by Damian Bloom
“Hm, endings are always hard.” Adam tightens his hug.
“I just can’t figure out what the grand gesture should be.”
“The grand gesture?”
“Yeah, the big I-want-you-back gesture.” I rub my tired eyes. “You know, when the heroes think they’ve messed it all up and lost each other forever, and then one of them does something to prove their love and win the other back?” I point to the coffee table, to the book Adam and I have just finished. “Like in Me Before You, when Louisa drops everything and flies to Switzerland to be there for Will.”
“Hmm.” Adam nods.
It feels like my brain is overheating. The more I try to find the solution, the more it eludes me. “I’ll make some tea. You want some?” I say, standing up.
Adam whines, trying to pull me back into his lap. I make it up to him with a kiss so passionate it instantly gets me hard.
“Sure, a cup of tea would be great.” He sounds lightly dazzled.
I allow my brain to rest for a few minutes, shooing any thought of the book away. But as the tea bags stain the water red, an idea unexpectedly sprouts. “I think I’ve got it!”
“Got what?”
“The ending. The big gesture.” Turning around the corner so fast that tea splatters onto the floor, I thump Adam’s cup in front of him on the table. “So what do you think of this: They broke up because Finn has been trying to hide their relationship from everyone, and Josh understandably got mad at him for it. After some introspection, Finn now wants to make it up to Josh, and he knows he needs to prove he’s changed and won’t ever try to sweep their relationship under the carpet again.”
Adam nods, taking a sip of his tea. He winces when it burns his tongue. “And how does he do that?”
“Well, he’s a famous independent singer with millions of subscribers to his Youtube channel, right? What better way to prove to Josh that he’s proud to be with him than to confess his feelings for him publicly?” I sit up straighter in my chair with a jump. “Oh, a song! He could write a song for him. And then that could be his next hit.” I clap my hands excitedly, happy with my resolution.
I lose some steam when I notice Adam’s face doesn’t mirror my enthusiasm. “You don’t like it,” I say.
“I wouldn’t say I don’t like it…” He drags out his words without much conviction.
“But?”
“I don’t know. You’re probably not asking the right person. To me, all of these confessions, and love songs, and big gestures…They’re a bit, how to say…” He rubs his chin and looks away like he hopes he can leave the sentence open-ended, but I wait for him to finish his thought. “Well, they’re a little cringeworthy, aren’t they?”
The word stings like a slap. “What’s cringeworthy about showing the person you love that you love them?”
Adam shrugs. “Again, I’m not the right person to talk to about these things.” Adam shoves a notebook under his cup to serve as a coaster. “If you still believe in fairy tales, I bet something like this would be sweet. If you’re a tad more cynical, like me, it’s just syrupy.”
I scoff and gulp down some tea. It burns my throat, but I ignore it. “What if you made a huge mistake and ruined an important relationship? Wouldn’t you try to make up for it?”
Adam shrugs. “Why isn’t it enough to simply apologize? You can admit to a mistake without making a whole scene, can’t you?”
A wave of fiery anger grows in my stomach. It reminds me of our first encounter and how insufferable I found Adam at the time. “It’s not only about admitting your mistake. It’s also about showing you’ve learned your lesson and you’ve changed as a person. That you won’t make the same mistake again.”
Leaning back in his chair, Adam rolls his eyes. “Doing something once doesn’t mean you’ve completely changed as a person.”
“That’s why it needs to be a big gesture.” I’m raising my voice because I’m growing frustrated, even if it’s not entirely clear to me why. “Something the old you would have never been able to do.”
“Yeah, I guess it would make sense for a novel,” Adam says conciliatorily.
My breathing speeds up with annoyance. What will he do once he breaks my heart? I grind my teeth. Will he simply let me walk out of his life without a second thought? Will he say sorry and think it will magically fix everything?
My stomach churns, and I’m afraid I’ll be sick. Something inside of me is convinced that’s exactly how it will happen. Adam will break my heart, and then, poof, he’ll be gone like a beautiful illusion. And I’ll be left a ruin, waiting for some stupid “Prince Charming” that I’ve begun to despise.
I cross my arms over my chest. “You really can’t picture ever caring enough for a person to put your pride away and make a sweet gesture to show them you give a fuck about them?”
Adam’s eyes narrow. “I don’t understand how we even came to this discussion.” He’s lowered his voice into the range he only reaches when his patience begins to fray. “Yes, I think your idea is nice. I’m sure it will work for the book. What does this have to do with me and what I would do?” He shoves his tea away like he’s decided he won’t take another sip. “No, that’s probably not something I would do because that’s just not me. Why does it matter anyway?”
“What will happen when we fight? Will you just walk away?”
He throws his hands into the air. “Who says we’ll fight? And who says it will be my fault?”
“Grandma says.”
Adam scoffs. “Oh, not this again. Are you seriously upset with me for a hypothetical future? For something I haven’t even done yet?”
“I’m not upset with you,” I say, digging my fingers into my palms.
“Then what’s the point of this conversation? Let’s just drop the subject.”
I lean in further like I’m afraid Adam will slip away before I can get the answers I want. What answers? I ask myself. I’m not entirely sure. All I know is that my mind thirsts for some clarity. “I just…” My voice falters. “Worry.”
