Is He Or Isn't He? (15 page)

A
fter getting off the phone with Paige, Anthony tried to figure out what he was going to do that night. Paolo wanted him gone and he had to comply with orders. Otherwise…

Anthony shuddered, not wanting to imagine the consequences. Not that he was afraid of his brother or anything. But Paolo was a guy who stood by his word. He'd always been like that. Anthony even admired him for it sometimes. But he also knew when to stay out of his way.

He could go to Felix Fennimore's 18th birthday party that night, but did he really want to?

Whenever Felix threw a party, he invited the entire world—friends and enemies (which was the category Anthony fell into)—so he could show off to everyone. His parties were always major events. Great food, great music and usually a handful of celebrities. The party was being held
in Chelsea at a private club and Anthony was sure there'd be lots of good-looking guys there. It wouldn't be a Felix party if there weren't.

Anthony turned over the invitation in his hand, trying to make up his mind. He hated going solo to parties and he really didn't hang out much with Felix's crowd. All of Felix's friends were superficial, caring only about the latest gossip. The latest clothes. The latest parties.

The exception was Max.

Max!

No matter how hard Anthony tried, he couldn't get Max out of his mind. What was the deal with him? Was he gay or straight, and would Paige be able to find out this weekend?

Anthony pushed thoughts of Max out of his mind. No, no, no! He was going to drive himself crazy if he kept thinking about him. Maybe he should go to Felix's party. It would be a good way to forget about Max and whatever was going on out in the Hamptons. And it would be better than feeling sorry for himself.

Saturday night could be the loneliest night of the week.

Anthony sighed, thinking about Ian. On Saturday nights, he and Ian used to go to the movies. Afterwards, they'd grab something to eat and then spend the rest of the night talking.

And kissing.

Anthony tossed the party invitation on his dresser and opened the top drawer, moving around a pile of socks until he found what he was looking for, hidden away in the back.

It was a framed photo of himself and Ian.

The photo had been taken last June in Central Park after they'd gone to the Gay Pride Parade. It had been a sunny day
and they were sitting on the Great Lawn, leaning into each other, arms wrapped around the other's shoulders, heads touching, smiling into the camera. They'd been so happy back then. Why had everything gone so wrong?

Anthony traced Ian's features with a finger. The hazel eyes that he'd loved looking into. The shoulder-length brown hair that was soft to the touch and always smelled like lemons. The lips that he could spend hours kissing.

Anthony sighed. He hadn't thought of Ian in a couple of weeks, but every so often he would pop into his mind. He supposed that was to be expected. After all, Ian had been his first serious boyfriend. He'd had deep feelings for Ian, and when you have feelings for someone you can't just turn them off the way you could turn off a running faucet.

In the early days of his breakup with Ian, he'd walked around with a dull ache in his heart. At night he couldn't sleep and when he was awake, all he could think about was Ian. He'd want to pick up the phone and call him, just to hear his voice, to ask if they could start over, but he didn't.

Instead he remembered the reasons why he and Ian had broken up and his anger returned, giving him the strength to move on.

Anthony picked up the party invitation, turning it over in his hands, trying to make up his mind. Maybe he should go to Felix's party. Maybe it was time to move on.

But then he wondered if Ian was going to be at Felix's party. He knew they were still friends. Would he come all the way down from Boston for it?

Anthony's stomach began to flutter as he remembered the way Ian made him feel when they kissed.

It had been so great between them in the beginning. Anthony remembered how he and Ian had first met. They'd been at the Barnes & Noble in Chelsea (where else would you go to find a possible boyfriend?) and Anthony had been in the fiction section, looking for something to read.

“This book is really good. I couldn't put it down.”

Anthony turned around to see a dark-haired guy around his age standing behind him, holding out a copy of
The World of Normal Boys
, by K. M. Soehnlein. Anthony took the book from his hand, turning it over to read the back cover copy.

“It's a gay coming-of-age story set in New Jersey in the '70s. I could really relate to the main character.”

