Healthy, Wealthy and Boyfriend Wise

(A Deliciously Funny and Saucy Romance)

Clyde Andrews

The “Cute Gay Romance” Series

Healthy, Wealthy and Boyfriend Wise

Mr Heartbreak (coming April 15th, 2019)

Available soon:

Help! I’ve Got a Crush 

The New Boy Next Door (Uh-Oh!)

I Would Do Anything For You

Why Can’t He Be With Me? Not Her!

My Skateboarding Hero (And Crush!)

Escape to the Country (Where all the cute boys are)

Get Ripped. Get the Boy!

Harvey and Jordan, the Odd Couple.

Supernatural trilogy in the same “Cute Gay Romance” series:

I Think My Boyfriend’s a Zombie

I Think My Boyfriend’s a Werewolf

I Think My Boyfriend’s a Vampire

This series has love and laughter at its core and features cute boys falling in love with happily ever afters, too. All stories are standalone and can be read in any order.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to people, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

The right of Clyde Andrews to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him.

Copyright © Clyde Andrews 2019

Beta read by Allen T St. Clair

Edited by Charlie Knight: www.cknightwrites.com

Cover by BNPDesign Studio used under license with Canva Premium for use as Kindle book cover © 2019.

ALL RIGHT RESERVED. No part of this may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author.

Published by Eridani Books 2019

Tarquin and Chase cook up a storm together on their YouTube show “Two Twinks Cooking.” Tarquin loves Chase, but Chase only wants to be best friends with Tarquin.

Or does he?

On the show, there’s a lot of innuendo, hilarity, and more than the love of food going on between the two boys.

Off the show, Tarquin is concerned and confused. 

But the limits of their friendship are tested after their show is picked up by a large studio…and everyone assumes they are already a couple. Will they become boyfriends for real? Or is Tarquin doomed to have his love go unrequited?

That will all be up to Chase, because Tarquin knows where he stands!  

Apéritif

A tall man in a pin-striped suit with an executive glare entered the rented space we used for a studio, like a lion prowling the savannah.

Who was he?

And why had he come to watch us record our show?

Before I could think about it, my cousin, Josh—an enthusiastic director wannabe in his first year in film college, all wavy brown hair and wild eyes—gave the silent countdown. He folded his fingers down in time as he mouthed, “Five…four…three…two…”

Josh scurried back behind the camera.

That was our cue.

With practised ease, Chase burst into life. “Hey, lovely people! I’m Chase Reid, and this is my awesomely handsome and devastatingly cute co-host, Tarquin Lawson. Together, we’re Two Twinks Cooking. Welcome to our show!” Chase was waving a spatula flamboyantly as he did the intro, really hamming it up for the audience, even though there was no audience except a red light on the camera in front of us, Josh, and the cameraman himself.

Oh, and that man who stood to the side of our hand-made—after hours and hours of late nights and weekends—kitchen set, his arms folded. Studying us. 

“Hi there, folks.” I nodded and then winked in my more downplayed, but still choreographed reply to Chase’s intro. I peeled my attention away from him to look right into the camera’s lens. “Glad you could join all us today.”

The cameraman wasn’t as enthusiastic as Josh. The reason: he was my dad. And he was only doing the job because, let’s be honest, our show was now successful enough that it was paying the bills. If only just. Who wouldn’t want to watch two cute seventeen-year-old boys cooking up a storm, while sexual tension reigned supreme between them?

Okay, correction: I was sexually tense around Chase.

Chase was Chase.

But Chase played on my mind all the time; I thought about him, kissing me or otherwise, every two seconds. Jeez, it’s a long time between those two seconds sometimes, isn’t it?

Anyway, back to my dad…otherwise I’m gonna get too distracted before I’ve even begun. He believed that where income was concerned, it took precedence over everything else, including having to film a cooking show aimed squarely at the gay community in a cheap converted warehouse space in the more colourful parts of the city. And by colourful, I mean you wouldn’t walk alone around here even with a suit of armour on.

Not that my dad minded the gay thing, really.

He knew I was gay, of course. I came out a month after my fifteenth birthday. He wanted to throw another party. I told him my sexuality didn’t require a celebration; I wasn’t winning a Nobel Prize, getting a Medal of Valour, and I hadn’t rescued puppies from a storm drain.

Why my dad really wasn’t so enthusiastic about doing the camerawork was because he thought I should be concentrating on my schoolwork and then getting what he called a real job. As far as he was concerned, what Chase and I did wasn’t a nine-to-five with annual leave allowance, sick pay, and Superannuation. 

In other words, he was worried about my future.

I was, too.

But not in the way my dad would have wanted. My worry was directed more at Chase. He’d been my best friend since kindergarten. And from pretty much that time on, I’ve had a crush on him. The kind that gave me sweaty palms, a racing heart, made me talk incoherently, stumble over nothing, and occasionally give me one of those sustained boners that made my balls so blue I couldn’t stand up straight for hours.

So yeah, a crush, crush!

Unfortunately, as far as I knew, he wasn’t interested in me in that way. You know, the way where we hold hands, kiss until our faces go numb, then watch Netflix together while there’d most certainly be a lot of heavy petting and then some intimate stuff requiring banana flavoured condoms.

Alas, his sexuality was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. Sometimes I thought he was into me, other times not so much. And to make matters worse, our relationship got even more interesting—and intense—as our show became even more popular.

“—what hot stuff are we cooking up for our fantastic audience tonight, Tarquin, my sugary sweet and adorable cooking partner?” Chase’s question brought me back to the task at hand. Dad was scowling. He must have noticed me zoning out for a moment there.

“Um…” Another glare from dad for using a filler word “Tonight we’re making the classic summer party favourite, a lovely Greek Tzatziki! Yummo. Right, Chase?”

Chase patted me on the back, his gesture exaggerated and almost cartoonish, then grabbed a glass bowl from his right where Josh handed it to him from off screen. “Yummo indeed, Tarquin. There’s nothin’ like swallowing a great big dollop of creamy deliciousness on a hot summer’s day, then feeling its goodness slide down your throat, now is there?”

Jeez! I swallowed, living his words while I stared at him…imagining—oh...I had to stop that thought, as difficult as it was. Otherwise things would get even more uncomfortable for me, especially in the “between the legs” department. Not a good look when on camera and you’re trying to hide a boner for your co-host. I remembered to answer, but not before dad rolled his eyes. “No. Nothing like it.”

“So, let’s get started.” Chase grabbed a knife after putting down the bowl. “Hand me that cucumber over there—because aside from lashings of lovely Greek yoghurt, cucumber is the main ingredient we’ll need for this recipe.”

I reached for the cucumbers in question. “This one, Chase?”

“Is that the twelve inch one?”

My hand hesitated over the pile before I chose one. I flushed, warm and uncomfortable. “No…I believe there are only eight-inch ones here, Chase.” I had to keep on form, stay professional. Our audience expected no less, even when the innuendo flew thick and fast. I think that’s why they watched: to witness me squirm. I tried not to disappoint, as my next words attested, “But this one does have a nice knob on the end of it.”

Chase took the cucumber from me. His fingers brushed over mine, sending electricity coursing up my arm. He giggled, “In a perfect world, the twelve-incher with a knob would have been awesome, but I’ll settle with the eight for now. Right, Tarquin?”

“Now, now, Chase. We’re not here to be size queens. We’re here to cook.”

“Oh, you’re so right.” He smiled at me; my heart melted, only to make my ankles and other parts of me swell. “Then gimme another eight-incher. Make sure it’s a good one. Nice and hard.”

I handed him the second cucumber. “Sure thing, Chase.”

That time my hand shook even before he touched me—deliberately, I believed.

Josh turned off the studio’s set lights.

Dad glared at me. “Tarquin, son, I think you need to learn to stop being so vacant at inappropriate times. You looked like a cross between a constipated blood hound and an agitated hare.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

He patted me on my back. “Look, it’s okay.” He then whispered, “I know how you feel about a certain someone. Sometimes things just don’t happen in life how we want them to. You’ll find a boy soon, because there’s someone out there who’ll love you for who you are. I know it. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Now,” My dad gestured to the man who had stood beside the set all during our show, “this is Mister Smythe. He’s here from Bluelight Studios and he wants to talk to you both.”               

Right then, the man in question stepped forward. He thrust out his hand and Chase shook it immediately. “I have a proposition for you both. We at Bluelight would like to take your show on—with a very lucrative deal for the both of you, of course. You’ll be household names before you know it.”

Chase yelped with excitement, “Wow! Bluelight. You guys are huge. Right?”

I shook Mister Smythe’s hand now, his action like a piston. It was also “executive in a suit” cold.

He continued showing about as much emotion as the bricks used to build parliament. “That we are. We’ll work out the finer details later. But boys, we’re talking National coverage. Primetime. The works. How does that sound?”

“Oh. My. God!” Chase was jumping from one foot to the other. He either needed to go to the toilet or he was excited. He was cute either way, especially when his dark hair flopped over his steel-grey eyes and he had to rake it back into place with fine, nimble fingers. 

“There’s only one catch,” Mister Smythe said, dropping the inevitable and expected mother of all bombs.

“What’s that?” I asked cautiously.

My dad didn’t seem too concerned…which was weird.

Mister Smythe clicked his fingers.

A weedy guy scurried into the studio, all greasy skin, ginger hair that hung in curtains, and a stuck-on hawk-like nose. He was holding onto a camera with a lens so large it could have been considered obscene. The type used by the paparazzi to shoot nude photos of celebrities while they were on holidays in the Mediterranean that were so close you could see their nipple hairs.

