Where Nerves End

were worth dating, Id have gone after you myself a long time ago.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, okay. Weve been over this before. Youre not my type, Im not yours.”
“Exactly.” He raised his beer in a mock toast. “Hence my assessment youre not worth dating.”
“Youre a real pal, you know that?”
“Dont take it personally,” Michael said with a smirk. Winking at me, he added, “Hed change his tune if he knew some of the things I did.”
Seth stared at him, speechless for once in his goddamned life. Then he shuddered. “God. I dont even want to know.”
“Liar,” I said into my beer bottle.
He flipped me the bird, and Michael and I snickered.
“So how does Daina feel about all this?” Seth asked. “With Dylan living with you twoand all?” He paused. “Did she know you were gay?”
“She didnt know,” Michael said, shaking his head. “But she does now, and shes cool with it.”
I chuckled. “And Dylan sure approves.”
Seths eyebrows jumped. “Does he, now?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Boyfriends are better than girlfriends.”
Seth blinked.
Snickering, Michael said, “Because according to him, girls are gross.”
Seth threw his head back and laughed. “Are you serious?”
“Hand to God,” I said. “I witnessed the whole thing.”
“Well, shit.” Seth set his beer on the table. “He could write the marketing slogans for that mythical gay agenda.” He made a sweeping gesture in the air like he was outlining an imaginary sign. “Go gay, because girls are gross.”
Michael choked on his beer.
“I think I should tattoo that on both of you,” Seth said. “Banners across your chests. On the house.”
“Ill pass, thanks,” I said.
“Me too.” Michael smirked. “No tattoos for me anyway. I hate needles.”
Seth and I both eyed him incredulously.
“What?” He showed his palms. “Something I said?”
The three of us laughed, and then Michael held up his beer bottle. “To supportive, understanding friends.”
Seth raised his. “Even when those friends have god-awful taste in men.”
“And even worst taste in tattoo artist friends,” I said, clinking the neck of my bottle against theirs.
“Hey, fuck you.” Seth took a drink, and as he sat back in his chair, he gestured down the road leading toward his shop. “You know, Mike, that office space across from Ink Springs is still available.”
“Is it?” Michael tapped his beer bottle against the edge of the table, his gaze drifting toward the same road. “Hmm. I might have to check it out.” Then he looked at me, and the corner of his mouth rose. “It would give me a shorter commute.”
I smiled. “Thats true, it would.”
“And,” Seth said with a grin, “Id just have to walk across the street for my appointments.”
“Ah ha!” Michael smacked his arm. “I knew there was something Sethserving in this.”
“Well, yeah.” Seth shrugged. “Whatd you expect? Altruism?” “From you? Please.”
I nodded. “What he said.”
Seth waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, fuck you both.”
“As far as this office space,” Michael said, “as long as were down here, why dont we go have a look?”
We finished our beers, paid our tabs and left the pubs patio, wandering into the thin afternoon crowd.
As we strolled across the cobbled town square, heading toward Seths shop and the place that could one day become Michaels clinic, in broad daylight and with people all around us, Michael laced his fingers between mine.
I glanced at him and smiled, curling my fingers around the back of his hand. It was hard to say exactly what this was or where this would go. Wed done things completely out of order: moving in together, then sleeping together, then figuring out we had something worth all the complications and headache such an arrangement could bring. But Id never been one to do things the right way, and Michael seemed perfectly content with wandering down this crooked, unbeaten path with me and figuring it out as we went.
It was too soon to call it something as complex as love, too late to call it something as simple as lust. All I knew was, as we walked hand in hand from the town square toward Seths shop in the heart of the Light District, I was happy. Life wasnt perfect. The pain in my shoulder still pestered me at times, if with less enthusiasm. All my stress hadnt magically evaporated. My club wasnt miraculously a profitable, well-oiled machine.
But I had Michael. And we were happy.
I brought our hands up and kissed the backs of his fingers,