Page 20

Chapter Twenty

Justin

This is the best night of my life. Hands down.

Drew and I linger over dessert. He gets a chocolate creation that probably required an advanced engineering degree to construct, and I get a deconstructed tiramisu that looks more like modern art than dessert, each element carefully placed with tweezers.

We trade bites and make terrible jokes about our food.

“You know what I love about fancy restaurants?” Drew asks, gesturing around with his spoon.

“What?”

“How they give these elaborate descriptions for everything. Like this isn’t just chocolate, it’s a ‘symphony of hand-selected cacao beans performed by an orchestra of pastry chefs.’”

“Next, they’ll tell us the chocolate was personally serenaded during its tempering process,” I say, and Drew’s resulting laugh warms my chest.

I’ve never felt so…free.

I feel I can say anything to Drew, and it turns out there’s so much I want to tell him.

I want to talk to him more about Bobby Ray, about some of the things that happened in those years, tell him how hard it is to shut down Bobby Ray’s voice inside my head.

But it feels wrong to taint this magical night by talking more about Bobby Ray.

It’s enough to have the knowledge that I can tell Drew in the future. To know there’s someone I trust enough to share my history with.

I’m like a dog who’s rolled over on my back. I want to show all parts of myself to Drew for him to see.

Including telling him I’m gay.

Saying the word inside my head is so much easier now in Drew’s presence.

Because he’s gay and out, and he’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. All the lingering shame I have from the homophobia Bobby Ray installed in me seems to evaporate when I’m around Drew.

I watch Drew’s hands gesture as he talks about some IT mishap at work, and all I can think is how badly I want to reach across the table and take one of his hands in mine.

But the desire to be honest with him, to have him know me completely, wars with the terror of losing what we already have.

Because what if I tell him I’m attracted to him and he doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend?

It would make things incredibly awkward.

I don’t want to lose his friendship. I don’t think I could bear it.

Am I his type? Should I ask him about the type of guys he dates? But how do you casually ask someone if they’re potentially interested in a guy who spent his formative years pretending to be a straight football player? Is there a dating app category for reformed jock with emotional baggage ?

I’m so out of my depth here because I’ve never actually dated someone I’m genuinely attracted to. I have no idea if I’m even the kind of guy that someone like Drew—smart, funny, genuinely comfortable in his own skin—would look twice at. Maybe he prefers guys who’ve had their lives figured out longer than five minutes.

Drew’s enthusiastically explaining something about server configurations and his brown eyes are deep and intense, with flecks of gold that catch the light when he laughs.

“Can I ask you something?” I say when he finishes.

“Pretty sure you just did,” Drew replies.

My mouth twitches up, but I don’t let his humor distract me from what I really want to know.

“Why do you wear contacts at work but glasses everywhere else?”

Drew’s hand freezes halfway to his water glass. An emotion I can’t quite read flickers across his face before he recovers.

“Oh, um… I guess I just got used to wearing contacts in professional settings,” he says, but there’s tension in his shoulders.

“That’s funny because you seem more relaxed when wearing your glasses.” I lean forward slightly. “Like you’re more…you.”

Drew blinks rapidly.

Shit. Was that too much? Did I just reveal how closely I’ve been paying attention to him? But I can’t seem to stop myself.

“I like it when you wear your glasses,” I finish.

A blush creeps up Drew’s neck, coloring his cheeks. He pushes his glasses up his nose in that unconscious gesture he always does.

My heart stutters then races, like it’s forgotten how to maintain a steady rhythm.

And somehow, our eyes lock onto each other and we’re caught in this strange suspended moment where everything else blurs out of focus. The clink of cutlery, the murmur of conversation, even the spectacular view—all of it seems irrelevant compared to the way Drew’s looking at me right now.

It’s like he’s seeing something in me I’ve never shown anyone else.

Drew breaks our eye contact, blinking rapidly.

“I think we should probably head home.”

Disappointment shoots through me like I’ve just fumbled a perfect pass. The evening felt endless just moments ago, full of possibility.

Now, reality crashes back in.

Did I do something wrong? Has he realized I’m attracted to him? Does he want to shut down my attraction before I make things uncomfortable between us?

