Chapter 80

He looked good. Great. Edible. Like he had the world in his hands and knew it. His brash and in-your-face behavior seemed to have mellowed into the confident man before me, though I thought that might also include arrogance. Was I projecting?

His companion was a man about half his size, with freckled cheeks, green eyes, pixie-cut hair, and a smile like apple pie and cinnamon. He clung to Beebub as if to let go would cause instant death, worshipful eyes trained on his boyfriend’s face unless he was smugly smiling at the “oohing” and “aahing” crowd. People were gathered around the couple, including some from the street who had wandered in to see what the fuss was about. Nosy.

It was funny to see folks who’d always made fun and been everything except human toward Beebub now acting like his best friends. And Beebub was soaking it up, as his due. Had he forgotten the torture we lived through as teens? I hadn’t, though I had tried to put it behind me.