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Jee pointed. Her huge grin was sweeter than the cookie dough in front of them.
“What’s that Jee? Is someone there?” Buck said, hamming it up. He made a big show of turning his back to her, looking around really hard.
She giggled like a little gremlin and he whipped back around, hoping to catch her red handed. She snatched her hand out of the bowl, giggles reaching new octaves, and tried to sneak her last pinch of cookie dough into her mouth.
He narrowed his eyes, rubbing his chin. “Hang on a second. I think we’re missing some dough!”
“No way,” she said, with attitude. “You’re losing it, Uncle Buck.”
He laughed, as a side effect of witnessing the cutest thing he’d ever seen. “I’m losing it?”
She nodded, with a cheesy smile.
“Well, I’m gonna need your help, then. Can I hire you to be my security guard?”
Her eyes lit up.
“Do I get money?”
“Salary is negotiable. Would you prefer euros, dollars, or cookies—?”
“Cookies!” she screeched. He smiled.
“I think we can work something out. The job is pretty straightforward. I need you to guard our cookie dough and make sure nobody sneaks up and steals some.”
“What about just a little?”
He wasn’t a pushover. He wasn’t. But he had two eyes and a heart and a niece with the most heartbreaking puppy dog eyes known to man.
“Okay, maybe a little,” he said. “But the more dough we have, the more cookies we can make later. That’s why patience is a good thing. The best things in life are worth the wait.”
She nodded, emphatically.
“Okay,” she promised. “Just a little.”
“Wait a second, I almost forgot. You can’t be a security guard without some cool shades.”
He let her borrow some sunglasses that were way too big on her. They ended up with three dozen cookies and he only took approximately two hundred pictures of the cutest security guard in the world.
It was midnight. He was kneading.
Baking required patience. Buck learned that the hard way, when his double chocolate soufflé came out looking like chocolate roadkill.
He could be patient. He’d been patient the past three decades, as everyone around him paired off with their perfect match, and he ended up the only person in Los Angeles left single and alone.
He covered the dough and put it somewhere safe to rise over night.
Maybe he was exaggerating the gravity of his situation. He wasn’t even the only single person in the 118, but when Eddie was single it just wasn’t the same. He was cool about it. He had Chris, he had a full life. His presence wasn’t a burden to the people closest to him. And there was always a feeling like Eddie was single by choice. Like if he really tried and put himself out there in a sincere way, he’d get a girlfriend within an hour. Anyone would be lucky to have Eddie.
Any girl.
Buck went to bed and did something super productive. In the cover of darkness, his face solely illuminated by a blue square of light, he re-read the same text messages he’d been reading all day.
Maybe this time, something would click.
Oh, I get it. When Tommy said, “I’m off at 6, do you want me to pick you up?” He meant, “I really like you Evan. I’m gonna come over and act like I’m breaking up with you, just to see if you fight for me. For us. For love.”
Nothing about their breakup felt resolved. And Tommy still hadn’t texted him.
He closed his eyes and put down the torture device.
He tried to reason with himself. Sleep, and in the morning, either he’ll have texted you, or you’ll make stuffed french toast.
The french toast sucked. It was soggy and he fucked up the cream cheese filling. Apparently, greek yogurt was not an acceptable substitute.
“Buck, I want you to meet my priest.”
His eyebrows hit the ceiling.
“Uh. I’m not really… into… God.”
“Oh— no. God, no. I didn’t mean it like that. Father Brian won’t try to convert you or anything. He’s not like other priests. He’s better. Better than therapy, even.”
“I’m glad you like him, but I don’t know. I don’t have sea monkeys of catholic guilt expanding inside me.”
“Such a bad metaphor,” Eddie mused. “But it doesn’t matter. I think he could really help you. Besides— you’re inventing new kinds of cinnamon rolls. He can’t possibly make this any worse.”
“Matcha-raisin cinnamon rolls are a fucking amazing idea. Take a good look, because the next time you see this will be at a trendy pop-up.”