Adam’s eyes soften. “Worry about what?”
“Us.” The word is as spiky as a thorn. Uncomfortable, misplaced. But I understand it’s been swirling in the depths of my mind, sowing an unending sense of uncertainty into the ground Adam and I tread on. “I wish I knew what I am to you.”
Adam nods to himself. “I figured this would come up sooner or later.”
My heart squeezes. I know just as well as he probably does that I haven’t asked this question until now for fear I might break a spell or burst a bubble. “It’s hard to see a future for something I don’t even understand in the present,” I try to explain. “My friends thinking we’re together, and you not saying otherwise, it all makes me feel really confused. Sometimes, when we’re hanging out, it’s even hard for me to believe we’re not a couple.”
Adam picks up a bookmark from the table and studies it for a long moment. “Labels can suffocate a good thing.” It comes off as a warning.
“But they can also give it direction.” Reaching over the table, I snatch the bookmark from Adam’s hand. Look at me. “I don’t think I’m asking much of you, Adam. It’s enough if you just tell me how you feel about me. Like, is it only a sex thing, or could there be something more? Either way, it’s fine. The sex is great, really. I just want us to be on the same page.”
His brow furrows, and he takes my hand. “It’s more than sex, of course. I thought that was obvious.”
Breath baited, I wait for him to expand on that. When he doesn’t, I prompt him with a gesture of the hand. “More…how?”
“This thing we have…It’s very special and rare to me.” He clears his throat. “I’m not this comfortable around anyone else. People tire me out. I’ve never felt the need to open up to them because…what’s the point? No one ever seems to care. To listen.” Adam’s eyes are almost too intense to look into. “But with you, it’s different. You’re better than solitude. You’re my best friend, Luis, and I love
your company. Even when we’re not having sex.” He squeezes my hand tighter. “The sex is the best I’ve ever had, don’t get me wrong, and somehow, it only gets better. But that’s not all you are to me.”
My throat closes, and my eyes sting. Damn it. Sucking in a deep, calming breath, I get myself back under control.
“I find myself needing to tell you things,” Adam explains, “because you get me. You understand. And even when you don’t, you try to. Which is all you can ever expect from someone.” Adam’s eyes bore into the depths of my soul. “To try…”
My voice crawls up my throat, sounding strangled: “Then let’s try. Let’s try to be more. As much as we can be.”
“I am trying, Luis. Every time I wake up clinging on to you, whenever I realize you’ve slipped into every plan I’ve got for the future, each time my heart swells up just because I see you, I-” He chokes on his own voice and tries to cough up the lump in his throat. “It takes a lot of willpower not to run away in terror.”
I lean over the table, inch my hand higher up his arm. I’m greedy for him, need to grab more, hold tighter, or he might slip away. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I would never do anything to hurt you.”
Adam sets his jaw. “Neither would I, but you still expect me to.”
Chest tightening, I wonder what to say and come up with nothing.
He shakes his head like he regrets having said so much. “Honestly, maybe it’s good that you’re cautious. I don’t trust myself not to hurt you either. I don’t know how to care for a heart anymore. Not even mine.”
“Your heart is fine, Adam.” I thread our fingers together. “It’s large and warm and bursting with affection.”
“But it can’t give you what you want. I’m not a romantic at all.” Sadness glowing in his eyes like a dying ember, Adam presses his lips together. “I won’t make any over-the-top gestures or sappy confessions of love…”
“You don’t know what I want.”
“Sure I do. You’ve told me a million times by now. It’s all you think about, all you talk about. The one true love. Your perfect Prince Charming.” He spits the words out like they’ve exasperated him for long enough. “That’s all fairy tales to me. How could I be that for you?”
“That’s not what I want anymore,” I rush to say before I can realize it’s a lie. “Things change…People change.”
“You might pretend you’re open to something else and even try it out with me… Have some fun for a while. But ultimately—and we both know it—you’ll always want what you’ve grown up chasing.” He pokes a finger at my chest. “That longing is a part of you.”
I want to contradict him, but it’s useless. Because, damn it, I know he’s right. He knows me better than I know myself.
“I’m just not the guy I used to be,” Adam says, and it sounds like a bitter excuse. “I don’t do relationships anymore. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could. I’d fuck it all up. And I don’t want to risk messing this up. Not with you. You’re too important to me, and you deserve much more.”
He twists his wrist free of my grip, then stands up, looking as tall as the room. “If you want me to say this is a relationship, I can’t. And I’m sorry, really, but I also don’t want to make you believe something that isn’t true. If you feel like any of my actions lead you on, you can tell me, and I’ll hold back, try to…express my affection differently. Because I do care about you, Luis. I do feel something for you. And it’s the most amazing thing that’s happened to me in years.”
Something unlocks in my chest, like a ball of yarn unrolling, and my eyes feel damp.
Adam avoids my gaze. “I’m here for as long as you want me, and if you decide that it’s been enough, or you want something else, all you need to do is tell me, and I’ll accept it.”
I shake my head furiously. I won’t. I would never say that.