My mind swirls as my face flushes.

We stand, and there’s an awkward moment when I reach for my wallet before remembering we don’t need to pay. Drew does the same thing, his hand patting his pocket before he catches himself with a self-deprecating smile.

Outside, the night air hits my face, cooling my heated skin.

Drew shivers in the cold, and I have to physically stop myself from offering him my jacket. Because that’s not something you do with a friend, right?

The Uber arrives, and we slide into the back seat.

But it’s a compact car, and the space between us seems impossibly small.

When the car takes a sharp corner, Drew’s thigh presses against mine. He doesn’t move away immediately. My heart thunders so loudly I’m sure he must be able to hear it.

I slide a look at him. The streetlights paint him in alternating light and shadow, highlighting the gentle slope of his nose. The sharp line of his jaw softens when he bites his lower lip. His hand rests on the seat between us, close enough to touch him if I moved my pinkie finger half an inch. The urge to bridge that tiny gap makes my fingers twitch.

But I manage to restrain myself.

This feeling inside me is simultaneously intoxicating and terrifying.

We spend the rest of the ride in silence that feels slightly charged.

Does he feel it too? Surely, this is not just in my imagination? Surely, surely, it’s not one-sided?

The Uber pulls up outside our apartment building.

But the thought of saying goodnight to Drew and retreating to our separate apartments sends a pang through me. I’m not ready for tonight to end.

“Uh… do you want to? I mean, we could…?”

Drew stands under the streetlight, the small furrow on his forehead growing deeper as I prove incapable of navigating through a sentence.

Suddenly, the whole world goes dark.

It’s like the universe was cringing so hard at my stumbling that it couldn’t bear to watch any longer. Or maybe it just wanted to spare me embarrassment by turning off the lights.

“Power cut,” Drew says.

Which is potentially a less egocentric explanation.

I fumble with my phone to turn on the flashlight. The dim light transforms Drew into a film noir detective, all dramatic shadows and mystery, except his glasses are slightly askew.

“I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a power cut in London,” I say.

There’s something almost magical about how the darkness transforms the normal street into something new and unexplored, especially with Drew standing close enough that I catch the faint scent of his cologne.

His closeness makes me feel giddy.

“We should take advantage of the power cut,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “Is this the start of your descent into a life of crime? Because I feel obligated to warn you that I make a terrible getaway driver. My parallel parking skills are questionable at best.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of having an adventure rather than committing a crime, but I’m interested in the fact your mind immediately went there.”

Drew has a faint smile on his face. “Your version of adventure usually involves trying to convince me that beans for breakfast is culturally significant.”

“We should go up to the roof,” I suggest. “Without all the light pollution, we might actually be able to see some stars for once.”

“Can we actually get up there?”

“I’ve seen the maintenance guys leave the door propped open sometimes when they’re working up there.”

“Okay.”

We make our way up the stairs using our phone lights. Drew’s shoulder occasionally brushes mine in the darkness, sending sparks through me each time.

I have a surge of triumph when I discover that the maintenance door is actually unlocked. It creaks slightly as we push it open.

And then we’re out under an expanse of sky usually hidden by London’s glow.

It’s still nothing like the skies over Texas, where the stars fill the sky from horizon to horizon, so bright and clear you feel like you could reach up and pluck one right out of the darkness.

But this is still pretty cool.

“Over here.” I lead Drew to a spot at the edge of the roof.

We settle down, our shoulders touching. The night air has a bite to it, but I barely notice because I’m too aware of the warmth of Drew beside me.

Drew tips his head back, looking at the stars.

Somehow, the darkness makes everything more intimate, like we’re the only two people left in London.

If there was anyone I would want to be stuck in a dark pocket universe with, it would be Drew.

I’ve never had this absolute craving to know everything I possibly can about someone.

“So, I don’t think you’ve ever told me why you came to London,” I say.

Drew hesitates for a few seconds before he answers me. “I guess I felt a bit…lost after my last job ended, so I thought a change of scenery would help.” He pauses again, then continues, “I’m still working out what I want to do with my life.”

