Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Luke

The mixing scents of hardcover books, ink on paper, leather, coffee, musk, and wooden bookcases was a loving hug to a tired soul. It was almost enough to balance out the anxiety that had plagued me for days.

The Book Nook was just one of the countless bookstores in the area. Nestled on James Street in a redbrick building and spanning two snug floors, it specialized in fantastical and escapist reads across various media. It was famous for its vast list of author events, welcoming fresh talent and old masters alike. From the table piled up with my Elysian Nights graphic novels, prints, key chains, stickers, and a steaming cup of hot tea, I had a wonderful view of the White Lion across the street.

Covent Garden's historic buildings dotted along narrow streets surrounded me in all directions, but I didn't have much time to enjoy them or the pub across the street. So I settled for enjoying the tea instead. Readers I couldn't believe had touched my books, let alone read them, and bothered to leave their homes on a freezing January afternoon to meet me, filled the Book Nook's ground floor. It was twice a blessing; once because I had expected this signing to end up with me all alone, crying over a pile of books nobody wanted, and again because they distracted me from the fact that my heart clenched at the twist of fate. I was in London; Rafael was in Stockholm.

I was contemplating putting together a random meet and greet after the signing in the four hours I had before I needed to head to the airport, but the thought faded. Nobody wants to hang out with you just because you wrote this thing , a voice reminded me. So I signed books, took photos, and wondered if all these wonderful people made a mistake when they showed up here. Maybe they were in the wrong Book Nook. Maybe there was another where an actual artist with a real following was signing. Maybe all these people realized their mistake later, only to be forever disappointed about meeting me instead of their real hero.

My head was down as I signed a copy for Molly, who must have been extra mistaken between me and the popular author because she was also wearing a black T-shirt with my heroes printed in intricate linework all across her front.

"Javi kept me sane through my breakup," Molly confided.

I couldn't hold back my smile. "To tell you the truth, Javi kept me sane through the last year and a half, too." I closed the hardcover edition of the first six volumes of my urban fantasy and handed it to Molly. "Thank you for showing up today."

"Are you pulling my leg? I wouldn't have missed it for the world," Molly said. As she thanked me for the signature and conversation—neither of which cost me anything at all and were easily an infinitely greater pleasure to me than Molly could have imagined—my gaze flicked to the door, where the bell announced someone was entering. "Could I bother you for a photo if that's not too much to ask?" Molly's voice pulled my attention back to her, and I quickly got my pose ready for her as she came around the table. Molly's friend took photos of us with the front of the bookstore in the background and my table safely behind me in case I fainted with excitement. Real people were taking real photos with me . I would have said it was a dream come true, but I had never dared to dream about this.

"Thank you," Molly said, practically squeaking by the end as she and her friend laughed excitedly. "Thank you so much. And sorry for keeping you. Look at that line!"

Behind me and my table, the next reader waiting for me spoke. "Oh, gosh, golly, Mr. Whitaker. I can't believe I get to meet you."

A smile spilled across my face before my brain knew what had happened. My heart recognized him first, and it leaped in my chest so much that I nearly lost my footing. As I turned around, my gaze found him. Rafael pulled a blue-and-brown beanie off his head. His hair was cropped short on the sides and a little longer on top than the last time I had seen him. The last time…

That had been in August, during the worst week of my life.

Rafael wore a black coat that made him look more elegant than he had any right to be. His smile was enough to break your heart, except when it was solely for you. Then, it could mend a broken arm.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered because the alternative was to squeal with joy.

We both moved to the end of the table and paused when he was inches away from me. Gazing down at me, he smiled so broadly that it looked about ready to split his face. "Now, do you really think I'd let you visit London without securing a local guide?"

In an instant, I found myself in his arms, my face buried in the crook of his neck and his lips on the top of my head. He inhaled deeply and let out a happy sigh.

"I had no idea," I said.

"Neither did I," Rafael admitted. As we parted, my expression nudged him to elaborate. "I wasn't lying. I was in Stockholm. Then, last night, I couldn't fall asleep. I knew you were in London for the first time in years, and I just couldn't miss the opportunity. I landed here two hours ago. And no, I did not shower yet, so be kind."

"Excuse me," Molly said. She was doe-eyed and blushing, her gaze on Rafael. "I'm so sorry, but you look exactly like Javi. "

Rafael glanced at me with a devilish grin and looked back at Molly. "I believe I do. Wanna take photos?"

"Oh dear God, yes. Please." Molly pulled out her camera and handed it to her friend, then wrapped her arms around Rafael, who did look like Javi from certain angles—and by certain, I meant all angles—so tightly that Rafael couldn't breathe. Instead of jealousy, I felt camaraderie with this girl. She and I had the same instinct when we saw Rafael.

When we took more photos than time allowed, I had to return to my table, but Rafael lingered for a moment longer. "I'm not leaving without a signature, by the way."

"Then you're not getting one. Ever," I said.

He chuckled. "When do you leave?"

"Why do we always have to talk about departure?" I asked, greeting another reader in the line and signing his copy of Elysian Nights .

"So soon?" Rafael asked in a slightly disappointed tone. He recovered quickly. "That's alright. I can sit here and watch your first-ever book signing."

