American Love Story (Dreamers)

by Adriana Herrera

  But after a few seconds he shook his head and pulled back just as I was making my way down his neck.

  “No.” He just had to say it once, and I stepped back, wondering what had happened.

  When I saw him, with his bruised lips and mussed hair, I had to fist my hands to keep from grabbing him again.

  His chest was heaving, but when he spoke his tone brooked no argument. “Nope. We are not doing this again.”

  He waved a finger between us. “This is our problem, as soon as we’re together we end up fucking.” He held up a hand, those whiskey and moss eyes thunderous. “We’re going to act like whatever is happening here is worth working on. We clearly can’t stay away from each other, so let’s start acting like we mean it.” The exasperation in his voice—there was something else there. Determination.

  Easton was done letting me run the show, and seeing him calling the shots was fucking sexy. “We’re talking about important things happening in our lives right now, and trying to understand each other. You say you want my friendship, then that means actually getting to know me. This hot and cold shit ends now.”

  He looked mad salty and I wanted to wreck him. This Easton was somehow even more irresistible.

  I felt my body relaxing and the intensity of the evening, of the whole weekend started to diffuse a little. I smiled at him then. “All right, counselor, so you’re feeling some type of way. I hear that,” I said as I grabbed the big tubs of broth. “Why don’t I warm up this food for us.” I waved a hand around his kitchen. “I think I can figure out where to find stuff. You go relax and we can talk while we eat.”

  He looked genuinely bemused by my sudden surge of domesticity, but he didn’t argue, just nodded and went back to the couch. I fussed around the kitchen for a few minutes while he put away his papers, and sipped from his wineglass.

  When I walked out of the kitchen with two steaming bowls of soup, he got up to help me. “Here, I’ll get spoons and chopsticks. I also have a bottle of Sriracha around here. Let’s eat in the living room.”

  He came back with all the stuff we needed and a glass of wine for me. After a moment we both sat down, holding our bowls, alternating between bites and slurps. The soup was flavorful and fragrant, and delicious, and as soon as I tasted it, I remembered I hadn’t eaten since my post-workout breakfast early this morning. We both ate in silence for a couple of minutes before Easton spoke.

  “Thank you for this. All I’ve had all day were a few canapés, and until now had not realized I was starving.”

  I angled my head, confused. “I thought you were eating with your mentee.”

  He frowned at that and went in for another mouthful of noodles. He shook his head as he chewed. “I had to cancel. It was my grandpa’s birthday today and my mother had a luncheon thing, so I went there this afternoon.”

  From the way he spoke about his parents I knew Easton wasn’t exactly close to them, but he did seem to see a lot of his family. There always seemed to be an event he had to make an appearance at.

  “How was the party?”

  He lifted a shoulder with a resigned expression on his face. “My mother’s parties are always flawless and a little boring.” He gave me a lopsided smile, but it wasn’t totally unhappy. “My dad’s an ass and not really interested in any of us, but my mom tries to at least get the family together. It was good to see my grandpa and my sister too.” I realized it was maybe the most he’d said about himself or his family that didn’t include some self-deprecating comment and I wondered if part of all that was about me.

  “You almost never talk about your family. Is it because you think that I’m not interested?”

  He widened his eyes like he was thinking about it for the first time. “Honestly? My family in some ways feel parallel to my life. I’m in town working this job and that is sort of foreign to them, even to my grandpa, who’s so supportive. It’s almost like my real life is one thing and I dip into this other world I belong to too.” He looked closely at me for a moment, a vulnerability there that I was loathe to betray, and as if he was reading my mind, said, “You are always firmly in the ‘real’ part of my life, Professor Denis.”

  Before I even had a chance to react, he flashed me another one of those smiles and totally changed the subject. “Did you talk to Ari today?” he asked, brows furrowed, obviously worried about the answer. I found that I wanted to tell him everything Ari and I had talked about, the things I’d been thinking about, but I needed more time to figure myself out.

  “I did talk to Ari. He’s doing okay, and there are actually a couple of things I want to ask you about, but we were talking about you.” I ran my hand over his bare calf and he shivered from my touch. “Tell me about your dad. Did he give you a hard time?”

  He gave me a doubtful look, then put his own bowl down. He brought his legs up onto the couch and hugged his knees as he looked at me. “I just don’t know if I have a right to complain when my ‘family issues’ seem so minimal in the grand scheme of things.” He placed his chin on his knees. The need to close the space between us and engulf him in my arms was powerful, but I held back, because I wanted to hear him, and he was right about things getting derailed whenever we were touching. “I mean, sure, my parents are not very warm, but my life has been very easy.”

  “It’s not all black and white, Easton.” I laughed at his astonished expression.

  I probably was the last person he’d expect to hear this from. “The things that hurt you still hurt you. Just because you were born into wealth doesn’t mean that you can’t be hurt by your dad’s shitty behavior.” I shook my head, not wanting to launch into a rant.

  “Privilege doesn’t mean that you can’t be sad, or that you don’t have the right to complain about it. You also deserve people in your life who can see that pain and tell you that you didn’t deserve to be hurt like that. The people in your life, me included, need to do better at showing you how dope you are.” He busted up at that while I reached out for him, deciding enough was enough. If we were going to go into our feelings like this, then I wanted to be fucking holding him.

