Adrian nodded, a shadow of a memory in his eyes. “It’s no big deal. In Israel, every citizen must enlist at the age of 18; it’s the law. It’s just life there. A rite of passage, part of growing up.” But his words carried a weight, as if the past lingered beneath them, an undertow pulling him briefly back.
Logan dropped his gaze, tracing the edge of his beer bottle, a smile curling at his lips. “Where’d they put you?”
“Navy,” Adrian said, his gaze drifting as if following something across a distant horizon, a faint, quiet ache there.
Logan chuckled, his laugh barely louder than a breath, touched by a sudden lightness. “Of course,” he muttered, half to himself, shaking his head with a slow smile. “Well, that explains how you pulled off the impossible mission of rescuing me.”
Adrian’s gaze snapped back to Logan’s, his eyes darkening, as if shadows of unspoken memories had flickered to life. For a moment, something haunted passed over his face—a vision of Logan, motionless, adrift in the ocean’s unfeeling pull. He could still hear the silence beneath Logan’s chest, feel the weight of those towering waves crashing toward shore, indifferent to life or death.
Then, as if severing himself from the memory, Adrian’s expression softened; the smirk returned, quieter now, a look that reached across the table, bridging the fragile, wordless space between them. Their laughter faded, slipping into silence, as both felt the presence of what had just been shared and the countless words left unsaid. In that stillness, past and present seemed to fold together, binding two lives for this single, breath-held moment.
Adrian’s voice dropped a little, teasing but genuine. “How about you? Are you traveling with anyone? Someone waiting for you back home... or maybe joining you out here soon?”
Logan gave a short laugh, low and almost sheepish, shaking his head. “No,” he said simply, and for a beat, something flickered through his expression; a brief, raw honesty he didn’t bother hiding. “Just me.”
Adrian nodded to him and took another sip of his drink.
“I can’t believe I haven’t asked you this yet,” Adrian murmured, shaking his head in frustration at his own manners. He was drawn to Logan, utterly captivated, as if Logan were the ocean itself and he felt the overwhelming need to immerse himself in that depth. “How are you feeling?” Adrian asked, his gaze locking onto Logan’s silver-gray eyes, searching for the truth hidden within their shimmering depths.
“Way better,” Logan replied. “I slept, drank about a gallon of water. I feel like a human again.” Even as the words left his mouth, the air around them began to shift. The previously quiet and lazy atmosphere of the bar transformed into a lively buzz. Tourists flooded in, their laughter and chatter rising over the soft music, filling every crack and corner with noise. The music grew louder, the bass thrumming against the floorboards like a restless heartbeat. Logan felt the crowd pressing closer, an invisible wall of energy that made the air heavier with every passing second.
He stiffened slightly, glancing around as the easy quiet he had enjoyed with Adrian dissolved into chaos. He was familiar with crowded places filled with people—having traveled through countless cities and encountered endless new faces through his life—yet tonight, he found himself longing, craving the stillness, not noise. He had wanted this moment to stay small, just the two of them, untouched by the piercing world outside.
A flicker of unease passed through him as he turned back to Adrian. What if Adrian thrived in this? What if he loved the pulsing crowd, the heady thrill of a summer night in Hawaii? Logan’s chest tightened with a quiet, unfamiliar panic. If Adrian wanted to stay, to revel in it all, Logan would force himself to stay too—even if every fiber of him ached for thequiet they’d just lost. Because somehow, already, the idea of leaving this moment, leavinghim, was worse than the noise.
Logan wasn’t ready to part ways; he wasn’t ready to end this night with Adrian. It had been so long since he had felt a genuine connection with another person, and their conversation flowed like a gentle breeze, effortless and inviting. He craved for this evening to stretch on, yet the encroaching crowd threatened to drown out their intimacy, the noise rising, pushing against the fragile sanctuary they had carved out for themselves.
“Do you want to leave?” Adrian asked, his voice low, almost casual, though Logan could feel the weight behind it. Adrian had noticed the way Logan’s eyes kept drifting over the crowd, the way his shoulders had tightened, the quiet distress he hadn’t managed to hide.