I nodded. "My return flight is tonight. But…" I thanked the reader and met the next one. "I'm off in an hour."

"An hour? Hmm." Rafael opened a hardcover edition of my graphic novel and looked at the full-page illustration of a character who looked far too much like him. There was a cocky smirk on Rafael's lips. "Sign me a copy, Luke, and I'll meet you here in an hour."

"Where are you going?" I asked. When we had so few hours, one was too much to lose .

"I really do need that shower," Rafael said, sniffing himself and making a comically displeased face.

The hour that followed felt like the longest time ever. The disbelief over his surprise appearance kept me fluttery and restless when the ticking clock slowed down to a grueling grind.

Rafael waited for me in front of the White Lion, wearing the same black coat but paired with a dark green scarf and dark olive pants. His shirt was as black as his coat, and his light brown and black sneakers were a perfect match for an outfit that made my heart speed up. He'd put a bit of clay into his hair to give it texture and make it stay in place. With his hands in his pockets and the coat spread out, Rafael had his unique swagger on even when he was standing still. "Do you have it?" he asked playfully.

I lifted a paper bag with The Book Nook forming an arch in dark brown lettering containing the hardcover copy of Elysian Nights I had signed for him. As if he needed my signed copy of anything. He had my heart; what use were my drawings and words compared to that?

Rafael accepted the bag from me with a polite smile. "And what do I owe you for that?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Will you get in trouble?" I asked.

"Nah," he said. "It's all sorted. I've done most of the work. Andrew will finish the rest. He, uh…knows why I had to return quickly."

I didn't ask. Perhaps I should have. To hear him say something like, "You're all that matters in the whole wide world, Luke," would have taken me to the Moon and back. But I feared his answer would be less than that. If I heard one more "you needed me," I would scream. Lucy had been pouring those over me for the past five months.

"How are you, Luke?" he asked. "Truly."

We had phoned, of course. We phoned every week, sometimes for ten minutes, sometimes for an hour, sometimes until dawn found me awake and still sketching with the sound of Rafael's voice giving me inspiration. But he hadn't asked me this face-to-face since the day he left New York City in search of the hidden gems in Istanbul.

"I've missed you," I admitted, seeing no reason to lie and no way to hide the truth.

Rafael wrapped himself around me as if he were my home deep in the woods in the dead of winter. He warmed me simply by being. "I've missed you, too, Luke." The hug went on, and I didn't protest. It wouldn't have bothered me if planes took off and seasons changed before he released me. I wouldn't have minded if oceans boiled and mountains flattened before pulling away.

But we did pull away before all that. And Rafael looked into my eyes. "How long, then?"

I looked at my wristwatch, the last birthday gift from my mother, just last summer. "Uh, two and a half, three hours at best."

"Mm. Plenty of time," Rafael said. He waved at a black cab, which pulled up a moment later. "Come. It's my turn to show you things. "

I would follow you to the edge of the world and leap over it for a promise that the fall with you would never end. I entered the cab after Rafael.

Rafael gave our driver the address, and we were on our way. I gazed out at the city around me, winter clouds filtering the last of the sunlight until the evening arrived, and the festive lights brought a wave of people to the streets.

We didn't have enough time to stroll down the narrow streets of Covent Garden. If we sat for a round in the White Lion, I would leave for the airport before my glass was empty. And all I really wanted was a warm room and Rafael's face in front of mine. I wanted to search for the ways his face had changed over the years. When silence came, I wanted to run my fingertips over his lips, feel that tiny knot in his perfect nose, and memorize him as he was today.

We used every minute we had. The ride to the destination he used was as good a time as any to catch up. I told him about Lucy and Tony moving in together, and I fought hard to keep the sliver of benign envy out of my voice. I was happy for my sister. Just because it was impossible for me to even hope for such a thing, it didn't mean I couldn't celebrate her wins. I had to remind myself of that every so often.

The car pulled up next to a three-story building in Camden Town on the corner of Arlington and Jamestown Roads. All brick and mortar, it was as enchanting as any corner of this place.

"Here we are," Rafael said as the car drove away and we stood on the street corner. He gestured with his head, a secretive smile on his face. The mystery would have been enough to rope me in without Rafael being the most beautiful person I had ever come across. But as it was, I found myself twice compelled.

"Is this where you live?" I asked.

His eyebrows wiggled playfully. "Yup."

My heart rose high in my chest, and the butterflies in my stomach were huge. In all the time and space, there was nowhere I wanted to be more than where I stood right now. Rafael turned on his heels and walked through the front door on Arlington Road, just next to the ground-floor bar. We climbed the stairs, me trailing behind, savoring the sea breeze and pine forest scents of Rafael's cologne. And when we reached his landing, Rafael unlocked the dark brown door to let us in.

The apartment was spacious but cluttered with a maximalist dream of items. From the very hallway, I could see what Rafael was doing in antiquity shops and flea markets. He'd told me about the visits, but I hadn't realized just how much he was hauling back to his place.