Mister Smythe continued unperturbed, “The audience you have love you both, but a wider audience will want to live vicariously through you. You’re both handsome, interesting, and according to viewer polling, would make the cutest couple. Gay is the in thing right now. And young and gay is as fresh and interesting as ever. We want to embrace that. And besides, it would really boost ratings if your Primetime debut included the juicy fact that you were both indeed boyfriends.”

Oh! There it was.

My dad must have shared my concern. With a wince and his hand rubbing the small of his back, he said, “I don’t want my son doing anything he’s uncomfortable with.”

But Chase must have caught on as well. He blurted, “So, you want to know whether Tarks and me are boyfriends or not? Is that it, Mister Smythe?”

“Exactly,” the man purred.

“That’s cool.” Chase shrugged, pressing his kissable lips together at the same time. “I’ll do anything to be a hit on actual Primetime TV. Especially if it involves Tarks. Right, Tarks?”

“Um…”

“I like your attitude, Mister Reid.” Mister Smythe’s lips formed a scar-like smile; the paparazzi fellow raised his camera. “I believe you understand what I want you to do now—for the promotional material we’ll need, of course.”

“Sure do.”

Before I could protest or my dad could back me up about my unspoken concerns, Chase grabbed my face and planted a determined “stars in his eyes” kiss right on my lips.

The camera clicked.

Appetizer

My knees gave way.

Thankfully, my dad was behind me. Because once the photo was taken and Chase let go, I became unstable from both the shock of what had happened and the fact Chase had kissed me.

My first kiss from him.

Sure, it was done for show, but it was…wow. And there was a little bit of his tongue teasing mine for the briefest, most wonderful moment. I tingled all over. I couldn’t believe it.

Chase. My best friend, Chase, kissed me with his gorgeous, plump lips.

For a moment, I was giddy. 

Chase didn’t seem so enamoured; he just went and got his things from behind our kitchen set.

Mister Smythe and his photographer also turned to leave. “Our people will be in touch soon, gentlemen. Good day to you,” he called back with confident finality and without even bothering to address any of us. 

Once I regained my composure, I approached Chase. “What the hell was that for?”

“Just playing their game, Tarks. No harm done.”

“No harm done? How can you say that there’s been no harm done?”

“Because I can. There was no harm done. Okay?”

“What do you mean? I think there’s been a lot of harm done. Because, you know, we’re not actually boyfriends. Are we?”

Chase shrugged after he’d picked up his backpack. “What does it matter? We’re gonna be famous. Heck, if Mister Smythe wanted me to pose nude with you, I’d do it. Think about the opportunity here, Tarks. You’ll be able to pay off all your dad’s debts; you know he hasn’t been able to work since his accident.”

I saw red. “Don’t you dare bring up my dad’s situation, Chase. It’s not about that. We’re doing fine as we are. Our show is doing fine. Why do we need to become corporate lackeys to be successful?”

“Because, I want us to be even better than we are. We deserve it. You deserve it. And if that means we have to pretend to be boyfriends, then that’s what we’ll do.”

I stood stock still and my mouth fell open, but I felt my fists clench. How could he think like that? I felt as though a stone, one of disappointment and disbelief, had been dropped into my insides. My stomach ached. I’d been played. There was no other way of looking at it. “What about how I feel about this?” was what I said; but what I thought was: But I don’t want to pretend. I want us to be us, not together because someone else wants it. Can’t you understand that?

He placed his backpack onto his shoulder, his face stern. “Whether you like it or not, Tarks, this is about your dad and how you have to support him. We need Bluelight’s offer. You can’t keep going on how you are. Now…are we done? Or haven’t you finished having your latest crisis yet?”

I didn’t answer him.

Chase turned his back on me. He didn’t even wave goodbye to my dad and Josh. He just stormed out of the studio, door slamming. And I was the one causing drama? 

My dad put his hand on my arm. “Ouch.”

“He’s so frustrating.”

My dad’s lips quivered to a sorrow filled smile. “And he’s also right.”

“We’ll manage—we always have. I just need to make him aware that we’ll soon be just as popular without Bluelight interfering.”

“Then I think it’s about time you told him how you feel; you know how impatient he gets. He’s seeing this as an opportunity. You’re thinking more of the long term by wanting to build an audience on your own terms as well as your relationship with him. Bluelight are forcing that on you both.”

“Hmm…I’m not so sure. Chase is a lost cause, Dad. I’ve wasted enough of my life trying to get him to understand that not everything is what it seems. It’s time I moved on.”

“If you have genuine feelings for him, then you’ve at least got to let him know how you truly feel before you move on. He needs to know. He’s your best friend and really does care about you.”

“You heard what he said. I’m too much drama for him.” And then it struck me like lightning. All of my life I’d admired Chase, loved him. That love wasn’t reciprocated—not without an incentive. Not without conditions. I couldn’t help being me, and he couldn’t help being him. Tears welled in my eyes. I felt heavy, my chest ached. Would this mean my heart would only beat for myself now—my feelings for him to become as fake as our relationship status? 

“Love is never easy, son.”

“Easy for you to say; you had Mum.”

He embraced me. “I don’t know what it’s like nowadays, but if anyone kissed me like he kissed you, even for a publicity stunt, I’d take that as meaning something. There’s definitely something going on there with him. I know it.”

I didn’t get much time to consider my dad’s words. Most days after we’d filmed our cooking show to help make ends meet, I worked at the local discount shoe warehouse after hours restocking the shelves with name brand knock-offs.

While I was on my dinner break, I read my messages.

One was from another close friend, Connor. He was delicious, but unfortunately so straight he would most definitely be a “zero” on the Kinsey Scale—meaning they used your sexuality to calibrate rulers—while a six was so gay, unicorns followed you around. I was most definitely a six. Chase? A three, perhaps? But I wasn’t sure. He could go either way, as I knew he enjoyed the company of both girls and boys. Even so, Connor was open-minded and supportive, especially when I came out; he made sure I was okay and told me he was there to listen to my problems if I needed it.

Oh my God, I heard you and Chase were a couple! Is this true? Are you and Chase boyfriends? WOW. I get that if you are, you two are cute. But you do know, you’ll forever more be known as “Chasequin the dream” because you’ll both fuel the fangirls who drool for more Chase and Tarquin action.

Chasequin the dream? Really? Connor needed to get himself laid. And how did he hear about that so—oh, yeah…Josh! The blabbermouth. I sighed, but there was a slight smile there, too. I put down my peanut butter sandwich made with stale bread, the only thing I could afford for dinner—and all we had a home in the pantry, to be honest. Okay, there was left over ready-to-eat lasagne, but after the first time heating it up, I didn’t think it could cope with a second go.

I signed again.

Pity Chase wasn’t in on the dream. He only saw dollar signs. He didn’t see the person who felt for him. He didn’t see what he was doing to us both by selling out to Bluelight Studios. He didn’t see the possibilities if we continued doing things our own way. 

Besides, money wasn’t everything. Sure, it helped, and more was always nice. But our show was getting more and more popular. Income was happening on our terms with over a million hits per show now. Another few months and everything would be fine. 

Why couldn’t Chase see that?  

I got another message, this one from dad:

FYI Mister Smythe wants to finalise things and have contracts signed by the end of the month. Bluelight’s lawyers want to organise a meeting next week between us all to address any concerns. Love Dad.

I replied:

Dad, you don’t need to sign off who you are when you text. Your name comes up. But I can’t think about Bluelight right now. I have to sort things out with Chase first. Until then, our show as it is must go on. Did you see the electricity bill reminder that came in the post today? That’s gonna take a bit to pay off. But I’ll give the company a call first thing in the morning before school. See if I can make the second instalment a bit later for it.

You don’t have to do that. I can call them.

It’s fine, Dad. You need to get ready for your rehab appointment tomorrow—you know what the doctor said. You’ve got to look after yourself. I can take care of the small stuff.

You do more than enough.

It’s because I love you, Dad. Talk to you later.

He didn’t answer.

I knew from his lack of reply that he felt depressed. A year ago, just when our cooking show started gaining an audience, my dad had his work accident. He was a diesel mechanic, and a poorly secured engine fell onto the vehicle he was underneath, pinning him. It almost killed him. He was lucky—real lucky. Now he can only stand for short periods of time thanks to the shattered vertebra of his lower back, a broken left hip, and the numerous operations he had to endure to repair both.

He can only manage short amounts of activity now. Filming our thirty-minute show two times a week was more than enough for him—hence why he got tetchy when I stuffed up or zoned out because I was thinking of Chase.             

So sure, I provided for the house. But Dad did collect a Worker’s Compensation cheque, fortnightly. Unfortunately, that never increased, but everything else did. His money only paid the rent on the studio space, the incidentals related to that, and the mortgage. My job and half the income from our show—because most funds went back into it—provided, just barely, the money for everything else, including my school fees, bills, and then food.

Speaking of food. A lot of the time, what we cooked on the show was dad and mine’s only source of decent sustenance for the week—Chase’s, too. We had to purchase premium products for it, and that really hurt our budget most times. Then again, you can’t show viewers how to cook a fresh piece of salmon if you’ve only got the tinned stuff.

Viewers know when you’re trying to dress mutton up as lamb. 

Chase had wanted to do a crayfish dish once during those early days, and we couldn’t afford to do it. His parents weren’t exactly rich by any stretch of the imagination, either. He had to work as well, at the local Jungle Gym as a party host catering for screaming four-year-old’s who vomited everywhere after gorging themselves on sugar treats, junk food, and soda. I couldn’t imagine the mess that made on a daily basis. 

