Seventeen

JULIEN

Amonth later, Greg is the first person Julien tells that he was accepted into the advanced sommelier course. By the lockers, Greg wraps Julien in a hug that lifts him right off the ground. They spin around. How would Greg react if he told him he won the lottery? He grins at the thought of Greg's unabashed enthusiasm—how different it his from his own reactions, but how welcome.

On Valentine's Day, though Julien is firm in his conviction that this is not a date, Julien and Greg go back to Studio Artiste for another paint-and-sip (or swill, in his case) class. Greg does not do a better job of following the instructions when painting his flower arrangement. This time, Julien marvels at the free-spirited care Greg exudes, the artistic abandon he possesses that allows him to create a piece all his own when everyone else is following the instructions to a T.

When they pick up their paintings a few days later, Julien surprises himself and suggests they swap. A deep part of him wants to keep Greg's. It's more a memory of the special day than his own standard one. He likes the way Greg signed his name in hot pink in the bottom right-hand corner. Scribbly but so sweet.

"You sure?" Greg asks, inspecting his canvas which is giving hazy Monet more than lifelike Hopper.

"Only if you want to," Julien says, bashful.

It's not until he's hanging Greg's painting in his living room with a nail, on the wall where he hangs all his paint-and-sip creations, that he registers the full scope of his feelings for Greg and wonders if all this quality time—the takeout and the painting and the fucking each other silly—is all a recipe for an expensive, explosive disaster. Like that time Chef Marco tried to add chicken liver (a Tuscan delicacy) to the menu.

The Thirsty Thursday before St. Patrick's Day comes complete with Midori cocktails that are so electric green they could practically be mistaken for oversize glow sticks in their tall slim glasses. Julien squints for a second and pretends they are a smattering of late summer fireflies speckling the night, but this is only a momentary distraction from the fact that on Sunday he'll be boarding a plane to Texas.

By Monday, he'll be ensconced in the wide world of wine and stewarding, brushing elbows with his fellow certified sommeliers, swilling some incredible wines and soaking in knowledge. It's not the airplane that has him on edge or the fear that he's not up for the challenge. Instead, he's coming to terms with the worry that this will be his first time away from Greg since he arrived at Martin's Place.

Julien prides himself on not being reliant on others. Too reliant, he means. Even as a child when he first came to live with Uncle Martin and Aunt Augustine, he tried to be as self-sufficient as possible by figuring out how to work the washer and dryer so his clothes weren't getting mixed in with theirs and how to fix his own lunches, so nobody else's hands were touching his food. Some of this was an effect of his undiagnosed OCD, but most of it was rooted in his fear that these parental figures were seconds away from splitting like his last.

Those feelings resurfaced when, post-orgasm wooziness still strong, Colin told Julien that he was moving to South Carolina to be closer to his parents and their friends-with-benefits arrangement would be ending.

"How soon are you going?" Julien had asked.

"Two weeks."

"That's sudden."

"It was inevitably going to happen."

Those words ping-ponged around inside Julien's head. What Colin said rang true in more ways than one. Colin's parents retiring and moving south was inevitable, him following was inevitable, and so was Julien getting hurt after becoming too reliant on someone with a nice smile, a respect for his boundaries, and wondrous hands.

Julien is brought back to the bar when he narrowly misses the glass Greg is sliding over to him. "Bring this over to Augustine. She's been begging for one all night."

Julien doesn't spare Greg a look as he fulfills the request on autopilot.

Aunt Augustine is not one to let a wandering glance go uncommented on. "Where are you right now, Julien?"

"Uh, here?" Julien gestures at the floor between their feet.

"Yeah, no duh. I meant where are you in here?" She gives his forehead a little nudge with the heel of her palm before sipping Greg's cocktail. "Damn, he's good. That's fuckin' tasty." Seltzer, lemon juice, cherry, and... Julien can't recall the other ingredients. He was too busy pining away over the veins that braided themselves along Greg's forearms as he used a wooden spoon to stir. "Ah, I know that face." Aunt Augustine has been emboldened by a single sip of Greg's cocktail; Julien can tell. "You're thinking about a guy, and that guy is Greg."