From a rustic shoe cabinet to a wood-carved bowl for keys and random items to the wrought-iron frame around a big, round mirror, the hallway alone set up my expectations. The rest of his apartment was no less interesting or reminiscent of mine. A kitchen and dining room combo was snug, visible from the hallway, their surfaces full of vintage jars containing a million kinds of herbal teas, and a dish rack mounted to the wall had pans of all sizes hanging like in a kitchen of some Victorian mansion. To my right was the cozy living room with two sofas along the walls, each containing a mountain range of pillows of all sizes, shapes, colors, and materials. Pillows were scattered on the floor around a large wooden chest that doubled as a coffee table. An impressive chestnut desk sat under three connected windows, and plants cluttered the windowsill as well as the corners on either side of the desk. Yet the best thing of all was his incredible bookcase. Pushed against the wall to the right, it looked like the heaviest thing in this place, with shelves holding countless books.

"You cheat," I accused him, grabbing the first thing I noticed. " Le Père Goriot is in your personal library."

Rafael threw his head back and laughed out loud. "As are War and Peace , The Idiot , Anna Karenina , Les Misérables , and every classic that tickles your ego."

I shot him a warning look, but he only laughed harder.

"You know I read them," he said. "I'm just not the biggest fan."

I put back Le Père Goriot and crossed my arms as I watched him unpack my hardcover of Elysian Nights . He examined it carefully, opened the first page to look at my signature, read the note to himself with a glint in his eyes, and put the book on the coffee table next to my old sketchbook I had given to him a long time ago. "You still have that?" I asked.

"I said I would give it back someday," Rafael replied. "But not today."

I shook my head. I didn't want it yet. He was welcome to give it back on the day he moved in with me.

My heart sank a little.

But for as long as the sketchbook was with him, there was a promise of the next time.

"Darling Luke," he whispered, lifting his gaze from the book and sketchbook to meet mine. And when he looked at me, urgency washed over him. "Hold on." He disappeared from the living room and into the closed room next to his kitchen. When he returned, he had a vintage camera in his hands. "Stay like that." With a whisper, he commanded me, and I obeyed. I still couldn't process the first two words he had said. They had sent tingles through my entire body. The heat was rising through my torso and into my face.

Rafael looked through the camera and moved around me. He leaned left and right until I heard a click of the button and the snap of the shutter. The camera was an old Polaroid, not one of the trendy new ones, and the square picture came out with a slow buzz. Rafael didn't pause. He pulled the image out and snapped another shot. "Perfect," he said, holding both images and waving them through the air until my face began to melt into existence on the Polaroid paper.

They were nearly identical, and Rafael measured them one against the other.

The images were ever so slightly hazy with the dim lights in the living room, but my golden hair glowed with a halo around my head from the soft overhead light. The background was almost completely dark and out of focus, yet my face was crisp and defined. My cheekbones, my eyes, my lips, they were all nearly perfect. Is this how you see me? I wondered. I was far more beautiful in these images than the person I saw in the mirror.

With a satisfied smile, Rafael handed me one of the photos. "This is for you. The day of your very first signing." And the other one he pinned to the bookcase between a shelf containing the literary classics I had obsessed over when we had first met and the shelf with his favorite fantasy novels.

"Thank you," I said, wondering how I had gotten to my first book signing when finding words was so difficult at times like these.

"Let's celebrate your success," Rafael said in a tone that allowed no debate. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of red wine. We sat on the sofa opposite the bookcase, and Rafael poured us each a glass of wine. "Because that's what it is—a huge success," he reminded me. It was hard to argue with him when he read all my thoughts before I spoke them, and he countered them before I could inhale.

"It feels more than a little strange," I admitted.

"It feels like only yesterday you were wrinkling your nose at fantasy books," he teased.

"What did I know? I was barely older than a kid." We shared a laugh and drank a bit of wine. Rafael checked his wristwatch and licked his lips. "I wish you were here longer."

"What would we do?" I asked, sinking into the pillows around me and closing my eyes when he hummed thoughtfully .

"We would start early in the morning with a rented car," Rafael said. He softened his tone and spoke to me as if it was happening right at this moment. "I'm taking us south to Portsmouth to visit Charles Dickens' birthplace. We spend two hours there, have lunch in Southampton, and get to Bath in time to visit the Jane Austen Center. We have a crazy romantic night in Bath—as old friends do—before we start for Dorset and I show you Thomas Hardy's cottage. We have a long day just to ourselves, and we eat every flavor of ice cream we can find. It's summer, by the way. Humor me."

"It's summer," I agree. "Then what?"

"Mm. We start early next morning because we're early risers. We have a long way to go to Stratford-upon-Avon to visit Shakespeare's birthplace. Later, we head to West Yorkshire, so we have to stop for coffee and snacks. We play car games mile after green mile as we go deep inland and finally reach the Bront? Parsonage Museum. I'm taking you to Devon to see Agatha Christie's Greenway Estate, but we take a detour to Rodwell, where we visit Virginia Wolf's Monk's House. And only then, after I've taken you up and down and left and right, are you allowed to leave." With each word, I sensed him nearer. And when he said those last few words, his heated breath washed over my ear and cheek.

I opened my eyes. If we couldn't do these things, then I got the next best thing. I looked at him as though he had taken me all around the world, and I couldn't contain the smile that spilled across my face. "That was wonderful. "

"I have a surprise. An idea, actually. News. It's new." It wasn't like him to stammer and stumble over words. My heart ached with fear. Had he gotten a permanent position working for some Shanghai magazine? Was he joining an Arctic expedition? Was he headed to colonize Mars? "I'm getting a promotion," he said.

