Page 31 of Lace

It took hard focus to make himself continue after the door was closed. He didn’t actually feel the clothing in his hands as he changed. He didn’t really see what he was doing at all. He proceeded by rote, his mind alternating between blank pain and the image of Levi’s arm and his hand sliding away from it, like the touch had meant nothing to the other man.

“Fuck!” he swore quietly, fumbling with the sweater as it caught on the buckles of the wristband he still wore, then cursed again when he couldn’t get the buckles of his boots unfastened because his hands kept shaking.

“Get over it. You knew this was going to happen. Just…” He blinked and swallowed and dug his teeth into his bottom lip until his eyes watered again and he could concentrate on the physical pain. “Just put on the skirt and show him you don’t care what he thinks.”

That was his advice to himself. Shitty advice he didn’t want to listen to.

He wanted to put on his jeans and a sweatshirt and run after Levi and make him see that there was nothing to worry about. And he wanted to hate him for walking away. He turned to the hanger on the closet doorframe and glared at it, hating that he could not turn his back on it.

The day before, Mitchell had completed one of the more flamboyant skirt-like affairs, and Caleb knew, in his heart, Mitchell had created something truly unique and wonderful. Something Caleb coveted with every fibre of who he was. It wasn’t just a skirt. It wasn’t just an expression of who he wanted to be. It was as much a part of him as loving men. He couldn’tdeny it. Paired with the rich colour and texture of the sweater, he just knew the outfit would look exactly how Mitchell wanted. Exactly how he, Caleb, wanted to look.

Quickly, he switched out his jeans for his black leather, donned the skirt and sweater and hauled on his almost-knee-high boots.

“You ready?” he called through the closed door, forcing the shake out of his voice. He twisted this way and that, examining the effect in the full-length mirror on the back of Mitchell’s door. He had to concede—the effect was stunning, even if the skirt was a bit big around his waist. The man really knew what he was doing. And he deserved all the support Caleb could give him.

“As I’ll ever be, I suppose.” Mitchell sounded more resigned than excited, so Caleb made his entrance grand.

For the space of a few heartbeats, a few held breaths, Mitchell said nothing.

“You have to admit,” Caleb said, holding out his arms and sashaying in a slow circle. “This is pretty awesome.”

Confidence soothed away some of Caleb’s hurt. There was strength in admitting this. In being this, in front of another person. He lifted his chin and grinned.

Mitchell nodded, still silent.

“What is it?” Caleb stopped and took a few steps closer. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“It’s happening,” Mitchell said, gaze glued to the outfit Caleb modelled for him. “I’m really doing this.”

“You really are.”

“I can’t…” In an instant, Mitchell had collapsed beside the heap of bags, face in his hands. “I can’t do this.”

“Wait, wait.” Caleb knelt beside him and put a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Mitch, yes, you can. You did. Look at this. Look at me! It’s perfect.”

“It’s—”

“Mitchell, it’s different. Risky. Yes, absolutely. But also? It’s amazing. This line is amazing. You can do this.”

“I’ll be out, then, won’t I?” He lifted his face; a pleading look in his eye as he stared at Caleb. “Everyone will know.”

“Well.” Caleb settled on the ugly gold plush beside him and patted his knee. “Then I guess we’ll both be, won’t we?”

“But your uncle?” Mitchell shared a look of concern with him. “That won’t go down well.”

“Uncle Jase is just going to have to get used to it. Used to me. He’ll deal.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I will. It’s time I did this. I have to do this.” Caleb offered the best smile he could muster. “I owe it to a lot of people to be honest, finally.”

“A lot?” Mitchell asked. “Or one in particular?”

“He thinks I don’t trust him.”

“Do you?”

Caleb shrugged. “I thought I did.” Caleb noticed he was rubbing a finger over the rhinestone letters on his wristband as he’d caught himself doing more and more with every day that passed that Levi didn’t answer his calls. “I guess I didn’t. Maybe, if he sees me do this—publicly, in a way I can’t take it back—he’ll know. Maybe he’ll forgive me.”

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