Noah reached for Jake’s hand. At least he didn’t pull it away.
“Jakey. Sometimes you have to be flexible. That’s just part of life. We try, and sometimes we have to change our plans. It’s not the end of the world.”
If Jake’s sniffling was anything to go by, itwasthe end of the world.
“Your mom really wants to take you to Turin. Don’t you want to see it?”
Jake shook his head. Noah fought a sigh.
“I’m sorry, Jake. We’ll have a guys’ day another time, okay?”
“Fine,” Jake pouted. He pulled his hand out of Noah’s and crossed his arms. “I don’t care.”
Noah looked toward Angela, who was getting another espresso.
Maybe he should’ve let her be the one to break the news. Then she’d be the one dealing with Jake’s meltdown.
After breakfast—and after calming Jake down—Angela took himup to her room to pack an overnight bag. Noah hung back at the table, finishing off his tea.
He should’ve felt guilty. Hedidfeel guilty. He’d ended up being the bad guy.Again.
And he didn’t even know if Ramin was free. If he was up for somealonetime. Just the two of them. No random knocks on the door. No interruptions.
The thought fluttered in his chest on little golden wings as he pulled out his phone.
Noah had seen Milano Centrale when they caught their bus to Como, but he hadn’t had time to really appreciate it. A huge, imposing stone building—part Art Deco, part who-knows-what—supposedly it was the largest station in Europe. In the courtyard out front, skateboarders practiced grinds on stone benches, people filed into and out of the Metro entrances, and tourists took pictures of an enormous statue of an apple with a bite taken out of it and stapled back on.
He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. Ignored the anxious churning in his gut.
It had seemed like a good idea a few hours ago, when he’d texted Ramin and asked if he wanted to hop a train and go somewhere. Ramin had said yes right away.
But could he actually do this? Or would his nerves get the best of him?
His phone buzzed.
Ramin
I’m here! Inside!
Meet by the bookstore across from the platforms?
The platforms were on the third level. Noah rode the long moving walkways up, thumbs tucked around his backpack straps, as he dodgedtravelers wheeling their luggage around. He found Ramin next to a window display, head down, looking at his phone.
He looked perfect.
He wore a striped green-and-white tank top, which showed off his lovely shoulders, and a pair of light pink shorts that weren’t sinfully short but were certainly enticing. He looked so cosmopolitan, with his sunglasses pushed up into his hair, and a gray backpack slung off one shoulder.
Noah licked his lips. He’d dressed his best, too, in a long-sleeved white linen shirt he’d bought specially for this trip. He’d had to check three times to make sure it covered what he had on underneath, especially when he’d unbuttoned the top three buttons like the locals did. He had blue chinos on below, not as short as Ramin’s but still breezy.
He tried to adjust himself without Ramin noticing. He was much more used to boxers.
When Ramin noticed him, he smiled so bright it outshone the sun streaming in through the skylights.
All Noah’s nerves melted away, replaced with joy, with excitement, with the scent of Ramin’s cologne and the sparkle in his eyes.
He stepped in close, chest to chest, pressing Ramin back against the window. Ramin’s nostrils flared. His eyes widened.
Noah smirked. “Hi.”
