Rafael wears a T-shirt with one of his favorite illustrations printed onto the front, which he’d had specially made for the opening. I’d tried to get him to dress up, so he’s matched the T-shirt with his most formal pants, the gray bottom of a suit, although he went and finished it off with his worn black boots.
Artists.
He does look amazing, though. His straight black hair is combed back on top and buzzed at the side, a style he likes because he can cut it himself. His brown skin is warmed with an undertone like a sunrise, and even as he glances anxiously around again, there’s still that soft smile on his face.
Rafael is an oddball. He’s a gay sci-fi nerd, an artist, and a true nonconformist. I’ve never met anyone like him, and I’m sure I never will.
Need hits me like a bolt. Again, the longing for his kiss is so strong, it’s crushing. In profile, the bold lines of his features captivate me all over again, and I think about running my finger through his coarse beard.
Before I can push the longing away, Rafael turns back. He takes my hand and holds my gaze. “Thanks for helping make this happen, Alexander,” he says sincerely. “Not only did you lend me the money to fund the last few pieces, I wouldn’t have gone for the show in the first place without your encouragement.” He squeezes my hand, still holding my eye. “Thank you,” he repeats.
And then, finally, he kisses me.
Rafael pecks his lips to mine, soft and sweet and so brief, the kiss is over as soon as it starts. The impossibly gentle touch evaporates, but the warmth stays, filling me from the core.
It’s not unusual for us to kiss like this or to hold hands or cuddle while we watch TV. The affection isn’t romantic or sexual, just intimate, like friends can be.
It’s just Rafael’s kiss, nothing more.
But that doesn’t make it any less wrenchingly nice to taste his lips, and at the gallery, I’m left standing there, grinning and shuffling my feet, just absolutely spun in a circle.
“Of course,” I finally answer, my voice weak. “I’m so glad I could help.”
Rafael smiles. “I’m making you breakfast every day this week.”
I grin. “Then there better be tempeh bacon.”
When I spot the gallerist approaching, I squeeze Rafael’s hand and slip away. Our friends Matty and Ayla are admiring my favorite of the illustrations, so I head over to say hi. On the way, though, a man steps in front of me, almost causing me to spill the last of my red wine down my shirt.
“Excuse me,” I mumble, but when I look up, I freeze. “Oh my god, Davis!”
Despite being painfully, embarrassingly fixated on loving my best friend, I have managed to date a few other people over the years. It was right after college when I dated Davis, but we only lasted for about a month, and then he moved across the country to San Francisco.
“Alexander,” he says with a surprised smile.
“You look great,” I tell him, and he does. He’s dressed up in a snug pair of dress pants and a charcoal bowtie that nicely compliments the emerald glint of his eyes. When we dated, Davis had been quite thin. But his face is fuller now, and there’s a glow to his features as he smiles at me.
“Are you visiting town?” I ask.
He glances me up and down, taking me in. “I moved back about a month ago. I accepted a research position at a university robotics lab.”
“Wow,” I say, impressed. The little plastic cup is still in my hand, empty now, and I fidget with it. “That’s great.”
Davis is confident in a way I’ve never quite been. He’s outgoing, intimidatingly smart, and now quite successful in his field, which isn’t surprising. He was always a star student. I’m successful in my field, too, but Davis’s ambitions drive him in a whole different way.
“You’re at the library?” he asks.
“The gay and lesbian archives,” I answer with a nod.
“Cool.” Davis scrunches his mouth to the side, smiling funny. “Hey, do you still volunteer at that thing, at the lake…”
“Beach clean?” I say, lighting up. “How’d you know?”
He shrugs. “I just remember how enthusiastic you were. I like that you’re still doing that.”
“Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at sunrise,” I say brightly. “Join anytime!”
Davis shifts his weight, still eyeing me. “You know, I thought about you a lot, Alexander.”