Eddie patted his shoulder and headed out, “The spinach is the wrong move.”
“I’m sneaking in nutrients,” Buck called after him. “You won’t be able to taste it!”
Based on ferocity in which Hen spit her bite into her napkin, you were very much able to taste it.
He agreed to meet Eddie for breakfast, knowing it was going to be an ambush. He was surprised when he rolled up to the restaurant and saw Eddie, sitting at a table outside, alone.
He sat across from him and opened the menu.
Eddie had already decided, menu folded and put to the side.
“I hope you don’t mind, I ordered our drinks. Coffee, cream, two sugars, right?”
“Right. Thanks,” Buck said, with a slow smile.
Eddie shrugged. Their table was right next to the planter. With the lush green leaves behind him, his cheeks almost looked pink. It was probably a trick of the afternoon sunshine.
The patio was buzzing with the Sunday morning crowd. The waitress delivered their drinks— two mimosas, bubbling like they were mostly champagne.
Eddie turned to the waitress, to point out the mistake, but Buck spoke first.
“I think we’re moving a little fast,” Buck joked, gesturing to the engagement ring floating in his glass.
Eddie laughed, slightly stained, and said to waitress, “You, uh— you have the wrong table.”
She apologized profusely and retuned to the kitchen. When she returned, she put a steaming cup of coffee in front of Buck. In front of Eddie, she put a whip cream monstrosity with rainbow sprinkles. It was a drink that belonged at Disneyland. Buck shot him a look.
“Thank you,” Eddie said, before turning to him. “Father Brian thinks I should be having more fun.”
“Wow,” Buck grinned. “Well— that looks very fun.”
Eddie collected his menu and handed both to the waitress.
“Do you want some whip cream for your boring drink?”
“I’m—”
Buck choked on his words, as Eddie casually swiped a finger through the whip cream and licked it. He only caught a glimpse of the pink of his tongue, but he couldn’t stop staring at Eddie’s hands. They were so—
“Buck?”
“I’m good,” Buck snapped his head down, but his menu was gone. He turned to the waitress. “I’ll have a frittata.”
“And I’ll do the waffles,” said Eddie. “Thanks.”
“Coming right up,” she said with a smile.
Buck leaned back, tapping his fingers against his leg.
“So, is your priest on his way?”
Eddie furrowed his brow. “You said you weren’t interested.”
“Well, no, but… I thought you invited me to breakfast to secretly introduce us?”
“What? No. I just— wanted to have breakfast with you. We haven’t really seen each other lately.”
“Eddie, I see you every day—”
“You know what I mean,” he insisted. Not enough people talked about brown eyes. How beautiful they could be, warm, and real.
“Yeah… I know what you mean.”
And he did. It was different, when they saw each other alone. Eddie was the one person on Earth he never got tired of being around. It didn’t drain him, just the opposite. He felt most himself when they were together.
“Did I tell you about the advice Brad gave me yesterday?”
“No,” Buck grinned.
“Oh, yes. You know, when you’re breaking down a door, you have to ‘cheat out’, so your ‘audience’ can see the trustworthy light in your eyes.”
“You can’t complain to me about this. I’m jealous. Brad sees something in you. He’s going to make you a star.”
“Don’t even joke.”
“He knows you can dance, right? ‘Cause I see you as a Ryan Gosling type.”
“If one of us was gonna play Ken, it wouldn’t be me.”
“Okay, but you would be perfect in La La Land.”
“I’m not a dancer.”
“I know what I walked in on.”
Their food arrived and they shared a look. There was no need for further discussion. Like a well-oiled machine, Eddie put half his waffles on Buck’s plate and vice versa.
Buck took a bite of waffle, crunchy on the outside, but perfectly fluffy within, and groaned. “Mmh! That’s good,” he said, licking a bit of syrup off his lip. “How’s the frittata?”
Eddie cleared his throat, then glanced down at his food like he forgot it was there.
“It’s great. Listen. I have a question for you.”
Eddie sounded… serious. Buck lowered his fork.
“Yeah?”