So even though our cooking show was finally able to pay most of the bills, things were still tight. The offer from Bluelight couldn’t have come at a better time, to be honest. But if we went with them, what would it cost us in the long run? We already had to pretend to be people we weren’t. That scared me. I wanted Chase as my boyfriend by my own terms, not someone else’s. And what would happen if ratings dropped? Or if the show got cancelled? Where would we be then? We’d have to start over—more than likely unable to get such cheap rent again for our studio.

I didn’t think we could do that again—not financially, anyway.

While I was daydreaming about the possibilities and trying to settle the warnings going off at the back of my mind, the buzz of my phone startled me. I had another message. This one was from Chase.

We need to talk.

I’m working right now. I finish at 11. Meet then?

Fine.

Something told me things weren’t fine.

First Main Course

Chase waited for me by my beaten up fifth-hand car. He was wearing his favourite hoodie, the navy blue one. The hood was pulled over his head, hiding his face in deep shadow. The carpark was dark, save for the blinking streetlight I’d parked under.

“Hey,” he said cautiously as I approached.

“Likewise,” I replied.

“Can we go somewhere to talk?”

“Sure.” Even though it was late and we both had school tomorrow, I could spare a few moments. “Where to?”

“How about the abandoned drive-in?”

“Um…sure…get in.” I opened my car.

He wanted to go the abandoned drive-in? The abandoned drive-in where everyone made out at night, and in the morning used condoms littered the ground like Spring flowers after a good rain? That abandoned drive-in?

I fumbled with the keys before I could get them in the ignition properly. He put his hand on my leg as I drove to our goal and with his touch, my dick decided it liked being as hard as a rock and ached to prove that point. So much so, I had to keep moving that leg like I was riding the clutch to stay comfortable.

My car was an automatic.

What was Chase up to? I had to ask, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“Um…well, not only are you asking me to take you to the hottest make-out spot in town, you’ve got your hand on my thigh. How am I doing so far with my observational skills?”

“You’re doing great.”

“I see.”

But I didn’t see.

I was confused.

And concerned.

I pulled into the drive-in. Being a weeknight, there were only a few other cars scattered about the cracked, weed-infested bitumen that was once used as the carpark. The massive, dirty, and broken movie screen loomed ahead; someone had graffitied a huge dick on it complete with ejaculation drops and the words “YOUR ERE TO GIT IT ON BOYS” underneath it. Bad spelling and grammar aside, there was truth in those words.

Which now scared me.

I stopped the engine and turned to him. He moved his hand up my leg, his touch only inches away from Nirvana. He raked his hair away from his soul-filled eyes. “I think it’s about time we stopped our charade and really got down to how we really feel about each other. What do you say, Tarks?”

“I don’t know what to say, to be honest.”

“C’mon, I know you like me.”

“I don’t like you, Chase.” Which was a lie. I had to like him first to think about doing all the things to him that graffiti so eloquently suggested. But at the same time, it was the truth, because those warning bells started tinkling at the back of my mind.

Was he only doing this because it was expected now that we were fake boyfriends? Was he toying with my emotions again? Or was he for real?

He leaned over, coming close. Too close. “Well I like like you, Tarks. I always have. It just took a little bit of encouragement for me to realise it.”

“Like when Mister Smythe asked you to kiss me?”

“That kiss rocked my world.”

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I managed, “It did?”

It rocked mine as well but, jeez, he was better at hiding it than I was. Was that why there was all that drama with his exit? He didn’t want to confront his feelings for me while my dad and Josh were looking? I thought that was strange, seeing as he’d just snogged me for a publicity picture. Then again, Chase was a mystery; the motives for his actions puzzled me at the best of times. 

“It surely did.” He pressed his lips against mine.

I made an ugly “umph” sound on his contact. When his hot, moist tongue found mine, my noises got worse. Before I knew it, I was holding him and drawing him closer. I ran my hand through his long hair, and he moved his so he could explore how much he had rocked my world.

I moaned again.

How he unbuttoned my jeans and got to where he wanted without so much as faltering was beyond me. I was still swimming in the bliss of lip contact, my whole brain out on vacation all of a sudden. Now there was a whole lot of other stuff going on and I was numb from my toes to my reservations.

He parted, the moon giving me enough light to see that his delicious lips were now wet and glistening from my sudden enthusiasm that blew away my doubts.

“Wow, who’s a big boy, hey Tarks!” 

My cheeks heated right down to my chest. Yep. There it was, my soldier standing to attention for him. His hand was on it, too. Warm. Comforting. Tingling. Oh…God! I could feel myself edging towards the inevitable already. I swallowed, the sound loud even to me.

Chase winked.

He reached into his hoodie’s front pocket with his other hand. From it, he produced a mint-flavoured condom.

“I want to know what this tastes like on you.”

I shuddered.

Everywhere.

Even to my toenails.

“I’d like that very much,” I whispered while he opened the packet.

If his lips on mine made me crazy to the point where I forgot all my confusion, fears, and doubts, then his lips on places I’d only ever dreamed about up until this point, sent me into a deep-fried, broiled, and then flambéed frenzy.

Mint now superseded banana flavoured condoms, for sure! 

“Hey, lovely people! I’m Chase Reid, and this is my awesomely handsome and devastatingly cute boyfriend, Tarquin Lawson. Together, we’re Two Twinks Cooking. Welcome to our show!”

Josh was giving the thumbs up from behind the camera. I took that to mean the hits from Chase’s introduction had skyrocketed, as those parts of the show we transmitted straight onto Twitter, Facebook, and others to give our audience a “sneak peek” and to whip up enthusiasm at the same time. The rest of it was recorded, edited, and then uploaded onto YouTube. From the initial “live” reaction, we didn’t need Bluelight; we only needed each other.

And to give the audience what they wanted, of course.  

“Welcome, folks,” I said. Chase leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Where he’d made contact, I’m sure there was a splotch of red. He’d kissed me…and on camera, no less. I blushed harder and became lovely all over. I don’t think you could have wiped the smile off my face with an industrial-sized high-pressure cleaner. My dad gasped. “For all of you in YouTube land, yes it’s official. We’re boyfriends! Comment your love for us—because today we’ve got something really special to cook up in celebration. Would you like to reveal what that is, Chase?”

“Sure would. Today we’re gonna cook up a very romantic and traditional lamb dish, complete with delicious and healthy roasted potatoes and vegetables. To top it all off, we’re also gonna make a sensational mint sauce to go with it. How does that sound, Tarquin?”

I had to swallow again. That lovely feeling now centred at the place Chase so wonderfully paid attention to last night. I took the bus straight to boner land again. “It sounds dreamy. Mint is my new favourite taste sensation, that’s for sure.”

“Too right, Tarquin. Mint is so in right now!” He placed his hand onto mine, looking at me with those dreamy grey windows to his soul. “And besides, there’s nothing like having a stimulating, palate-cleansing mint flavour sensation drizzled all over some really juicy and tasty meat, now is there?”

The way he said “meat” went straight from my ears to my dick.

My throat had now closed from his closeness, his attention, and the love that radiated from him like a heat lamp on steroids. I knew that wasn’t fake. As my dad had told me earlier, people didn’t kiss one another like Chase kissed me if they didn’t have feelings for them. I had to expand that notion by adding that people didn’t suck on your dick like that without having feelings, either. Because after Chase had done his thing last night, he wasn’t finished. We spent another hour—well past midnight—making out. He had the foresight to bring two condoms, so I returned the favour to him.

And his boner wasn’t fake by any stretch of the imagination; you can’t disguise steel hard intention, no way.

My jaw still ached.

As a result of my thoughts, I squeaked. “Nothing in this world like it, Chase. Now. Let’s get started. I’ll cut up the mint, you can pan fry the lamb to sear in its goodness before we pop it in the oven.”

Chase laughed. “Sure thing, saucy!”

Between tasks, we kissed.

With tongue. 

Our ratings went through the roof.

My dad was the first to speak once Josh had finished packing up the equipment. “What’s going on?”

Those three words said everything.

Because, even though I was in a Chase-induced dream state, my concerns had started edging their way to the forefront of my thoughts during the course of our recording. Or was that just post-blowjob guilt? I wasn’t sure; I was treading new ground here after so many years of lusting.

“Tarks and me had a talk last night,” Chase began. “We sorted some things out, Mister Lawson. It’s all good.”

Well, to correct him, and as far as I had experienced, there wasn’t much sorting out or talking, even though our mouths moved a hell of a lot. “What he said,” I chimed in.

Chase was holding my hand, but I could feel his grip tighten; his whole body seemed tense. Something was going on. I looked at him. He turned away.

Oh, that confirmed it.

Nerves of doubt swam inside me.  

I was suddenly uncomfortable and sweaty in his hold. My dad’s glare became more intent. No doubt, he, like me, had smelt something fishy going on—and we’d done lamb on the show, so it wasn’t the food. Not about how Chase felt about me; as I said, that stuff couldn’t be faked. But there was something underlying everything, crawling just beneath the surface, trying to worm its way into the light. 

My dad said, “I just think the timings a bit off. Don’t you?”

Chase now gave me his full attention, turning so he could grab both of my hands. “I care for you, Tarks—I always have. I’m your boyfriend for reals now. So, from now on, I want to make sure you’re looked after. As such, I’ve told Mister Smythe that we’ll sign the Bluelight contract. It’s basically a done deal, especially as he promised a ten-thousand-dollar instant cash advance once we’d done so. That’ll pay off a lot of your debts and bills, won’t it?”

Palate Cleanser

I pulled my hands out of Chase’s grip. “You did what?” I spat the question out, as if the words were spoiled food in my mouth.

To say Chase had done the wrong thing for the right reason would have been the understatement of the decade. But I couldn’t think straight right now. I might have gotten mushy all over—except for my dick—when he paid attention to me, but this confession made me fume.

