Michael's hand on his arm did something to his insides. He felt a crack in the wall of the fortress he'd built around his heart. He swallowed hard and glanced at Michael. Feelings for the cutie from Cincinnati started to swarm him. Maybe this was it, the one he was waiting for. He pulled into The Shack's parking lot feeling a little giddy and an odd sense of contentment.
    ****
    They ate their sushi rolls on the cottage deck overlooking the ocean. The sun had begun to set, and there was a slight breeze that brought with it the smell of saltwater. Elijah had draped little white twinkle lights across the deck to form a sort of canopy against the darkening sky. "So, how'd you end up owning a bakery?" Michael asked, adeptly plucking a roll from his plate with chopsticks.
    "I had to drop out of college my sophomore year because I couldn't afford to finish. I needed a job, and found myself lugging fifty pound sacks of flour for Mrs. Brenneman. She ran a cake shop out of her home and made the most gorgeous and detailed wedding cakes I've ever seen. At first, I was just an errand boy, but I worked hard, and she took a liking to me and eventually let me help her with some of the prep work. I was fascinated by how artistic the whole process was. I was an art major in college. I loved seeing people come in and describe their dreams and then watching her create them. Her clients always left so happy, and you knew that cake would make their celebration special and be remembered forever. I've always loved working with my hands, and I knew I wanted to spend my life making things. I just never imagined it would be with cake and icing." Cole stopped blabbering. What. The. Hell. He had shared the story many times but never, ever, had he felt comfortable enough with someone to allow the insight into his thoughts and feelings. He took a drink of his wine to avoid chattering on like some sappy loser.
    Michael stared in awe across the table at Cole. He managed to stutter out, "Wow." Cole had been so animated and passionate talking about his work. His green eyes sparkled, and his full lips drew up in a smile so radiant you couldn't help but smile too. For the first time, Michael saw something deeper in Cole. Something more. And he liked it. "I never thought of cake like that before. I can tell you really love it, and I bet you're great at it too. Just so you know, I'm totally googling your bakery now! What's it called?"
    " Sweetmeats. "
    "Seriously?" Michael inquired.
    Cole gave him a wry look over the rim of his wineglass and nodded.
    "Well, I love it," Michael smiled. He looked at Cole intently for a brief moment and added, "It fits you."
    Michael was beginning to have a hard time not admitting he was intrigued and enthralled by Cole. He was quiet, and a little stoic, yet he had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor that Michael found hilarious. He had a feeling there was a dark side to Cole, but he also knew there was gentleness and passion to balance it. He really wanted to get to know him better even if it was a bad idea.
    "Thanks." Cole's smile brightened with Michael's approval. "I'll admit it's a little daring, but I figured if I was going to put all the blood, sweat and tears into the place, I was at least going to make it mine. And it provides us with a good laugh once in a while when someone wanders in looking for a different kind of service ."
    The give and take flow of conversation was relaxing. All of the tension and worry from the day slid away from them. They had sat on the deck and chatted for what seemed like only minutes but was actually hours. For both men the highlight of the night, however, had been the times when they simply sat in comfortable silence enjoying the sound of the waves crashing against the