At a table behind Eddie, a woman screamed.
Buck and Eddie turned, ready to jump in and help, but it wasn’t that kind of scream. One woman was on a knee, while the screamer stood, grabbing her face and saying, “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you! I love you, baby.”
“I love you, baby.”
“I love you, more!”
They kissed, and the patio burst into applause.
“Guess they finally got their drinks,” Buck said.
“Yeah. Honestly, I always thought putting the ring in a glass was—”
“A disaster waiting to happen?” Buck finished his sentence.
“Exactly. And a very expensive one.”
Buck nodded. “When I propose, I’m keeping it simple. Tommy said—”
“Tommy? You actually thought about— that? With him? He didn’t even want to live with you. Just move on already.”
Buck was taken back by the… outburst. Eddie grabbed his drink. By now, the whip cream had almost entirely melted away.
Buck knew what he wanted to say.
Eddie Diaz, telling me to move on. It’s like Santa saying enough with presents.
Buck wet his lips. Eddie dragged his gaze back to his.
“I know everyone’s probably sick of hearing about it.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“—but imagine how sick I am, thinking about it all the time. I wish I could stop. I don’t know why I’m like this. Maybe the problem is, there’s a lot a things I didn’t get a chance to say—”
“So say them.”
Buck perked up.
“Yeah— I should call him?”
“No,” Eddie said, emphatically. “No. That never ends well. Just— say them to me.”
“… what?”
“Pretend I’m him. Get whatever you need to get off your chest, and then you’ll have closure. Easy. Then we— you— can move on.”
“I don’t know,” Buck glanced to the side. “I don’t want to make you listen to something you… don’t want to hear.”
Eddie leaned closer. A lock of hair fell forward.
“Let me help you. Please. I want to.”
Buck searched his face for any hesitation but there was none. He meant it.
“Well… okay.”
“Okay. So. Go for it.”
Buck panicked.
“Now? I— I need time to collect my thoughts.”
“Fine. Now I have time to get in character,” Eddie joked.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Too late. I’m all in. Brad can be my acting coach.”
They put out a fire at a Hollywood prop house. Buck couldn’t help but think about Billy Boils, who was hopefully resting peacefully, and any other spirits who might reside in the overflowing aisles.
The fire wasn’t too bad, but lingering smoke was a concern for some of the more priceless props. Eddie volunteered to grab a few. He carried out a box of accessories, a wedding veil and top hat balanced on top.
“I’ll be honest with you,” said Raul, the owner. “This fire—it’s a wake up call.”
“You should check your smoke alarms every month,” Buck agreed.
Eddie carried out a vintage wooden frame, in the shape of a heart, with flashing lights.
“Not that. I’ve realized what’s important in my life isn’t all this stuff. Like that set piece from I Love Lucy,” said Raul, with a nod toward Eddie. “Life is meaningless without someone to share it with. I have to go. I have to tell Charlotte how I feel. How I’ve always felt. I just hope it isn’t too late!”
Raul took off. Buck hesitated. It was going to make wrapping this up a lot harder on Bobby. But ultimately, he let him go. He just couldn’t bring himself to stand in the way of true love.
Eddie appeared, this time with an armful of hyperrealistic baby dolls.
“This is the last of it. These dolls look pretty real. It’s kinda freaky.”
“Real or not, support the head!”
“It’s fine—”
One of the dolls, dangling by a leg, fell to the concrete. Eddie winced.
Buck swooped down and dusted it off. “It’s okay. Just a minor crack. We’ll put this one at the bottom of the pile.”
Eddie and Buck were the last two in the locker room.
“Are you ready to say goodbye to Tommy yet?”
Eddie looked good shirtless. It was a fact of life, but one that hit Buck particularly hard. Like a rebar through the head. He couldn’t even put his finger on exactly what it was. Lots of guys had abs, but not Eddie’s abs. And his shoulder to waist ratio, he’d seen it before, surely. On movie stars or supermodels. But there was something about Eddie. His hotness was palpable, like it radiated out of him and seeped into the air. It turned up the heat. It pushed out the oxygen.