I didn't know what that meant. It was wonderful on its own, but why was it an idea? Before I could say anything, he continued.

"So I negotiated more trips to the States instead of being sent from one continent to the other all the time," Rafael explained.

"What? But you love hopping around," I said.

He rolled his shoulders as if everything made perfect sense. "I'd rather come to New York more often if it's up to me."

"You would?" Of course, it was his city before his parents moved him here. Did I dare hope I was part of the equation?

As if to answer my unspoken question, Rafael threaded his fingers with mine and looked into my eyes. "Luke, I wanna see you more often," he said. "I can't keep doing it like this, wondering where you are, what you're up to, if you're alright."

We'd always known that a long-distance relationship wasn't a great choice. I'd never been in a relationship at all, and having a boyfriend across the ocean was a recipe for disaster. Would I be a jealous type? Would he? Those were the things neither of us wanted to find out.

We'd talked about what we were more times than I could count. And always, we agreed we were a thing of our own. Rafael reminded me of that. "I know we said we didn't fit any of the labels, but sometimes I'm afraid that if we keep it like that, we'll just be nothing at all."

I squeezed his hand in reply. His words were exactly what had been on my mind for too long. It was too easy to let myself hope we could do more. If he dangled a carrot in front of me, even for a moment, I would go for it.

"You've no idea how much I've missed you," he said.

I bit my lip and sniffed. "As much as I missed you, maybe."

Rafael nodded. "Then we should be happy about this, right? I'll get to see you way more often. It's not ideal, but it's better than this, whatever this is."

I was sick of this . I spent my days acting like my life was all put together and nothing needed changing, but the truth was, I longed to see him and never dared to tell him that. What would be the point?

Rafael scooched closer. His cologne was enough to convince me everything would be alright. His words were like a ripe cherry on top of a delicious chocolate ice cream.

"We can figure out the details later," Rafael said. "But I'll be coming and going a helluva lot more often than once every leap year."

A chuckle rose from me, timid, guarded. My reluctance to surrender myself to this fantasy made me feel silly. The wants had been rooted deep in my heart years ago, but it had never worked out in the past. "Do you really think that'll work?"

"I do," Rafael said firmly. "I'll make it work. "

"And we're going to be…" I didn't have the courage to say the word aloud. It was too big, too foreign, too incomprehensible after a lifetime of reminders that it couldn't be.

"Not friends," Rafael said in a tone that hinted at teasing, but he couldn't hide the razor's thinness of fearful anticipation. He turned my hand around, palm up, and brought it closer to his face. Slowly, he examined it as if he could read a bright and wonderful future from the lines. After a moment, he lifted his gaze to meet mine. Brave , I thought. This is your brave face . "Be my boyfriend, Luke." He must have confused my moment of stunned silence for reluctance, so he hurried to speak before I could dismantle his dreams. "We've had years to test it out. I never asked, and I didn't complain, but I can't keep going like this. I want you to be mine. Nobody else's."

A laugh erupted from me, uncontrolled. "Do you think I had someone else?"

Rafael blinked in surprise. "Um…yes?"

I shook my head slowly, swapping places of our hands to hold his palm up and run my fingers over it.

"Nobody?" he asked.

I had always made it a rule for myself never to ask him if he was seeing someone else. When I had no way to offer a bargain, I couldn't demand anything. When our future seemed impossible, I forced myself to block all thoughts of who Rafael was seeing and what he was doing.

"Luke," he whispered.

Was that pity? I could strangle him. I snatched my hand away from his and tucked both under my armpits. "I didn't like anyone enough," I explained in a voice cooler than was necessary. If we needed to spill the stories of what we had been up to since Paris, so be it. But I wasn't going to be happy about hearing of his relationships, even if he had only ever been my friend. "That was my first kiss in Kufstein," I said, voice tightening. "And after that…I dunno. Nobody attracted me after that." Or before , I thought without telling him. It was in a park in Paris on a warm summer night that my heart had left my body and changed its owned. "I told you. I don't have time for…"

"That's not true," Rafael said in a low, airy tone. "You always have time for me."

I glared at him to stomp that pity out of his heart, but what I found was a grinning beauty with wide eyes, pearly teeth, and a perfect nose gazing back at me. "What?" I asked. What did I say?" His smile stretched impossibly wide. I couldn't believe we had to put these things into words. What could I do? Admit that I had waited for him all these years despite knowing how foolish that was? "I don't care who you've been with," I said. "We never had any rules, and it never crossed my mind to ask. I don't need to know."

Rafael chuckled. "Luke…"

"It's in the past," I said.

"Luke," he interrupted again, grabbing my hand just as I relaxed my hold on myself. He pulled it with both of his and held it in his lap. "I haven't been with anyone since I left Robbie."

I glanced at the tiny white scar on his temple and the one over his eyebrow. My heart was consumed by the fire of hatred I had for that man. "Oh."

"Before I met you again in New York, I was in no place to be with anyone. And after…" He shrugged. "After, I just didn't want anyone else."

"Else?" I asked, my mouth suddenly dry, my heart hammering dangerously fast.

He caressed my hand in his lap. "Else."

