Love After First Night

Chapter 1: The Ultimate Reunion

I feel my breath catch as I run a hand along the sleeve of a well-pressed dolphin-gray sport-coat, the mannequin wearing it positioned in the rear of the Brooks Brothers at my local galleria. The suit itself looks incredibly handsome, but it's nowhere near as handsome as the man I'm buying it for. That man is none other than Trevor Bordeaux, the one who had acted as my savior during a time when I'd been living a bleak existence. The one who had allowed me to give up a life of poverty, homelessness, and countless one-night stands with complete strangers in exchange for cash.

He's the sixth and best boyfriend (and now fiancé) I've ever had, bar none, with his combination of looks and personality. Being the nerd that he is, he can't dress himself in anything better than flannels, jeans, and the occasional graphic tee. So whenever I get the chance to show him off at neighborhood parties, it usually falls on me to buy him nice clothes so he can look more presentable. The suit I'm picking out for him isn't for our wedding (that's not for at least another six months), but rather for the wedding of my best friend Katrina Vicciotelli tomorrow, for which I've been appointed as a bridesmaid. Somehow, even after all these years, we've managed to get back in touch, and once the wedding rolls around, I'll finally be able to catch up with her properly.

Luckily for me, I've managed to find a whole rack of suits in Trevor's size, though I'm still deciding on which one to pick. I've already ruled out black, blue, and gray - too traditional for my tastes. Brown might blend in with his shoulder-length hair and look beyond awkward. White, off-white, and other vivid colors will make him stick out like a red M&M in a bowl of grits. And patterns would be too mature for a guy of his age. I eventually settle on a burnt sienna suit covered in horizontal and vertical lines of an even darker shade. It's a nice compromise between all my requirements.

After paying for the suit, I exit the store and stride back towards the parking garage. Along the way, I pass by Victoria's Secret, where one of the lingerie sets catches my eye. Each cup on the bra is themed after a different anime, as are the front and back of the panties. And since the whole set is reversible, this most likely means even more shows are represented here. The set is finished off with pink lace along the edges, and the mannequin it's being displayed on seems similar to me in terms of height and measurements. I can't help but crack a small but genuine smile at the sight of this, wondering how Trevor would react if he were to see me wearing this one night. But I ultimately ignore the set and keep walking, as our sex life is simply not big enough to warrant such a purchase. Plus, the damn thing costs forty bucks.

I finally make the drive back home in the rusty red Toyota we both share. Our homely, two-story house is located in a neighborhood just five miles outside of New Orleans. A small wooden shack called Mama Bleu's is situated halfway between the two locales that acts as a fried catfish joint, where I briefly stop to pick up tonight's dinner. Upon arrival, I park the car in the driveway and head up the cobbled walkway to the front door. Just a week ago, the walkway had been surrounded and almost completely obscured by overgrown day-lilies. I've always found the flowers to be beautiful, but the crowns of greenery are hideous and spread out everywhere, which makes them highly uncomfortable to walk around during warmer weather. There's just something so off-putting to me about having plant life brush against my exposed skin. Thankfully, though, Trevor had been kind enough to uproot them and replant them in the backyard, replacing them with some generic boxwood shrubbery.

"Hello?" I call out upon entering the front door, only to receive no answer.

I shrug and close the door behind me. As nice as our house is, it tends to feel pretty lonely whenever just one of us is home. Both Trevor and I have considered adopting a household dog or cat, but seeing how our backyard leads directly out into the bayou, the risk of it getting killed by a gator is quite high. With tuxedo in hand, I - after setting the warm paper bag on the kitchen table - head upstairs to the master suite. It's one of very few rooms in the house that's not peppered with any of Trevor's anime and/or video game merchandise. Opening the door reveals Trevor himself, who's currently in the midst of packing for our trip. On sight, he immediately gives me a courteous smile.