Cheater

Rio started… happening, I guess… in my life, a few times a week, sometimes with Jacqueline, sometimes alone. Maybe he’d always been there, curled up in that particular way of his, and I’d only just started noticing. Either way I was always happy to see him, and he always had some new, unpredictably wonderful fascination to share.

One night at Pilades, he slid up beside me and took a seat on the edge of my table, smiling just a little too much. I tried to ignore it, but he tugged insistently at the top of my newspaper, like a kitten who’s done something endearingly naughty and very much wants you to know. “Hello again,” he said, practically singing with happiness. “The Times? That’s a very good paper. I approve. And I have something to show you.”

“Rio, you are a strange, strange human being.” I folded my paper back together, shaking my head. “What do you want?”

Still smiling, he stuck out his tongue at me, then nodded over to the pinball machine. “I think she likes me.” The Billionaire’s Club listings began to scroll, glowing orange in the dim corner of the room.

I ran over to look.

Some Things are Worth a Wait

I dropped my watch the other day, breaking the glass, so I looked up a jeweler this morning and wandered in.

This time, Rio found me.

“Are you following me?” he asked, almost laughing at the absurdity of it all. I turned at the sound of his voice and found him leaning comfortably across the counter. “You know, I could have given you my number and saved you the trouble.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“No, no you don’t, actually.” he said, his eyes glittering as he straightened and looked me up and down. With a faint smile, he brushed a speck of dust from his shirt, running his slender fingertips against the tiny antiqued-gold nametag pinned there. “I’m Rio. How may I help you?” His voice dropped, just slightly, as he tilted his head, looking at me as if he meant something more than jewelry. “What do you need?”

When I think back and wonder when I began to fall for Rio, I come back to this moment, to the way he looked at me, the way I saw myself reflected back in his eyes. It was the almost-lilt in his voice that caught me, the beautiful, casual weight of that question. “What do you need?” A small, happy noise forced itself out, deep in my chest. I handed him my watch without a word.

For a moment he considered it, holding it to his ear to hear it tick. “It’s just a broken crystal,” he said. “Call it… twenty-five, probably.”

I nodded, licking my lips. The seams of his pants were sewn with soft pink thread, highlighting his long legs and the gentle sway of his hips, and my mouth went dry as I watched him walk to the workbench in the back of the store. “Twenty-five. Right. Okay.”

“I think… ow!” he cut his finger on a stray fragment of crystal. “Uff. Yeah, I don’t have this size…” he gave his fingertip a slow, thoughtful suck as he set the watch on his table. “I think I need to grind one to fit… can you come back in an hour or so?”

“Sure. Yeah, I can do that.” His tongue was very pink, bright against his lightly tanned skin. I tried not to think too much about it as I turned to leave. Behind another counter, a very small, beautiful woman, dark and elegant in her inky-blue dress, gave me a wicked, knowing smile.

Dancing in an Empty Train

The next time I met Rio, he was just another stranger on the train, standing, half-dancing in an empty car. I almost didn’t recognize him; in the café he’d been tiny, almost delicate, but standing, half-dancing to the iPod on his hip, he was taller than I expected, slender and very nearly powerful, with long muscles gently defined just beneath his skin. He recognized me, though, and I couldn’t mistake those eyes anywhere, or the smile that flashed across his face as he caught me watching him again.

“You! You’re the boy from the other night, at Hopper’s!” He walked over, taking out an earbud, letting it hang on his shoulder.

I laughed. “First time there. A friend of mine recommended it. I like it. It’s a good thinking-place.”

“Oh, where do you normally hang out? I used to go a lot back when it was called Phillies, but not so much lately. They started using this Brazilian coffee in the mix, and it’s nice and strong, but a little too harsh for me.” He bit gently at the corner of his lip, sucking on it. “Anyhow, I saw you playing pinball when you came in first. It’s really neat, because you don’t play with just your hands. You play with your hips, too.”

“It’s the only way to bump. You have to shove the frame around, but gently, so the machine won’t catch on and say Tilt.”

“I bet you’re pretty good at it.”

Really, They Happen By Accident

Rio frustrates me, almost more than any of my other characters, because Rio has no stories. He really does happen by accident, drifting comfortably along from one moment to the next. I’ve talked to him about it, as it were, and he’s simply happier that way, even if it means I wouldn’t normally share him with the world.

There’s something endearing about him, though. Rio feels infectiously, wonderfully right, and every time he stops by to visit, I never have the heart to turn him away. He is a strange and beautiful person, and I adore him for it. Even though all I really have are snapshots of him, I’m going to share him anyways, in hopes that you’ll enjoy his company, too.

I Think They Happen By Accident

Happiness is having a cute boy who kisses and cuddles just as well as he fucks you up the ass. It can’t be just any cute boy. Most of the time a cute girl will be better for you; girls are soft and smooth and civilized, but the right boy is, too, and the right boy is perfect. You want one of those shy, subculture boys, just a little awkward, the kind full of songs that nobody’s heard and foods that nobody’s eaten, dreams that nobody believes and books that nobody reads. Mine is named Rio. It even feels right, Ree-yo, stroking your tongue stroking back along the roof of your mouth, then flicking forward, making your lips purse just a little, like the memory of a kiss. You want a boy like Rio, with an honest, easy smile and sleep-mussed hair, bright, clear eyes and a cute girl’s butt in snug-fit pants, a boy who loves to writhe beneath you as much as he likes to hold you down. There’s nobody better in the world.

I think they happen by accident.