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“As I pointed out—and you seem to have forgotten, perhaps due to some sort of orgasm-induced delirium—it was after meeting you that I recognized I’d never really been in love. At least not the sweeping, cinematic sort. Boone and I wanted different things out of life, and we wanted them more than we wanted each other.” Oscar shook his head. “The man actually came to New York and, if gossip is to be believed, made a spectacle of himself trying to win Richard’s hand.” He shuddered delicately. “Making a public declaration of affection when he wasn’t sure of Richard’s answer? God, I would never.”
“Because you’ve never really been in love,” I repeated, starting to feel the beginnings of a strange kind of hope. Twice now, he’d implied it wasn’t until meeting me that he’d begun to realize what love was. What could he possibly mean by that?
“Precisely.”
“And because you haven’t, you therefore lack the capacity. The talent,” I went on. “Do I have that right?”
He shrugged. “More or less.”
“Huh. I have to say, Oscar, you’re maybe the smartest man I’ve ever met…”
He shrugged modestly. “Yes, well…”
“Which is why I’m shocked that your rationale is the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard.”
The accusation seemed to surprise him. “My rationale is the result of years of trying and failing, a never-ending stream of painful disappointments, Hugh, not just for myself but for anyone who had the misfortune of trying to be in a relationship with me. I didn’t come to it lightly. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to change the subject because I really don’t want my bad attitude on relationships to rub off on you.” His expression softened. “I like that you’re a romantic. It’s sweet.”
I kicked him in the shin. “Don’t be condescending,” I said with a laugh. “It’s unattractive.”
His eyes danced. “Why don’t I make it up to you in the shower? James and Sawyer were very generous in their bathroom renovations, and I’m not sure you got the chance to appreciate it as thoroughly as you could have last night.”
I let him change the tone of our conversation. Flirty and fun Oscar was as enjoyable as serious and vulnerable Oscar in a different way, and because I knew Oscar well, I recognized that pushing him further would only make him dig his heels in. I’d earn myself a one-way ticket to alone-town tonight when I wanted to enjoy every minute of our limited time together. There would be plenty of time for me to overthink this later.
After exchanging sloppy, wet blowjobs in the shower, we dressed and ventured outside to find the rest of the wedding guests. The ceremony wasn’t scheduled until sunset, but most of the grooms’ family and friends were already making their way out to the beach to enjoy the day together. As soon as I noticed a group of guests playing a lawn game with colorful balls, I grabbed my camera and headed over to capture some shots.
The weather was perfect, deep blue sky with a light breeze. The sound of birds overlaid the faint titter of talking and laughing from the people on the beach. Several men took turns modeling their Speedos before chasing each other into the water with loud whoops.
“You love this,” Oscar said after a little while. He’d left a conversation with one of the grooms to bring me a cold bottle of water. I thanked him and set it down in the grass while I flicked through the stills on my camera screen. Shade from a nearby pitch pine tree made it possible to find the best shots.
“Definitely. The light today is incredible.”
He looked over my shoulder at the photos as I scrolled through them.
“Why do you have so many of the same shots?” he murmured, the warm air from his breath floating across the skin behind my ear and making me shiver.
“I have to take hundreds of shots to get just the right one, and even then, it doesn’t always happen.” I deleted a few test shots from the drive and flipped through more.
“How do you know when you have the right one?”
I turned to see a divot of concentration between his eyes as he squinted at the tiny screen.
“It’s a gut feeling. I mean, I could tell you about all the usual qualities: the right lighting, interesting composition, movement, richness of detail… but there are elements I can’t really put into words. Something evocative. Magnetic. Whatever it is that makes you keep coming back to look at it again. To sit with it and wonder.” I glanced back at him. “Have you ever felt that way?”
He met my eyes. I could see the thoughts tumbling behind his expression in a way that made me wish I could pull my camera up and capture it.
“There’s a museum in a little town in southeastern France… I can’t remember the name of the place… but it has a portrait of an old man from the 1600s. I kept wandering back to it over and over to try and figure out what it was about it that caught my eye.” Oscar shrugged. “I never did figure it out.”
I nodded. “It’s common with artwork. And with people.” I studied him—his windblown hair, his golden tan, the tiredness in his eyes that I didn’t think had anything to do with inadequate sleep—and wished that I could read his mind. “We use the word ‘charisma’ to describe people who have an unexplainable magnetism. What’s really happening is a set of subtle cues that are so nuanced they’re hard to define. Some of them we know—composition symmetry, affinity to the subject, unique details that draw the eye to learn more. But some are undefinable. And we just have to trust that our gut knows things we don’t.”
Oscar’s eyes glanced back down at the camera screen. “So many wasted images.”
I let out a soft laugh. “So many opportunities to learn and adjust and get it right. So much practice. Any one of these might have been the magical shot… but how would I have known if I hadn’t captured them?”
He pursed his lips. “You wouldn’t be turning my innocent curiosity into a metaphor on relationships so you could drive home a lesson here, would you?”
I feigned innocence. “Me? I was just answering a question.”
Oscar poked my side with one slim finger. “Right.”