Chase looked scandalised. “What?”

My dad coughed into his hand. “I’ll meet you in the car, son. I don’t believe the talk you and Chase claim you had last night is over, is it?”

He left. Josh did, too.

Alone with him now, my brain shifted my mouth out of first gear; I let rip. “How could you make a decision like that without me? In fact, now that I think about it, what was last night all about, then? Performing for Mister Smythe, were we? Well, it worked didn’t it? You proved to him that if we were boyfriends our ratings would go up, didn’t you? God, I’ve been such an idiot. How could you do this to me, Chase? How?”

“What?”

I backed away from him. “Is that all you’re going to say? Can’t you see how this looks? Oh, yes, sir, Mister Smythe, sir, I’ll seduce Tarquin and prove to you how good our ratings can get even before we go on Primetime. Did you do it for the money, Chase? Did he offer you that much to do what you did?”

I couldn’t breathe now it was all out.

“Wha—no! I didn’t do it for any other reason than what I already told you. I have feelings for you, Tarks. I know you have feelings for me, too.”

“Oh, so ten-thousand dollars dangled in front of you was what? Nothing?” I tried to control myself but failed miserably. I sucked in a breath while clenching my fists. I really wanted to punch him.

“How can you say that, Tarks?”

“How? What else am I supposed to think?”

“And that’s just it, isn’t it?” Chase spat as his features hardened and his eyes got more intense. “You don’t think. You’re always too busy having an emotional crisis of some sort. It’s always drama, drama, drama with you! It’s always about how you feel and how hard done by you are. I was trying to change that. Really, I was. I was trying to make things better for us. But no, Tarks has to be Tarks—frustrating as always. You always wanna be the martyr, don’t you? I’m sick of it. So, either you’re with me or you aren’t. The choice is yours.”

I couldn’t move, my breathing becoming shallow. My chest felt tight. Great, I was going to have a panic attack at any moment. That’d really make him think I was doing all this for drama. For show. For me, not him. Not us. 

Chase glared at me, his hair had flopped over one eye. The one I could see burned into me.

I gave it back to him just as good, but I was dying on the inside. I knew this was it. And as I coursed—no, crashed—towards that crossroad, I wanted to crawl away and hide.

He balled his fists, too.

I stood my ground. I don’t know why, really. And couldn’t explain it. Perhaps it was one of those situations where once a line was crossed, it was too late to go back.

We’d crossed that line…already.

After an eternity of our glaring match, with no more words that would mean anything between us spoken, I managed, “Then…it’s over, isn’t it?” My eyes misted, his beautiful features now a blur. The room spun. I felt giddy but managed to keep upright somehow.

What had I done? 

He snorted, coming to life. “Thought as much.” He picked up his backpack. “Oh, and whether you believe it or not, Tarks, what we did last night meant the world to me. You made me happy, and I wanted to do the same for you—make you happy. That’s why I messaged Mister Smythe, this morning. After last night. Not before. If you weren’t so wrapped up in yourself for five minutes, you would have let me tell you that before you went all raving lunatic on me.”

“What?” Now it was my turn for the one-word retort.

“See ya around, Tarquin.” He used my full first name; the only time he’d done so when he wasn’t in front of the camera. My stomach turned to ice. But before I could dig myself deeper, he turned away. His action had a finality to it. He added, “Maybe.”

The studio door slammed.

What the hell was I going to do now? Chase had left me. Left me. Without him, there was no show. Without him, I couldn’t support my dad…or our home. Without Chase, I was lost. No boyfriend. No best friend. No help.

Why had I been so stupid?

Why did I have to ruin everything?

Why had I jumped to conclusions?

Why?

Dad gave me that look—one somewhere between concern and sympathy—as soon as I plonked myself down into the driver’s seat and clicked on my seatbelt.

“I saw Chase leave,” he offered. “He didn’t look very happy—and neither do you for that matter. Care to talk about it, man to man?”

I couldn’t even reply before I burst into tears. I reached for him, and he embraced me. My whole body shuddered violently with the release of my emotions two seconds later.

“I stuffed up everything, Dad!” I cried.

He held me tighter. I don’t know how long I held him, but it felt good. He patted me on my back. “As much as I don’t want to, I’m going to have to stop hugging you. My back is starting to spasm.”

I let go, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. I settled back into the driver’s seat. “It’s time we went home anyway. I need to let it all out.” 

“Crying is good for the soul. It’s what I did when your mother lost her battle with cancer.”

I looked at him, again wiping my face. Driving with misty eyes while experiencing an emotional overload wouldn’t be a good idea; I had to sort myself out, even if it was only for the short trip home. I breathed in, trying for a deep and slow breath instead of gasps and sobs. “Did you? You’ve never talked about you and her before.”

I started the engine.

“Do you want me to?”

“That would be…that would be good.”

“Then if you tell me about what happened with you and Chase, I’ll tell you about how your mother and I met. Deal?”

“Deal.”

As I drove, I told him. Every detail. Including how I’d managed in one fell swoop to ruin not only the chance of him being my boyfriend, but our friendship as well. The show was also over. It hit me while I explained that I’d have to ask Mister Patel for extra shifts at the shoe warehouse, if they were available. That thought depressed me to my core.

When I was done telling him, he rubbed his chin. “Ah. But I do think Chase has his heart in the right place. Unfortunately, when he has an idea that he thinks is a good one he doesn’t let it go either, does he?”

“I’m the same, I suppose.”

“Yes, the ram-headed exuberance of youth. I once knew it well.”

When I’d sprawled myself across dad on the hand-me-down couch of ours, my feet on his lap, he told me about how mum was the one who asked him out on a date after his pants had accidently dropped and he revealed more than intended.

“How does that even happen?” I asked incredulous.

I took a bite of my microwaved macaroni cheese; the stuff was awful cardboard flavourless hell, but again all we could afford. It also filled a hole. Not the Chase-sized one I had in my heart, but my empty stomach. That was something, I supposed. 

He chuckled between forkfuls of bland pasta and cheesy grossness. “I was trying on a new pair of trousers. She worked in the local menswear store back in the day. Anyway, as she brought me a few pairs to try on, I accidently bumped the change room door open. I must have forgotten to latch it, or it was faulty. She gasped, and I suddenly realised I was exposed…I wasn’t wearing any underwear, you see. Your mother got a lot more than she bargained for when I shopped in her store, that’s for sure.”

“Oh my God, Dad! You were going commando?”

“It was a thing at the time—being a bachelor, I didn’t get a chance to do much laundry.”

I blinked. “That’s no excuse. Like, that’s…eww!”

“Are you going to let me finish my story, or not?”

“I’m just saying, if you’re a guy, your boys need a home. Underwear provides that, Dad.” I scooped up the last of the macaroni cheese, forcing myself to swallow it down. Dad had already finished his. “And besides, now I can’t get the image out of my head of your hairy bare butt poking out of a change room door for Mum to gawk at.”

“Finished?”

I nodded, then smiled. “I’m done. Carry on.”

“Anyway,” he continued. “She laughed at my hairy bare butt. I laughed at her laughing. The next thing I knew, we were dating. We joked about it often from then on.”

“I suppose if it wasn’t for your bare butt I wouldn’t be here. It saved the day! I forgive you for going commando.”

“I’m so relieved!”

We both laughed, the kind where my dad’s middle-aged spread wobbled and I got a stitch. I needed that.   

“It sure did save the day. I was quite the catch back then, you know.”

“I’m sure you were.” I put the empty bowl onto the coffee table. “Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He sat up, looking right at me. “You can ask me anything. You know that.”

“Did you and mum ever have arguments? You know, the kind where you thought it was over between you?”

“Not often but yes, they happened. It’s a normal part of being in a relationship.”

I sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

He patted me on my leg. “Chase will come around. He always does.”

“This time it’s different. I can feel it.” I got up. “You don’t mind if I hit the sack, do you? I’m beat, emotionally and physically.”

“Not at all. See you in the morning.”

“Love you.”

“I love you back, son.” He flicked on the TV, the blue glow of it bathed the lounge room and him equally in its electronic light. “Remember, tomorrow’s a new day.”

As I made my way to my room, I knew I was right. Chase and I were over. At least until he’d cooled, and I thought of a way to apologise to him without causing any more drama.

That wasn’t going to be easy.

I fished my phone out of my pocket. My dad was right. Tomorrow was a new day and, as such, there was someone I needed to text.

Someone who could help me, in more ways than one.

Second Main Course

Hey, Connor. What you doing? Got time to talk?

He replied within the time it took an egg to become hard boiled.

Nothing much. Always got time for you, buddy.

You’re the best. Can I ask you a huge favour?

Sure, ask away.

Can you meet me at the studio tomorrow?

What time?

Tomorrow afternoon, around 4. Is that okay?

Shouldn’t be a problem. See you then.

G’nite, Connor. And thanks.

Nite!

I put my phone on charge. On my bedside table were the bills I hadn’t paid, including the monster electricity bill that made my stomach knot; guilt prick at the back of my neck, and my eyes water every time I looked at it. Even though I’d called the company, they weren’t too happy extending the due date for the second of four payments I’d promised them but hadn’t made.

The conversation with them was a nightmare, to be honest.

“Can’t I pay you on the fifteenth instead? My dad gets his Worker’s Compensation payment then. I told you guys that already.”

“Mister Lawson, we’ve extended your account numerous times and you’re still in arrears. We’ve even accepted your proposed payment plan, again one you ignored. You didn’t make your second instalment on the due date. I’m afraid this will be the last time we can extend a deadline you’ve already defaulted on. You must make the payments as arranged. You do know that any late payments will accumulate interest and could result in the termination of your supply. The second payment was due on the tenth. If we extend it to the fifteenth as you requested, will you be making that one this time?”