“Is he the one who's gay?” Anthony asked, holding his breath for the answer. He was no dummy. Unless he was wrong, this guy was interested in him and had just given him a big clue.

“Yes.”

Anthony lowered the book and took a closer look at the guy standing next to him. He was cute, no doubt about it. Anthony gave him a smile. “Hi, I'm Anthony.”

“Ian.”

Anthony held up the book. “This looks good. I'm going to buy it.”

“Maybe we could get together and talk about it after you've read it?”

“Sure,” Anthony said, trying to sound calm while his insides were quivering with excitement.
He likes me! This cute guy likes me!!!
He gave Ian his cell phone number, taking his. “I'll call you once I finish reading it.”

Ian smiled. “I hope you're a fast reader.”

After buying the book, Anthony raced home and spent the rest of the day reading so that he could call Ian the next day. (It didn't hurt that Anthony loved the book and the pages flew by.) They met for coffee at the Frosted Cupcake and instantly clicked, discovering that they had many of the same interests.

And it was at the Frosted Cupcake, on their second date, that they kissed for the first time.

Roger was on the way to their table with another order of cupcakes when Ian said, “There's something I've been wanting to do since I met you the other afternoon.”

“What?” Anthony asked distractedly, busy scraping a blob of vanilla frosting off a cupcake wrapper.

“This,” Ian said, as he leaned across the sofa, pulled Anthony into his arms and kissed him.

For Anthony, the kiss had been totally unexpected. He was enjoying his time with Ian, trying to figure out a way that he could make the first move, when Ian beat him to it.

For a first kiss, it had been the kiss of a lifetime. All Anthony had been aware of was the kiss. Ian was kissing him! In public! The entire bakery disappeared. The only person who existed was Ian and his magical lips. When Anthony finally landed back on earth, his head was spinning and he was tingling from head to toe.

Roger, to his credit, was unfazed. He might have looked startled for a second, but he quickly maintained his cool, putting their order down in front of them and leaving the check.

The second round of cupcakes was ignored. Instead, Anthony and Ian spent the rest of the afternoon in each other's arms, just kissing at the Frosted Cupcake. After that, they were officially a couple, calling each other all the time,
going out together after classes, on the weekends and whenever else they could.

The more time Anthony spent with Ian, the deeper he fell in love with him.

He only wished that Ian felt the same.

It wasn't that Ian didn't have feelings for him. He did. He knew Ian cared about him. He showed him in countless little ways. Sending him e-mails. Leaving messages on his cell phone. Telling him he loved him.

That was in the beginning. But then as their relationship progressed, there were little arguments and spats. It seemed like Anthony could never do anything right. If he was even five minutes late for a movie, Ian would lose his temper. And then there was Ian's favorite catch phrase. Whenever Anthony did anything that annoyed him—like wanting to go down to Times Square and stand outside the windows of MTV's
T. R. L.
to catch a glimpse of his favorite pop princess or stay home to watch the season finale of his favorite show on the WB
—
he'd say, “You're such a high schooler!” The comment hurt. And it made Anthony feel inferior to Ian. Because he
was
a high schooler and Ian was the one going off to college in the fall. Ian was one step ahead of him, leaving high school behind, and probably looking to date someone more mature.

Anthony sighed. He was going to drive himself crazy if he tried to rework the past. What had happened with Ian was over and done with. It was time to move on.

And Felix's party was the perfect place to do it.

So he didn't have a boyfriend, big deal. He was never going to find another one if he didn't go out and meet new people.

And maybe Max
was
his next boyfriend.

Maybe if he went to Felix's party, he'd be able to find out the truth. After all, Felix was pretty close to Max.

If anyone knew whether Max was gay or straight, it would be Felix. But would Felix tell him what he knew?

Anthony's eyes fell back on his invitation and he snatched it up.

There was only one way to find out.

 

There were good-looking guys everywhere.

Blonds. Brunettes. Redheads. Tall. Short. Thin. Muscular. It was like that disco song from the early '80s, “It's Raining Men.” And all of them had that unmistakable air of the rich and wealthy. From head to toe, everything about them was perfect.

