Chapter Eighteen

JULIAN

August 10, 1990

It's been a rocky week for Grayson and me. In fact, we've now had our very first argument. And the hell of it is, it's not really by any fault of our own. Monday, when I came home from my internship, I spotted three envelopes sitting on the kitchen counter. Two addressed to Grayson and one to me. By first look, I knew immediately they were our college letters. As much as I wanted to open mine, I figured opening them together would be better.

The evening took forever to arrive, but Grayson finally stepped through the front door about a quarter past five. I tiptoed in his direction with a mischievous look on my face as I held the envelopes behind my back. He looked at me like he knew I was up to something, but leaned in to give me a giant kiss, anyway. When our heads parted, I slid the envelopes up above his nose.

"They came, Saccharo Ferre," I said enthusiastically.

We stood in the entryway while ripping open our letters from NYU, not even wasting the time to sit down at the kitchen island. My eyes scanned through the header, down past my name and address. The moment I saw the words ‘We graciously welcome you,' my heart burst into excitement. So much that hiding it wouldn't have been possible. However, the minute I glanced over into Gray's face, I noticed his expression didn't match mine.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He shook his head with a shrug. "I didn't get in."

The fire in me quickly diminished. At that moment, I felt so bad for him.

"Well, open the other envelope," I said, raising his hand which held it.

I watched Grayson tear the envelope from the Northeastern University Architecture program. Anxiety rushed through me while he unfolded the page. And within a split-second, I saw his mouth contort into another frown. Not that I wanted him to receive a rejection from them, I didn't. But if he hadn't been welcomed to attend NYU with me, it would mean he'd not be following his dream of being an architect this year. Or he'd be forced to move to Boston.

"Nooooo," I gasped. "You didn't get in there either?"

He clicked his tongue. "I did," he replied depressingly. Someone could have assumed his dog just died with that facial expression. "But?—"

My fear had just become our new reality. We weren't expecting the essay I helped him write to do much good, because we sent it so close to the deadline. With that inclination, over the past few weeks, we've been planning our lives around both of us attending NYU this fall.

I held my hand up to his shoulder, leaning my forehead into his. "But that means we either both don't get to do what we want—and we wind up in Boston—or?—"

Grayson shook his head intently. "No—Momo!" He exclaimed. "You're not?—"

I interrupted him. "No, my plans can wait," I replied.

The fact is, I don't want to wait. I didn't run away from my family, never to speak with them again, just to follow him here and not do anything about my own future. But I love this boy so much, being miles apart for four years could threaten the entire foundation of our relationship. And I don't want that either.

"No they can't wait," he bit back insistently. "We wouldn't be apart every single day," he said, gripping my wrist. "I'd come home every weekend and holiday."

I walked away from him with a bowed head to my chest. "No, we can't do that," I replied.

He stepped up to me from the entryway. "It's only what, four hours away?" he questioned, seeming unsure himself.

I didn't know the exact distance, but even one hour would be too far. In the moment, and still as I write this, I'm torn at the decision ahead of us. I really want to follow my aspiration of being a famous author. But how can I possibly be selfish at the cost of losing the greatness we have between us? Next to mamá, Grayson Carey Welles is the least selfish person I know in this entire world. I insist he take advantage of this scholarship opportunity. If I don't, I'm not sure I could live with myself.

I looked out the full-length kitchen window, five stories above a street with dozens of people who were probably hurrying home from work. There was a man about to enter the crosswalk, carrying a long tube. He'd possibly been an architect himself. Was this a sign? The palm of my hand touched the glass as I felt a gnawing pain radiate from my heart. Within a second, I turned my head to see Grayson approaching me from behind with his arms stretched out. He rested his chin on my left shoulder.

I swiped at the tear falling from my right eye. "I don't know how far of a drive it is—Grayson," I admitted. "But even fifty miles between us would be forty-nine too many if it meant us being apart."

"Or I can wait to go until next year or something," he said low into my ear.