  “I’m glad you approve of my person.”

  We maneuvered around until he was lying between my legs, his back pressed tight to my chest. “You know I do,” I said with feigned annoyance as I ran my hands over his arms. I pressed my nose into his hair which always smelled like the beach for some reason. But I stopped before pressing a kiss to his ear, which with our track record would most likely fully derail the heart to heart.

  Easton sighed as he laid his head back on my chest, sounding so exhausted I almost wanted to let it go. To just let him relax after what had been a stressful day for both of us, but I couldn’t. I came here to make things right, and I was going to see that through.

  “Baby, I—”

  Easton’s back straightened and he turned around to look at me, his eye twinkling. “I think I like where this conversation is going already.”

  I tightened my arms around him and pressed my mouth to his ears. “Stop, this is serious.” I was not going to apologize for calling him baby either. I was here with him, and it felt good, and I would be a hypocrite to tell him he deserved to get what he needed, when I kept denying myself the same thing.

  “I don’t want to get too deep, because we’ve both had long ass weekends. But I really meant what I said before. We’re all figuring out how to show up for the shit we believe in, and privilege doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt.”

  He ran a hand over my cheek, his skin brushing the stubble there. It felt so natural, so right to be with him like this.

  When he spoke, he still sounded unsure. “I get what you’re saying, but look at this shit going on in town. Compared to what happened to Ari yesterday, my problems just seem so trivial.”

  I sighed at that. “It’s not a competition, Easton. At least it shouldn’t be. My struggle shouldn’t minimize or dism
iss yours, no matter how different they are.” I took a moment to take stock of what I was feeling and I really felt no contradictions, not turmoil, about telling him that. “I think that’s at the heart of so much of what’s made us all so disconnected from each other. This fear of naming people’s pain, the energy and the destruction that has been sown just to keep up this farce that we’ve ‘moved on.’ How can we be over what we don’t get to mourn? Isn’t it better to just say, ‘I can see your pain and you can see mine. Let’s find ways to fix both.’”

  That was heavy, but it felt good to be able to say it to Easton and to have him hold my words. After a few moments he spoke again, his voice soft and low.

  “Thank you.”

  I didn’t have to ask why, because I felt the same gratitude. To be here with him, with all the different things happening around us that would deny us this moment.

  I turned my head so I could reach his cheek and pressed a kiss there. I let my lips linger, grazing his stubbly chin. He felt so good, always. “You’re welcome. Maybe we can call this a truce?”

  Easton sat up then and pulled away from me, and quickly turned around so we were face-to-face. The smile that was beginning to feel like one of my biggest accomplishments made an appearance again. “Maybe we can call it a start.”

  Easton’s optimism, his faith in things working out sort of bowled me over. “All right.”

  He came in for a kiss, his tongue stealing into my mouth, igniting feelings in my body that I could not even really name.

  When we broke apart, his face looked all business, but there was a spark in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Okay,” he said, suddenly serious. “Tell me what you wanted to discuss about Ari.”

  For a moment, I felt that pang, the one that chastised me for forgetting what was important. I tamped it down and remembered Ari’s words. I would not write myself out of the future I was working for. “I wanted to ask you about your friend who does immigration law.”

  He nodded, immediately grabbing his phone from the table. “Of course, I’ll reach out to him tonight.”

  I bit back a smile, because for all he could be so laid back, there was intensity to Easton when it came to his work that I really admired. “Thanks, but come here first,” I said, my voice suddenly husky and low.

  He lifted his eyes from what he was doing on his phone. I grabbed his hand to bring him in against my chest again, and as always, he came.

  Chapter Twelve

  Easton

  “Are you going to take that?” I asked, barely able to contain the grin that had been pasted on my face for the past hour. Patrice and I had finished our enormous bowls of soup and instead of running home like I would have expected, he’d cleaned up and then gotten back on the couch with me.

  I’d been too scared to ask if he was staying, but eventually he just grabbed the control and turned on the TV. We’d been dozing while an episode of a superhero show droned on when his phone rang.

  I handed him the phone, which had Nesto’s face flashing on the screen.

  I tried to get up to give him space, but he just pulled me back to him. I had no idea what was happening, but when he put that big arm across my chest as he answered the call, I let myself melt into him. I was not going to stress and I was not going to question anything happening between us tonight.

  “What’s up, brother?” Patrice’s soft voice brimmed with affection when he spoke to his friend.

  “Where are you, man? I’m at your place.” Nesto was pretty loud, so it wasn’t very hard to listen in on the conversation.

  I looked at him for a moment and then stood up, signaling with my hands that he could go back to his place. But he didn’t move, he just brought the phone down from his ear and tapped on the screen. Speaking as he did.

  “Nes, I’m just putting you on speaker. I’m actually up at Easton’s.” He cleared his throat as I stood there wondering what happened with the skittish Patrice I knew.

  He leaned over and pulled on my hand, while Nesto’s amused voice filled the living room. “Oh? You visiting your neighbor then.” There was a whole lot that was not being said in that answer, but Patrice wasn’t giving him anything.

