Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Luke

The parlor had a small crowd of people occupying all the tables on the sidewalk and no seating options inside. To solve the issue, Rafael proposed cones instead of bowls and a walk instead of sitting down. I had given up on any notions of protesting his ideas. They seemed more appealing than anything my mundane daily life could offer, even when they revolved around a simple ice cream.

There was a comforting ease in Rafael's presence. In the short walk to the parlor, his straightforwardness liberated me from the fear of saying the wrong thing. It was a refreshing change, considering my usual anxiety about offending someone.

He hadn't exaggerated about the quality. His choice was a delightful blend of mango and passionfruit, topped with coconut flakes and a drizzle of honey that transported him to an expensive vacation in the Maldives. My own was rich dark chocolate and velvety black cherries adorned with salted caramel and fudge brownie chunks. "I'm sure you think yours is superior," I teased, savoring the melting dark chocolate from the side of the cone. "But your taste in ice cream is as juvenile as your literature."

Rafael threw his head back and laughed out loud, leading me down the sunny street. His pace was quick in the sunshine and slow in the shade of ancient planes and lindens. "You, sir, are a menace."

I snort-chuckled. "A menace? You're very strange."

Rafael shot me a playful look. "Thank you." He extended his tongue and scooped a melting chunk of screamingly yellow ice cream. Traces remained on his lips until he licked them clean. The way it made my heart speed up a little was not even surprising anymore. "I'll have you know," he said pointedly, pausing for another lick that made my gaze drop to his bright red lips, "fantasy can often reveal so much about the human condition. Take Robin Hobb's writings, for example. Yes, it's in some strange kingdom, and it has this weird magic only nobles possess and this dirty sort of magic reserved for the low class."

He would have lost me if his lips weren't moving with such emphasis when he spoke. I found myself looking at his mouth intently, hearing the words only as a byproduct of staring.

"But," he continued, lifting one finger off the cone to make a stronger point, "our protagonist is cursed with this filthy, lowly magic. And everyone looks down on him, and he has to hide it, and it's unacceptable throughout the kingdom. Except, we, the readers, see beauty in his ability to bond with animals. It's not beastly at all, but wonderful. Does that remind you of anything?" He wore a victorious little smirk.

"I suppose the themes of otherness could be relatable despite the genre," I conceded.

He was quiet for a little while, licking his ice cream and drawing my attention every so often. As we walked, his magnetism seemed even more present. He had a confident stride as if he was completely aware of his sculpted physique. From swinging his broad shoulders to stretching out his long legs, Rafael was a work of Renaissance art personified. "Sometimes, it takes us the detachment from the real world to see ourselves clearly, you know? Without the burdens of context, all there is is a human heart to get to know."

I was ready to believe anything he told me. The sensation made me well aware that I would be smart to be on my guard, but I dismissed this thought quickly. "Where did you read that?" I teased.

"I came up with it myself," he said with exaggerated pride. "Come." He tilted his head away from the boulevard and into a narrower one-way street. The sun was waning, and a promise of a cool evening was already in the air.

We turned left and walked to the other end of the street, reaching a broad avenue I might have seen before. We crossed it and lost ourselves in a series of short, narrow streets.

"What are you doing in Paris?" I asked at some point of our wandering. It was his fluency in French that told me he wasn't just visiting.

"Oh…just visiting," he said.

"All by yourself?" I asked. He couldn't have been much older than me. And that thought reminded me how little I knew about Rafael. I couldn't even imagine, right then, how constant he would be throughout my life. I couldn't predict how well I would know him, even at the greatest of distances and in the middle of the longest time gaps. It was better not knowing the future, I would decide some years after our first date.

"Pretty much," he said simply, popping the last bite of his cone into his mouth and crunching it with satisfaction. "Dad moved us to London three years ago, basically ruining my life for a bit, you know, and I've been trying to escape ever since." He laughed out loud. "Now that I hear it aloud, it sounds a lot worse. Let me try again. I'm escaping the British weather whenever I have a chance. Paris is just the easiest place to go, so I'm here often. Have you been to London?"

I nodded. "I loved every moment of it. Rain suits me." I had purchased A Tale of Two Cities at Lantern Books. It had a very prominent place on my bookshelf.