“Yeah…I should be able to.” It was going to be tight. But a couple of hundred dollars could be manageable by then, hopefully. It might mean calling the bank to extend the mortgage payment deadline but getting the electricity company off my back was my priority at the moment.  

“Very well. But another default by you, and we won’t be able to enter into such an arrangement again. Your service will be terminated. Reconnection fees will apply if you want power restored to your home. Please don’t hesitate to call back if we can help you any further. Good day, Mister Lawson.”

“Bye.” I wanted to add, “Faceless, uncaring, inhuman corporate robot that charges way too much for basic necessities it’s criminal,” but decided against it.   

I curled under my blankets to keep warm. We didn’t dare to put the central heat on since that would make the gas bill skyrocket, too. I didn’t need that nightmare as well. I had to hope my plan with Connor would work, or I’d be at the shoe discount warehouse begging Mister Patel for more hours, our house without power and the rest of the utilities close to being shut off as well. Not to mention the house payments.

I wasn’t even officially an adult yet, but it sure was hard being responsible, that was for sure.

The weight of the world seemed to be on my shoulders. I felt the crushing weight suffocating me.

 Connor was there on time; I expected nothing less from him.

His blond wavy hair, his freckled face, and full lips were the first thing I noticed as he stood by the studio doorway, beaming a smile at me. He pocketed his phone; no doubt he’d been texting Mandy, his girlfriend, to tell her where he was. He was so considerate, and a great friend.

I waved at him as I approached.

He did the same, but much more casually and a heck of a lot cooler.

I didn’t bring dad with me. He was having a bad day, laid up in bed and complaining to me when I brought him his cornflakes. I told him I wouldn’t be long, and with the few dollars I had left in my pocket after I’d paid for fuel for my car, I said I’d buy him something nice. A bar of chocolate or something. A cheap one, like a Milky Way bar. 

It was a Saturday, so no school. Also, seeing as we only taped our show on Friday afternoon and Sunday nights, Josh wouldn’t be here, either.

I was alone with Connor.

“What up, Tarks?” he asked, face tilted as I extended out my fist for him to bump.

“I’ll tell you inside.”

 I entered the studio after I unlocked the deadlocks on the heavy steel door, Connor close behind. I flicked on the main lights and they buzzed and dimmed for a moment until they’d fully warmed up; I reminded myself every time I did so that I should replace the old fluorescents with LCDs. I just didn’t have the funds, as usual. The set looked eerie when there was no camera equipment, or even no Josh and dad hanging around.

“What’s this all about?” He rested his hands on the kitchen set’s bench. “This all rather seems to be a bit cloak and dagger to me.”

I sighed. “I might as well get straight to the point.”

“Okay. That’d make a change for you.”

I ignored his jibe. “I need you to fill in for Chase. On the show, I mean. Hopefully, it’ll only be for—”

“Wait, what?”

“Chase and I broke up yesterday.” I turned to look at him. Right into those annoyingly straight-boy eyes of his, deep blue and gorgeous. “I can’t afford to not do the show. My dad’s getting worse, not better. I have the utility companies baying for my blood, and I don’t think Mister Patel has any more shifts for me. Not that I’ve asked the man, but I wanted to ask you about this first. Don’t be mad. I’m desperate.” 

“Shit. No pressure, hey?”

A smile quivered over my lips, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was anxious, nervous and really worried. “Sorry to lay all that on you. I just don’t know what to do.”

“You do realise I can’t cook, right?”

“I know. But I need someone.”

“Why can’t you just go on yourself?”

A fair question. “The show’s called Two Twinks Cooking, not Some Loser Looking Pathetic by Himself with No Best Friend or Boyfriend Either, that’s why.”

Connor pressed his lips together, then had a look I could only describe as concentration. His freckled nose wrinkled, too. Jeez, he was cute. The audience for our show would lap him up like milk in a saucer for a kitten. “That’s a bit of a mouthful, that title...but…”

“But what?”

“If I do agree to help you, I’m not doing anything gay. No offence, but I have a girlfriend and I think my mum and dad would freak if they saw me kissing you or holding your hand or…you know…making suggestive comments about carrots or whatever.”

“None taken—and I’m not going to turn you into a screaming gay twinkie boy or anything like that. Just be you. That is, the friend who’s always helped me when times were tough for me and would continue to do so. All right?”

He nodded. “But I really can’t cook. I’m quite pathetic, actually. Like, not even boil an egg or make toast level pathetic.”

“Trust me, you’ll be fine.”

He shrugged. “Okay, I’ll help you. I know I’ll probably regret it, but what the hey, you’d do the same for me, right?”

“Too right.” I hugged him. He gave me a couple of awkward pats on the back before squirming out of my hold. I believed he was nervous all of a sudden; I certainly felt him tremble even with our short contact. Again, strange. I always hugged him, and he’d never been like that before.

I decided to ignore it. Stage fright, more than likely.

“And thanks, Connor. You’re the best.”

Josh scrambled to be beside dad after he’d done his traditional countdown to “air time” even though we pre-recorded most things because of the nature of cooking; no one wanted to watch a chicken roast for two-hours. Ratings would be shit.

“Hi there, folks,” I began. “I’m Tarquin Lawson, and to my left is my handsome best friend and stand-in today, Connor Harrison. Welcome to Two Twinks Cooking and enjoy the show!”

Connor stood stock still.

I repeated, “And welcome to our show—right, Connor?”

He didn’t move, not his lips or otherwise. Only made a frightened moaning sound every now and again.

For a cool kid in school, all swagger and oozing confidence, he sure froze when confronted by a red light on a camera. I believed I heard an exasperated, muffled trombone-like note emanating from him, too, but wasn’t sure. To be honest, it sounded like he’d farted out of sheer fear as his bowels released before his anal sphincter could clench. Straight boys; no control. But I hoped he hadn’t. We were cooking cabbage today. 

I repeated the intro…again.

This time, I nudged Connor to spur him into doing or saying something other than making strange noises, from either end. “Hello there. I’m straight, ‘cause I like pussy,” he blurted.

My dad’s mouth dropped open and Josh gasped. I snapped my neck around so fast to look at him in total disbelief that it made an audible crunching noise.

There wasn’t much place else to go after that. 

The show tanked, as the ratings attested to after we’d uploaded it.

Although, the comments were worse.

Who the hell is that dumbass blond str8 boy?
Why is that Connor dude there ruining everything? Why was he on my gay cooking show?

Where’s Chase?

We miss Chase and Tarquin having sexy cooking times together. You can’t have that when a blond bimbo declares he loves pussy on a GAYboy SHOW!

What is the world coming to???? FML!!!!

Aren’t we “Chasequin the Dream” anymore?

This show sucks the big one big time now. It went downhill fast, didn’t it? I’m not watching it until that blond bitch gets a better personality or starts taking dick like a true twink should.

I’m not watching until Chase returns.

There’s no “Connquin the Dream” here.

Connor is cute, but man alive, he needs more than pussy to fix his problems.

Let me just say, Connor can bang my man-pussy any day, but he’s so, so blond it makes my heart ache, poor baby.

Beauty does not equal brains.

Can I have your baby Connor when you grow another brain cell!!!!

And so, they went on.

And on.

Thousands of them; even so, we barely had two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand hits that show. Most times lately we were well over a million. The show where Chase and I kissed and told everyone we were boyfriends got almost three million. As for last night’s show, most turned off after Connor declared his undying love for…well.

Can’t say I blamed them.

“Why didn’t you edit all that stuff out, Tarks?” Connor’s whole face was red, his cheeks as purple as the aubergine he’d dropped on the floor and stepped on when I’d asked him to hand it to me.              “I was so embarrassed.”

I didn’t want to tell him how I felt about it.

Josh stepped in. “Darling, there wouldn’t have been anything to upload if we edited that Titanic disaster. You didn’t exactly give me much material to choose from, did you?”

Connor closed his mouth.

I patted him on the shoulder. “Look, you’ll do better next time. Promise.”

“What? No way. There will be no next time, I can tell you that right now.”

“But everyone loved you,” I lied. “Sure, there were some problems…but you know, we can sort them out. Perhaps if we did a few practise runs before the next show on Friday afternoon. What do you say?”             

“No.”

I looked at Dad. Pain was etched across his face, both from what had transpired and how he must have been feeling because of his back, I imagined.

“So that’s it then?”

Connor folded his arms. “That’s it.”

I couldn’t blame him. There were already memes about him on the net. Some were downright cruel. It’s amazing what could be done with photoshop…

Cheese Course

Friday night came and went.

There was no show.

I paid the instalment as promised on the electricity bill, just in time. But I had to juggle everything else to do so, including delaying the mortgage and sacrificing other bill payments by arranging with those companies another “revised” payment plan. I felt like I was juggling knives. I hadn’t been able to fuel up my car in a week, so I rode my bike where I could. Dad got even worse, spending more time in bed. He knew, as well as I did, that the next electricity payment was due in a fortnight…the same time as the newly arranged mortgage payment.

The way things were going, I wouldn’t be able to make either. Mister Patel didn’t have any extra shifts. In fact, things were slow for him as well, and he even hinted at cutting back my hours. I begged him not to. He said I’d be the last he’d consider when it came to roster changes. The man was a saint!

To make matters worse, I hadn’t spoken to Chase. More than likely because he was still mad. And we’d missed the deadline for Mister Smythe’s lawyer’s meeting.

We wouldn’t get the promised ten-thousand dollars now. That hurt. My pig-headedness had cost me a lot. Worst of all, dad even talked about having to sell the house if things didn’t get any better soon—like in two weeks’ time soon!

