“Doesn’t mean they’re all right, either,” I say, cautious when I let my leg fall against his beneath the blanket, a touch that could be explained away easily, if he notices it at all. “You know, in a lot of sports, there are timeouts, and they don’t only give those to the teams who are behind. Everyone gets them. Even the winners.”
It’s true, what I’ve said, but it leaves us with another stretch of silence that my heart won’t let me hate. I hope he believes me, even if I’m one voice against a lifetime of others, and while it might mean nothing, I take the fact that he hasn’t moved away from me as a good sign. It’s made even better when he slides his hand over his blanketed lap and lands against the edge of mine, the contact far from significant and still enough to make me wish I could have a hundred others just like it.
He taps me with his pinky, and I only have 99 more to go. “In your life, do you think you’ve won more or lost more?”
“Won more,” I say easily. “But I don’t think—you mentioned incredible highs and all the noise, but my life is a lot quieter than that. Maybe not always literally, but we’re more or less back to the start, right? You’re the one nobody seems to get right. I’m the one they’ve always figured out from the first hello.”
That has him turning toward me again, his cap failing to fully hide the sharp crease between his brows when it’s lit up by the moon. I want to take the hat from him entirely, but when his mouth opensand closes and opens again, I’m caught up in the sweep of his tongue and the words that follow.
“I’m not sure I’ve figured out a damn thing about you, and I’m scared of what’ll happen if I leave this bench without trying.”
“Try, then,” I murmur. “I’m right here.”
Even hushed, I think I must’ve been too loud, and Jamie’s gone again when he sighs and tucks himself further into my hoodie. I’m not surprised when he carries us back a moment or two, and I’m willing to follow him there. It’s become clear most people don’t.
“You like your boring life, though. You don’t want all the highs and lows.”
“I think I learned to be afraid of the highs and lows,” I admit. It’s too honest, but everything about where we’re sitting calls for it, and I keep going. “I’d need someone who’s used to it to take my hand and tell me they won’t let go.”
“Would you believe them?” he asks. “Kinda seems like people let go all the time, no matter what they’ve said.”
“I always want to believe.”
“Do you have someone holding your hand now? At home, where it’s quiet?”
“Nobody is holding my hand anywhere,” I say. “Even here, where it’s quiet.”
It’s an easy hint to take, maybe especially because of everything else we’ve said and the places our bodies still touch. Jamie’s faux arrogance and very real insecurities keep him from doing anything about it, and he aims a sad laugh at an ocean that’s heard it all before.
“All of this would be easier if you could go back to writing me off as pretty.”
“Even when I called you pretty, I don’t think I wrote you off.”
“No?”
“I’d rather not make everyone else’s mistake,” I murmur.
Jamie takes a long, slow breath. Then he reaches up to remove his hat, and the time between each of my heartbeats disappears altogether. He bends to set it down next to the water bottle, and I only get a glimpse of his hair when he combs his fingers through it as he sits up again. The movement itself is something I’m strangely sure I’ve seen from him before, but I only get a second to appreciate it before he’s tugging my hood over his head.
If I had the words to stop him from hiding, I’d use them. I’m still not sure whether he knows he’s queer—or whether my own queerness is part of what he wants to figure out—but asking outright feels like it would send at least one of us tumbling toward the sand, and I’m not ready to move from where I am.
And while it hasn’t been true for most of my time with Jamie, in this exact moment, I’m glad we're facing the sky instead of each other.
“Holy shit, did you see that?” he hisses.
“A shooting star,” I breathe. “God, I haven’t seen one in years. Maybe since I was a kid.”
“We’re supposed to make a wish.”
I turn toward him with a smile. “Do yours usually come true?”
“Honestly? A lot of them have.” He pauses as if he wants to say more about that, but I can almost see the moment he changes his mind and makes this about me. “If you could use your wish to be anywhere in the world right now, where would it be?”
“I mean, it’s kind of hard for me to complain about the view I’ve got now, but if you’re suggesting there are better things to want—”
“Yes, Mateo. I’m pretty sure you can want more than what you already have.”
“Okay, then. I’d be on a different secluded beach. With sunshine.Hammocks—”