It's mid-morning on that already wonky Tuesday when Guy's life changes forever. He's taking his morning coffee break, escaped for fifteen minutes from the hectic insanity of the radio station's main administrative center where Guy serves his time and earns his pay DJ-herding and tech-crew organizing. He's standing back in the small kitchen just out of sight of the main lounge area, shaking powdered creamer into his mug. He's mostly hidden from a clear line of sight when two of the junior trainees sweep in on a cloud of coconut-scented perfume and a tide of girlie giggling.
Guy backsteps automatically, tactically retreating to the alcove formed between the frighteningly large coffee machine and the wall. He doesn't do well with excited women; he never knows what to say and what not to say.
They don't notice him anyway.
"Have you heard the latest about the new weekend DJ, Clay?" the taller of the two -- Carrie -- asks, scandalized excitement turning her soprano into a near squeak.
Guy promptly tries to ignore them in favor of stirring his coffee. He's barely even met the guy, has little to nothing to do with the weekend crew, and it wouldn't be his business anyway.
Besides, he's got more interesting things to occupy his thoughts. Guy's mind drifts to thoughts of Cameron, of the sleepily satisfied smile on his angular face and a smear of Guy's come on his lower lip that begged to be licked off. And who was Guy to deny such a basic request?
"No," the second woman gasps. "You're kidding me."
"I'm as serious as the day is long."
She could have fooled Guy. The instigator -- what is her name, Cara? Carrie? -- something like that -- wears the kind of vicious smile of the cat who's just finished a bowl of cream and is eyeing a canary for dessert.
"But… he doesn't, you know…" Her partner in crime -- Heidi, Guy thinks -- lowers her voice. "He doesn't look gay. Does he?"
Guy's eyebrows shoot up. Who's gay? That new DJ, Clay? Huh. That'll make two of them at the station. One more and they can form a club.
He's as surprised as the ladies, so it takes a few seconds for the significance surrounding their giggling shock to sink in.
Doesn't "look" gay? What's that supposed to mean? He doesn't run around in makeup and high heels? Guy's temper prickles.
"I know, I know." Carrie fans herself. "Such a waste!"
Guy grits his teeth.
"Guy would be a waste, too, if he wasn't a total stuck-up prick," Heidi agrees. "Such a dragon."
"Drag queen, you mean," Carrie replies archly. "So gay. Now he looks the type."
"Mmm-hmm. You can tell he's queer from a mile away."
Excuse me? Guy stares at them, unnoticed.
"God, have you seen his boyfriend, though? He came to the Christmas party last year and I thought I would just die, he's so hot." Carrie hugs her chest, boobs spilling over her forearms. "I'd like to be the one who changes his mind. How'd a tight-ass like Guy get a sexy beach boy like him? What's his name?"
"Carver or Charley or something; I know it starts with a 'C'. And girl, you'll have to stand in line to convert that one. Now him, it's a real shame he's not straight. Can you imagine the things a body that fine could do in bed?"
"In living color." Carrie sighs. "I wonder if he and Guy will stay together."
"Probably not. You know how those types jump from one man to another."
"And you want to be there to catch what's-his-name -- Cameron, that's it -- when he freefalls?"
"You know it."
Guy's anger has had time to coalesce into a fine, irrational fury by the time the door to the staff lounge swings open again. He glances up, determined not to go unnoticed this time, and finds himself staring at none other than Cameron himself, leaning inside the door.
Cameron's gorgeous, his bronzed skin glowing with health and vitality, his grin broad and happy. "Hiya, handsome."
"Hi yourself." Guy tosses his empty Styrofoam cup in the trash. An idea's coming to him.
Using his grasp on Cameron's hand for balance, Guy sinks to one knee. By happy coincidence, this puts him at eye level with Cameron's groin, one of his favorite places. He hopes like hell someone comes in and catches them like this.
"Um." Cameron stares at him. "What are you doing down there?" He brightens, making an assumption. "Seriously? You're gonna blow me where anyone could see?"
"Exhibitionist." Guy likes that about Cameron, among his many, many other fine qualities. "Maybe in a minute."
"Okay." Cameron's mood shifts back to concerned. "What are you --"
"Will you marry me?"
When the pause goes on for a few beats, Guy looks up, frowning. "Cameron? Did you hear me? Answer already. This floor's cold and my knee is killing me."
Cameron stares at him, jaw hanging open. "Say that again?"