“Where would we go?” I questioned.

“We’ll have to move into one of those council flats,” he sighed depressingly.

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Council flat” was a nice way of saying that the accommodation we’d have to live in wouldn’t be fit for a dog, especially around our area.

On Sunday, I went to the studio. Josh was there. “What are we gonna do, Tarquin?”

I already felt the pull in my chest caused by my emotions. “I’ll announce the show’s over. Can you man the camera? Dad’s not coming. He’s…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

Josh gave the countdown from behind the camera. I tried to put my best foot forward for our fans, but I knew my eyes were red-rimmed and my face looked as though it had been dipped in a bucket of water for hours. My hair was a mess since I hadn’t been able to afford a haircut lately and dad’s back ached when he tried to do it. To top it all off, I had bags of stress and worry under my eyes completing the picture of the whole mess I found myself in.

I was shaking when the red light of the camera blinked at me.

“Hi there, folks,” I stammered. My emotion caught in my words. I had to take a moment to calm myself. “It’s with very sad news that I have to tell you all that Two Twinks Cooking is no more. I’m really sorry, but Chase and I haven’t been on the best of terms lately. And Connor…well…he tried to help, but that didn’t turn out all that well. I have come to the realisation that things happen for a reason and that things have their time. The time has come for our show to be over.

“It was a blast while it lasted, and I’m so thankful to each and every one of you who tuned in twice a week to watch us cook for you. I…” My voice began to break. Again, I had to compose myself before going on. “I really am sorry this all had to end, but I’m sure you understand that I tried to do everything I could to keep our show as genuine and honest as it possibly could be. Some of you may have heard rumours that Bluelight Studios wanted to buy the rights to our show. Chase wanted to take them up on their offer, I didn’t. I wanted this show to remain integral to what it was; he wanted to expand and bring what we had to a wider audience. Chase, if you’re watching this, you were right. I’m sorry. I really am.”

I broke down now and cried.

Josh was about to come out from behind the camera to comfort me. I looked up, right into the red light. I nodded to him to tell him I was okay, and he returned to his position. I cleared my throat, wiped away the tears, and like a true entertainer, continued, “Perhaps one day the show will return. But for the here and now, it’s no more. Thank you again to all of you. We loved doing what we did. I loved doing what we did. I don’t regret anything, only that I wish things were different and that Bluelight didn’t force upon us things we weren’t ready for. Goodbye.”

I blew a kiss to the camera.

Josh ended the recording.

I didn’t go to school for the next three days. Mister Patel phoned me and offered a couple of shifts because someone was sick, and I needed the money more than an education right now.

When I got home from work, around lunch time, a text message made my phone buzz. I pulled it out of my tattered jeans pocket.

Hey, Tarks. You home?

It was Connor. I replied:

Yep. Come over if you want. I need a shoulder to cry on.

Be right there.

Two seconds later, the doorbell rang. Wow, that was fast—quicker than a microwave meal. He must have been standing on the front porch. I opened the door. Now I was curious.

No sooner had I opened it, he barged past me to grab one of my coats hanging from one of the hallstand’s hooks. “Come in, Connor, why don’t you?”

“Tarks! I have an idea!” he said excitedly, while offering my coat to me. “And after I heard what you said on Sunday night, I know it’s gonna work!” 

“You watched that?” I shrugged it on.

“Let’s just say, I don’t get emotional for no reason. You made me cry with what you said, for reals. I shouldn’t have walked away. I have to keep on helping you; that’s what friends are for, right?”

I was astounded, but his enthusiasm suddenly revived me. “You mean you didn’t even cry when someone photoshopped your face onto a cat’s behind with the words: ‘I’m such a dumb pussy’?”

“Okay, now you’re pushing our friendship.” But he laughed.

He made me smile, something that felt foreign on my face lately.

I hugged him for that; this time he didn’t give a half-hearted effort or recoil. He kept his hold on me long enough to make me believe I wasn’t a carrier of the Bubonic Plague and I’d infect him with it, like before at the studio. Also, he didn’t seem nervous this time, but enthusiastic. I liked that. 

“So…what’s your idea?”

He grinned. “How deep do you want the rabbit hole to go?”

“All the way, if it helps. I’m failing big time here. I need a break. I’ve been robbing Peter to pay Paul to juggle the finances.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It means I’ve got nothin’ to lose, Connor.”

“Then let’s go for a drive and find out.” He held out his hand. I looked at him. Looked at his hand. Looked back at him. “It’s okay, you can’t catch straight. C’mon.”

“Why all the mystery?” He took the initiative, placing his hand into mine. His hold was kind of uncomfortable—as in, it wasn’t the hold Chase would have given me—but at the same time, it was comforting. Warm, reassuring, and made me feel like I wasn’t alone in all this, after all. “And why this sudden change?”

“Because.”

“Because, why?
He turned. “I don’t like it when my friends are hurt. I don’t care what people say about me, because I know who I am. Yeah, I was like a deer in headlights when I was on the show but, really, I’ll get over it. Even those memes and comments about me can’t hurt me forever.

“In fact, I’ve been getting heaps of fan mail because of it. Okay, they’re all from gay boys wanting to make me change my mind but, hey, I can see the silver lining. I felt bad for you. Then I watched you on Sunday, and I knew I had to do something, because it broke my heart. Sorry I didn’t do anything sooner, but I’ve been busy…as you’ll soon see. Anyway…I’m here now. So, let’s go before we miss our chance.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll find out.”

Dessert

Connor pulled his car, a rather lovely Hyundai hatchback thing made in the last century—in awesome condition with no cracked dashboard, wonky steering wheel, and heating that actually worked—into the parking lot of Chase’s high school.

“Wait…we can’t be here,” I said. “What if we’re caught?”

His deep blue eyes twinkled. “Grab that banner I made off the back seat. We’re gonna go in for a stealth attack, then run like hell if we have to! Are you ready, Tarks?”

“You’re not doing what I think you’re doing, are you?”

Connor looked me right in the eye. “If I don’t, you never will.”

“I can’t…”

“You can and you will, with me by your side to back you up.”

I felt my heart pound against the back of my ribs. “Chase hasn’t spoken to me since we broke up. I don’t want to talk to him yet—not like this, anyway.”

Connor snorted. “You’re both stubborn mules. Either you grab the banner and come with me, or I go get Chase and bring him down here. Like I told you, I’m not having my two best friends not speaking to one another, especially when it’s as clear as the noses on both your pretty gayboy faces that you still love him. And yes, before you say it, he still loves you. I’m not playing the middle-man anymore. I can’t deal with the messages from you both with the angst and the drama. You need to make up and I need my life back. Now, get up, grab the banner and let’s go get your man.”

I sighed in resignation. “Sure, why not? As I said, I’ve got nothing to lose, do I?”

A spark of hope ignited within me. Could I get Chase back? Could we get past what had happened? With that spark, newborn flames warmed my insides.

“That’s the spirit!”

I grabbed the banner and clambered out of the car. What was written on it, I had no idea, but I was sure I’d soon find out.

We ran up to the main block of senior classrooms. I felt my adrenaline pump through me, spurring me on. Connor was laughing. He ran fast, ahead of me in no time. Then again, he wasn’t holding a banner that acted like a parachute dragging him down; the thing was huge. I’m sure it would take the both of us to hold it when unravelled. He had been busy, as he’d said.

“Chase’ll be in science class, right now.”

I knew Connor was on a free period; he studied sports in his final year. I’m sure he’d then do what eighty-percent of fit and fine straight boys did when they left school: become a personal trainer. Good on him. He was nice to look at, even more so in shorts and a t-shirt and glistening with sweat. Even in normal clothing, he was a dream on the eyes. Mandy was one lucky girl. 

We got to the science wing without any teacher-related distractions. I was out of breath, a stitch forming to stab me at my sides by the time we did. I was hot all over, too, and I had to take off my coat. “I’m glad…we’re here. I don’t…I don’t think I could have…run…anymore.”

Without so much as a bead of sweat on his brow, he said, “Quick! Unravel the banner and hold that end. I’ll grab the other. We won’t have much time now, and I want to make sure Chase sees this. It took me all night.”

When the banner was revealed, I realised the full ramifications of what Connor had done for me.

In bold, black spray-painted writing, were the words: “I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE OF CONNOR. PLEASE RESCUE ME FROM MY STR8 BOY NIGHTMARE, CHASE. I’M SO SORRY.”

The commotion from the classroom could be heard from where we stood. Somehow our distraction meant they could throw screwed up paper at each other. Like watching monkeys in a zoo, really. There was a lot of laughter and a whole lot of “no learning” going on thanks to us. A teacher came up to one of the numerous windows, red faced.

I saw Chase. He didn’t look happy.

Connor gestured for him to come outside. Chase got up out of his seat, only causing more commotion. The teacher called for calm but was largely ignored. 

“Put down the banner!” Connor shouted. “We’ll meet Chase at the entrance to the science-wing hallway, ‘cause I don’t think we can hang around out here anymore.”

We ran to where he’d suggested.

Chase was there. Waiting with his arms folded. His face was hollow, his brow furrowed. My stomach lurched; I didn’t like seeing him like that. Sad and lonely, just like me. 

I stopped and Connor nudged me to approach him. I hesitated but realised the urgency of the situation. It was now or never. Besides, it wouldn’t be long before the science teacher realised Chase wasn’t in class after Connor’s rather brilliant distraction.

“Hey,” I mumbled when close enough to talk to him.

“Go away, Tarquin,” Chase said. Again, he didn’t use my shortened name. “We’re over, remember? I can’t deal with you or your drama anymore.”