"See, I knew you'd say that. You strike me as the sort of a person who daydreams about turning the armchair to face the window in some Norwegian forest cabin, reading by the crackling fire." His gaze locked onto mine as if to read my answer.

I pulled my lower lip between my teeth. "I didn't realize I was that predictable."

"You're not predictable," he assured me. "I'm just guessing we're very different. Me? I like the scent of sunscreen in my nose and sand in my ass. I'll happily read on a beach until I'm burnt like a crab. And yes, I do take graphic novels to vacations. I know, I know, it's not your cup of tea, but you'll change your mind someday." Years later, I would wonder if Rafael had some prophetic abilities. He probably couldn't fathom just how correct he was.

I snorted. "Alright, I'll give it a try. When I'm done with these, maybe."

"Good," Rafael said, putting that discussion to rest. "And you? What's your story?"

"I'm afraid it's a pretty boring story," I warned him.

"You've obviously got the wanderlust. And you're spending your evening with a charming stranger you just met at a bookstore. You can't be boring." He grinned, unaware that hinting at his charm and the nature of this encounter was taking my breath away. "Tell me," he nudged.

"Um, well, my mom promised to bring my sister and me to Paris for my eighteenth birthday." It reminded me of a dinner I had to get to, which quickly caused a pang of guilt I couldn't place. I wasn't going to miss it. "We're from New York. Just the three of us since Dad died."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Rafael said. "What happened?"

"Thanks. It's, um, been a while." I could barely remember him, which sometimes saddened me more than the fact he was gone. I hadn't known him very well. "Work accident. Twelve years." The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It felt appropriate. "I told you, I'm not very interesting. I go to school, I do my homework, I travel with Mom and Lucy."

"What does your mom do?" he asked.

"Oh, um, she's raising us." I realized what he was asking, so I cocked my head and looked at him. "Do you know anything about solar-powered water purification systems?"

"If it's what it says on the label, then yes," he replied with a smile.

"My grandfather invented this solution in the early seventies that's still applied today. His company and patents generate a significant income, a portion of which belongs to my mother." To say we were rich was an overstatement, but we definitely weren't struggling to stay afloat. I had a sense someone who was solo traveling on a whim understood the distinction just fine.

"That's pretty neat," Rafael said. "It frees you to do whatever you're passionate about."

"If only," I sighed and regretted the words.

Rafael tilted his head inquisitively. "How so?"

We were near the end of a narrow street where bars and restaurants occupied the lower levels of nearly all the buildings. We didn't stop at any. Instead, we walked on as the last rays of sunlight faded away and night drew close. "My family…we're not exactly the most spontaneous people."

Rafael's eyebrows quirked. "What do you call this?"

"An exception." It made him laugh, that rich and melodic sound that lifted my heart and made my fingers restless with the desire to touch something soft. "I happen to be at the top of my class. Nerd, I know. And since I don't have a very good plan of what I should do after high school, my mom…" I shrugged.

"That…sucks, Luke," Rafael said. "You don't seem like someone who doesn't have a good idea."

My teeth gritted as I shrugged again harder. "I like books, but that's not really a career path. Not like law or medicine."

Rafael stopped abruptly and looked into my eyes. Solemnly, he said, "If you become a lawyer, that will be a massive loss to humanity's culture."

After a beat, I threw my head back and laughed out loud. "Fine. I'm an easy target for jokes, I get it."

His expression morphed into a genuine smile. "I wasn't joking. Imagine what you could do if you were in charge of a publishing house. Or if you taught at a university."

I didn't want to imagine. It was impossible. Mother would never approve of those careers. She had the highest regard for these tangible, well-known jobs. "I don't believe our paths are set in stone by what we study at nineteen."

"And I agree," Rafael said, resuming our light pace down a wide, glimmering boulevard. We crossed to the other side and found ourselves by the Seine. "Don't take it from me. I'm just a random stranger you picked up at a store. But I'll say it anyway: deep down, there's a passion you're hiding from everyone, probably from yourself, too. And unless you find it, you might just accept whatever hand fate deals you."

