Page 130 of Something Like Hail

“Well, he’s movingin.”

“Awesome.” Harold keptbobbing his head. “Super cool. I’m so pumped for you, man. Really.I mean it.”

“Keep going,” Noah joked.“I’m not quite convinced yet.”

Harold swallowed. “I’m trying to besupportive. I know it’s the right thing to do. Selfishly, maybe Iwish you were still single.” He managed a smile. “But onlymaybe.”

Noah studied him. “There must be a slew ofguys trying to win your heart. Be honest.”

Harold grinned. “Just one. Ruben. He’s allright.”

“Just all right?” Noahwiped his fingers on a napkin and gestured with them. “Let’s see aphoto. I need to approve of this guy or you’re calling itoff.”

Harold laughed and pulled out his phone.After browsing briefly, he handed it over. The man in the image wastheir age. His hair was tight black curls against olive skin. Maybehe was Greek or Italian. His face was both handsome and kind.

“Nope,” Noah said, handingthe phone back. “Not good enough. Want me to call him and explainthat it’s over?”

Harold chuckled. “Nah. We’re not evenofficial yet. He keeps pushing though, so I need to make a decisionsoon.”

“Might be worth ashot.”

Harold considered the image. Then he raisedhis eyes to him instead and that’s where they lingered. “Maybe. Howare things with your parents?”

“I wouldn’tknow.”

“You haven’t heard fromthem lately?”

Noah snorted. “Are you forgetting that I’mdead to them?”

“I thought you guys talkedon the phone sometimes. I remember you saying that.”

“My mom, yeah.” Noah leanedback, trying to think of when the last time had been. “I haven’tspoken to them since you and I went our separate ways.”

“That was a yearago!”

Noah shrugged. “I know.”

“They won’t answeror…”

“I stopped calling. I’lltry it again the next time I’m drunk and need a goodlaugh.”

Harold’s expression was earnest. “A lot haschanged in the past year. Not just marriage equality, but tons ofchurches welcome gay people now.”

“I refuse to get my hopesup.”

“Okay, but you could stilltest the waters. Maybe they’re sorry.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “You remember ourtrip out there, right?”

“I do,” Harold said. “Ithink about it a lot. Especially the motel.”

The night they had slept together. It shouldhave been the beginning. Instead it had been the end.

“I liked the drive too,”Harold said quickly. “Just us cruising down the road and talking.It was a good time. I wish it had been different with your parents,but I liked the rest.”

“Me too,” Noahadmitted.

“Then let’s do it again.Right now. We’ll take a road trip somewhere. Maybe not FortStockton, but we could pick a direction and just go. See what wecan find. This place is a bust anyway.”