31. The Text

Hunter

One evening in early October, while scarfing down tacos after a smoke session, Hunter’s phone buzzed against the coffee table. He glanced over, only to pick it up in a hurried scramble. After blinking hard, he stared at the name on his screen. Realizing he wasn’t high enough to hallucinate, adrenaline rushing through him as he read the text.

I’m in town next week if you want to get together.

Logan.

Hunter stared at the message, unsure of what to say. It had been over two years since Hunter and Logan had seen each other, and nearly two years since the dreaded call Hunter couldn’t shake.

Logan

Logan flexed in the mirror, towel around his waist. His body wasn’t as fit as it once was when he was an undergrad, working out with Hunter five days a week. But he did find enough time to do pushups and squats at home, maintaining some muscle tone. His phone buzzed on his desk. He picked it up with a smile, and then locked his bedroom door before answering it on speakerphone.

“Mom, hey.”

“Logan, I’ve called you twice this week.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been running around,” he said, in a drawer-opening frenzy, moving back and forth from his dresser to his opened duffel.

“Are you excited? Seeing Hunter after all these years. How long has it been?”

“One year, eleven months, and six days?” His voice got higher at the end, questioning his math.

“Oh, darling. Did you tell him you got into the New York program for spring?”

“No, no. I asked if he wanted to grab dinner—nothing more. I’ll tell him when I get there.”

“We’re so proud of you. Your hard work is paying off.”

“Mom, what if he’s with someone?”

“You know, I’m confident the two of you will figure things out. He was your best friend, after all.”

Logan grew solemn at the thought of Hunter with someone else. “Yeah.” Whoever Hunter was with, he’d wait it out.

“I would love it if you could both come home for the holidays.”

“I know, me too. I can’t believe I missed him that year.”

“How did Amber take the news?” his mother asked.

“Uh, it wasn’t easy, but that’s over with. It’s weird cause she’s been calling me all day. It’s over, she knows I’m leaving in two months. She knew this wasn’t forever.”

“Just … be kind, Logan. You’re a good person. Don’t just drop people; do it with kindness.”

“I’m being as kind as I can,” he muttered to himself.

“Oh, shoot. Stacy’s on the other line. I haven’t heard from her in weeks. Keep me posted. Have a safe trip. I love you! Dad says, ‘hi.’”

“Hi, Dad. Love you, both.”

Logan put his phone down and glanced at the letter on his desk. He had read it at least a hundred times. On his fourth application to the Architecture program at NYU in the spring, he was waitlisted—giving him a glimmer of hope. The acceptance letter arrived a few weeks into September, letting him know that he’d been officially accepted for the incoming spring. He cried when he read it the second time.

The thought of Hunter consumed him. He fantasized about what they’d do together. Picturing them on runs by the pier or dressing up for a gala or hosting dinners with friends at their place—taking New York City by storm. He imagined steamy nights in, making love on satin sheets, or in fancy, black-tiled stand-in showers.

His phone buzzed again, violently ripping him back to reality.

Amber: I’m outside.

Hunter

The restaurant wasn’t too crowded for a Thursday night. Riddled with anxiety, Hunter looked up every time the door swung open. He was supposed to be there at seven. Ten minutes passed and there was no one.

Be there in two minutes, a text came through to Hunter’s phone. Although relief washed over him, Hunter’s heart rate accelerated as he ran his hands through his hair, and tapped his foot on the floor. When the door opened, the room illuminated instantly by the familiar smile he had always adored.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Hunter tried hard to contain himself, but his eyes gave away his excitement. Shake hands? Hug? Kiss? Nothing.

“Hunter, this is Charlie and Will. They’re in my program, here for the seminar.” Hunter had hardly noticed the two people Logan walked in with. “They’re going to join us for dinner, if that’s cool.”

Dinner was tense for Hunter as he listened on about the seminar, their lives in California, and other people in their graduate school program. Hunter sat across from Logan, and Charlie sat beside him. Throughout the night, he avoided making eye contact with Logan, who seemed to intentionally seek it out. He thought it would be only the two of them and wished he could get Logan alone, even if it was just for a moment. Maybe he felt too uncomfortable to meet alone, so he invited more people for buffer.

Halfway through dinner Hunter boldly rested his knee against Logan’s leg under the table, and Logan pushed back against Hunter’s, making him incredibly hard. At one point during the evening, Logan handed Hunter a bread plate, and Hunter used the opportunity to stroke Logan’s fingers—no one noticing but the two of them.

“Here’s my card for the check,” William said, placing his card on the table. “I’m going to head to the restroom.”

“I need to make a quick call,” Charlie said, excusing himself and going outside.

Hunter and Logan looked at each other in silence. “How do you feel?” Hunter asked him, sensing something was brewing.

“Uh—fine, fine,” Logan started. “It’s intense being here … with you, again. But it’s fine. It’s good. You look good.” He spoke almost manically. “How about you?”

“I’m good,” Hunter said with a warm smile. He slowly reached across the table and placed his fingers over Logan’s, gazing deeply into his eyes.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Logan said, rubbing his eyes with his palms.

A server came by and brought Hunter the check. “Here you are.”

“What about ours?” William asked as he reached the table.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hunter said.

“Wow, thank you.”

“Hey, it’s getting late. We should head back.” Charlie appeared from outside. “Wife’s on my ass. I have to give the kids a call before I head to bed.”

“You guys head back. I’m going to catch up with Hunter,” Logan said, and Hunter’s heart did a cartwheel.