I knew the words had been a mistake just as they left my lips. I
could read it on his face. Something inside me froze as I saw the
look in his eyes. I knew the look. It was the
I-donít-want-to-hurt-you-but- look. I had gotten it from so many
girls during my school years that I knew it by far. And then his lips
opened and his word completed the job:

"I would love to, but..."

 There's always a but. I should have learned that by now. After all
it is a family occasion. Itís a different thing telling you're family
and friends that you're gay that showing up with a boyfriend. Until
that they still have hope that maybe it was all just one huge
horrible mistake. Maybe I should have learned by now. Inside his
apartment weíre lovers outside weíre close friends. But sometimes I
need more. Sometimes I need a proof that Iím not imagining our
closeness.

 The gold-engraved wedding invitation was still on the table. The
letters on it mocked me. Rupert Giles and avec. Avec. The word would
appear in my nightmares. And the words that caused all this...

"Could I be your avec?"

**************