I thought that he would have heard something by now. He’s been really hyped about the possibility. When Rafael winces and makes a whistle noise, like a bomb dropping, I realize why he’s been so quiet.
“Nothing?” I ask, and we stop at an intersection as he shakes his head. I reach out and pat his shoulder. “Aw, I’m sorry to hear that.”
Rafael sighs. “Sorry I won’t be able to pay you back for the art supplies right away.”
I shake my head as we take off riding again. “Don’t even worry!” I say brightly. “Consider it a contribution in support of your work.”
“Thank you,” he says, gliding into pace beside me. “But I’m going to pay it back.”
“Okay.” I’m not worried either way. I make a good salary at the library, and I really do believe in Rafael’s work. I know his family would support his art, if they had the extra money, but they don’t, and I do, so why not just help my best friend make his dreams come true?
Easy choice.
I take a deep breath. “Lake air,” I say, announcing it dramatically. “Can you smell it?”
Rafael laughs. “I love that you’re just as excited every time.”
We lock up our bikes and stroll across the sand, bags in hand. It’s a cool summer morning, and the sky is silver and blue behind the gentle waves. Only one other regular on Team Beach Clean is at our spot this morning: Carmen, a woman in her fifties who likes the extra motivation to get out for an early walk. She and Rafael quickly fall into a deep conversation about the weather, and I linger back, beaming with happiness as I watch them walk through the sand and stones, pulling plastic from the steady waves.
Even when only a couple other people show up for beach clean, it’s still one of my favorite things in the world.
Carmen stops to take a minute with the lake, and Rafael wanders back over to me. There are birds swooping through the air behind him, and the cool lake breeze feels nice on my skin. We stand beside each other and both look out across the water.
Although I don’t see his face, I know Rafael’s expression. He always seems a little sad when he’s looking at the lake, a cloud behind his glasses. It’s the same qualities that make him such a great artist, the ones that can leave him vulnerable to the world. He feels things deeply, and while we’re standing in front of the waves, I think about how strong he has to be to do that.
“If you want to be a tattoo artist,” I tell him, “you can finally just let me manage your schedule. Then you won’t be late anymore.”
He laughs and holds a finger in the air. “You know it’s not that simple. It will turn into a trap. I’ll feel the way about you that I feel about the alarm on my phone.”
I scoff. “You would never talk to me like you talk to that alarm.”
Rafael chuckles and bumps his tattoo against mine. “Yeah, you’re right about that.”
There’s a man walking down the beach, straight toward us. He’s carrying a trash bag, so I think he might be there for beach clean, but I blink when I realize it’s actually Davis.
“Alexander, Rafael,” he calls out. “How’s it going?”
He’s got on a small pair of sunglasses, a long blue swimsuit, and a jacket that looks like it’s made from one of those high-tech athletic materials. “Oh, hey,” I say, and Rafael casually slips away from my side as he says hello, too. “What brings you here?” I ask.
Davis lifts his bag. “Beach clean. I looked it up on your Insta.” He smiles and turns his hands up toward the morning sun. “I thought I might have a better chance asking you out if I came and did it here.” His eyes dart to Rafael, then back to me. “But not in a creepy way.”
I laugh, surprised. “No, it’s not creepy.”
“Oh, Carmen found a rock,” Rafael says, then folds his hands behind his back. “I’ll be over there.”
He disappears, leaving me and Davis alone. Davis takes a step closer, then gestures toward the lake. “I honestly wanted to come, too. I remember how beautiful and peaceful it is here in the morning.”
“It is,” I agree, smiling. It disarms me to see him here. He’s showing up for something that I care about, and I remember that he did that when we dated right after college, too. He even came with me to special events at the library where I had my first job, dorky local history stuff that I know he wouldn’t have gone to otherwise. “I’m glad you made it,” I add.
My heart pounds. It might be the way he holds my eye making me nervous, but maybe it’s a spark, too, of something more.
Hesitatingly, slow and respectful and with plenty of time for me to step away, Davis moves closer. “So, is that a maybe on the date? I’ll take you to dinner, or I could cook for you at my place.”
“Oh,” I say, now flustered because he’s kicked it up another notch. I’ve had sex a total of three times in my life, none of them particularly satisfying, but I know from social media that Davis went on to several long relationships after we broke up.
He’s experienced at this kind of thing, and I’m left scrambling.
I feel torn, like I always do when I consider dating someone. Rafael has my heart. I can see him with Carmen behind us, skipping the stones from his paper bag back into the lake. It makes my chest ache, and it’s just as painfully true as ever that I love him.
