Open Road, Closed Door
an excerpt

He was adorable, absolutely adorable!
Now let me warn you all, if you want to avoid a bunch of girlish fawning and comments about how cute he was, then you’re pretty much screwed for now. He was absolutely, positively gorgeous. David was about two inches shorter than me, but I’m a rather big guy. His hair was a light red, and… well, I’m only assuming it was red; it was so absolutely bright it could possibly have been strawberry blonde. It looked so bright and soft and thin that I was immediately jealous, despite it being shorter than mine.
His face was lightly freckled, and that was so cute, but let me tell you, neither the hair nor the freckles could touch his eyes. They were a shocking, beautiful emerald that definitely made my breath catch. Keeping as put together as I could be, I greeted him in my deep voice when my mother opened the door and followed him into the front room.
“Hi,” I said, somewhat breathily. Then my breath caught as for the first time David’s beautiful green eyes locked with mine. Much more adorable than how he looked was the look he had on his face. I don’t mean to sound cliché, but he definitely had the classic Lost Puppy look. By God, if he’d had a tail, it most likely would’ve been tucked between his legs. He stood very stiffly, and looked rather uncomfortable, breaking the eye contact within a second of making it.
His clothes were clean, and fit him a little snugly, even for something a gay guy would wear. I had the feeling they were too small, but were the best he had, because I knew they could only get kids hand-me-downs there at the cabin. They were probably what he was wearing when he came in. He wore a long sleeved white shirt with a black button up shirt on top of it, but the sleeves had been ripped off of the black shirt and the white shirt beneath had been torn on the arm at some point and sloppily sown back up.
The jeans were frayed in the right knee, and not the kind of fray you buy jeans with; the stringy remnants of the fabric were torn and hanging loosely down from it. To cover for what I knew was my red face, I said to my mother, “Good thing you weren’t a little earlier, you would’ve missed me. I was out running.”