Page 8 of Glitter

Finally, I’d found his account: love_me_blue_

I smiled at the pun, wondering if maybe he was a Beatles fan.

There were hundreds of posts in his feed, many of which were multiple images. Most of the pictures were of his makeup, but there were a few random images of what looked like his nights out. The further back I scrolled, the more people he wassurrounded by. In quite a few pictures, I noticed his friend from work that he sat with during lunch.

Once I found a college graduation image, I realized I didn’t know how old he was. I grimaced as it suddenly dawned on me I was creeping on someone much younger than me. Would it be weird if I looked to see what the date was on this pic? Probably, but it wouldn’t stop my rampant curiosity, so I checked, then did some mental calculations.

Huh. It seemed like he wasn’t as young as I thought he might have been. Unless he graduated early, then my estimate would be off. One more thing I’d need to ask him about, if I ever got the chance to talk to him casually, that was.

Reversing my swiping, I scrolled back up to the top of his feed, noting again how many fewer people surrounded him in the current party shots compared to the older ones. He was always smiling in the images, but the closer I got to the top of his feed, the more forced the smiles became and the more sadness bloomed in his eyes.

A pang of concern unrelated to what had happened to him tonight ran through me. What was making him sad? And was there anything I could do for his smile to return to the carefree, cheeky grin it was in the older posts?

His feed refreshed, and a new image appeared.

There he was, the white feathers he was wearing tonight stark against what looked like an infestation of pinkish hydrangeas, his elbow cocked to the side, his fingers brushing his blue and purple hair back from his forehead.

The pearls he’d stuck to his cheeks were all still there, as were the string of pearls around his neck. He’d gained what looked like a sash of white lace from somewhere during the night, and it was draped over his torso, covering his pale skin.

He was not alone, as someone else had obviously taken the picture, but his smile was missing.

I ran my finger along the defined jawline and down the elastic strap that held his wings to his shoulder, wondering if what had happened tonight with Travis was still playing on his mind enough for him to lose his joy.

Checking the description made my heart skip a beat. It was brief and had only two hashtags:

Made and lost a connection tonight. #pocketbear #wishyouwerehere

Chapter Four

Blue

Ifeltlikeanidiot.

It had been four days since I’d met Henry, one of the sweetest guys I’d ever come across, and every hour since we’d parted ways, I’d been mentally kicking myself that I hadn’t got his number. It never even occurred to me I hadn’t grabbed his contact details until a few hours later.

The only thing that got me through the weekend without completely losing my sanity was the probability that he was an employee of Eckersley’s. It wasn’t atremendoushelp though, considering that the building was over thirty levels tall, and each level had at least a hundred employees that all started at different times of the day and night. Finding one person in at least three thousand wasn’t quite needle-in-the-haystack odds, but short of stalking the entry doors in the lobby for a full week to see if I could catch a glimpse of him arriving for work, it sure felt like it.

What made it worse was that I had already organized with my boss to take Monday off so I could get some personal errandsdone, including having my hair updated. The purple and blue had been fading for a while now, and although I could get those colors boosted, I felt like a change. My hairdresser had done a marvelous job of upgrading the faded color to an emerald green, and I’d spent last night swapping out my second-hand jewelry to complement the new vibe I had going.

It was a decent enough distraction from my spiraling thoughts, but the annoyance with myself lingered no matter how much I tried to stomp it out.

The Travis incident on Friday unnerved me more than I’d let on to Henry. I’d never seen Travis drunk before, and he’d never been so blasé about taunting me out in the open like that. There was no doubt Henry would have stepped in if things had spun out of control, but thankfully the worst thing Travis had done was spit on me and slap me a couple of times.

Nothing I haven’t endured many times in the past, and I was sure I’d encounter it again in the future.

It wasn’t my fault that a lot of men seemed to take issue with other men wearing stylish clothes, makeup, and jewelry. I knew I’d be laughing thirty years down the track when, thanks to my skincare routine, my skin wasn’t sagging and the only lines on my face would be laugh lines from a life well lived.

Fuckers.

Drunk men, however… They were unpredictable, dangerous, and combative. Not a good combination to come across during Pride month, but I usually only had to contend with those types of idiots out and about in public.

It’d been a while since I’d faced this type of bullying at work. The last year working at Eckersley’s had lulled me into a false sense of security, and I’d let my guard down enough to think it would be okay to change and get ready at work instead of wasting time going home only to come straight back to the city.

I wouldn’t be making the same mistake twice.

At least I’d met Henry through that experience. I only hoped I could find him again. He had a calming effect on me, like his quiet nature softened the constant loud noise in my brain. In the rare instances where I’d felt similar reactions to other people in the past, like Amy, it had never happened so instantly. It usually took at least a few weeks to feel that familiarity with a person, but most of the time, it never took at all. Those were the friends that were destined to move on relatively quickly, whereas the ones who calmed me became incredibly close friends for years. It’d taken a full week for Amy to burrow her way in, and here we were, almost a decade later, still the best of friends.

I wanted to see if that feeling continued with Henry when I wasn’t being smacked around, or if it was a new form of self-care I hadn’t experienced before. I wanted to know if it would even happen again, or if it was just a one time thing. Most of all, I just wanted to see Henry again for no other reason than that I liked him.

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