Page 54 of Burn the Script

As I danced with Miguel in a bland hotel room while other gay actors spun their partners under chandeliers, I wondered if the dream was still worth the sacrifice. He deserved better. We both did.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed this.” His soft voice barely rose above the music, but the tremor and honesty in it rang loud. “It’s hard to stand by and watch while you pretend to love someone else. It’s even harder to pretend I don’t care.”

“Our time will come. And when you’re grinding against me on a dance floor, I’ll be thanking you for not giving up on us.” I pressed my lips to his forehead and kept them there.

“You shouldn’t thank me, not when I’d rather keep the real you all to myself.”

“The real me will only ever be yours.” With limited space, we moved in a tight circle, but having him close gave me the courage to speak the scary things out loud. “Tate pitched the idea of breaking up.”

Miguel stiffened. The music filled the excruciating pause, a count of four, before he asked, “Is that what you want?”

“She said we don’t need her anymore, but what do you think?”

A count of two passed, but his voice was calm compared to my rapidly rising pulse. “Would we still keep quiet?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you answer right now. There’s so much to consider, and I hate that we’re even in this situation because of me and my choices.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He wrapped me in a strong hug. “I love you. You know that, right? I’ll love you forever, no matter what.”

My throat thickened, and I fought hard to swallow. “That almost sounded like a goodbye.”

His soft chuckle floated to my ear. “I’d never use that word. It’s so final.”

The organ pounding in my chest threatened to tear through bones and flesh so it could lie begging at his feet. Taking a step back, I cupped his face in my shaky hands and forced him to look at me. “Just to be clear, you’re not telling me goodbye?”

Miguel’s sincere smile and tender touch helped me breathe easier as he brushed the loose hairs from my forehead. “No, Graham. Leaving you isn’t an option. I’d have to leave my heart behind, and I wouldn’t survive without it.”

23

MIGUEL

NOW

Thursday, February 9th

My jaw cracks when I yawn. Dozing off in a gay pub isn’t my finest moment, but I’ve been stood up. Carmen’s friend with the crusty lip ring hasn’t shown his face, and I might order daiquiri to wake myself up and celebrate. When someone I recognize walks through the door, looking downcast, I ditch the solo celebration, intent on making this a party.

As I slide into the unoccupied side of a booth, I let out a long, relieved moan. “I’ve officially retired from dating. How are things going on your end...” My lips stick together for a second too long before spitting out a guess. “…Preston?”

“You got it right.” An unconvincing smile lifts his lips before it vanishes.

Great. Apparently, this is a pity party. I should tell whoever is managing the playlist because the British rock music fails to match the mood.

I tap my thumbs on the table and scope out the place. Among all the battered wood and patinated brass, tin signs decorate the walls. One saying “Take the Piss” hangs near the restroom. Someone thinks they’re clever.

Taking another stab at being social with Preston, I ask, “Do you come here often?”

He twists a napkin in his fingers. “A couple of times a week. I live around the corner.”

I’m not good with moping people, and he’s the mopiest mope I’ve encountered in a while. He’d been cheery during our previous encounters, even when they went downhill. And I recall him leaving the second one in a good mood because the guy wearing the purple crop top was on his arm.

”How did it go with the cutie from speed dating?” I ask.

“We weren’t on the same page. And I deleted the app. I’ve realized dating isn’t for me either.” His dejected tone plucks at my rigid heartstrings.

I’m not sure what it is about Preston, but I want to see him happy. Since I’m not the best with comforting words, I’ll cheer him up with a small gift instead.

Stealing a paper napkin from the stack, I unfold it and press it flat. “Maybe the person for you isn’t on the apps. Have you considered joining a book club or a spin class?”