From "Eyecandy"
Dominic is dating a super-hottie named Troy, but seriously drawn to Hamilton who is physically average. Dominic must decide what is more important to him—his sexual attraction to Troy or his emotional attraction to Hamilton.
He sat brooding on the front porch. The door opened and out walked Hamilton with two saucers of blueberry pie and two glasses of white wine. Misty, the dog, dashed at his heels anxious for taste of pie.
“This’ll make you feel better,” Hamilton said.
“Thank you.”
The pie was good, but the wine was better. It quenched the smoldering and calmed Dominic.
They sat on the porch steps, saying nothing, just staring into the night and at the people sitting on porches up and down the street. Misty hunched between them, looking from one to the other, still hoping for pie. It was quiet in the aftermath of the fireworks. They could hear the crickets and the tinkling of various conversations up and down the block.
Dominic sipped his wine. “Troy’s not right for me.”
“No,” Hamilton said. “He isn’t.”
Dominic was a little surprised to hear this from Troy’s friend.
“Troy’s a really good guy,” Hamilton said. “I love him. But he’s childish and shallow. That’s not what you’re about.”
“How do you know? You’ve known me for a day. Not even.”
“I can tell.”
They sipped their wine again without speaking. They could hear Troy’s raucous laughter from inside. Misty left the porch steps and flopped down on the lawn, giving up her dream of pie.
“Hey, Dom,” Hamilton said and his voice was the bashful half-voice of this morning when they’d first met. “Just, you know, hypothetically speaking, do you think I’m right for you?” His voice trailed off at the end and he fidgeted with the stem of his wine glass.
Dominic felt as though he had been presented with either a grand opportunity or a death sentence. He thought about Hamilton’s body. About his own body. He thought about Troy.
“Well?” Hamilton said. “Am I right for you? Hypothetically speaking.”
Dominic took a big gulp of wine. “No. I’m sorry.”
Hamilton turned to Dom. “Don’t be sorry, baby. It was just a hypothetical question.” He smiled, but the dimples didn’t twinkle like they had earlier.
Dominic is dating a super-hottie named Troy, but seriously drawn to Hamilton who is physically average. Dominic must decide what is more important to him—his sexual attraction to Troy or his emotional attraction to Hamilton.
He sat brooding on the front porch. The door opened and out walked Hamilton with two saucers of blueberry pie and two glasses of white wine. Misty, the dog, dashed at his heels anxious for taste of pie.
“This’ll make you feel better,” Hamilton said.
“Thank you.”
The pie was good, but the wine was better. It quenched the smoldering and calmed Dominic.
They sat on the porch steps, saying nothing, just staring into the night and at the people sitting on porches up and down the street. Misty hunched between them, looking from one to the other, still hoping for pie. It was quiet in the aftermath of the fireworks. They could hear the crickets and the tinkling of various conversations up and down the block.
Dominic sipped his wine. “Troy’s not right for me.”
“No,” Hamilton said. “He isn’t.”
Dominic was a little surprised to hear this from Troy’s friend.
“Troy’s a really good guy,” Hamilton said. “I love him. But he’s childish and shallow. That’s not what you’re about.”
“How do you know? You’ve known me for a day. Not even.”
“I can tell.”
They sipped their wine again without speaking. They could hear Troy’s raucous laughter from inside. Misty left the porch steps and flopped down on the lawn, giving up her dream of pie.
“Hey, Dom,” Hamilton said and his voice was the bashful half-voice of this morning when they’d first met. “Just, you know, hypothetically speaking, do you think I’m right for you?” His voice trailed off at the end and he fidgeted with the stem of his wine glass.
Dominic felt as though he had been presented with either a grand opportunity or a death sentence. He thought about Hamilton’s body. About his own body. He thought about Troy.
“Well?” Hamilton said. “Am I right for you? Hypothetically speaking.”
Dominic took a big gulp of wine. “No. I’m sorry.”
Hamilton turned to Dom. “Don’t be sorry, baby. It was just a hypothetical question.” He smiled, but the dimples didn’t twinkle like they had earlier.