Anthony felt like he'd stepped into the pages of a fashion magazine. Wherever he turned, there was another designer label. Prada. Hugo Boss. Calvin Klein. Michael Kors. Versace.

The girls were dressed just as well as the guys and were standing around in little clumps, posing as if waiting for the paparazzi to arrive. Knowing Felix and his hunger for fame, they probably would.

Anthony had dressed in a John Varvatos peach shirt that he wore untucked with a pair of caramel-colored pants and brown boots, but compared to everyone else, he felt underdressed.

Music was playing loudly, with a DJ taking requests, and a silver disco ball was spinning in the air, scattering the dark room with bursts of light.

Anthony hated feeling so inadequate. What was wrong with a little individuality? Of being yourself?

“Anthony!” Felix exclaimed. “What are you doing here? I
didn't think you were coming.”

Anthony turned around with a smile. “Surprise!”

Felix was wearing a pair of hip-hugging jeans that looked like they were spray-painted on, along with a muscle shirt that said,
KISS ME
!
IT
'
S MY BIRTHDAY
! The T-shirt did a nice job of showing off Felix's arms and chest, which were quite buff, much to Anthony's surprise. Gone was the string bean. When had Felix started hitting the gym?

“I see you've been admiring the muscle boys.”

“It's hard to take your eyes off them.”

“I'm sure if you spent half your life in the gym, you could look like that.”

Anthony shook his head. “I doubt it.”

Felix pointed to the front of his shirt. “No more talking. Do what the shirt says!”

Anthony really didn't have much of a choice. After all, it was Felix's birthday. He leaned forward to give Felix a kiss on the cheek and was nearly pulled off his feet as Felix's arms wrapped around him like the tentacles of an octopus. Before Anthony could even get ready to give Felix a kiss, Felix's lips descended upon his.

Ugh! Anthony tried not to gag. It was a wet, open mouth kiss.
Much
more kiss than he was expecting. It was like taking a spoonful of bad medicine. Blech!!!

Finally, the kiss ended and Anthony was released from Felix's iron embrace. “You're not a bad kisser, DeMarco.”

“Thanks.” Anthony resisted the urge to wipe his mouth across his shirt sleeve. Instead, he handed Felix a sealed envelope. “I didn't know what to buy you, so it's a gift certificate to Versace.”

“Thanks.” Felix tossed the card on a table filled with wrapped presents and other envelopes. He then looped his arm through Anthony's and led him out onto the dance floor. “You have to dance with the birthday boy. I won't take no for an answer!”

The song that was playing ended and was replaced by a Donna Summer disco classic.

“I love this song!” Felix screamed, tossing his arms in the air while dancing wildly.

Anthony started dancing with Felix. It appeared as if the birthday boy had a birthday buzz going. He knew there was an open bar in the back, although it was supposed to only be serving juice and soda to the underage crowd. Yet when Felix had kissed him, he'd tasted something slightly medicinal. And it hadn't been mouthwash. Maybe vodka?

“Tell me what you're doing here,” Felix yelled above the music. “I would have thought you'd be out in the Hamptons with Max and the girls. You know, having a pajama party.”

“Would Max want to have a pajama party with me?”

Felix shrugged. “I don't know. Would he?”

“You're the only one who can answer that question, Felix.”

“You think?” Felix shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, Anthony, but Max doesn't tell me everything.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Felix shrugged. “What can I tell you? Max is a man of mystery. He only tells you what he wants you to know. I haven't even set foot in his apartment, if you can believe it!”

“Really? What's up with that?”

“His father guards his privacy and doesn't like having strangers around. Plus, I think Max wonders if people are
interested in being his friend only because he's the son of a famous chef. He keeps his guard up.”

“I never thought of that. It must be tough for him. But we're all in the same boat because of our parents.”

“True,” Felix agreed. “But we've all known each other since kindergarten, when none of that stuff mattered.”