He wanted me. It wasn't just a fling between friends who saw each other once every dozen lifetimes. He wanted me . And he wanted me hard enough to forget about everyone else.

He sniffed and chuckled. "I just figured that you must have gotten sick of waiting around. I never asked after New York."

"It's you," I whispered. "It's always been you."

"My Luke," he said, his gaze existing solely on me. "Waiting for me all this time."

He'd done a fair share of waiting, too.

"But you don't have to wait anymore," Rafael said. "Because I'm going to make it work. Tonight, in a month, in two. It's gonna work."

The tension felt as though we had pulled the rubber band all the way to the point of snapping. I believed him. I believed every word he said because he had never lied to me. He hadn't lied to protect my feelings, and he hadn't lied to get something from me. My whole life, Rafael had always been the center of things, the fixed point I could revolve around because nothing else was permanent.

When I could no longer hold back, I leaped forward to take what I wanted the most: Rafael. His body in my arms, his face under my lips, his scents in my nostrils. I kissed him with a blazing passion I had only ever felt when I was around him.

Rafael didn't pull back. He wasn't surprised. If anything, he had been waiting for this moment.

Every good emotion welled in me. Everything that was bright and sweet in life came to the surface. Every long winter ebbed away to let life return to the world; every cloud parted to let the rays of sunshine kiss our faces.

My lips dragged over his, parting gently to let his tongue meet mine. The warmth of his tongue mixed with his minty breath, his hand moving through the golden curls on the back of my head, his breathing soft and satisfied.

As my heart doubled its size, I felt like I could move mountains and control the weather around the world. I was so full of power and courage and wanting that I didn't know where to put them all. So when Rafael moved his arms around my torso and pulled me closer to him, I toppled like an ancient monument. I lay on top of him, and Rafael chuckled, his lips pressing against mine, moving gently this way and that.

Wherever our bodies touched, I warmed. Wherever his hands moved, I came alive.

I thrust my tongue into his mouth, not because I had any idea of what I was doing but because I was being ripped apart by the desire to do something . Anything. Anything at all so long as I was doing it with him.

My desperate need to be with him in any way and all the ways made my muscles spasm and fingers tremble. I didn't even have enough sense left in me to wonder if this was a dream. If it is, let me never wake up from it . So I kissed him softly and roughly. And the more I kissed him, the more I understood that there was no right or wrong way.

My limbs moved restlessly. I lay between Rafael's spread-out legs, my stomach pressed against his, my waist on his waist, and my lips dragging over his lips. I kissed his chin, I kissed the tip of his nose, and I kissed his neck. The last one made him shudder and dig his fingers into my back, so I kissed it again and again and again until his entire body was wiggling beneath me.

As if something impossibly larger than both of us held the strings and puppeteered my body, I found myself running my fingers through his hair, dragging my hand up the side of his ribcage, and rubbing my crotch against his. My heart lurched when I became aware of the thick bulge between his legs, and I wondered if this was how it would happen.

"Wait," Rafael gasped, his delicious neck wet under my hungry lips. "Wait."

I stopped abruptly and pulled back to look into his eyes. There was a glassy quality in his brown gaze, and his bronze cheeks were slightly darker than normal. I knew how to notice it; I had his face in my mind all the time.

"Are you okay?" I asked. My heart was tripping and stumbling between wanting more of him and fearing I had done something wrong .

"I'm in heaven," he said in that warm, airy voice. "But maybe we should…"

Wait? I could do that even if hearing that word would rip me apart just now.

"Erm…move to the bedroom?" he suggested.

I couldn't stop the grin that split my face even if I tried.

"God, you're beautiful," Rafael said, blinking as if to see whether the mirage would disappear if only he blinked fast enough. I climbed off him with a surprising sense of reluctance. Every moment I spent away from him was a moment I could never get back. But every heartbeat of touching him made up tenfold for all the wasted seconds, days, months, and years.

Rafael lifted a finger for me to wait, then disappeared into his bedroom. My anticipation only grew while I waited for him to return. And when he did, he held my hand and led me into the bedroom. There, my heart climbed into my throat, my stomach filled with butterflies, and my fingertips tingled as if I'd touched the source of life with my bare hands. The big bed with a wrought-iron frame had rose petals sprinkled all over its crisp black sheets, and every flat surface around the snug room was cluttered with candles of a million sizes, which were the source of more generous and romantic light. It was like heaven itself was beaming light into our lives. I didn't know anything as beautiful as what this man did.

Rafael turned to face me just as I closed the door behind my back.

"Wh-when did you do all this?" I asked .

Rafael laughed. "That's what you're thinking about?"

I couldn't tell him what I was thinking about truly. That part, I had to show him. But my curiosity was running wild.

"When I knew I was returning early to see you," Rafael said, "I had a friend bring some stuff in. The rose petals weren't my idea." He grinned and put his hands on my chest, closing the short distance between us. "I need you to know it's okay if you don't want to…" He gestured with his head at the bed.

"I want to," I said in a tone that was as heated as my body. I was burning up with desire that coursed through my veins. "If you want to."

Rafael's body touched mine, and his hands met on the small of my back. "But if you change your mind, that's okay."

"Rafael, you don't need to do the whole speech," I said, nearly shaking with the need to kiss him again. "I've never wanted anything more than I want this."

