Page 58 of Learn Your Limits

Being amongst a community where Reid and I are just another couple in the large crowd has eased some of the tension I’ve been feeling lately.

Not only was I eager for the busy school year to finish, but the whispers and judgmental looks I was receiving from a few colleagues were annoying me.

Some days, it felt like Teresa was my only friend at the university.

A professor dating an ex-student might be gossiped about for a while, but I know the vultures will eventually focus their attention on something else.

Until then, it’s my scarlet letter to bear, and I’ll wear it without an ounce of shame.

The way Reid and I found each other is unorthodox—I’m well aware—yet I do not regret one moment of hardship we endured and the love that bloomed because of it.

Today though, there’s only celebration in mind. Reid has just accepted a school counselor position at a local elementary school, and we are spending the weekend at the Pride Festival.

“Milo, there’s so many people,” Reid comments beside me as we walk hand-in-hand through the festival entrance. The fascination in his voice makes me smile. I’m excited for him to experience just how soul-nourishing revelry with other queer people can be.

“And this isn’t even the largest festival,” I reply, squeezing his hand gently. “We should consider attending the one in New York City one of these years.” It’s only one of the trips we could take in this lifetime together.

“I’d love that,” he beams as we pause to the side of the incoming crowd. His amber eyes leave mine, looking at something over my shoulder, and I follow his view.

Behind us, the word “pride” is displayed on a huge canvas, each letter depicting different people in all sorts of different relationships. The art is gorgeous—bold lines and bright colors—I can see why it’s caught Reid’s eye.

“Do you want a picture?” I ask, already retrieving my phone from my pocket as Reid nods in reply. Still hand-in-hand, I guide him over to the mural where others are in a short line waiting to take pictures.

We make easy small talk with the couple in front of us, and we end up agreeing to be each other’s photographers once we reach the start of the line.

Reid is dressed opposite of me, almost literally.

While I sport wide-legged black linen pants and a sleeveless black shirt showing my sides, he’s dressed in light blue jeans and a short sleeve white dress shirt splattered with rainbow paint.

How we look together, the ever-present happiness on his face.

.. This is a moment I want immortalized as a permanent picture hung up in the home we share.

Within a minute, we make it to the front of the line, and I invite the other couple to get their photo first, but I hand off their phone to Reid.

“You’re the better photographer, Muneco.” He blushes as he takes the phone. It’s true, though, the way he’s taken pictures of his gorgeous body, no art could compare.

Before my mind can drift off to more indecent thoughts, it becomes our turn to pose for a photo, and I hand off my phone to one of the ladies we were speaking to.

Deciding a pose is easy, our bodies slide together so effortlessly with my arm around Reid’s waist and his arm around my shoulder as we stand hip-to-hip.

As we are finishing our photos, I suddenly hear a cheer from the crowd that’s gathered by the mural to wait their turn for a photo.

“Kiss!” “Un beso!” they shout, clapping and whooping in our direction.

A full-bodied laugh leaves me, and the playful taunts of the crowd make Reid blush even more.

Turning my body so I stand in front of Reid, I block him from the crowd, putting us in our own little bubble for a second.

I’d like to make sure he’s not uncomfortable, knowing he’s still fairly new to PDA with another man.

“What do you say?” I ask, rubbing soothing circles onto his hips as he looks at me wide-eyed and a little overwhelmed.

“I-I want to,” he stammers, his eyes flicking to the gathered crowd of people surrounding us. With a deep breath, he steadies himself. “But you’ll have to take charge.”

“Nothing new, baby,” I tease, taking his moment of surprise to wrap my hand around the back of his neck and lean in to kiss him, angling us toward the camera.

Reid’s hands find my waist as he anchors himself to me, knowing I'll always be here to keep him safe and protected.

His hands tighten their hold as he smiles into the kiss, and the crowd erupts in cheer.

The woman taking our photo appears suddenly beside us, handing me my phone and politely pointing out the other people in line behind us.

I must have lost track of how long we were kissing.

Waving a quick wave in apology, I guide a beet-red blushing Reid away from the crowd with one hand as I pull up our photos with the other.

“Take a look.” Bringing my phone up between us as we slow down our steps now that we’re out of people’s way, I huddle close to Reid as he begins to swipe through the images.

We look like two opposites—quite literally dressed as night and day—and the pictures couldn’t be more perfect.

He’s sunshine in every frame; a sweet smile shines on his face, yet a hint of that shy man I met nearly a year ago still sneaks through. And I love every facet of him.

Reid’s phone goes off in his pocket, and as he reaches for it, I take a second to make the picture of us kissing into my new background.

“It’s a text from my dad.” He stiffens beside me, his thumb hovering over his notification screen as if indecisive on whether or not to open it. Given how his father has been acting since Reid revealed our relationship last Christmas, I cannot blame him for hesitating.

I watch as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, steadying himself. “Fuck it,” he says on an exhale, swiping to unlock the phone. I am about to look away to give him some privacy when he reaches out and grasps my forearm. “Read it with me, please, Milo.”

Arthur Callahan: Hello, son. I know it has been some time since we last spoke. I’m aware that the distance between us is my doing, and I’m sorry.

Arthur Callahan: I just wanted to give my congratulations.

Reid remains quiet after reading through the messages.

With a sigh, he locks his phone and puts it back into his pocket.

With a shift of his feet, he’s turned in my direction and holds out his hand to entwine our fingers again.

Immediately, I wrap my hand around his, holding it tightly in support as I watch him take a few more calming breaths.

Even with Reid inviting me to see the messages, it still feels like an intrusion with how raw those words from his father felt.

