Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

VIC DIDN’Teven hesitate when Kyle asked him the next day, at the end of another lunch break rendezvous.

“I’d love to hang out with you. I usually close the booth down around six. Is that good for you?”

Kyle felt stunned. He hadn’t expected it to go this well. Of course, neither of them said it was a date. Kyle wasn’t quite ready for that, to call it what it most probably was. “I was thinking we could go ice-skating. I haven’t really gone—” With someone. “I—I haven’t really gone in a while.”

Kyle had Vic’s e-mail but had taken to updating Vic in person, just for the excuse to come see him. He even brought his camera to take updated pictures of Vic and his scarves. His mouth was dry when he asked—he found himself nearly coughing through the suggestion. Hey, I don’t suppose you’d want to hang out tomorrow in a nonprofessional capacity, would you? I generally have weekends off.

Did he really use the words ‘nonprofessional capacity’ to ask a cute guy to hang out? Wes was right, he did need to get out more.

“Me neither,” Vic confirmed. “Not a lot of ice rinks out in the southwest. It’s not what you’d call the figure-skating capital of the world. I’m probably pretty rusty.”

“Well, Saturday will get you all ready for next winter, then.” Kyle said.

Kyle was shocked to see Vic visibly falter. He always wore a cheerfully suave countenance, but in the rare moments he was caught by surprise, it left his expressive face completely unguarded. Kyle was never great at reading expressions, but it was something tense. Anxiety? Embarrassment? Shame, maybe?

Kyle frowned. “Is something wrong? We can do something else if you’re worried about falling or anything.”

Vic almost recovered his easy-going countenance. Almost. “Ah, it’s just a me thing, to be honest.”

Kyle’s frown deepened. “Tell me.”

“It’s….” Vic hesitated. “I never really know where I’m going to be from year to year. I mean, there’s no guarantee I’ll be gone, but making plans a year out isn’t really how I roll.”

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows. It didn’t seem like a rebuff; Vic had accepted his invitation to hang out readily enough. He didn’t apologize, but it was clear in his eyes. “Why… is that?” Kyle finally asked, leaning on the table with one hand. “I know you’ve moved a lot, but….”

Vic gave a flourished wave in the air, avoiding looking Kyle in the eyes. “Chasing the muse, I guess.” He smiled lightly. “I’m an artist. Not all who wander are lost, and all that.”

“Tolkien.” It was a game they played, to identify the origin of whatever quote they used. Kyle’s guess was an automatic response.

“That’s right.” Vic winked at him. “I live in the moment.”

Kyle nodded slowly. “You could always keep visiting for the holidays. Your sister’s here, isn’t she?”

“Oh yeah, of course.”

Maybe it would be better that way, in the long run. Kyle couldn’t say he was surprised. Vic’s existence struck him as something gauzy, circumstantial, like a trick of the light instead of a flesh and bone human being. It seemed absurd for Kyle to expect him to ever stay in one place.

As if hearing his thoughts, a strong gust of wind blew across the market. Kyle flipped his collar up as another layer against the cold. “I think that’s my cue,” he said.

Vic nodded and waved at him before bracing the side of his tent against the wind. Vic Burgess, Kyle realized, was not the sun—rising and setting in a predictable path, something everyone could see day after day. Vic was a rainbow, a meteor shower, an aurora borealis. Something people would pause and stare at, happy to bask in the glow for as long as it lasted.

Besides, there was no reason to even consider future plans.

Like Vic said, sometimes it was good to just live in the moment.

“SHOULD I BUYa chaise so you can lounge on it like a melancholic Percy Shelley?” Valerie asked.

Vic had sprawled himself out on his sister’s armchair, resting his head in his palm. He’d gotten dressed some time ago in a white turtleneck, black blazer, and sharp black trousers. He’d showered, put product in his hair, even splashed on a little aftershave.

He’d been so over-eager that he was in danger of being too early for work.

“I’m not melancholy,” he corrected her. “Contemplative maybe. Or wistful, I guess.”

Valerie rolled her eyes as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. She was usually up at this time for her own job, which offered a steadier income than Vic’s own—not that she was ever the type to hold that against him. “What hath made thee full of wist, dear sir?” she asked teasingly.

Vic inspected his nails for imperfections, as if he hadn’t already buffed them that morning. “I guess I think I maybe like someone,” he muttered.

Valerie feigned a gasp and crouched next to her younger brother, laying her palm over his forehead. “Geez, Vic, why didn’t you tell me? Is it terminal? How many limbs must we amputate to save you from this terrible, terminal condition?”

Vic tried not to smile. It wasn’t working. “Okay, enough.”

“Shhh, shhh….” Valerie hissed theatrically. “Please, at least tell me where you buried the treasure while you can still muster the strength.”

“Oh, for crying out loud….” He swatted at her. “Cut it out.”

“Well, that’s what you made it sound like.” Valerie said, laughing as she stood up. “Like, sorry you caught feelings for one of your hook-ups. Worse things have happened, baby bro.”