And here I was, thinking that he had picked me up. But I didn't focus on that bit. "As Wilde said, ‘If you want to be a grocer, or a general, or a politician, or a judge, you will inevitably become it. That is your punishment.' Maybe it's better not to have a singular thing to strive for." After a moment, I asked, "What is it that you want from your life?"

"Right now? I'm considering a bottle of wine for us to share. It's your eighteenth, right?" He shared such a devilish grin that everything else went right out of my head.

"Okay," I said, fearful and excited at the same time.

It was after he returned from a nearby liquor store with a bottle of red wine that he answered my question. "I thought about it. Wilde never meant it that way." He gestured for me to follow while he spoke. "Having something to strive for isn't the way to unhappiness, but getting rid of careful plans and reverting to our default passions is a certain way to happiness. If you want to be a general, that's what you will become, and that is your punishment. But, say, if you are passionate about literature, and that is what you do with your life, then that's your reward." He had that smug look on his face that I was starting to enjoy. Lifting a finger for a brief intermission, he added, "Let's get someone to open this for us."

We entered a little tavern by the sidewalk, and, in perfect French, Rafael asked the waitress to open our bottle of wine because, as I understood, he didn't have a habit of carrying a corkscrew around in his back pocket. They shared a joke about sitting on one once, and both of them laughed.

I watched Rafael from a short distance, conversing with another stranger as if they had known each other for ages. And when Rafael turned away from her, his face lighting up as soon as he looked at me, I was aware of the doe-eyed look that followed him. The waitress was as immune to Rafael's charm as I had been. Had he asked her to leave the apron and come with us, I wasn't sure she would have refused.

"How do you do it?" I asked once we were outside. He led us down some stairs to the pedestrian pathway that ran along the Seine River. The lights of the city were bright orange against an indigo sky.

"How do I do what?" Rafael pointed to a bench by the river.

"You made that girl laugh, and I'm pretty sure she's still thinking about you. You have that…flirtatious way of chatting," I said. It was as close to what I meant as I could get without embarrassing myself. After that brief interaction with Rafael Santos, she probably had a new crush.

Rafael brought the bottle near his nose and inhaled. "You can have the first sip, birthday boy."

I accepted the bottle and pressed it against my lips. I'd never had an alcoholic drink before. I didn't have a dad who would let me have a sip of his beer. Still, I knew from books what to expect. The flavor spilled through my mouth before I swallowed. It was tingly and sweet but not too fruity. I couldn't taste the grapes or anything nearly as pretentious as the earthiness and the nuttiness of the vintage, but I liked what I tasted.

"I'm afraid she'll be disappointed if she thinks about me that way," Rafael said with a hint of mystery. It wasn't a deeply hidden secret, especially after what he said next. "I'm not into girls, Luke."

I nodded, flutters filling my stomach after that one sip. I had never read that wine could do that. "Yeah. Same." I handed him the bottle, my ears burning. "That's the first time I told this to anyone."

Rafale laughed. "Happy coming out, Luke. Here's to you." He lifted the bottle and drank a little. I watched his Adam's apple bob. "First time?" he asked in a quieter voice, putting the bottle between us.

An odd tremble wouldn't let my fingers rest. It crawled up my arms and made my heart skip a beat every now and then. "Um, I've never…" Breath hitched in my throat, and I shot him a panicked look before turning my gaze away. My eyes stung. When the orange lamplights spilled in odd ways before me, I realized that tears were brimming in my eyes. "Oh, God. I…"

"Hey," Rafael said soothingly, scooting closer. "Hey, this is a good thing. You're safe, Luke. I'm not going to tell."

I wasn't even sure that was what worried me. Why was I getting so emotional? It couldn't be a single sip of wine, could it? "I don't know why I told you that."

"Maybe you really needed to say it aloud. And who better to tell it to than someone you'll probably never see again?" He cracked a smile after I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.

A laugh burst out of me, but my torso shuddered. I was torn between relief and fear, utterly confused and more than a little embarrassed about doing this in front of a stranger. "I'm sorry," I whispered .

Rafael's bare arm wrapped around my shoulders. The side of his torso pressed against my arm, and he spoke in a low voice. "I'm glad you told me. Besides, I figured it out on my own, but I'm glad to be the first person who heard you say it. That's a huge thing, Luke. Sooner or later, we all have to say those words aloud. Believe me, it only gets better from this point on."

