Two Years Later

"We're late!" Patricia sings, power walking from the bus stop, her long legs carrying her along at a pace that neither Rose

nor Eli can keep up with.

"We're fine," Rose tells her. "The event isn't for another"—she pulls back her jacket sleeve, checking her watch—"three minutes."

"And we're five from the store," Eli says, coming up behind her. He starts to jog to keep up with Patricia, Rose falling behind.

Suddenly, he regrets the extra layer of his sweater as he begins to melt under the evening sun, catching brief escapes in

the shade of the downtown buildings.

"I told you we should've taken a Lyft." Patricia adds insult to injury.

"And I told you it's rush hour, and all the rides were a hundred dollars minimum!" Eli takes several deep breaths, his lungs

going cold despite the warm weather. "It's a good thing I'm gay," he whispers to himself, picking up the pace, pushing past

a few pedestrians, and avoiding a bike as the rider zooms by the three of them.

"Use the bike lane, asshole!" Rose shouts at him, flipping him off before he turns the corner.

"Come on, he's not important." Patricia takes Rose's hand, nearly yanking it out of its socket as they jaywalk through a red

light, Eli just narrowly avoiding being hit by a Waymo.

"How much time do we have?" he asks, trying to rid his body of the adrenaline that's now pumping through his veins after the near-death experience.

"Two minutes," Patricia says. "We're nearly there."

"Don't they have to introduce him or something? No event starts on time. Concerts start late, movies have like half an hour

of previews," Rose adds.

"Yeah, well, Peter's book launch isn't a movie, Rose." Eli cuts through the traffic, not waiting for the light to give him

the go-ahead to walk before crossing the street. "It should be just up here!" He can't hold himself back anymore; he just

starts sprinting, his best friends trailing behind as they reach Hyde St.Books, one of the oldest, largest, and queerest

bookstores in the city.

And the place where Peter's publisher planned his launch party.

Eli feels like he could rip the glass door off its hinges as he races to get inside, his heavy breathing that much more noticeable

as the lady behind the counter stares daggers at him, pointing at a sign that reads quiet please, event in progress .

And suddenly, Eli feels like a college student all over again, being stuck with his classmates in the library during a group

study session.

"Sorry," he whispers. "Where is the event?"

"Down this aisle, to the left. There's a stage you can't miss," she tells him, and Eli notices the crowd of people who seem

to be spilling over into the shelves. And distantly, he can hear a voice that doesn't sound like Peter's reading the script

announcing future events at the store.

"It hasn't started, right?"

"Should begin any second now."

"Oh my God, cute!" Patricia whips out her phone, taking a photo of the flyer advertising the event with Peter's author photo

plastered in the corner. "Did you take this?"

"Quiet, please," the lady reminds them, and Patricia gives her a silent apology as Eli motions for the two of them to follow him.

"Tonight, I have the pleasure of introducing a wonderful friend and fellow SF author." The voice echoes through the shelves.

Eli recognizes Amber Thompson, another romance author represented by Ryan.

"Peter Park!" Amber smiles. There's an eclectic mix of readers, each of them holding copies of Peter's and Amber's books for

the joint signing that will happen after the event. Eli even spies some of Peter's Zelus coworkers. "Peter was born in Incheon,

South Korea, before his family moved to Georgia when he was young. And if I'm not mistaken, Mr. and Mrs.Park might just be

in the audience tonight."

It's easy to pick out Peter's parents. They're seated right in the front row, pieces of printer paper with the word reserved typed in bold letters taped to their seats.

Eli can't help but smile. Peter had been so nervous to FaceTime them, to tell them he'd sold a book, that he was going to

be a published author. Eli missed most of the conversation, Peter finding it much easier to find the words and explain his

feelings in Korean. But Eli had sat across from him, just out of frame, totally silent. Not that he'd minded; Peter was already

anxious for the book conversation—he didn't think he could handle having the Meet My Boyfriend conversation at the same time.

And that's when Eli had first witnessed Peter speaking Korean with a slight Southern twang to his voice.

It hadn't mattered, though. They were happy for their son, and they came to San Francisco to visit a month later and Eli was

able to meet them officially for the first time.

"When he isn't writing books, he writes and tests code for a tech start-up, which Peter assured me is as boring as it sounds."