He laughed softly, then pulled away from me with a playful smile on his lips. "Come and get it." He fell on his back and pushed his torso up a little with his elbows sinking into the mattress.

I didn't hesitate a moment longer than I needed to. As soon as my body understood the invitation, I knelt on the bed and crawled after him.

He had been hoping to take me here as early as this morning. He had been planning this, planning to tell me he would fly to New York more often, planning to ask me to be his boyfriend. I wanted to kiss him so much that he would drown in my affection. I wanted to hold him so tightly that he could never make a mistake thinking he wasn't my everything.

When we kissed, supernovas seemed dim and underwhelming in comparison. When he let out a soft moan under my weight, the finest symphonies were the screeching of an untuned orchestra. And when he touched the back of my neck to hold me closer, every hug in the history of the world died in shame because they couldn't live up to the tenderness with which he held me.

In a flurry of moments so incredible that my mind could never do them justice and memorize them properly, we moved from soft to playful to passionate. Haste entered the mix when holding back became too much. My pounding heart and my heaving breaths and my trembling fingers seemed like things happening to someone else.

Rafael pulled out the shirt from my pants, and we rolled around on the bed. He climbed on top of me in something that could have been as ridiculous as some silly game but felt like the highest form of intimacy with him. When we weren't ashamed of acting on the most basic impulse, nothing was silly anymore.

He sat on my hard bulge and bit his lower lip seductively, his slender fingers running down over my buttons, undoing them one after the other, revealing my creamy skin and the hints of muscles.

He never saw me without my clothes , I thought. It seemed wrong that I had been fantasizing about this for years and that we had never done more than kiss. Yet it also seemed perfectly right for each of the moments we had shared in the past. Had they gone in any different direction, tonight would not be the night of my greatest pleasure and highest passion. I wouldn't change a thing. I would give up my years of pining only to have this be a distant memory.

Rafael moved lower down my legs and nudged me to sit up. As I did that, I shrugged the shirt over my shoulders and let him pull it down my arms. When it was off, I kissed him again and again and again, daring him and teasing him. My fingers found the top button of his shirt, and I slowly undid it, pulling my head back so I could see the inches of his flesh appear from under the fabric. One by one by one, I popped his buttons, my body heating up with each, my pulse quickening beyond belief. I gazed at his fine body. The definition of his muscles made me want to laugh and weep and go mad with desire. I had always known that Rafael possessed this steellike slenderness. I had always known that his body was bound to be as perfect as his face and as his soul.

When I undressed him, I needed a minute to rein in my soul and bring it back into my body. It was leaping from me wildly, getting away, and flying high. Every line of his body, every ridge between his muscles, every single dark hair of his happy trail and under his arms were perfect just the way they were. On the left side of his ribcage, a shade darker brown birthmark looked like a melting heart. I ran my fingers over it, his skin smooth and warm.

Rafael lowered his head and planted a kiss on my lips when I looked up. With it, he pushed me flat on my back. As he lay over me, our torsos met full on, skin on warm skin, muscles on muscles. I could have sworn I felt his heart beating over mine.

His soft kisses grew bigger and brighter. Now, they were careful, now wet, and now messy. I took them all from his lips and returned the favor twice again. And when we rolled around one more time, I trapped him under my body.

Maybe I didn't have the experience of the real world, but I had the crystal-clear desire to do all these things slowly, carefully, and smoothly. I would let our bodies dictate the flow just like the river decided where its bed would be, ebbing and flowing and finding the right path when it needed it.

Rafael wrapped his legs around my waist as I buried my face in the nook of his neck. His gasps for air emboldened me; his moans gave me life. I devoured him while my hips swung back and forth, the pressure of his butt against my bulge forcing me to move, to do more, to feel it harder.

My hands moved along his torso just the way he caressed my back. And when he found my ass, he grabbed it firmly and pulled me in, forcing me to press my throbbing length hard against his butt. "Take off your pants," he whispered in heated breath.

I straightened as soon as his words registered and unbuckled my belt. Lying flat on the bed before me, Rafael did the same. He was all the world's beauty in a human body. Undressing, he gave me naughty looks, his mischief giving me the confidence to do the things I'd never done before. I fumbled with my zipper and the button before I could free myself of my pants. Then, as I dragged them down, I hopped off the bed and stepped out of them.

Rafael threw his arms above his head, stretching lazily on the bed, his pants open but still on him. Mine were forgotten on the floor somewhere as I climbed into bed with him again and hooked my fingers inside his pants. I planted a kiss on the middle of his torso and dragged my lips all the way down as I carefully pulled his pants from under his butt. My fingers brushed the soft texture of his underwear and then the skin of his upper legs, each making my heart leap and stumble.

I tore his pants down his legs as fear crawled into my heart. The further we went, the less confident I was. Doubts crept in from all corners of my imagination and rational consciousness. But seeing his light gray boxer briefs so thin and tight around his hard cock made my mouth water and assured me to just keep going. I didn't want to stop. Not a single fiber of my being wanted to stop. This was the sort of bliss Faustus was willing to lose his life in. Leaning in to press my lips against the hot, tight skin of Rafael's abdomen was the ultimate form of happiness.

