Page 38 of Burn the Script

“I don’t need you to say it back, but like you, I’m a needy person. And what I need is for you to believe I’ll never ask for anything you’re not willing to give. I’ll never handle you with anything but care, and I’ll never be embarrassed of you or ask you to change. I need you to be the realest version of yourself, always. Because if you’re unhappy, where does that leave me?”

He sniffled before looking at me with pleading, wet eyes. “It’s only been a few months. You could change your mind once you know me better.”

“I won’t. Cross my heart and hope to die a very old man with you at my bedside.”

Even his wobbly, tentative smile felt like a precious gift. But as he stared at our joined hands, the smile fell away. “I’d give anything to kiss you right now.”

“Me too.”

We had drifted near the bank. Reluctantly, I let go of him and reclaimed the oars while scanning our surroundings. I couldn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean the residents lurking behind darkened windows couldn’t see us. Up ahead, a footbridge spanned the canal, and a plan came together quickly.

“Hold that thought,” I said.

He clutched the sides of the boat while I paddled faster. As we glided beneath the bridge, I maneuvered the boat to one side, where the shadows were almost pitch black. It took a minute to get us situated, and my patience wore thin, but the reward would be worth the effort.

The boat jerked to a stop on the grassy bank. I crammed the oars inside and lunged, grabbing his head with both hands. Then I kissed him, in a tiny boat hidden in the darkest shadows but out in the open. The best part, though? He kissed me back, throwing all his cautious ways to the wind.

His tongue thrust against mine. His fingernails dug into my arms. My moan was loud and gluttonous, and I prayed it would drown in the water before reaching anyone’s ears.

We were on borrowed time, and I used every second to reiterate the truth of what I knew. There was a reason he was too much for anyone who came before me. Miguel was always meant to be mine, and he was the perfect amount of everything I could want or need.

17

GRAHAM

NOW

Saturday, January 21st

Miguel walks out of the café with downturned lips and a pinched brow, hauling defeat on his slumped shoulders. The dejection on his face brings me no satisfaction, knowing I’m the likely cause of it.

It hadn’t been my intention to make him think I left without saying goodbye. I made a promise not to interfere. After stealing eight minutes of his time, I thought he’d prefer to mingle without me breathing down his neck. He should have known I wouldn’t go far.

Hands buried in my pockets, I use my shoulder to push off the lamppost. “Hey.”

He looks up. A smile breaks free, popping the dimples in his cheeks. The happy expression aimed at me eases the turmoil in my stomach but shows my heart no mercy. His natural radiance—the thing I miss about him most—burns the backs of my eyes.

As quickly as it came, he tucks the smile away and plasters on a mask of indifference. “Are we loitering now?”

I jerk my head to the left. “Walk with me.”

The lack of playfulness in my tone gets his attention, and he eyes me as we fall into step. We weave around small groups of friends and couples holding hands before finding an open stretch of pavement. A pang grips my stomach. I regret not spending more time in Miguel’s neighborhood after we first got together. My visits to gay venues around Sunset Boulevard ended long before my anonymity did.

“Tonight was fun,” I say, shrugging off the loss.

Based on his grunt, he disagrees. “It was okay. I’ll never do it again.”

“What, speed-flirting with guys named Gavin?” We share a grin, and I pull the folded name tag out of my pocket, offering it to him.

He turns the small square in his fingers, checking both sides. “What’s this for?”

“A keepsake from our shortest date ever.”

Miguel is more sentimental than he lets on. He keeps a box of little mementos from all our past dates and vacations, but I won’t tease him about it when I’m obsessed with my camera roll.

“Have you had dinner?” I ask.

He nibbles his bottom lip and looks straight ahead. “I didn’t have time before the event.”