"I believe you," I whispered, calming down. I shook my head in frustration at my wild emotions, but Rafael lifted the bottle and thrust it to me.

"We have a lot to celebrate," he said.

I drank a little, then frowned at him. "Wait, you figured it out on your own?"

Rafael chuckled softly. "Haven't we been flirting all evening?"

If my face hadn't already been as hot as the surface of Venus, it was now. "Have we?" It was an embarrassing squeak that had more than a little excitement in it. I cleared my throat before he could say anything. "I mean, yes, obviously." But my trembling fingers betrayed me.

With a patient look on his face, Rafael accepted the bottle from me. "I'm guessing you've never flirted with boys."

I shook my head. Why did I feel so childish right now? He was only a year older, and yet it felt like he was this monolith of experience and wisdom, whereas I was a bumbling toddler. "I mean, school keeps me pretty busy. Even if I knew where to start, I wouldn't have the time."

"You're doing pretty great if you ask me," Rafael assured me. "Don't be spooked. I don't have any secret plans. It's just nice to talk to you."

It was nice to talk to him, too. We had spent hours together, sharing biographical details and philosophical views, but now I felt like we were starting to scratch the surface. It was equally alluring and scary. Was I ready to bare my soul like this to anyone at all? Rafael was so easy to tell things to. He would make a great spy. "I'm not spooked by you," I said seriously.

Rafael leaned on the curved back of the bench, a playful smile dancing across his face. "Good. I'm only wickedly smart and hella handsome."

"You say that like it's a joke, but you are." Who was this person who took control of my tongue?

Rafael looked into my eyes, blinked, and dropped his gaze a little lower on my face. "You're also very smart, Luke."

I nodded. That much even I knew for sure.

"And handsome." He let the words hang in the air for a few moments, then turned his head to the Seine. "I don't do this with all the pretty boys I meet in bookstores, just so you know."

We shared a laugh.

After a time, I looked at the sky. It was hard to see any except for the brightest of stars. The city lights were just too many to compete with. So we sat in companionable silence, sharing the bottle. Every time Rafael drew a sip and I followed, I was aware that his lips had been on the bottleneck. Every time I handed him our wine, I wondered if my lips occupied a place in his mind .

I shifted a little to face him—stars be damned—and caught a flicker of the orange streetlamp in his brown eyes. "You never answered. What do you want from life?"

He shrugged. "Just this, most of the time."

"Wine?" I intentionally misunderstood, and he laughed.

"I can take it or leave it," he assured me. "But what I really want from life is to be free. Free from expectations and constraints of this crazy thing we call modern life. I want to see the world, but more than that, I want to be happy in the moment."

There was something in the way he talked that made me want to listen to him for the rest of my life. I could easily sit here all night and watch his lips move and words pour out of his mouth.

"I'm passionate about a bunch of things, and it scares me to think I'll become a pro at any of them. What happens to my guitar if I become a photographer? And what will be with my book blog if I pick some career path my parents would endorse?" He shook his head. "I really hope the future Rafael solves this. I sure as hell can't."

"But you can enjoy the moment even if your future is planned out for you," I said.

"Absolutely." He took the bottle from me and drank, then gave it to me. I was certain I could taste the trace of wetness where his lips had been. It made my heart grow so big that my chest was never going to contain it.

The short-sleeved black T-shirt he wore had some white lettering across it as its only decoration. It was his muscled arm that drew my attention, however. The sculpted biceps and pronounced triceps, the veins along his forearms, and the tan of his smooth skin made me want to run my fingertips up and down the length of his arms. Maybe more than just my fingertips. I wondered what his skin would feel like under my lips.

"I happen to know the best kebab place in all of Paris," Rafael admitted conspiratorially.

My stomach growled embarrassingly as soon as I heard the words. "I would kill for some."

"Is that a yes?" His face brightened. "It's your birthday. You can get whatever you want."

I was starting to want more than I could get, but I didn't argue with him. "Kebab sounds great."

"We drained the bottle," Rafael said with a note of surprise. "Are you good to stand?"