“Buck?”
Buck slammed his locker closed.
“Sorry. What?”
“Do you still want to do that thing we talked about? Where I’m Tommy and you get your closure?”
“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do it tomorrow.”
Eddie looked at him strangely. “Okay.”
Buck nodded, “Okay.”
He dropped his gaze, giving Buck a once-over, before flicking back up to meet his eyes.
“Forget something?”
How to breathe. But then, Buck felt a draft and realized oh, yes, he’d closed his locker before putting on a shirt.
He shook himself, and re-opened it. “I gotta stop thinking about him. I can’t go on like this.”
Eddie nodded, his eyes flashing with concern. “You just have to say what you need to say. Then everything will go back to normal.”
He really, really hoped so.
Maddie texted him the flyer. His first reaction had been a firm fuck no, but some recent revelations had his reconsidering it. He was very against blind dates and being set up, even dating apps, because it made him feel bad. Like he couldn’t find someone on his own.
But “The Biannual Bisexual Blind-Date-athon,” was an opportunity to “go on a lot of dates, until you find The One.” According to the flyer. So it might be good. It had to be better than staring at a wall, thinking about tomorrow night. When Eddie would sit across from him, pretending to be Tommy— an ironic reversal from all the times Buck kissed Tommy and imagined a different mouth.
Buck showed up at the bar, in the shirt that brought out his eyes. He had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows because he knew what he was doing.
He signed himself up and scribbled “Buck” on a name tag.
They’d moved several small tables into a big circle around the dimly lit room. Strings of rainbow lights gave the place a slightly more optimistic feeling, and the flickering candles on the table set the right mood. Maybe this would be good.
He took a seat across from a beautiful woman with curly black hair.
The host hit her bell, and the first round was on.
“Hi. I’m Buck.”
“Are you an actor?”
“No. I’m—”
“Are you an agent? Director?”
“Uh— No?”
“You’re not in the industry at all?” She checked, wrinkling her forehead.
“Definitely not. I’m a firefighter.”
She grabbed her purse, wished him luck, and found a new table. So far, so bad— but this was only round one. The bell dinged.
At least the other people seemed like they were there for the right reasons.
“I teach eighth grade science,” said the attractive guy in the sweater.
“That’s awesome,” Buck grinned. “How long have you been a teacher?”
“Not long. I actually served as an army medic for several years before.”
Ding.
“That’s actually why I came here tonight. Dating can be a challenge when you’re… a single mother. I have a daughter,” confessed the woman with the straight blonde hair.
“Really? I love kids.”
“She’s my whole world.”
“I know what you mean,” Buck said, for a moment thinking about his whole world in Texas. “I have the world’s cutest niece.”
“Oh, that’s so nice,” she said with a warm smile. “Sometimes I feel bad for moving out here, when all our family’s back in the bay area. In LA, It’s just me and Chris.”
“Chris?”
“My daughter, Christina,” she clarified.
Ding.
“I’m a terrible cook.”
Ding.
“I love that game.”
Ding.
“Sometimes on the weekend.”
Ding.
Finally, he was hitting it off with a woman with red hair. She didn’t move her head a certain way when she laughed, she didn’t have sparkling brown eyes, she didn’t remind him of anyone at all. And she was nice. She was funny. She had a good job. This might be something.
“Do you want to get out of here?” She asked, tracing circles on the back of his hand.
It would be a Buck 1.0 move— but maybe he should go for it. Buck 1.0 was probably better than the mess he’d been lately. Buck 5.0— needy, insecure, consumed by want and as always, left behind.
“Let me get your coat,” he said, light and fun. Flirty. Easy. He helped her into her sleek black jacket. She pulled out her hair, letting it fall perfectly into place.
He faltered just for a moment. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Before you ask, yes, my parents hated me. I’m Edwina— but everyone calls me Eddie.”
Buck went home alone.
The next night, Buck showed up at Eddie’s.
He was ready to get it all out, leave nothing un-said, and maybe, finally, things could go back to how they used to be.