“I didn’t expect to hear anything from him—definitely not an apology,” he begins, his voice shaky with emotion. “But it’s a start, right?”

“It’s a start.” I nod.

“I can’t text back right now. I feel like I have to sit and think about what to say, and I don’t want it to take over our weekend.

” His amber eyes are glassy only for a moment, the shine in them wiping away as he dabs his eyes with the collar of his shirt.

When his eyes are revealed to me again, his gaze is focused, spine resolute as he squeezes my hand. “We’re still celebrating.”

“I’d support you in whatever you choose, Muneco.” I mean it. If he wants to go back home, I’ll lead him out the gates right now, but only at his command. If my boyfriend wants to stay and celebrate, that’s what we’ll do.

“Well, I’m choosing us.” Reid presses into my side as he leans down, his lips brushing a gentle kiss to my cheek.

The gesture is so sweet, so caring after he’s just experienced a whirlwind of emotions. And somehow, I’m the recipient of his adoration.

“Always,” he adds, his lips moving against my stubble. I can’t resist the temptation of nuzzling into him. After another moment of our embrace, I lean back and, with an open palm, gesture for us to keep walking the festival grounds.

“So, how are we celebrating? What would you like to do, baby?” As I ask the question, I notice Reid’s eyes drift to my upper arm where my newly healed tattoo is on display in my cut-off shirt.

It’s the image of the phoenix that Reid was drawing in my class all those months ago.

At the time, him sharing that drawing with me felt as transformational in our relationship as the mythical bird rising from its ashes.

He found the drawing when clearing out old assignments right before graduation.

Much to his surprise, we visited a tattoo parlor after his graduation dinner so I could get it tattooed; the bird wrapped in flames became as permanent as Reid is in my heart.

“Reid?” I ask again, knowing he’s still distracted looking at it as I look around the various stations and booths set up. I find it adorable how he fixates on his art decorating my arm.

“Hm? Oh, I saw a few things that looked interesting,” he replies. From my periphery I can see he’s now facing forward and looking around as well. “I saw something about a burlesque show when we were walking in.”

“A burlesque show… Feeling adventurous, are you?” My tone is teasing, but it was something that had caught my eye as well. Live performances at Pride can be downright enthralling, and I can see it becoming a treasured memory for us.

“It sounds like a good time, and I’m always down to try something new.” Reid bites his lip in a way that leaves his statement feeling anything but innocent. Honestly, I’m surprised that he hasn’t tried teasing me in public today.

Brat.

Pulling at his hand, I bring Reid closer to me, my fingers slipping from his so I can wrap an arm around his waist instead.

My hand dips just below the waistband of his briefs, my pointer finger settling into the deep V-line of his hip as we walk toward the large performance tent that is already filling up.

I escort us toward the only few seats that are left open and luckily find a single bench near the front left of the stage. We only have a moment to settle in before the announcer begins to introduce the acts tonight.

“Oh, pardon me,” I apologize to the man beside me, having accidentally bumped his leg with mine.

“No need. These benches are packed in,” the man replies in a voice that sounds familiar. Curiosity wins the best of me as I turn to get a better look at him and instantly recognize a professor I worked with years ago developing a psycholinguistics course.

“Well, Professor Adler, I won’t lie and say it isn't a complete surprise to see you here.” A small laugh escapes me. For as short as we knew each other, I would have bet my soul to never run into the stoic Ezekiel Adler at a burlesque show.

“Professor Cervantes,” he greets in recognition with a small nod and accompanying smile. “I would agree and say this is not my typical kind of outing, but I would be lying to you.” The man looks entirely more comfortable than I thought he would be at an event like this.

“Please meet my boyfriend,” I lean back enough so Ezekiel has sight of Reid.

Tapping him on the shoulder, I get Reid’s attention so he turns away from the stage and toward us.

“Reid, this is Professor Adler, we developed a course together a few years ago. Ezekiel, this is the love of my life, Reid.”

“So is this a meeting spot for professors?” Reid jokes as he shakes Ezekiel’s hand.

“Statistically speaking, I am sure there is at least one other professor or university staff within such a large crowd,” Ezekiel replies, eyebrow scrunched like he is truly doing the math. He’s taken away from his thoughts only when the announcer introduces the headliner for the show, Alek… Adler.

“Any relation?” I ask, eyebrow raised, dying to know the chisme.

“He’s my husband,” Ezekiel beams, eyes set solely on the stage but specifically the muscular man covered in pink feathers.

“Holy shit,” Reid curses beside me, his eyes also set on the burlesque dancer.

Our small talk is effectively stopped once the lights fully dim and the show captivates us. After the performance, Ezekiel and I exchange information, hoping to get back in touch and perhaps even team up for another course in the future.

“What did you think of the show?” I ask Reid as we walk toward a more secluded part of the park to enjoy our fried treats.

“I loved it,” he exclaims. “I can’t imagine what the shows are like at a real venue when they’re not working with limited space.”

“It can be one of our trips, as long as we can avoid the Texas summer heat,” I comment as I sit down, setting down the several plates of food in my lap and patting the spot beside me for Reid to join me on the grassy little hill.

“I have no desire to visit Texas during the summer,” he laughs, dropping down beside me.

“What about summers up north?” I ask, picking up a churro and bringing it to his lips. “Maybe in a remote cabin, only us around for miles…”

He groans, taking a bite of the churro and chewing slowly. “You’re determined to get me naked for an entire week, aren’t you?” he teases, wiping the excess sugar from his lips.

“I would never,” I fake affront. Grabbing a churro for myself, I chew over the sugary dough as I make a show of thinking, tapping my finger along my chin. “I’d at least let you wear running shoes.”