"I'm not drunk," I said, but getting up made me a little light-headed. Odd. My fingers were a little tingly, too.

"Great," Rafael said. "Let's get some food into you."

Shoulder to shoulder, we walked down the pedestrian pathway along the Seine as a cool gust of wind rose from the river's surface. It wasn't cold enough to make me roll down my sleeves, and even if it were, I wouldn't have. Rafael didn't have anything other than this T-shirt, so I prayed that it wouldn't get too cold for us to have to part ways. Just a little longer , I whispered internally. Just a few more minutes or hours.

I didn't know that night how addictive Rafael Santos truly was.

There were many things I didn't know. In the happiness of having a companion for a whirlwind adventure across the streets of Paris at night, I didn't think about anything else. All I knew was youthful optimism. I knew the satisfaction of having shared my first drink with someone as endearing as Rafael. I knew the joy of coming out to someone who wouldn't betray me.

Everything was good that night. It was good because I didn't know I would spend years yearning after and returning to him. I didn't know the heights of passion he was capable of taking me to. I didn't know the pain of heartbreak we could inflict upon each other.

Just then, we were only two boys, at odds about our favorite books but in agreement on everything else. Our heads were too full of notions of life and meaning, but our hearts were still not stained with the burdens of adulthood.

"I told you it was the best," Rafael said smugly after we had eaten and wandered into a large park with ancient planes and oaks, endless green grass, and bushes everywhere along the narrow footpaths. He didn't look for a bench. Instead, he pointed to a bit of grass off the path between three short, sculpted bushes of boxwood.

Rafael dropped on his ass and supported his torso by planting his hands somewhere behind his back. He let his legs stretch out.

I set the bags with my books between us and sat on my crossed legs, facing him. "My stomach's the happiest it's ever been."

"Stomach, heart, soul. Samir's kebabs are crème de la crème. " He moved his arms around and lay flat on his back .

"You know this city so well," I mused, wondering if I should lie down, too. There were still people around, but they were somewhere in the distance, not really passing near us.

"Don't get me wrong, I loved LA. And I love London, that one nice week of the year, I love it with all my heart. But when you go south, even further south than here, you discover the wonders that exist right under your nose. Barcelona. Rome. God, Florence, Venice, Palermo. And Athens? That endless, sprawling city of wonders…" He sighed. "Life's too short to experience all the amazing things that exist around us."

"At least you're getting to experience some," I said, not just a little sullenly. It wasn't envy. I was happy for him. He was someone who could grab life by the balls and make things happen. Not like me, the timid, organized, non-rebellious person who let life happen to him.

He turned his head to face me. "If this isn't experiencing it, I don't know what is," Rafael said. He patted the ground next to him, and I lay down without hesitation. "We always think there's something great out there, just out of reach. It's always about tomorrow, about next Christmas, or when the weather gets nicer. But there isn't some great, big mystery out there. This is it. Take it or leave it, but this is what life is all about. Lying down and feeling the grass under your hand."

I focused on a small, soft patch of grass under my right hand. He was there, inches away from my fingers.

"People get so caught up in making sure this bright future happens to them that they miss their lives altogether." Rafael's voice softened further as he spoke. "I don't know what I want to do in a year or ten. I just know I don't want to miss this ."

My hand brushed against his, and my heart nearly hammered out of my chest. I quickly moved my hand a few inches back. Rafael turned his head to face me, and I dared myself to meet his gaze. A faint spark of mischief glimmered in his eyes. He looked at me while his hand covered mine.

He simply held it.

There was no big crescendo to lift the tension. There were no fireworks. It was as simple as that. He held my hand, and my heart pounded against my rib cage. It fired up all its engines. And a smile as wide and as ridiculous as a child's stretched across my face.

"Is this okay?" Rafael asked.

Why wouldn't it be? "It's perfect."

And that was what life was all about.

We spoke, holding hands and sharing stories. He told me what coming out was like for him. He told me what it was like to first understand how exactly he was different from his school friends. And I knew, in my heart, that every word he said was true. I knew because I had felt the same.

I knew it was late, although I hadn't dared look at my phone. I knew I needed to get back to the hotel, or my mother would form a search party. I knew I needed to let her know I was fine.