“I’m off to bed.” Adam’s mouth hangs open, like more should follow, but he decides against it. After he withdraws to his bedroom, I stay behind in the living room for another hour or so but don’t manage any more writing. My mind is too restless. I’m bitter and angry and frustrated and feel like cursing the gods and the woman who broke Adam’s heart beyond repair.
I make another cup of tea that I drink in the darkness, on my own. I’m proud of myself for asking for the answers I deserve.
But then why do my insides feel so hollow?
Around midnight, I debate between going home and spending the night. Leaving on this note feels like a huge mistake, so I crawl into his bed. When he feels my presence, Adam opens his arms, and I slide between them.
A ribbon of light sneaks into the bedroom, and it falls right on his face, highlighting his beauty. He hums happily in his sleep when I kiss him good night. “So sweet,” he mumbles.
The thought strikes me that if I distilled our earlier conversation to its essence, I’d be left with a simple request from Adam: Please don’t fall in love with me. Right now, that feels like an impossible mission, and it’s downright cruel to ask that of me.
As I drift to sleep, face buried in his chest, nose full of his smell, I think that the result would have been the same, whatever answer he’d have given me. Whatever I want and whatever he’s ready to give me, I don’t have the power to walk away from Adam.
Which is why he’ll break my heart.
21
Adam
In the passenger seat, Luis fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “I’m nervous. Where are we going?”
Planning for tonight to be a surprise, all I told him was that he should wear something nice and that I would pick him up from home at seven. My smile could barely fit my mouth when I saw him in that crimson pair of pants I complimented the last time. His hair is characteristically messy in the sweetest, cutest way.
“You’re breathtaking,” I confess, squeezing his thigh.
As if by a flip of a switch, pink tinges his cheeks. “Shut up. And don’t change the subject.”
“I mean it.” An overwhelming tingling warmth burns in my chest—a feeling I’ve become all too familiar with since meeting Luis. “I might not say it every time I look at you because I don’t want to scare you off, but you can be sure I think it.”
Luis leans over and kisses my cheek. “And you’re absolutely amazing.”
A week has passed since Luis and I had the Talk, and while it jostled us for a couple of days, things are better for it now. I like to think it was a way for us to prune our new connection. The clarity that came with having that discussion—the expectation check—chased away a pressure I hadn’t been aware of.
However, the promise I made him has been haunting me like a poltergeist—that if things ever stop feeling right for him, I’ll remove myself from his life immediately and without a word. While I do an excellent job of ignoring it most of the time, I know it’s there. Especially on moments like this. It breathes on the back of my neck when Luis kisses my cheek.
One day, this won’t be enough for Luis anymore, and I’ll have to accept that. One day, this will all be a fond memory and a painful thought of what could have been if I had only been someone else. Someone less averse to commitment. Someone less wounded.
By now, I would have expected the newness of my more-than-friends dynamic with Luis to wear off, leaving me a little more level-headed. But every one of Luis’s touches and kisses drives my heart crazy, and it thumps-thumps-thumps like I’m a schoolboy again.
Luis peers out at the strongly lit restaurant as I park. “What are we doing here?”
“It’s our first stop.” I take his hand in mine and press it to my lips. “I told you how honored I am to have been part of so many important firsts for you.”
“As you should,” Luis says haughtily.
Chuckling, I let go of his hand and give him a playful shove. “However,” I go on, “that’s not enough for me. I’m your first kiss, your first lay, but I can’t accept the fact that I wasn’t your first date, too.”
Luis shudd
ers at the memory of Freddie. “I’d have loved it for my first date to be with you, too, but what does this have to do—”
Pointing to the string-light-bound building we’ve stopped next to, I interrupt him: “We’re redoing your first date.”
I melt from the warmth of Luis’s smile. “You’re kidding!” Bursting with excitement, he reaches for the door handle.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I say, already storming out of and around the car. I open his door and perform a small theatrical bow. “You have to let me get it right.”
Luis chuckles.
I open the glass door of the restaurant for him, too. It was a good thing I made a reservation early today because the place is packed, just as I expected. The chatter is continuous so that it quickly sinks in the background, mixing with the soft instrumental music.
I pull his chair back before I go to sit down, and his cheeks grow an even deeper red than usual.
“I remember when this restaurant opened,” I say. “It used to be a sort of secret treasure. Stellar food, wonderful service, but still very unknown.” I take a look at the sea of wooden tables and the cheery groups that have gathered around them. “It’s been nice watching it grow.”
Luis takes a look at the framed pictures—mostly boats and paintings of the sea—and smiles. “It’s very nice.”
The color palette—white and light blues—makes it feel like we’re on a port near the ocean in the middle of summer. The table we sit at is large enough to fit all the seafood I plan to order for us but small enough to force Luis and me close together.
Luis’s forehead creases as he thinks hard about something. “Why tonight?” he asks. “What’s so special about tonight?”
“The fact that you’ve got tomorrow off,” I say with a wide grin. “I’ve been planning to do this for a while. I’ve seen how hard you’ve been working lately, both at the Hazelnut and on the book. I needed to see you take a night off. For my own peace of mind. I’m being very selfish by doing this, I hope you understand.”
