Grayson and I linked elbows as we strolled through the Longwood Gardens, an expanse of flowering plants, unexpected trees, water lily ponds, and fountains. When we approached a large stone and glass building, Grayson released my elbow and stepped ahead to open the door.
“Not only have you brought me to my favorite place in the city,” I said, quirking a smile at him, “but you picked my favorite spot inside of my favorite place, too.”
“The Orangery!” Grayson said brightly. “I’m so glad you like it.”
The greenhouse hadn’t been filled with fruiting citrus since around 1920, but the name lingered. Instead, it was now the jewel in the crown of the Longwood, an elaborately arranged and choreographed garden, with pinks and oranges and yellow flashing in careful patterns and floral scents chosen to complement each other floating in the air.
“It’s absolutely perfect,” I said, taking the elbow he offered.
And it was. If there was anything that could pull me out of my dark thoughts and help me focus on the date with Grayson, this was it.
We walked by small bushes that looked like powder puffs of white and pink flowers. “I was always a flower queen,” I mused. “Even when I was trying to hide myself and pretend I was like all the other guys, I’d always end up staring at the flowers that grew outside the school and carrying them in my pockets, and I’d give myself away.”
Grayson laughed warmly. “That’s cute. My mom always had some nice flowers in our yard when I was growing up. And in Kentucky, there were wildflowers everywhere.” He had on a pair of suspenders, and he tucked a thumb under one for a second, then let it snap back against his chest. “I found this place soon after I moved here. I have a thing where I spend Sundays by myself and try to do self-care. Going for a walk through the park was at the top of that list.”
I leaned a little on Grayson, flirting, and he held my weight as we continued down the cement path. It felt good to know that he took care of himself, and I was impressed again by his strength.
“You mentioned your mom. You said you don’t talk to your family anymore, is that right?” I asked. I was normally hesitant to bring up difficult topics, but something about the quiet greenhouse and the comfort between us made it feel right.
Grayson gestured to a bench across from a small, circular pond with a fountain in the center, and we took a seat. “No,” he said. “My father was the worst. He rejected me the second I hit my teens, when it became clear I wasn’t going to be the girl he wanted. My mom hung in there a bit longer, but once I started to talk about transitioning, she cut me out of her life, too.”
I rested my hand on top of his. “I’m sorry you had to lose them.”
He shrugged lightly. “And you’re not close to your family either, is that right?”
I nodded. “I don’t have the same situation as you and Demir, though. My mom raised me, and she loved me, but she died when I was fourteen. After that, I got bounced around to some aunts and uncles I didn’t really know. None of them quite knew what to do with me, and when I turned eighteen, we said our unceremonious goodbyes.”
“They’re missing out.”
“Yours, too.”
“Families,” Grayson said.
“Families,” I agreed.
I bumped my sneaker against his sneaker, and Grayson chuckled. “It’s funny. Back when I was a teenager and when I was still talking to my mom, she’d always beg me to go and date a guy. I just don’t think this is what she imagined.”
“Demir said he had a really nice time on your date, by the way. And I’m delighted to hear that you got him on roller skates.”
Grayson laughed, then rose to his feet and extended me his hand. Once he helped me up, we started down the path again, sunlight beaming on us through the glass curves of the ceiling. “I don’t even have to ask if you know how to roller skate.”
“It’s true,” I laughed. “I’m fantastic at it.”
Grayson cracked his knuckles as we walked, then turned to catch my eye. “Can I ask you something? Did it bother you at all, being home working while Demir and I were out on a date?”
I thought back to the day and the many hours I had spent staring at the computer screen. “The good news is, my work often involves scouring DJ playlists and researching graphic design trends, so it’s not as painful as it sounds.” I paused, trying to think how to answer, then held my thumb and my forefinger a couple of inches apart. “I would say this much? That’s how much I felt bothered by it. But I didn’t really get jealous, I just kind of wished I was there, too.”
Grayson nodded as we passed some hanging balls of purple flowers. “That makes sense to me.”
I wanted to ask if that was his experience, too, and if he thought often about me and Demir together without him. When he didn’t say anything else, though, I let the subject slide. I knew that being a single guy dating a couple put him in a much more vulnerable position than either of us were in. Even when Demir and I were just hooking up with someone on vacation, I still always tried to make the other guy feel included and treated like an equal.
But with Grayson, it was like an urge, a need to make him feel safe and included when he was with us.
“Oh, look at these ones!” I said, grabbing Grayson’s arm and waving my hand at the flowers. “I’ve never seen a dahlia this color before!” The edges flared with a bright yellow, and the rich purple petals curved in perfect teardrops, and an idea of how to redesign the DJ booth jumped to mind.
Grayson leaned down to inspect the flower, folding his hands behind his back and giving me a nice, long look at his rear, full and firm in his gray twill trousers. I hummed to myself pleasantly, then leaned in to give it a closer glance myself, placing our faces a few inches away.
Grayson fluttered his eyelashes at me, and I leaned to the side, brushing a soft kiss against his lips.
