JUST A KISS
CHAPTERONE
ALEXANDER
Five years ago…
I lie in bed reading,alone on a Saturday night even though it’s the weekend after college graduation. This book on gay history engrossed me earlier in the afternoon, but tonight, I can’t focus.
I’m too distracted by the tidal waves of longing that keep crushing me.
I keep hoping that I’ll get over Rafael. We’ve been best friends for years, and I always just figured this ridiculous need to feel his touch would fade one day, but it hasn’t. Now we live together, and he’s out on a date with his new boyfriend, and I’m pining for him in a way that hurts every cell in my body.
The front door opens, and I sit up, surprised. Almost instantly, there’s a knock at my room. “Alexander?” Rafael calls out.
“Rafael?”
He steps in, his straight black hair long and messy, beard unkempt, and wearing his usual paint-splattered pants. Quickly, I see the frustration in his creased expression and the frown on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I broke up with Conrad,” he answers.
My heart jumps. I feel bad for him, but then I feel a tinge of excitement that maybe, single, he’ll finally realize that I’m the guy for him. Quickly, guilt that I’m excited about his bad news rushes in, too, but I try to force it all away.
My best friend is sad, and he needs me. That’s all that matters.
“Come here,” I say. I set my book aside and gesture to him, and Rafael hurries to the bed. He crawls in beside me, and when I turn to him, we end up hugging. His strong arms wrap tightly around my shoulders, and I inhale his familiar scent, spicy and oaky. As I squeeze back, his beard bristles against my neck.
My heart flutters. I just love him so much.
Finally, Rafael releases me and sinks back, but his hand stays on my shoulder, and mine lands on his hip. Behind his round glasses, I see the dark brown of his eyes, swirling with emotions.
“I’m sorry,” I say, although my heart wants to say so much more.
“He wasn’t right for me,” Rafael answers. “He got mad that I spend more time painting than I spend with him.”
I frown. “But you’re an artist.”
Rafael’s face softens. “See? You get it.”
A silence stretches out between us. The warm, steady press of his hand is so nice on my shoulder.
It’s true. I get him, and he gets me. It’s like we’re made for each other, and for the millionth time, I try to work up the courage to tell him that.
And just like always, I chicken out, the fear of losing my best friend so strong it suffocates my words.
“I’ve made a decision,” Rafael tells me.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not interested in having a relationship. I’m done with all that crap.”
I laugh, but my gut tightens. “That crap being love?”
He smiles and scratches his beard. “I’m always happiest when I’m single, and everyone I date just tries to change me. So I figure, from now on, no boyfriends.”
His words hang in the air. I want to argue, tell him that he just needs one boyfriend—me.