"Actually, I'm thinking about how I get you less interested in my love life," Julien says with mostly playful snark.

"Oh, it's a love life now, is it?" Aunt Augustine sips, her eyes fixed on him over the rim.

It's obvious she's reading too far into his word choice, except Julien's whole body flushes hot. It's been, what, six months since Greg arrived in the Lehigh Valley? Aside from those first few weeks of discomfort and avoidance, they've basically been inseparable. People have fallen in love in less time.

But also, love feels messy. Like a melted chocolate bar you forgot about in the glove compartment during the sizzle of July. He doesn't want love all over his hands. There aren't enough wet wipes in the world to rid him of that sticky, goopy stuff.

"I take it things have heated up since New Year's?" Aunt Augustine asks.

He resolutely does not love hearing his aunt use the phrase heated up unless it's about the food they serve here. "Things have been a normal temperature."

She exaggerates her frown. "You're so sparing with your feelings, Julien. You definitely don't take after me."

He prickles at this because he's observant. Hypervigilant, some might even say. Which means he's always been uniquely keyed into the differences between him and Aunt Augustine and Uncle Martin, constantly wondering which traits were embedded in his DNA and which he developed as he grew. Did his unusual circumstances make him the man he is today?

"It's not like we've made anything official. We're not together-together."

"Because...?"

"Because..." Julien can't come up with an answer. Over the last month or two, Greg may have been seeking to initiate that conversation, but every time he did, Julien initiated sex instead, choosing to use his mouth for blowjobs instead of the exchange of feelings.

It is easier to make Greg come than to make Greg his boyfriend. Recently, Greg talked to his psychiatrist about his ED, which led to a supplementary prescription meant to combat that side effect, and with limited data, it seems to be working. Not that this was ever a problem to be fixed—their sex without it was equally fantastic—but Julien enjoys that Greg took this step, broached the difficult topic partially because of him. Partially, Julien chooses to believe, because his feelings are so all-consuming and intense that he wants to display them by being inside Julien without a barrier.

They've discussed it—the PrEP, the STI testing—and each time they do, this sexual boundary of Julien's is only deconstructing itself because he trusts Greg so effusively. Maybe that level of trust does mean that he is falling for Greg in a way that could lead to honest, real love.

"If you can't come up with an answer, I think it's because you're standing in your own way." Aunt Augustine has always been blunt with her advice. "Do you care about him? Do you see a future with him?"

It scares Julien, but he still says, "Yes, I do."

"Then go for it, Julien. You two are a dream team."

Julien remembers all the dreams he had as a puberty-stricken teen, how he sketched out his ideal relationship. The man in his imaginings was Mr. Potato Head–ed out of various traits and parts of guys he knew from school, and Greg magically fits that bill perfectly.

"You should tell him how you feel," Aunt Augustine suggests in a kind, quiet voice when he is silent too long.

After a moment, he finds himself agreeing. But then he remembers his upcoming travels. "After my trip and my course."

She raises a condescending eyebrow. "Are you sure that's not just a convenient excuse to push it off?"

He shakes his head. "No, I just think if we're going to start a relationship, we shouldn't do it when I'm about to leave town. I need to have a clear head so I can focus on my studies. I sank a lot of money into this."

"Fair enough. I raised a good student after all." Julien beams under Augustine's statement. "And besides, I know the old cliché to be true—absence makes the heart grow fonder."

The two of them let that settle, and then Greg is calling the room to attention from behind the bar. He's brought his iPhone tripod from home and has begun directing a TikTok. Julien can't suppress his laugh as Greg teaches the crowd a dance to a song that's a trending sound on the app.

Aunt Augustine chugs the rest of her drink. "Ain't no way I'm missing out on this. Come on."

Before Julien knows it, he's up front with Greg waving his hands, popping his chest, and swaying his hips. Last year, he could never have imagined being this goofy and free with his coworkers and strangers, yet here he is. There's an unadulterated pleasure in dancing beside Greg, with Greg, close to Greg. It's like their sex—fluid, evolving, fun. He doesn't want to dance ever again if he's not dancing with Greg Harlow.

Eventually, Greg tells everyone they are camera ready. He sets the timer, stands in front, and they dance their little hearts out to an effervescent pop song.