Blog Tour: Start Here Excerpt

Gorgeous by Motzie Dapul

One time, I was so homesick that I felt like I was ready to cry my eyes out in the middle of the street. It was November, and Christmas ornaments started popping up in shop windows—early for the US-of-A, but late for what I was used to. I missed home, missed it like an ache that would turn into a knife in my heart if I didn’t find something familiar to soothe me. 

So I blew money on a train ride to Queens, taking the 7 line to Little Manila. I found myself surrounded by Tagalog being spoken freely by a dozen Filipinos or more. The slightest accent reminded me where I was. I sat there, grinning ’til my face hurt, regardless, and caught the half-lidded gaze of the passenger across me, who gave me a wink and had me blushing under my scarf. 

I didn’t dare assume their gender, and in New York you could roll dice every other day on whether somebody was a butch lesbian or a transman. All I knew for sure was that they were handsome, and kept throwing glances at me every so often, their warm smile warding off any bad vibes I might have had from a stranger on a subway train. 

We got off at the same station, and a few moments of consideration had the passenger approaching me, hands tucked into a stylish jacket’s front pockets. 

“You’re not from here, are you?” they said, tone friendly but eyes musing. 

“What gave it away?” I said in return. 

“Had a hunch. You’ve got the real homeland feel,” they said with a drawl, looking me up and down from my dyed braids to my three layers in what to New Yorkers was “brisk” weather. “Want some company? Or have you got family up here in Little Manila?” 

“No family,” I replied. “Just wanted something familiar.” 

They smiled sympathetically. “I could show you around, if you like. Everybody could use a familiar face.” 

I stopped, brow furrowing as I studied their face. “Um…Do I know you?” 

They looked startled, but shrugged. “Don’t think so. I’ve been here a couple of years, and if I met you before, I’d remember it.” They opened their hands demonstratively. “Wouldn’t forget somebody as gorgeous as you.” 

I rolled my eyes, but accepted the explanation with a wave of a hand. “What’s your name?” I asked as I fell into pace with them. 

“Jays,” they said, eyes crinkling with mirth and genuine warmth. “You can call me Jays.” 

We spent one day together, with Jays showing me the best places to get Filipino food and to find a crowd that would remind me of home. They left in a hurry, work calling them away, just as we’d finished getting drinks at a comfy little bar that played kitschy nineties Pinoy crooners. 

It wasn’t until I was back on the train going to Manhattan that I realized I never got their number.

Delubyo by Barbie Barbieto

Sometimes revelations are made clear by massive events and ear-shattering explosions. Sometimes they can be as whisper-quiet as the languid, dream-laden breathing of someone you love, and the silence of two clasped hands.

Blooms and Hues by Ella Banta

Patrick smiled. But it was a pained smile. Because just like Angelica Schuyler, he realized three things at the same time as he shook the man’s hand. 

One. Hyacinthe was not a woman. Haya was a fine, fine man.

Two. Patrick’s sister and his mom clearly were trying to be matchmakers.

Three. Haya was Junie’s Papi.

And Patrick knew he was screwed because he found Haya very attractive.

Another First by Yeyet Soriano

Stressful meeting tonight. Can’t do dinner. Find something to do, please. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you company.” Lily must have seen my disappointed expression when I read Matteo’s text. 

“I know just the place,” she promised. 

She led me into a small underground cave near our resort. There was a light switch hidden somewhere that Lily flicked on. There was a small bridge, some natural rock formations and a twelve-foot natural pool in the middle. It was both beautiful and frightening. 

“I know you can swim, so you can’t chicken out on me,” she said. 

How the hell did she know I could swim? Okay, no sense asking her now. 

“I’ve never swum in anything this deep before...without a life vest,” I said, eyeing the pool fearfully, imagining what could be resting at the bottom, ready to pull me in. 

“There’s always a first time,” she answered. 

“It’s not safe,” I said. 

“Apart from all my other talents, I’m also a lifeguard and I know CPR,” Lily said, smiling. 

For some reason, I had the insane image of me drowning and of Lily saving me and trying to revive me. I felt my cheeks grow hot. 

She started taking off her shoes. Then her shirt, tank, and shorts. I wanted to take my eyes off her, but I couldn’t. She was down to a salmon-colored two-piece bikini. She motioned for me to prepare too. So I stripped down to my own black two-piece bikini. She extended her hand to me and I took it. Funny how my hand in hers felt so natural and yet the contact was making me weak all over. 

We walked carefully toward the edge of a rock. 

“Take a leap of faith with me, okay?” She squeezed my hand and looked into my eyes. She was standing very close to me. 

“On three,” she said. “One. Two. Three!” 

We jumped hand in hand. As soon as I hit the cold water, I started to panic. Then I felt Lily’s arms around me, and I stopped struggling. For a brief moment, I just didn’t move, just basking in the warmth of her embrace. 

Then, I started treading water. I looked at her—and oh my God, I could almost just lean over and I would be— 

I nodded. She let me go and I swam. It felt so liberating. I swam and floated and dove. The cold water deliciously lapped my entire body. When I grew tired, I joined Lily on the shallow end. 

“Thanks. I needed that,” I said, sitting beside her on a rock, careful to keep a safe distance. 

She smiled at me, her eyes looking into mine. I turned away first. It was getting more and more difficult for me to keep eye contact with her. 

“No problem,” she answered. “What do you say we have a humongous dinner and some drinks to cap off the night?” 

I nodded in agreement. 

I needed a drink.

Lemon Drop Friday by Brigitte Bautista

“All these A+ women every fucking night, and you tell me you’re not dating.” Liv clicks her tongue and turns to me. “Are you kidding me?” 

“They’re customers, Liv.” It’s a lame excuse, and Liv sees through the bullshit. 

“So?” 

“So, I can’t.” 

“Oh, shut up. Don’t pretend you’re the patron saint of obedience and blind servitude.” Live leans forward, reaching out to give my arm a gentle slap.

“So, they wait for you. I mean, look at you, Tal. I’d be happy to sit here until closing time for you. Babe, that ass is worth everybody’s wait.”

I dismiss the flattery with the wave of a hand. “It’s complicated.”