Connor was behind me. “Tell him, Tarks.”

“Tell me what?” Chase asked, raking his hand through his hair now—revealing the steel of his eyes. But his voice wavered; there was a crack of emotion there. A sign? A hope? A promise?

I’d soon find out.

I turned to look at Connor. He nodded, encouraging me. “Go big or go home,” he whispered. Jeez, did he just use straight boy talk on me? Or was that a tag line from Pizza Hut? Whatever. I knew what he meant. 

I sucked in a breath. “You were right, Chase. I was wrong. We should have taken the Bluelight deal. I’m really sorry.”

“No,” he said flatly.

I was taken aback. Shit. I was at a loss now. Where could I go from here? What Connor had done for me had amounted to nothing. But I was here now, and I only had one chance. “Maybe it’s not too late. We can call Mister Smythe. Tell him we’re ready to sign.”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

Again, and in as many minutes, I was taken aback. “Then help me ‘get it.’ Please, Chase. I’m not…I need you.” That last part of what I spoke held all my conviction. I had nothing to lose.

His eyebrow cocked at my last sentence. “You what?”

Was this my avenue? My entrance point through his stern façade?

I continued, “I admit, you were only trying to look after me. I was wrong to dismiss you without thinking it over properly. I was hot-headed and being a drama queen, like you said. I’m really sorry. I need you so much, Chase. Because…because…”

“Because?” he prompted.

I swallowed all I had left; pride, shame, guilt, anger, embarrassment, everything. For the first time in my life, I was raw and exposed.

“Because…I love you.”

I couldn’t quite understand or quantify what happened next. All I knew, I was mashed within a sandwich of the two people I most cared about—if dad were here, the trio of my love would be complete.

Chase held me the tightest. “I missed you so much, Tarks!” he said though the flood of his own feeling, hiccupping the words. Tear trailed down his cheeks. It was beautiful.  

It was so good to hear him call me by the affectionate nickname again. I cried. He cried. Even Connor looked a bit emotional when he said, “I love it when a plan comes together.”

“Let’s get out of here,” I suggested.

Before I could count the times I loved and needed Chase, my friends, and my family, we were all inside Connor’s car; we’d all deal with the consequences of skipping classes later.

“What now?” Chase asked.

“My master plan isn’t complete yet,” Connor said with a smile so wide the rest of his face would have collapsed into it, given half the chance. “You’ve still got the studio? Right, Tarks?”

“Yeah, until the end of the month,” I replied. “Why?”

“Call Josh. Tell him to meet us there in an hour. Also, we’ll swing by your house. If your dad wants to join us, he can. But no pressure.”

“What are you up to?”

“First, I’ve got to go shopping. My treat. It’s the least I can do for my best friends now they’re back where they belong—together.”

“You’ve done enough,” I said as I squeezed Chase’s hand. We were sitting in the backseat. He was staring at me and I was leaning into him, enjoying his closeness, his clean smell—a lovely mix of hair gel, all-day deodorant musk, and remnants of aftershave that intoxicated me—and his touch. I felt warm under the weight of his gaze. I loved it.

Chase said, “You don’t have to buy us anything.”

“Oh, I’m not.” Connor pulled his car out of the school’s car park. “I’m going food shopping. Now, enough about that. You two have a lot to talk about, I’m sure.

As Connor drove, Chase said, “You were right as well, Tarks. The Bluelight offer did change things between us. And…and I didn’t like what we’d become because of it. I didn’t do anything with you I wouldn’t have normally done, believe me. But I did kind of rush into things when I shouldn’t have. Your dad said the timing was off, and he was right. You had every right to do what you did. I should have listened to you.”

“I should have listened to you.”

He ran his other hand over mine, the one that was holding him. “We should have listened to each other. Lesson learned, hey?”

“Agreed.”

He kissed me.

I drowned in his intimate touch; I needed that so much.

Josh, my dad, Chase, and myself were all staring at Connor. He had all of our attention, like a ring-master controlling the performing animals at a circus. I didn’t mind; I was curious and I’m sure everyone else was, too.

He plonked down the bags of groceries he bought onto the studio’s kitchen bench. Chase and I had stayed in the car while he’d shopped since we had a lot of kissing to catch up on. He didn’t want us going with him, anyway.

“Now, here’s the other part of my plan,” Connor began, bringing me back to the moment. “We’re going to reboot the cooking show. We’re going to make it more modern, more fun, and funnier. Starting with a bit of a redecoration of the set, since I also bought some paint. We’ve got a couple of days before Friday night’s show so these supplies should do to practice with before then.”

“What’s all this ‘we’ stuff?” Chase interjected.

“There’s gonna be the three of us doing it now, that’s what. We’re gonna call it Three Twinks Cooking. Two cute gay guys and a hot straight boy who’s there for comedic relief! What more could our new audience want? I told you, I’m getting fan mail. The world loves me, even when it’s dissing me. So, we’re doing the show together, like it or not.”

“But you froze that last time the camera was running,” Josh said. “And…well, made everyone on the net well aware of certain things.”

Connor waved his hand dismissively. “That’s why we’re practicing every day until Friday—I’ve got some of the scripts done already. It won’t happen again now that I have more of a direction and purpose and feel more a part of the whole thing. I mean, without Chase there it was weird. Right?”              

I nodded my agreement.

His ideas didn’t sound too shabby, but I needed to know more. There was one great big elephant in the room that hadn’t been addressed. “But I’ve—we’ve got no money left. How can we re-launch our show, let alone decorate the set or do anything else?”

Connor patted me on my shoulder. “It’s simple. I’m a rich dumb blond and I want to help. So there.”

“You’re not dumb,” Chase said immediately. I backed him up. Connor was intelligent, caring, and amazing, and I told him that with another hug, too. Chase hugged him as well. 

“I know that, but the audience doesn’t. Besides, I spoke to my parents. They’re willing to offer us an interest free loan to get things up and running again, including paying off any debts. No strings attached…well, there is one string attached.”

“What’s that?” I asked, worry widening my eyes.

“Relax. Nothing big. I’m just not allowed to say the word pussy anymore. Ever.”

I stifled a laugh.

But my dad sniffled, then wiped his eyes. I felt for him and I hugged him. In fact, we all hugged him. He said, “Strength always comes from those who love you, no matter what.”

And that was the first time in a long time I witnessed him smile, even if he had tears running down his face to wet his lips. 

Chase said, “And Bluelight can go get stuffed. We’re so gonna rock this without them!”

I was speechless.

 Over the course of the next couple of days, we re-painted the set in a lovely bold striped grass and mint green theme. We also practised our new routine. Connor’s writing was good. In return, Chase and I taught him how to do a little more than boil an egg…and, most importantly, how not to drop the ingredients on the floor.

Meanwhile, Josh, Chase, Connor, and me all got on social media, drumming up a fervour of interest that we were coming back, bigger and better than ever.

Friday night came around in a heartbeat.

On time, Josh said, “And ready in three…two…one…”

Chase came to life, gesticulating while holding a wooden spoon. “Hey there, lovely people! I’m Chase Reid, your handsome main man. To my right is my awesomely cute and devastatingly handsome boyfriend, Tarquin Lawson. While to my left, is our dear friend and cute straight boy who needs no further introduction, Connor Harrison. Together, we’re Three Twinks Cooking. Welcome to our new and improved show!”

With practiced ease, Connor replied, “What was that, Chase?”

“I introduced you, Connor. We’re on.”

“Oh? We are?”

“Yes. We sure are, Connor,” I said to counter him. Also, as part of our new “routine” and while Josh (off camera) handed me a ripe cantaloupe, I added, “But never mind, Connor. You’ll catch on one day. Here’s a cantaloupe for you to scoop the seeds out of. That’ll keep you busy for a while, won’t it?”             

Connor really hammed it up, playing the “dumb blond” card to perfection. “I know what you’re trying to do, Tarks. A cantaloupe is supposed to represent certain female body parts and you just want me to get a boner, don’t you?” I wondered if his parents would want to hear him say that word—seeing as “pussy” was already on the banned list, along with many others, no doubt.

 Thinking about that, I almost lost it and laughed. Even his blank Rose Nylund expression from Golden Girls fame was perfect while he spoke his lines.

Our audience was gonna love him! 

Chase smiled knowingly. “I’m sure it still will, Connor. Now, Tarks,” I liked the new addition of Chase and Connor calling me Tarks after the introduction. “What are we going to do while Connor lives out a straight boy fantasy?”

“To celebrate the relaunch of the show, our new look, and the sexual diversity we’ve embraced by including straight into our gay mix, we’re going to be making a saucy and naughty chocolate body paint everyone can make and use. What could be more perfect?”

“Is that the stuff you can put on your beef sausage for fun times in the bedroom?” Conner interjected, his hand holding the spoon he’d just de-seeded the cantaloupe with; the seeds in question dropped all over the counter top.

“It is, Connor. It is,” Chase replied. He too tried to stifle a laugh behind his hand.

“What if my girlfriend doesn’t like the taste of chocolate on my purple-ended thermometer?”

Beef Sausage! Purple-ended thermometer! I almost lost it again. Jeez, the lines he’d come up with during our rehearsals still made me want to burst out laughing. I had to turn away from camera for a moment to compose myself. Once Connor had gotten over his camera shyness, he shone! Like the fabulous diamond he really was.

“Keep scooping that cantaloupe, Connor,” I chuckled. “Keep scooping.”

“Sure thing, Tarks,” Connor said.

“Before we start the recipe, there’s something I’ve got to do,” Chase said.

“What?” I asked.