Buck sat on the couch, alone. Eddie dragged in a chair form the kitchen, so they could be face to face. Buck’s phone was on the coffee table, face up.
“Okay,” Eddie said, hands on his lap. “It’s me— Tommy Kinard. Hello, Evan.”
Buck took a deep breath then all at once, deflated.
“This is stupid.”
“No, hey, come on— just try it. I’m Tommy. I made the stupidest decision of my life and broke up with you, because I’m an idiot.”
Buck half scoffed, half laughed. Eddie continued.
“Now, do you have something you need to tell me?”
Buck swallowed.
“Yeah. I do.”
Eddie nodded, gesturing for him to go for it.
Go for it, Buck told himself. Just do it. Then you won’t think about it all the time.
“I love you. You taught me— you changed me. And I love myself more when I’m with you.”
The look on Eddie’s face wasn’t what he expected. A little— sad. He could see his chest move, and his shoulders lower, on his exhale, but he kept going because he knew if he didn’t say it now he’d never say it at all.
“With all my exes— it was different. Obviously, they were women— But also, we weren’t really friends. It’s so different with a friend. I didn’t even realize what was happening until I woke up and I was in love with you. And I know you don’t feel the same way. And I can’t change your mind— but I want to. I just want to be with you and I hate that I’ll never get a chance. I wish I knew why you don’t feel it, too. If it’s something about me— something I could change— then tell me. I’ll change. I know that’s stupid and bad— but I don’t know how to stop feeling it. And everyone is telling me I need to move on and I need to date someone else. I can’t even meet someone else, without cataloguing all the ways they aren’t you. No one's you. And I want you. I'm scared that I'll only want you, forever, even when I evenutally settle for someone who reminds me of you just enough. . . Tommy.”
Buck couldn’t look at him.
“Tommy wasn’t your friend,” Eddie said, slowly but surely.
When Buck met his eye, he knew. He knew that he knew. Instinct told him to get off the couch and get the fuck out of there, but there was determination in the line of his brow that kept him pinned to the spot.
“I guess,” Buck started. “I wanted to tell you, without you ever finding out. I should’ve known I’d find a way to mess it up like alway—”
Eddie sat on the couch.
Then he kissed him.
It was a terrible kiss. It was a mid-sentence mashing of lips together. Buck spent the first beat in a state of shock, but the next beat, when Eddie was still kissing him, his hands went to the back of his neck and his eyes fluttered close. He sat up and fixed the angle and then all at once it was a perfect fit.
He was a new man. There was now only life before this kiss, and life after.
It was like he’d gone through life missing something, and that something was Eddie’s mouth. He couldn’t get enough, his hands ran off on their own, and he felt Eddie’s grabbing his shirt like he might make a run for it. He was never moving again. He lived here now— in this moment. On this couch.
The next time they broke apart, Eddie’s hands came up to his face.
“I love you, too,” Eddie said.
Buck had his arms around him, but it wasn’t enough. He pulled him tighter, closer, and Eddie obliged. He wanted this, too. Maybe Buck should talk to the priest, since he was experiencing a miracle.
“But you never—”
“— I was going to. But I couldn’t when you were together, and then I couldn’t when you were were still thinking about him, so I thought of this dumb idea—”
Buck kissed him, quick. Eddie was momentarily stunned, but his daze melted into a smile.
“This was an amazing idea.”
“Really?”
“Best idea you’ve ever had.”
Their lips were almost touching, like they were perpetual drawn together, into a kiss. Eddie closed the distance.
Brrrrrring, brrrrrring.
Buck’s phone rang. Tommy’s stupid bitmoji filled the screen.
Buck’s eyes went wide. Now. Now? He could laugh, it was so ridiculous. The universe was just getting silly with it. Obviously, he wasn’t going to answer it, but before he could say as much, Eddie grabbed it, and answered.
“He moved on. Delete this number.”
“Eddie!” Buck laughed. Eddie hung up, dropped the phone, and kissed him again.