There’s a thread of uncertainty in this voice I’ve never heard from Drew. He’s usually so guarded when it comes to sharing information about himself.

“Well, it’s obvious that you’re far too talented to be a help desk technician,” I say.

“What?”

“Everyone talks about it. Roger was talking about how you’ve revolutionized the entire customer database, how everything runs so much smoother now.”

Drew lets out a laugh that sounds a bit breathless.

“I just like solving problems,” he says.

His shoulders are tense, so I swallow my follow-up questions.

“You can actually see some stars tonight,” I say instead, tilting my head back.

“Not many though.”

“No, the light pollution is still pretty bad. I guess you’d have to get way out of the city to see all of the stars.”

Memories of the night sky in Texas flash across my mind again, and I have the urge to share them with him.

“There was this lake near where I used to live,” I say. “I’d go out there when I needed to escape. The stars there were amazing, like the whole sky was putting on a private light show just for me.”

I feel Drew swivel his head toward me, feel the puff of breath on the side of my face as he speaks his next words. “What were you escaping from?”

I suck in a breath. A heartbeat passes. Two heartbeats. But then I find the courage to answer.

“When I was in high school, I was escaping my stepfather,” I say, my voice cracking as I say the words. I swallow hard but force the next words out. “And most of the time, I was also trying to escape myself.”

“Justin—” Drew begins, but before he can continue, there’s the sound of the maintenance door creaking open.

“Hey! Who’s up here?” Mr. Peterson’s gruff voice echoes across the roof.

Shit.

Drew and I scramble to our feet.

The superintendent’s flashlight beam cuts through the darkness.

Without thinking, I grab Drew’s hand and pull him behind a large ventilation unit.

We press ourselves against the metal, Drew’s back to my chest, my arm wrapped around his waist to keep him steady.

This is what I’ve wanted for so long. Drew’s body pressed against mine, feeling so perfect.

Although maybe I didn’t imagine these exact circumstances.

I have to force my body not to respond, which is incredibly hard when he shifts slightly against me. His hair tickles my chin, and I catch the faint scent of his shampoo.

“I saw someone up here,” Peterson calls out. His footsteps grow nearer.

I spot a gap between two air conditioning units.

“This way,” I whisper directly into Drew’s ear.

Somehow, we’re holding hands again, and I tug him through the gap, accidentally yanking too hard so he stumbles into me. His elbow connects with my ribs in a way that sends a jolt through me, making me wheeze out a laugh.

We freeze as Peterson’s flashlight beam sweeps past us.

“I thought we weren’t engaging in criminal activity,” Drew whispers against my neck. His breath sends shivers down my spine.

“Think of it as a team-building exercise with a side of mild trespassing,” I whisper back.

Drew’s silent laughter vibrates against my chest, where we’re pressed together. We edge along the wall in a bizarre sideways shuffle.

Drew stumbles slightly, hip-checking an AC unit that responds with an ominous rattle. We both freeze, holding our breath like kids caught sneaking cookies until the metal beast settles back into silence.

The fire escape door protests with an unholy screech when we push it open.

We clatter down the metal stairs in what has to be the least stealthy escape in the history of rooftop getaways. We burst into the hallway of our floor, and I fumble my phone out of my pocket, nearly dropping it twice as I try to activate the flashlight. The beam bounces wildly across the walls as Peterson’s heavy footsteps echo in the stairwell above us, getting closer with each thundering step.

My keys jangle as I try to find the right one, making enough noise to wake not only everyone on our floor but probably several generations of their ancestors too.

I finally manage to open it, and we tumble through the door into my apartment, collapsing against the wall in a breathless heap.

Just then, the lights flicker on, exposing our less-than-graceful entrance in all its fluorescent glory.

Drew’s glasses are slightly crooked and his chest is heaving with what seems to be a combination of breathlessness and laughter.

He turns to look at me, his dark hair ruffled, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners.

And I’m suddenly struck by the incredible rightness of this moment.

How being here, shoulder-to-shoulder with Drew, laughing over the ridiculousness of the situation, is the most right I’ve ever felt.

So I lean forward and kiss him.