Chase kissed me. With tongue. Probing, sensuous, and full of his intent. I was suddenly glad I’d bought condoms yesterday; I had a feeling I’d need them sooner rather than later. I melted under his attention quicker than the sugar and salt mixture did in the boiling water for our recipe.

After Dinner Drinks

Josh uploaded the show.

We waited around, watching the hits mount. Dad had gone with Connor to get us a couple of celebratory drinks. Yes, we were underage, but dad said he’d fight anyone who wouldn’t allow champagne at a celebration. And we were celebrating big time!

“Just watch your back if you do start laying punches into people,” I said with more laughter. The whole show had been a hoot.

Before dad could add anything to that, Josh took in a sharp breath. “Guys, look at this!”

Oh. My. God. The show had reached five million hits. The comments were awesome, too. How fickle was our audience? But still, for the here and now, they loved us.

I sighed with relief.

It was like a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. And dad was right, it was the ones I loved who did it. No one else. There was one comment that caught my eye.

“Look,” I exclaimed, pointing to the screen.

Well done, gentlemen. You have displayed your mettle in the proving ground of show business. Quite an achievement. If you ever want to take up my offer, you know who to contact. Until then, great show. Percy Milton Smythe. 

We all stared at it for ages.

Someone commented underneath Mister Smythe’s.

The boys did great without your offer, as I knew they would. Take a hint and leave them alone, bozo.

I heard my dad chuckle. He was holding his phone, his face with a maniacal grin aglow from the screen’s light. I didn’t know he knew how to use it to get onto YouTube, let alone comment. But I swelled with pride.

We had done it.

Later that night, Chase joined me in my room.

Over the past few days and nights, he’d started staying over more and more. It was a lot easier that way because of all the work we’d been doing on the show—we all used the excuse of me needing to help look after my dad as to why we skipped classes. Dad backed us up, saying he needed help getting in and out of bed lately and that I shouldn’t do that by myself. The school, so far, had accepted that; it was end of semester anyway and exams were done. Sure, the medical certificate helped. Although, the amount of schoolwork dumped on us was huge. We were going to be busy every weekend.             

But at the moment, I had other things on my mind. As did Chase.

“I think we should sleep together tonight, Tarks,” he said while holding me tight.

My dad had already pointed out where the extra pillows were kept. I took that as his approval to Chase’s suggestion even without hearing it. But to reinforce that, I said, “I couldn’t think of anything better.”

Chase was soon sprawled over my bed, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and an eager, saucy smile. I got down to my underwear as well. But not before retrieving the packet of condoms from the top bedside drawer. I moved so I was next to him. I felt his breath on my face and nerves prickled at my skin along with the knots in my stomach of anticipation and want. I held him, revelling in the contact of his skin on mine.

“Strawberry flavour?” he questioned, raking his hair out of his eyes.

“I thought mint was so last season. Strawberries are in right now, you know.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“No, I don’t suppose you can.”

He grabbed me, pulling me on top of him. “But I don’t think I’m going to get a chance to taste the strawberry flavour on them. Not this time anyway.”

He kissed me, his lips over mine before I could respond. The hot, wet sensation made me groan. I could also feel myself stirring. He was already hard, his eagerness pressing onto mine.

We parted, but never too far, and I touched my nose to his. “And why won’t you be tasting it?”

Chase winked. “Do you have any lube?”

I got it. “Oh!”

“Yeah. Oh, all right. I think we’re ready, don’t you?”

“Um…how are we…you know…who’s going to b—”

“Relax, Tarks. We’ll take it slow and take it in turns. Find out what we both like on our own terms. Together. Okay?”

“Okay.” I kissed him.

Again, we parted—both of us now shorts-less and revealing our enthusiasm—and Chase began kissing me. He started on my right ear, then made his way, slowly, sensuously, down to the curve of my neck, to my collar bone. Oh...then to my chest. I shuddered, my breathing erratic as his attention hardened my nipples.

Chase moaned deliciously. 

Waves of desire heated my skin where his contact was concentrated. I bit my bottom lip and closed my eyes as I bunched the sheets in my grip. He moved his tongue in circles, delicate and determined at the same time. The sensation of such a small thing was so profound my mind was already composing poetry.

Until he moved his attention lower.

“Oh, Chase!” I couldn’t help but gasp as he kissed and licked my stomach. I quivered now. The air was electric. I’d never known a pair of lips that could silently promise so much more to come.

He whispered hot breath onto my skin, “There’s one thing I’ve got to do before we do anything.”

“What’s that?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“Tell me what?” I felt a knot form inside me.

“I need to tell you that I love you, too, Tarks.”

I’d never been so happy to hear those words. My throat constricted, and I almost choked. “You…do?”

“Yeah. And I never want us to fight like that again.”

“Well, if fighting like that leads to this, I can’t promise you anything, Chase.”

He moved so he could plant sweet kisses on my neck again. The feel of his lips there made me so hard it was painful. He held me. I melted within his hold. “All right then. Let’s promise to always make up if we do fight.”

“I can live with that. And yes, I love you with all my heart.”

He came up to plant more of his attention on my lips. I trembled, nervous and aroused and anxious under the spell of his passion for me, of mine for him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

With all I had in me, I opened my eyes to look deep into his steel grey wonders, to become immersed in his world just as I’d always wanted. I said, “I trust you.” 

“I trust you, too.” Then his voice became a soft snarl. “Now let’s get that condom on before I explode and make a mess everywhere. I can’t wait any longer.”

That night, we made love to each other. Many times. Actual, romantic novel, dreamy, streamy, sexy love. The love of two people who want to be together, forever.

The chocolate body paint we’d made earlier didn’t even get out of the jar. There would always be next time.

The End

The Recipes

Classic Greek Tzatziki

Ingredients

Serves: 24

500g low-fat Greek yoghurt

1 large cucumber, peeled, seeds removed and grated

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

20 mint leaves, finely chopped

Directions

Preparation: 4 hours = Ready in: 4 hours

Line a colander with muslin, clean Chux (Brand) cloth, or paper towel and place over a bowl. Empty the yoghurt into the colander and strain for at least 4 hours, until most of the water has drained off.

Squeeze excess liquid from grated cucumber. In a medium bowl, stir together the cucumber and strained yoghurt. Stir in the garlic, salt, pepper and mint, adding more salt if necessary. Chill the mixture for 1 to 2 hours before serving.

Tip:

For a richer tzatziki, add 2 to 4 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil to the mixture.

Proper Mint Sauce

Ingredients

Makes: 600 ml

450g brown sugar

2 cups (500ml) vinegar

1 cup mint leaves, chopped

Directions

Preparation: 20 min = Cook: 10 min = Ready in: 30 min

Combine sugar and vinegar in a saucepan then bring to a boil. Stir in the mint then bottle according to your usual method.

Chocolate Body Paint

Ingredients

Makes 1/2 a cup:

2 tablespoons chocolate extract or essence

1/3 cup granulated sugar

1 pinch salt

3 tablespoons water

2 tablespoons of butter, room temperature and cubed

1/4 cup cocoa powder (it must be good quality)

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract or essence

1/2 teaspoon of preferred alcohol (entirely optional)

Directions

Place the sugar, salt, and water into the saucepan.

Heat over medium heat. Heat until it starts to boil, then lower to a simmer. Do not stir the ingredients.

Remove the mixture from the heat when the sugar has dissolved.

Add the butter cubes. Whisk until combined.

Tip in the cocoa powder, vanilla and chocolate extract or essence. If you are using alcohol, add it now. (You can add your choice of alcohol here.)

Whisk well. Don't be surprised to see lumps forming, just keep whisking them out. The chocolate paint is ready when it turns smooth and has a silky texture. You can spread it on a wooden spoon to test if it's done––it will form a thick, smooth coat on the spoon.

Transfer the mixture into a sterile glass container.

Wait until the chocolate paint has cooled down sufficiently. If you're unsure, test a small amount on your forearm. The paint can burn your skin if used before it has cooled sufficiently.

Use a pastry brush to paint the chocolate onto skin. Where you paint it is your business.

Reheat to restore the thinner paint-like state. If the chocolate body paint thickens or has been refrigerated, reheat in a microwave or a double boiler. As with before, if you do this, be sure it is cool enough before using.

Author’s Note

There are so many people to thank once again. Most of all, I’d like to thank one of my dearest friends, Allen, and my mentor and editor extraordinaire, Charlie, for their continued and unfaltering support as I wrestle with my demons.

All my stories feature the use of condoms—especially in this Cute Gay Romance series. Not only does safe sex help prevent the spread of sexually transmitted diseases, using them with the one you want to be intimate with is a sign of both respecting them and respecting yourself. And that’s important, too! And hey, they come in all sorts, flavours included, these days.

A note on the use of recipes: the basic ingredients and steps of any recipe are not protected by copyright and are free to use. Recipes are considered factual and therefore not covered by copyright. However, the sections of a recipe, where, for example, an author talks about why to use a certain ingredient, or what season you can get the best ingredient in, or a discussion of the history of a recipe; these are all covered by copyright.              

Thank you for reading!

More to come in the “Cute Gay Romance” series with: “Mister Heartbreak” (Coming April 15th, 2019)

Also by Eridani Books

The Arty Tekken Chronicles:

Book One: The Battle of Crystal and Water

Book Two: The Struggle of Flesh and Stone *includes the bonus short story: The Scarab Beetle Key

Book Three: The War of Mind and Matter *includes the bonus short story: Arty and Tobias.

Short Stories/Novellas:

Enough Blue Sky to Mend a Pair of Sailor’s Trousers

Dylan’s Love

About the Author

I write LGBTQ+ stories. As a therapist who helps people with all sorts of conditions, injuries, and disabilities I'm an advocate for those people, especially if they're teens.