But it kept slipping my mind. We lay there, near the boxwood bushes, stars glimmering far in the universe, some bright enough to find their way to us.

And when no sounds came from anywhere around us, and when all there was in this big, beautiful city were just the words we exchanged, I knew I had to see him again.

"This is crazy," I admitted. "It's so not like me to do this." And I hoped that this conveyed the entirety of the night because it was too much to recount.

"There's a little rebel in all of us," Rafael said. That wicked grin again. "And yours is really eager to break some rules."

I knew I was running out of prayers for just another minute, just another hour. "I'm here for another five days," I confided. "Maybe…"

His hand tightened around mine. "I'm leaving tomorrow, Luke."

And that was it. My heart cracked a little, but I was proud to say I took it bravely. "Oh."

After a moment of silence, he added, "I'm taking a train to Budapest at noon. Four days."

I did that math quickly enough. On the fifth day, before my flight home, there still was a chance to see him.

"Erm." Rafael turned on his side, covering my hand as soon as he found a good position. "Maybe you could come with me."

"What?" It was impossible. I couldn't do that. We had plans. We had things to do. I was…I didn't know what I was, but taking a train to Budapest and back was not something I could do.

"Think about it," Rafael said. "It's just a train ride and a few nights in a different city. It's beautiful there. "

"I…can't," I said, but it was not a very determined answer. And I didn't have a reason to cite.

"Alright, I hear you, but what if you could?" That grin alone could break any stubborn mind. "Or do you have something planned?"

"It's not that, but…Budapest." I said it like it explained the entirety of my reasoning.

"Budapest," he said, his tone promising me all the wonders of the world. "It'll be an adventure. Just the two of us. We'll climb the Buda Castle, check out the labyrinths, and see the Fishermen's Bastion. Did I tell you about the beer they have? It comes in liters."

I wasn't sure how much a liter was or if I cared about beer, but the prospect of endeavoring on this adventure with Rafael was too much to turn my back on.

"And we'll be back before your flight home," he promised. "The things we'll get up to."

There wasn't that kind of naughtiness in his voice, but my stomach tingled, and my entire body heated at the idea of the things we might get up to. He was too handsome, too clever, too interesting to resist. I couldn't not want him even if I tried. "I mean…maybe?"

"Maybe? That's a good start." Rafael was beaming as if I had given him my word. "The train leaves from platform three, noon sharp. And it returns around six in the afternoon, so you'll still have a whole evening and the next day with your mom and sister. Besides, they'll be together. It's not like you're leaving one alone." He laid out the careful plan of our trip, from the first evening when we arrived to the fastest way to catch our train back. He told me about the accommodation—a small apartment with a bed and a couch, and he was happy to surrender the bed to me—and about these ruin bars in the Jewish quarter that were a must-see.

By the time Rafael told me everything, I had a single thought in my head. I could see it all, clear as day, just the way he painted it with words. But in that sprawling city, I could also see myself standing next to him. And lying next to him. And I could see him so near my face that the heat of his breath would wash over my tender, smooth skin, and I would leap forward to claim the kiss after days of trying to resist the urge.

"Okay," I whispered. My heart stumbled. "Okay, let's do it."

"Really? Are you sure?" He got up with excitement, kneeling in front of me as I sat up.

"I'm sure," I said. I just had to convince my mom to let me. But it was my birthday trip. If she couldn't trust me now, would she ever trust me at all? I was old enough to take a quick trip. "I'll come with you. I will."

Rafael closed his fists victoriously. "Yes! I knew you were something special, Luke Whitaker."

If he hadn't convinced me before, this would have done it. Nobody had called me special in years. I hadn't thought of myself like that, either, until this moment. Yes, this is something special .

"I'll wait for you at the platform. Quarter to noon, just to be safe." He nodded gravely, sealing this crazy promise.

And I nodded in return. "I'll be there."

Years would teach me that things were always that simple with Rafael. You either did or did not. You would or you wouldn't. There was no room for overthinking it. And I would learn, after this first lesson on our first night ever, that Rafael simply made things happen.

As we got up and brushed the grass and dirt from our clothes, we agreed again to meet in the morning. Tonight, we had to pack because at noon, we were going to Budapest.