But there, finally, was the sea.
It was a rich, dark blue, lightening as it stretched toward the horizon, until it was impossible to know for sure where the water ended and the sky began.
Seagulls cried, or did they laugh? One swooped from a light post across the street, its white belly marked with gray spots. The salt breeze caught in Noah’s hair.
Ramin stopped abruptly, and Noah paused beside him. Ramin’s eyes went wide and beautiful as he gazed out over the port and the water beyond, squinting slightly in the sun. His smile dawned slowly. First it lifted the corners of his eyes, and then it pierced his cheeks to form the deep wells of his dimples, and then it curved the heavenly bow of his lips, his face transported with wonder.
Noah wanted to kiss him a million times.
“This was a good choice,” Ramin said softly.
“Yeah?” Noah’s heart fluttered with pride. He’d made Ramin happy.
He really liked making Ramin happy.
“I’m glad.”
Noah hadn’t managed to find a hotel that was actually on the waterfront (not for lack of trying), but they still walked along the boardwalk to get there.
They passed a huge maritime museum, a set of bouncy castles (Noah spotted an Avengers-themed one and immediately thought of Jake), an old galleon, and an impressive aquarium before taking another narrow salita back uphill. Noah hung back to enjoy the sight of Ramin’s butt in those pink shorts of his.
He’d made Ramin wait for his own satisfaction back at the train station, but he had every intention of making it up to him at the hotel. In a nice, comfy bed. Doing anything and everything that Ramin wanted.
Noah guided them to a lavender building with the same forest-green shutters as all the others. Its walls were smooth but frescoed to seem likethey were built from huge stones, with highlight and shadow giving a three-dimensional effect. Painted-on reliefs bordered the windows.
He held the door to let Ramin into the lobby.
“Good choice,” Ramin said, looking around.
Itwasfancy. Noah had balked a bit at the price, but Ramin was worth it. Besides, he hadn’t been on a date in two years. He could afford it.
Marble floors, leather armchairs, and a huge red velvet sofa sat to the right of the check-in desk; farther in lay a sitting room with a grand piano, a crystal chandelier, and more ridiculously ornate furniture.
“Got your passport?” he asked.
Ramin unslung his backpack, exposing more of his chest and another tantalizing hint of ink, and dug his passport out.
Faint music played over hidden speakers; the lobby smelled of vanilla and lavender from some sort of scent diffuser. It was the fanciest hotel Noah had ever been in.
Noah had never been poor, but he certainly hadn’t grown up rich; his mother was a teacher and his father a mechanic, so they’d never gone hungry, but they’d also never taken trips like this. When they traveled—driving to Branson or Colorado or, one time, Minnesota, to see the Mall of America—they stayed at Holiday Inns. He’d gotten a taste of splurging while he and Angela were married, especially on their honeymoon, but truth be told, they’d both been more intent on making sure Jake’s college fund was in good shape than on staying in nice hotels.
“Prego, Mr. Bartlett,” the front desk clerk said as Noah handed over their passports. “It looks like your room isn’t ready just yet. But if you want, you can check your bags, and we’ll deliver them for you.”
Ramin made a little sound, and Noah suddenly remembered his whole baggage debacle.
“We don’t have to,” he said, but Ramin shook his head.
“It’s fine.”
Noah handed over his backpack, suddenly painfully, awkwardly aware that there were condoms and lube in it. Surely they wouldn’t search his bag, but he couldn’t help feeling like he should be avoidingeye contact with the receptionist. He glanced around to make sure his dentist hadn’t suddenly appeared.
“What now?” Noah asked as they stepped back out into the sun.
Ramin pulled on a slick pair of aviators. Noah wore his own Walmart plastic sunglasses.
“You hungry?” Ramin asked.
“Starving.” Breakfast felt like a lifetime ago, and after Jake’s meltdown, he hadn’t had the appetite to finish. “You know, Genoa is famous for focaccia.”