Vic sighed. “He’s not even a hook-up, Val. He’s this cute guy. No, that’s not right. Handsome, really. And manly without being a jerk—kinda gives me museum guide vibes. Literally the definition of charming. A gentle-man in every sense. He makes a lame joke or quotes an author we both love or prattles on about how to build a website, and now I’m in deep doo-doo.” He groaned, pushing his palms into his eyes. “I’ve sworn off dating. I’m happier if I don’t even know their name. Now I know this guy’s first and last name and he wants to hang out tonight. I know the names of his kids, for crying out loud.”

Both of Valerie’s dark auburn eyebrows shot up. “No way!” she exclaimed, clearly delighted at the gossip. “You’ve got it bad for a DILF?”

“Valerie, if you love me, you will never say ‘DILF’ out loud again.” He sat up, running his hands through his hair. “I really, really tried not to get attached to anyone here. Why wasn’t I born stoic instead of so darned handsome?” he joked feebly, burying his face in his hands.

He was being dramatic. He knew he was. But it was ridiculous how quickly Kyle had gotten under his skin. Ever since the day they’d eaten lobster rolls together, he’d found himself scanning the crowd to try to find that lanky shape topped by that dark, wavy hair. He looked at Vic with those blue-green eyes like he was the reason snow shimmered.

Valerie sat next to him. “I mean, you can always move again. Maybe this time, fake your own death and change your name.”

“You’re talking like that’s not in the cards.” Vic shook his head. “I dunno, Val. Part of me wants to just see where it goes, another part of me knows I’m looking into the gorgeous eyes of my next ex.”

Valerie put her arm around him, rubbing his shoulders and pulling him close. “I get that you’ve had a rough time in that area, but you can’t be afraid the rest of your life.” She took a more serious tone. “You love hard. You can’t help it. But anyone you end up with would be lucky to have you.”

Vic could feel his expression softening, but he did his best to maintain his scowl. “You’re just buttering me up.”

“You don’t contribute enough to rent for me to have an ulterior motive, Vic.”

Vic laughed, finally cracking. His sister could always make him laugh. Their entire family bond was just constantly making fun of each other.

Valerie stood, slinging her bag across her shoulder. “I gotta go. They’ve got me on a double tonight. But hey, promise me you at least won’t fake your own death, okay?”

Vic pretended to ponder that, crossing his legs and rubbing at his chin. “It depends.”

The clacking jangle of his sister’s keys made a noise Vic could swear sounded derisive. “On what?” Valerie asked sharply.

Vic smiled. “On whether or not I ever have to hear my sister use the word ‘DILF’ again.”

IT WASamazing how slowly noon crawled by without a sign of Kyle.

Vic knew fully well that Kyle would show up in the early evening instead, but he’d grown so accustomed to seeing him around lunchtime that he’d practically Pavlov’d himself.

Clouds scudded across the morning sky, as if the world was less bright without Kyle’s observations or meandering encouragements. Why bother eating lunch without Kyle’s easy, brilliant presence filling the air like music?

Toward the end of the day, he heard Gloria chortling in her booth beside him. Today, she wore a creamy pink wig teased into a cotton-candy beehive studded with tiny iridescent snowflakes.

He frowned at her. “What?”

“Every time someone walks up who isn’t your man, you look disappointed. That girl was getting your information to make her a whole shawl, but you just have one thing on your mind. It’s funny to see, honey.” She smiled. “I remember being like that.”

Vic couldn’t decide how to take that last line. It seemed vaguely ominous: I remember being that infatuated. Boy, did I learn the hard way.

“He’s not ‘my man’,” he muttered.

His expression must have been a window into his insecurity.

“Psh! It’s not a bad thing.” Gloria said. “Why, I didn’t think anything could fluster you, Sunshine.”

Vic felt his ears redden, adding to his sense of heat. Today was what New Englanders would call warm, meaning it had reached a few degrees above freezing. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the clouds in rosy gold. Vic loved the texture of the clouds when they were like this—so wispy yet thick, like a down blanket. He took a deep breath, sliding his hands into the pocket of his blazer.

It seemed like even the sky was glowing in approval.

“Wow.”

Vic turned as Kyle approached. As usual, he wore his long wool coat and that fateful scarf. Only this time he had a pair of skates tied together and slung over his shoulder. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes wide as if he’d spotted a falling star and caught it in his hand.

Vic didn’t consider himself to have armor. He didn’t so much shield himself as he sidestepped, dodged, ran away. But the look Kyle gave him, his eyes bright with wonder and joy, cut through his every defense, raising goosebumps. He breathed out in a long, slow exhale.

He felt as if he were being seen for the very first time.

“Don’t move.” Kyle smiled sheepishly as Vic’s eyes flickered toward the phone in his hand. “If you don’t mind…,” he called, loudly enough for Vic to hear him from ten feet away. “If you hold that pose, it’ll be perfect for the website.”

Vic smiled. He looked back up at the sky, letting the rose-gold light wash over him. If Kyle were anyone else, Vic would have fretted over getting the right angle, would have insisted he just take a selfie, because he’d know best how to make himself look good.

But Kyle wasn’t anyone else.