The attention is nice, but a little overwhelming. Like, for so long, the fact that I love Rafael was this deeply buried secret, but now it’s all out in the open.
He returns to me with a cocktail made from a cherry Coke, and when we kiss again, all of our friends cheer. I take the drink and bump against his shoulder, blushing.
“Are you going to end up covered in tattoos now?” Milo asks me, and everyone laughs. He’s got plastic around his arm again, protecting a new flower tattoo that Joey gave him this week.
“Yeah,” Matty agrees, then lifts his T-shirt to show his latest ink, a clay T-Rex from a stop motion animation, which roars in gorgeous detail on his side. “That’s true! You can join the free tattoo club.”
“I promise you that I will end up with plenty of ink from my boyfriend,” I tell them, and I really believe it. I love Rafael’s work, and the idea of him placing his art on my body is sexy. “Maybe starting soon, right?” I ask Rafael.
“Maybe,” Rafael chuckles, then scratches his beard. No one else notices, I’m sure, but I see something behind his glasses. He must be bothered by whatever’s going on at work. “The apprenticeship is long, you know? I don’t know when I’ll start inking.”
I sip my cocktail. “Right.” He’s been so enthusiastic about starting, like it’s going to happen any day, but maybe that timeline has changed.
“Oh,” Matty says and pulls out his phone. “Did I tell you all? We hung one of Rafael’s illustrations in the living room.” He holds it out, and I see the floating city, framed above their couch.
“Oh my god, amazing,” Milo says as he takes the phone. “I love it.”
Even if tattooing is iffy for Rafael at the moment, I can still be proud of his show. “That’s one of my favorite cities,” I say. “There’s a giant library in the center of it.”
Rafael tilts his drink back, finishing it quickly. “I’m going to get a refill,” he says, then turns away from the group.
It’s a little abrupt. I linger for just a second, then toss out an excuse and hurry after him. Rafael is standing by the bar, rubbing his forehead, waiting for the bartender.
“Hey,” I say, sliding up to him.
“Oh, hey.” He turns to me with a half-smile, then pushes his glasses up.
“Let me get you a drink,” I say when I notice that he’s pulled another twenty from his pocket. I kiss him on the cheek, my lips brushing his beard. “My turn.”
He frowns, and I arch an eyebrow. I don’t want to push, but when our eyes meet, I can feel his walls crumbling.
Rafael sighs. “It’s no big deal,” he explains. “I’m just self-conscious about the work in the show not selling.”
Of course. That should have been obvious to me. I just don’t see it the same way he does, since the work did actually sell. Our friends aren’t faking it, and neither am I. We love his illustrations.
“Hey,” I say. “You’ll have another show. Don’t worry.” I take a sip of my drink, which is still mostly full. “Oh, and I meant to tell you. I figured out the storage thing for the gallery this week, so you didn’t miss the deadline.”
Rafael sucks in a sharp breath. “Shit, the gallery.”
“It’s okay,” I remind him. “You left the letter sitting out. I called and set the time, so the stuff is all safely moved.”
Rafael tenses. He frowns, and it looks like he’s about to shake, like he’s holding himself together. Then he lets out a slow breath. “Thank you,” he finally says.
I reach out and stroke his arm. I expect him to instantly relax and start smiling like me, but he stays tense.
“Sorry,” Rafael repeats. He shakes his head, then looks at me. “And sorry you have to do that. Call for me and stuff.”
The bartender returns and slides another beer to Rafael, and I hand her some money. “You know I don’t mind,” I tell him.
“I know,” he says softly, then drinks his beer, tilting the glass back. “But still.”
His mood is confusing, and I don’t like the feeling I get in the pit of my stomach. Rafael is acting different. We’ve only just decided that we want to be together, and suddenly, it’s like I can’t understand him.
Except I can always understand Rafael. I know him better than I know myself.
What the hell is going on?
He turns to walk away from the bar. I notice that he’s left his wallet there, so I scoop it up and hurry after him, catching him as he walks outside. “Rafael,” I call out, my voice carrying more than I intended, “don’t forget your wallet.”
