Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Clark and I both grew up in Portland, but basically lived in different worlds—his was high-end and classy and…well, without young mothers who dressed in revealing clothes and bartended or danced in bars the way my mom had. We didn’t live in the same area, and we’d gone to different schools, but over those two years, I’d worked with Clark on his gymnastics and we’d gotten close.
He’d been hilarious. Smart as hell and kind of posh. Maybe that wasn’t the right word, just…he’d dressed in clothes I couldn’t afford, and he’d been driven around in cars so expensive, they’d likely cost more than my mom had made in a year. Or at least, that’s how it felt when I was twelve. He was put together when I’d never felt that way.
But for some reason, he’d always been nice to me. He liked me, even though I was queer as queer could be, even back then, out and proud and sparkly. Clark…had not been. He’d been straight—or not out—and definitely not sparkly or flamboyant.
No matter how dissimilar we were, Clark had never looked at me or my mom the way his mom had, like we weren’t worthy and she couldn’t get away from us fast enough. And also, my mom always said yes when I’d ask if Clark could have a sleepover at our apartment or he’d asked if I could go to his house, but his mom always said no, so we never did. Then one day, he stopped coming to gymnastics, and I never saw him again.
Stupidly, I’d always wondered about him, always been bummed he hadn’t reached out to me, but what had I expected? While we’d hit it off in gymnastics, Clark and I were different with a capital D. I probably hadn’t made the same impression on him that he had on me.
That fact didn’t stop me from sending him a DM, though. Hey, Fancy. Long time, no see. Do you remember me?
He’d hated it when I called him that, but I wasn’t sure he’d even remember, so I was surprised when a couple of minutes later, I got a reply. Wow…Skylar from the Block? It had been a running joke between us. I’d been a little obsessed with Jennifer Lopez and would sing her song, replacing Jenny with Skylar. Young Sky had been determined to make a whole lot of money when he grew up, and then reminisce about still being Skylar from the Block, I guessed.
Hey, man. How’s it going?
Not bad, you?
Eh. I can’t complain.
Yeah, me neither.
I wasn’t sure what to say after that. What did I say to a guy I might have had my first non-celebrity crush on when I’d still been young enough not to be disillusioned by the thought of love? A guy I’d thought might be queer but hadn’t known for sure. And if Clark was, he might not be as okay with it as I’d always been. That didn’t even count his parents. I definitely had my questions about them.
Fortunately, Clark replied before I could drive myself too crazy trying to figure out what to say. Are you still living around here? What do you do?
Yep. Not sure I’ll ever leave PTown. I’m a dancer at a gay bar. The Playground. Not sure if you’ve heard of it. A.k.a., Not sure if you’re queer or not, or why it matters, but hey, here we are.
Yeah, I’ve heard of it. I haven’t been, though. My ex-boyfriend…he wasn’t one for bars. Not that I am. I mean, I don’t have anything against them. It’s just not something I do a lot.
Bingo. Clark was gay—or bi? Again, I wasn’t sure why it mattered. Maybe because I’d always been curious about him, or because of the dumb crush from back in the day, but knowing he was out enough to at least have boyfriends made me smile. I couldn’t help wondering how his parents had taken it. I hoped it had gone okay for him.
We should meet up sometime…lunch or dinner? If it were someone else, I’d ask them to go out, like to a club or dancing, but Clark reminded me of the kind of guy who said, Let’s do lunch. I rolled my eyes. I was being a fucking dork. What was it about him that always made me act so extra? Maybe because despite how he grew up, Clark never seemed to care about that stuff. For all I knew, though, he did now.
I’d like that. I have to work today, but maybe tomorrow?
I’d like it too. I gave him my phone number and told him to let me know what was good for him. Then I clicked on his profile and…goddamn. Clark was even hotter than I remembered.
He dressed so…well, fancy, like I used to call him—in polo shirts and expensive jeans and nice boots. There were photos with him and friends. They all looked like Clark kind of people, which meant not Sky kind of people. Maybe I was being judgy. If he hung out with them, they must be similar to him. There were also photos of houses and him in front of SOLD signs, so clearly, he’d gone to work with his parents. Funny… In a way, I’d gone into the family business too.