The fears that plagued me were not a motivator for me to do anything but what I was already doing. All they managed was to make me worry about doing something wrong later.

So I kissed his smooth skin and hard muscles, his thin happy trail, and the soft fabric of his underwear. When my lips touched the firmness under the stretched fabric, my mind spun. I pressed my hands against his chest, feeling the hard, defined pecs and the width of his upper torso while dragging my lips up and down his throbbing length. Teeth , I told myself firmly. Remember the teeth . That was as much as I knew about any of this.

Rafael hooked his thumbs inside his underwear and carefully lifted the band over his cock. If I didn't faint with excitement right then, I knew I could go through this entire evening without passing out.

Rafael's cock was long and thick, more so than I had expected or ever imagined. The ideas of what he looked like without his clothes faded away and were replaced by the beauty of reality. The coppery skin was smooth and taut all the way to the base, where trimmed black hair covered his groin. His balls, big and full, were smooth and hanging heavy between his legs. And when Rafael took himself in his hand, letting me stare in stunned silence, I watched his balls drag up and down with slow, flowing movement. Below, his firm, round cheeks met in the middle, and even thinking about what was there made me light-headed.

I dragged his underwear further down his legs until they were on the floor somewhere far behind my back. The air moved with that soft whoosh of fabric, and candlelights flickered and danced. Shadows played over Rafael's breathtaking figure. He sprawled on the bed as if this was his most natural state of being.

I wished it was.

I never wanted him to move from this spot, and I never wanted us to leave this moment in favor of the next. Nothing on the other side could match the profound depth of my feelings for him .

As I rested my hands on his inner thighs and dragged them up, Rafael stroked himself a little more firmly. Slowly, my open palms reached the top of his legs, my thumbs meeting under his heavy balls and my fingers reaching up through his cropped hair to frame his cock. "Can I?" I asked.

"My Luke," Rafael said in a voice juicy with mischief. He bit his lower lip briefly. "You can do anything you want."

"Anything?"

Rafael nodded. "Absolutely anything."

Wrapping my hand around him in place of his felt far more monumental than it had any right to. It was as though I finally stepped into adulthood, into something everyone around me had had for years and I had only ever rolled my eyes at. I made a loose fist, feeling odd about it when it wasn't my cock I was stroking, then tightened my grip enough to make Rafael suck in a shallow breath of air. He let out a thin moan as I stroked him, the tip of his dick glistening with a bead of precum.

Tenderness and toughness warred in me as I held him and pleasured him. I read his expressions with what little sense was left in my head. All I was really capable of was paying attention to not make him uncomfortable.

Somewhere in the far distance of my consciousness, I knew of grains of sand running out in an hourglass. I knew there were ticking seconds, but they were meaningless when time was nothing but a construct of our imagination. Nothing outside of us was real. Rafael and me and nothing else at all.

I let go of him when an idea crossed my mind, and I couldn't do anything except follow it. Yanking down my dark blue boxer briefs, I heard Rafael's sharp inhale. It almost made me wonder what he was reacting to before I remembered this was the first time he saw me naked, too. And when I really was naked, I lay on top of him, aware of his curious and naughty gaze, and I pressed my lips against his. Kissing him deeply, I let my cock slide against his.

He throbbed.

My cock spasmed with pulsing pleasure, and I had to hold my breath for a moment to let the first wave of excitement pass. I was a fumbling amateur, but I had enough eagerness in me to make up for the lack of experience. Or will my eagerness reveal just how new to this I am?

Rafael closed his fist around both our cocks and stroked us slowly while thrusting his tongue inside my mouth. I choked on a moan, and my eyes rolled back as unfathomable pleasure roared through me like wildfire.

Every thought of time and how long a second might last disappeared from my mind. I didn't know where I was and how long I had been there. I only knew that I was with Rafael, and my life felt complete, like a delicious chestnut, perfectly fitting into a whole, intertwined with itself, the nut and the shell, unbreakable, yet clearly made up of two perfect halves.

I lay sprawled on my back with Rafael sitting on top of me, his lips trailing down my neck, each new inch sending waves of tingles through my entire body. He was moving lower, and I closed my hands around his sculpted biceps. Inch by wonderful inch, Rafael left a blazing trail of kisses down my chest and stomach until his lips were so near my cock that it didn't take a genius to predict where we were going next.

I hadn't expected such warmth in his wet mouth. I hadn't imagined his tongue could feel so soft or that the sensation could rise so high through me. But when Rafael sealed his lips around my cock, I decided that meeting God Almighty was going to be a disappointment, paling in the light of this moment.

He sucked me into his mouth, then sucked me deeper still, and when he bobbed his head back and forth, I discovered that I could feel closer to him even now. How much could our souls merge before they were indistinguishable?

The answer came a few minutes later.

Rafael had the necessary supplies and the gentle approach a virgin like me would fall for. He put a condom on my cock and stroked me with lube, all the while kissing the soul out of my mouth. "Are you ready?" he whispered, his breath minty and carrying a trace of my scent on it.

I said I was, though my dick sprang with excitement as soon as Rafael lowered himself onto my lap. He sat on me, my cock sliding between his firm cheeks, and he ran his fingers over himself. Then, as he took me firmly in his hand, he lifted his torso up and pressed his free hand against my chest.