“Ummm… I huh…” Logan hesitated, caught off-guard. He didn’t know what the right answer was. If he said yes, would Adrian simply wish him a good night and slip back into the sea of people without him? If he said no, would they stay here, surrounded by noise, with the fragile thread between them stretched thin until it snapped? Panic, swift and disorienting, curled in Logan’s chest, and before he could think better of it, he blurted, “Are you hungry?” The words felt clumsy and too loud in his ears, but it was something—a tether he threw between them, desperate and a little breathless.
For a heartbeat, Adrian just looked at him, and Logan steeled himself for the sting of rejection. But then Adrian smiled, a single note struck in silence, vibrating through everything in him—a slow, effortless beam that brightened his eyes and brought forth a gentle nod. And just like that, the tight, anxious coil inside Logan began to loosen, the crowded room fading a little around them, as if they had built a small world of their own.
Logan spotted the waitress weaving through the mass and called her over for the check. Moments later, she set it on the table, and Logan noticed Adrian’s hand reach for it. In a swift motion, he snatched it up, fishing for his wallet with the other hand.
“Forget it,” Logan insisted, a warning in his voice. “It’s on me. No arguments,” he warned, his tone firm yet playful. His eyes flicked to the total, and he pulled out bills, adding a generous tip for the waitress. Logan waited, watching as Adrian rose, each movement captivating him, and he was drifting in their bubble. They moved toward the exit in unspoken harmony, their footsteps soft and measured, both trying to maintain a socially accepted distance while being pulled to the aura of one another.
Outside, the night unfolded like velvet, the air thick with the scent of salt and hibiscus, the cool bite of the breeze brushing against their skin. There was something electric woven into the darkness, a subtle promise of possibility, humming in the spaces between streetlights.
“Do you have a good restaurant in mind?” Adrian asked, his voice low and smooth, the words lingering in the night air like smoke.
Logan glanced over, catching the small, eager glint in Adrian’s eyes, and felt a strange flutter in his chest he couldn’t explain. “I’m not picky. You’ve been here longer, anything good I should try?” he replied, and as he spoke, his stomach gave a low rumble of agreement, reminding him just how long it had been since he’d eaten anything real.
Adrian smiled—not the casual grin he’d worn before, but something softer, almost shy, before slipping his gaze back to the road ahead. “Well... there’s this place that’s kind of known for its garlic butter shrimp and kalua pork, and Spam musubi,” he said, laughing a little awkwardly. “But I’m Jewish,” he added quickly, scratching the back of his neck in a gesture thatmade him look boyish for a moment. “I don’t keep kosher strictly, but... I still avoid pork and shellfish. It’s sort of wired into me, you know?” he glanced at Logan. “But I don’t mind going with you, really.”
There was a hesitant pause, like he was expecting Logan to be disappointed.
But Logan only gave him a dry, unimpressed look, the kind that carried a quiet sort of loyalty without needing to be spoken. “No, of course I don’t want that. Take me to a good placeyoueat around here. I have no problem trying something new,” he said easily, without a flicker of hesitation.
Adrian turned his head toward him, as if the words had caught him off guard, his smile widening into something warmer, something that touched the edges of his eyes. “Thanks,” he murmured, almost sheepish. “And I’m sorry—” Adrian started to add, but Logan cut him off, nudging his shoulder with his own in a light, familiar way that sent a surprising jolt of happiness through Adrian’s chest.
“Don’t you dare,” Logan said firmly, grinning. “Come on. I’m starving. Get me to a place that’s got some good food before I waste away.”
Adrian smiled, a glint of fondness in his gaze as he pointed down the dimly lit street. “It’s this way,” he said, stepping forward.
Logan matched his stride without a second thought, the two of them falling into rhythm as they paced side by side, their bodies cutting through the humid air like familiar shadows. Around them, the town drifted by in soft edges: the glow of porch lights, the murmur of late-night conversations, the distant crash of the ocean hidden beyond the trees.
Adrian led him through a maze of winding streets, past closed surf shops and darkened cafés, until they reached a small restaurant tucked beneath a cluster of swaying palms. Its porch was wrapped in strings of golden lights,spilling warm halos onto the worn wooden boards. The tables outside were half-empty now, the dinner rush long gone, leaving only a few locals lingering over their late plates, speaking in low, lazy tones that blended with the sigh of the sea.