A few laughs from the audience. "His debut novel, What If I Love You? , has earned acclaim from several publications, including starred reviews from Booklist and Publishers Weekly !"

Eli can't help but let out a "Whoo!" which earns him a few curt glances from some of the older people in the crowd. Peter

had been even more scared to tell his coworkers about the book. Of course, once Francine knew, he didn't have to tell anyone

else. They were all so excited for him, eagerly counting down the days until release.

Amber continues, "Everyone, please help me welcome to the stage Peter Park!"

Everyone begins to applaud as Peter comes out from behind a set of shelves marked psychology . He'd asked for Eli's help in picking out his outfit, which meant that if he wanted to wear something that wasn't a hoodie

and matching sweatpants—or a Spider-Man costume that showed off too much of Peter's crotch—they had to go shopping.

Peter's dressed as nicely as Eli's ever seen him, in a baby-blue button-up shirt, with black slacks that probably show off

too much of his ass.

Not that Eli chose those pants on purpose.

Certainly not.

Peter blushes a soft pink as he walks onto the small stage, his ears red. He gives Amber a hug before he sits in one of the

tall bistro chairs. It's obvious to Eli that Peter's nervous from the way that he takes the microphone and nearly drops it,

wiping his free hand on his slacks.

But they've been preparing for this. Ever since Peter's team sent him the list of the Northern-to-Southern-California tour

stops that he'd be going on to promote the book.

"Wow, uh... thank you all for coming out tonight." His voice shakes in a way that Eli can't help but find adorable. "I

hope that you'll forgive me, I'm not used to speaking to big crowds. Or crowds at all, for that matter."

There are a few scattered chuckles, nothing gut busting, but the energy of the room is still electric.

At least Amber knows him well enough now too.

"Well, you should've expected this crowd with the kind of response you've been getting." She smiles, her voice relaxed. "Which

leads me into my first question, actually. How has the response to What If differed from what you expected?"

"Well, I, uh..." There's a bit of microphone feedback and Peter pulls the microphone away, whispering apologies to the

audience, but all with a smile on his face. Peter's charming enough that no one minds at all.

"I, uh... I don't really know how to answer that, because I never really had expectations. I mean, yes, I wanted people

to read it. And I think a lot of us... we dream of that overnight success. Hitting the New York Times list, or having a movie adaptation announced. And those are nice, but I guess I knew as a gay Korean man writing romance,

it'd be an uphill battle, you know? Frankly, I'm just glad that people are here, that there's been so much excitement online,

from booksellers, librarians, and readers who've been waiting for release day."

Good answer , Eli thinks. Simple enough.

And Peter keeps that momentum through the rest of his conversation with Amber; he talks about how frustrating the editing

process was but how his team trusted him to tell this story. All very standard stuff, the questions rehearsed for days as

Peter tried to hype himself up.

"So, my next question"—Amber's eyes meet Eli's from across the room before she goes back to the cheat sheet she'd prepared

for herself—"is one that I love to listen to my writer friends talk for hours about, so I'm hoping you've got a good answer for me."

"Depends on how good the question is," Peter teases, and Amber and the audience both chuckle.

"I want to hear about inspiration. Because—and if everyone will follow me, we need a little group participation—open your books to the dedication page." Amber picks up the copy of Peter's book that sits on the table between them.

The cover is clearly for a romance, an illustration of two men, back-to-back, their arms folded, looking over their shoulders as they give the other a "Can you believe this guy?" expression.

Peter laughed when he got the cover sketches in his email, then his eyes got wet and he started to cry, and Eli cried along with him.

"You've dedicated this book to the man who taught me to appreciate iced Americanos.' I was curious about that very mysterious expression; do you want to maybe elaborate on this mysterious man who inspired you?"

Peter gives her an awkward laugh, smiling as his eyes struggle to not meet Eli's.

He licks his lips slowly.

"Years after college, I found myself really isolated, unfamiliar with the city, scared to reach out and attempt to form connections.

I worked from home, so I wasn't meeting people. There wasn't really a support system where I felt like I belonged; I was an

actual adult for the first time, and I'd never been more alone.

"A coworker, Francine, who is here tonight, was the one person I felt like I had in my corner. And it wasn't anyone's fault,

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