Page 61 of We Are Just Us

“Here and there,” Rory said, reaching for his napkin. “I like cooking. Relaxes me.”

Kieran took another bite, then another. He decided to stop asking questions and eat. “I got this.” He pulled the yellow flyer from his pocket, slightly creased from being carried around for two days. “I saw it at the thrift store where I found the picture. Some kind of art installation next Friday.”

Rory took the flyer, scanning it. “Elena Marchetti. Yeah, she’s good. I’ve seen her stuff before.”

“It’s at some converted warehouse? The Basswood?”

“It’s cool,” Rory said. “Weird, but cool. Very Leucadia.”

Kieran took the flyer back. “I was thinking about going. If you wanted to come.”

Rory looked at him, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Maybe. Yes. Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay.” Rory’s smile widened. “I’d love to.”

“Good.” Kieran tucked the flyer away, trying not to look too pleased. “Very good.”

They finished eating, the conversation drifting easily between the art scene and Rory’s work, about a historic cottage near the beach that a developer wanted to tear down and build a metered parking lot. Kieran didn’t fully understand the politics of it, but he liked hearing Rory talk about it anyway. Liked the way he got animated, gesturing with his fork, passion leaking through his usually calm exterior.

When the dishes were cleared and the kitchen cleaned, they ended up on the couch, Kieran’s head resting on Rory’s shoulder, the weight of the day settling comfortably around them.

“Thanks for the photograph,” Rory said quietly. “Truly.”

“Thanks for dinner. That was not mediocre.”

“Told you I couldn’t promise.”

“You’re full of surprises.”

Rory laughed and pulled him in for a kiss, the kind that made Kieran’s chest ache.

“Hey,” Rory said, like the thought had just occurred to him. “You doing anything this weekend?”

Kieran blinked. “Uh. No? Why?”

“Waves are supposed to be good Sunday evening. Thought maybe you’d want to come out with me. Catch the sunset.”

Kieran’s stomach dropped. “Surfing?”

“Yeah,” Rory said, like he was suggesting they grab coffee. “I’ve got an extra board. Wetsuit too, probably fits you.”

“I don’t know,” Kieran said, his shoulders tensing. “I’ve only done that one lesson. I was pretty terrible.”

“You weren’t terrible.”

“I ate sand. Multiple times.”

Rory laughed. “Everyone eats sand. It’s basically a requirement.”

“I don’t want to embarrass myself,” Kieran said, then regretted how honest that sounded.

Rory’s expression softened. He reached up, thumb brushing along Kieran’s jaw. “You won’t. And even if you do, I’ve already seen you sprint naked across your backyard chasing a dog. The bar’s pretty low.”

Kieran groaned. “You said we weren’t going to talk about that.”

“I lied.” Rory grinned. “Come on. It’ll be fun. No pressure. If you hate it, we’ll paddle back in and get tacos instead.”