  “That’s right. I brought over some dinner, to pay Easton back for the one he made the other night.”

  “Right.” The tone of Nesto’s voice evoked a clear, “More like you went up there with a peace offering for being an asshole.”

  If there was one thing I knew, it was that Patrice and his friends told each other everything.

  After a few seconds of Patrice glaring at his phone, I broke and spoke in its direction. “Nesto, you can come up if you want.”

  I mean we hadn’t been fucking or anything, everyone was fully clothed and there had clearly been a meal happening. Nesto didn’t need to know the details about the last hour of true confessions and cuddling by the fireplace.

  Nesto’s friendly laugh snapped Patrice into action. “I’m already here, my dude.” The knock had us both standing up and walking to the door.

  I waved my hand to indicate Patrice could let his friend in. As he walked I stayed behind to watch his ass in one of his seemingly endless supply of fitted sweats. By the time he got there and started opening the door I forced my eyes to move up to where Nesto was standing, a shit-eating grin on his face.

  After giving each other a hard pat on the back, Nesto sauntered into my place, taking in the scene, which even I had to admit was pretty cozy.

  He walked up to me and gave me one of his strong hugs. “What’s up, man?”

  I smiled at the way his eyes moved around the room. “Not much, we were just hanging out a bit. Patrice was nice enough to bring me dinner.”

  Nesto just winked and sat on the couch smiling. “Looks like you guys were enjoying a night in. Sorry to disturb.” That last part he said while innocently blinking at Patrice, who ignored him. “Anyways, I don’t have a lot of time. I have to go pick up my man at Carmen’s.” It was always amazing to me how Nesto used such a tone of complete adoration whenever he spoke about his partner. “He still eats dinner with them on Sundays when he’s not at the restaurant. But I wanted your help with something, P.”

  Patrice seemed to relax when it was clear Nesto was not going to pry about why he was hanging out at my house on Sunday night, lounging by a fire. He walked over to his friend and sat next to him on the couch while I took a seat on the chair across from them.

  “What do you need?”

  The way he said that, it was so obvious that there was nothing his friend could ask that Patrice wouldn’t try his best to make happen.

  Nesto turned to me, his face serious again.

  “Did P tell you about what happened yesterday” His grim expression told me he could only be talking about Ari’s traffic stop.

  I nodded, my face burning with shame that I had nothing better to offer than a nod and a shrug. “I know.”

  Nesto nodded once and turned his mouth to the side, clearly refraining from whatever he wanted to say.

  “P, I want to do something at OuNYe. Sheridan and I have that fundraiser in a couple of weeks. We were going to give all the proceeds to the agency that helps immigrants and refugees. The one that got me connected with Ari and Yin when I first got here. We still are, but I want to do something more.”

  Nesto ran his hands over his head, he looked shaken, which was such a departure from the no-nonsense businessman I usually saw around town. He spoke to Patrice whose eyes widened at Nesto’s serious expression. “You know I like to keep my head down with this kind of stuff. I’m not political like you and Milo. I stay in my hustle and I know I do my part by creating jobs and shit.” He paused then and his generous lips pursed. He looked at us both before he spoke again. “The way that Ari looked this morning when he was telling me about that bullshit that went down last night. I can’t look the other way, bruh.”


  Patrice gripped his friend’s knee. From the look they shared, I knew these two men had seen each other through everything. “What’d you have in mind?” Patrice’s tone clearly said, whatever it was, Nesto could count on him one hundred percent.

  Nesto turned to look at me then and smiled. “I actually want your opinion too, Easton. You’ve been in this town your whole life and people trust you. I talked to Harold about it and he wants to do a match giving, or some shit. Whatever we raise that night, he’s going to match it and give the same amount to that place that works with black and Latinx kids teaching them about their rights, the Ithaca Justice Project.”

  He lifted a shoulder then and looked back to Patrice. “I’m not worried about people getting pissed and losing business. I just need to do something.”

  Patrice dipped his head in agreement with Nesto’s words.

  “I think that’s great, Nesto.” I glanced up at Patrice and saw that he was completely focused on me, clearly waiting to hear what I was going to say. “As a matter of fact, I’ll go in on that. Whatever you raise that night, I’ll match the amount for each agency.” I put my hands up, needing to make it clear I didn’t want cookies for this. “I’ll be an anonymous donor. I don’t need to sidle into your event.”

  Nesto smiled wide then and sent Patrice a look that was very much in the vein of “I told you so.”

  “That’s great, man. Thank you. We’re going to start promoting the event more aggressively since it’s in a couple of weeks.”

  He sighed and looked over to Patrice who was still focused on me. “What do you think, P?”

  He didn’t hesitate, nodding enthusiastically as he answered Nesto. “I think that’s great, Nes, when local businesses do this type of thing it really gets communities more engaged. OuNYe’s a new place, but it’s already well-respected, and so are you for that matter. Harold Sheridan is a big fish here. People will pay attention to the fact that you’re giving to the Justice Project. I’ll make sure to go in hard on my Twitter account promoting it over the next two weeks.”