I turned around to shimmy from his grasp. "No, we're going to Boston together," I said over my shoulder as I stepped through the living room towards our bedroom.

"No—Julian," Grayson replied hotly. "You're going to NYU this fall, and you're gonna be the best fuckin' writer to roam this Earth," he shouted in my direction.

I shut the door behind me once I crossed the boundary separating our room and the hallway. I could hear his footsteps get closer while more tears spewed from my eyes. I didn't want to be the one keeping him away from a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Something which would save him thousands of dollars. And I wasn't going to entertain the thought of distance separating us for even one semester, let alone seven more. I wiped another stream of tears from my eyes. As soon as I heard the metal band of his watch rustling against the doorknob, I yelled back at him.

"Go away!" I hollered over my shoulder. "I need a minute, alright?"

Grayson didn't bother respecting my privacy, entering the room anyway. He's nothing if not incredibly stubborn. I turned around quickly, piping up yet again.

"I said?—"

Gray grabbed my neck, yanking me into his arms while he licked around the edges of my mouth. In the heat of the moment, my mind forgot all about Boston. Or NYU. Fuck me if the world didn't stop turning itself. All that mattered was surrendering every ounce of my passion to him and his yearn for affection. Since Alex and Miles left town before I got home that day, we had the entire apartment to ourselves.

I slid the violet polo shirt over my head, freeing my arms while working on my black Dockers. Grayson tossed his work apron over his shoulder before stripping from a pinstripe shirt and slacks. We both removed our underwear before he pushed me backwards to our bed. His tongue found its way from my mouth, and down my chest, before stopping at my exposed cock. It had been growing bigger by the second.

The motion of his tongue swirled around the tip of it, causing me to moan while electric-like sensations shot up and down my spine.

"Oh fuck, Grayson," I muttered. "Don't stop."

His head bobbed up and down over my excited dick, while my trimmed nails dug into the back of his neck. I grunted in short intervals as the motion of his mouth picked up the pace, getting more and more intense as each moment passed by. Within a minute, maybe two, he climbed the bed. Grayson straddled me at the waist while positioning my aching cock between his ass cheeks. It slid inside his hole with moderate ease.

"Oh goddamn, Momo," he shrieked. "Buck faster!"

At his instruction, I thrusted my hips faster and harder. This led to a moan escaping my lips every few seconds. His ass felt so good. As if he'd been preparing for it all day at work. He pumped his erect dick with as much force as my own which plunged deeper into his hole. I pulled my head back into the pillows when I felt a rushing euphoria tingling in my groin. My hands squeezed the sides of Grayson's waist as tight as they possibly could.

After another repetition or two, my cum shot inside him as I let out a loud scream. We hadn't had sex in a few days, so the major relief felt so amazing. I let out a huge sigh of relief. After he realized the floodgates of my cock had burst open, he dismounted from my waist while a river of white rained from his ass, smearing all over my abdomen. Grayson stroked his dick faster, looking straight into my satisfied gaze. His bottom lip curled between his teeth while a fleck of light sparkled from his deep brown eyes. Within a moment, streams of his cum landed on my stomach, all the way up to my Adam's apple.

He lurched his upper body toward me so that our bare chests rubbed against each other. His tongue licked the drops of his sweet release from my neck, before hovering above me with his lips locked with mine. I could taste subtle hints of the pineapple we shared that morning for breakfast as the flavor crept its way down my throat. Grayson grinned, running his fingers through my hair.

"We're staying here in New York," he said insistently.

I didn't reply. I couldn't. He slid his body next to mine and we spooned each other. His arms wrapped around me for what seemed like two hours, while a late summer storm thundered down on the streets of NoHo. I glanced out to the dreary sky as tears glided down my cheeks in the same likeness of the raindrops streaming down our bedroom window. All I could do was gag at the thought of him forcing me to let him make the biggest mistake of his life. There's no way I'll accept that solution.