Rafael's movements were experienced, his facial expressions only a reflection of his sensations. My heart was beating too fast, and my mind was exploding with too many thoughts to keep track of. So I cast them all aside and put my hands on his waist.

Carefully, moving back and forth, Rafael sank on my hard length. He impaled himself while exhaling a long, shuddering breath of hot air.

I held my breath throughout. I didn't trust myself not to cry out with uncontrolled pleasure or to squeal with joy. I gritted my teeth and heard myself grunt once as my cock entered the warmth inside of him.

This , I thought, is how close two souls can be. This is what two people merging into one means .

I felt him tightening around me. I felt his relaxing. I felt the trembling in his fingers when he placed both hands on my pecs. And when he swung his hips back and forth, I felt him accepting me inside. His body welcomed me and took me deeper, his hips doing the work for both of us. If I were confident enough to do anything, I would have, but I was so far out of my depths with him that I barely dared to moan and breathe.

"Yes," Rafael whispered. "Fuck, oh, yes." His knees spread wider, and he sat on me nearly all the way, his dick leaping between our stomachs. "Ah, Luke," he said, opening his eyes and looking at me. The mixture of pain and pleasure rippled across his face as he set the pace. He gazed down at me where I lay flat on my back, grinding his ass back and forth and pushing me near the pit of madness.

Our breaths synchronized after a time—I didn't know how long. I was aware of sweat breaking over my brow and chest and armpits. I also knew that my body was burning with the desire to do something. If I would show him how good I felt with him, I needed to act. So I gripped his waist firmly and thrust my hips up, pushing into him with a wet slap of body against body, forcing a moan out of him. Again, I lifted my body just to feel even closer to him, and Rafael cried out with pleasure, asking for more, more, more.

Panting, I filled him from below. His muscles flexed, tension rippling all over his torso, his face glowing with sweat under the candlelight. Distantly, I heard us both making pained sounds of pleasure, of ecstasy. I rammed into him, letting the sensation ripple through us both, and watched his dick bounce whenever I moved.

Rafael lifted himself a little to let me be in charge. Whether these things were right or not, I had no idea, but his face told me I was doing fine. My own body was brimming with joy it could not contain.

I dug my heels into the mattress and fucked him the only way I could or knew how. I found the pace that matched my shallow breaths. Finally, I closed my right hand around his hard, throbbing cock, and just as I did, his hole tightened around my cock.

White heat flashed before my eyes.

"Fuck," I grunted, the word odd on my lips like it wasn't mine at all. "Oh, fuck, yes."

Rafael echoed my words with a thin, high tone that was so different from his usual. I thought it was beautiful.

Every time I pushed myself into him, Rafael's cock slid through my tight fist, his hole pulsing around me, inching me closer to the climax. And when Rafael shuddered and cried a warning, I jerked my hand faster along his length.

Just the thought of him coming made enough to tip me over. I had been fighting this urge since the moment we began kissing on the sofa minutes, hours, or days ago.

My orgasm arrived like a river breaking a dam or a long-overdue rain flooding a desert. It welled and rose and made me impossibly tense until the breaking point. And when it released itself, it was made of every joy and laugh and love the world had ever seen.

My muscles trembled as I pushed myself deep inside Rafael's body, a sense of loss filling me immediately as I knew it was over, but the overwhelming euphoria washed away the other feelings. He whimpered as his cock pulsed, and hot drops of cum poured over me in white ribbons, spilling over my chest and stomach just as I filled the condom.

It was a moment without an end. It was a feeling that stretched through time and place and touched every part of my soul. Everything came at once: the hopeless yearning, the depth of love, the hopes of a long life, and the fears of having to say goodbye again. It all collided into one string that connected me to Rafael.

He climbed off my body and nestled next to me, his hand resting in the mess on my chest, fingers moving almost as if he were playing with it. I was still blinded by the wild passion, but I had enough sense to turn around and slam my mouth against his.

We panted still, but Rafael whispered several times how wonderful it was to finally do this. I wished I could put my feelings into words for him, but I was too far gone.

Sometime later, after Rafael had brought a warm, wet cloth and we wiped ourselves clear of the mess we had made, he was the first to say that terrible thing. "You can still catch your flight."

It didn't take me long to find the answer. "There's gonna be another flight tomorrow."

Rafael reacted precisely as if that was the only thing he was hoping to hear. He lay next to me, arms tight around my torso, and kissed me deeply.

We lay there, naked and sweaty and happy.

Real life wasn't taking a break for us. It wasn't waiting for us patiently. But I could steal us a few more hours tonight. That was as much as I could do.

So we kissed and spoke and made love again. The second time, we were slow and deliberate in all the ways in which we had been passionate and wild before.

And when the time came to say goodbye again, we parted with a promise. Six weeks until we met again. As soon as March rolled in and brought warm days and budding leaves, Rafael would come to New York.

Rafael.

My boyfriend.

It was that promise that I carried with me when I left him the following afternoon. And for once, my heart didn't shatter at losing him from my sight. For once, I could let myself dream.

Not a soul in the whole wide world was prepared for what the bowels of hell spat out in the weeks that followed. Madness and despair broke loose when a plague ripped through the world. Death reigned. Fear had its grip on every heart.

The planet went still, and all hope died.