“Did I make it magical for you, brat?” He whispered.
“Sure. You’re a regular wizard, old man,” I said.
He pulled me close with an annoyed sigh.
“You might have popped my cherry, but I’m convinced I brought out the needy bottom in you.”
He laughed in that gruff way that I loved.
We fell asleep in each other's arms, his solid and warm frame comforting. I got up to pee, my body loose, my heart light. I could still feel him inside me, the sensation surprisingly nice.
I stood at the edge of the bed, taking in every inch of Sean as the morning sun bathed him in golden light that seemed as rare and special as Christmas morning snow.
He was lying on his stomach, his head on his folded arm as he breathed softly. I followed the curve of his spin down to the rise of his plump ass, the tattoos swirling, most faded as if they’d been done long ago. “Prelude and Fugue in E Minor” from the Well-tempered Clavier played in my mind, the notes rising from the depths of my soul, every chord dancing around Sean. He was his own music, a piece written from life experiences and triumphs.
I sank back in bed with him and ran my fingers down his back, noting every little imperfection in his skin. If my music could take physical form, I imagined it would look a lot like him.
And like my music, I knew without a doubt, he’d never leave me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SEAN
Something had changed. It was the first hint of spring blowing in, reminding me that summer always returned. Flowers would bloom, birds would sing, and the beaches would open. Maybe it was the little glimpses of beauty I was finding in everything lately, like the fluffy gray pigeon feather dancing on the wind above the gum-stained sidewalk.
One thing I was certain of: Matteo had opened my eyes. No matter what happened between us, I was thankful to have known him.
When I’d awoken at eleven, he was already gone, the spot where he slept next to me still warm. He’d left a note to let me know he’d gone to practice piano at the center and had folded a fresh batch of laundry. Our clothes were mixed, my underwear with his, the flannel I’d given him for Christmas hanging on a hook next to one of my shirts. If I walked into the living room, I’d find some of his books on famous composers scattered around the coffee table. If I turned the television on, I’d be offered recommendations for R.E.M and Radiohead music videos. He’d branded himself on me just as much as I would him.
It didn’t bother me as much as I wanted it to, because I knew I was sublimely in the honeymoon phase. I just hoped it lasted a long time. Fuck if all the shared dinners and chores didn’t make it feel like were married. Or something.
I snickered to myself as I made my way over to Marco’s Fresh Market, where I was meeting Gabriel for lunch. I was beyond happy for Danny and Jere and maybe a bit envious. But they deserved it, and weddings were always fun. In the past, they’d meant hooking up with guests. Now, all I wanted to dowas dance with Matteo and get a taste of the possibility of us exchanging vows.
I spotted Gabriel sitting next to the panoramic windows, looking at something on his phone. He noticed me and waved, his face lighting up.
He stood to meet me, and I pulled him into a hug. “Sorry I’m a little late. Overslept.”
“I’m a natural morning person. I don’t know how you’re able to stay up past eleven. But when you have a hot guy in your bed the last thing you want to do is sleep, I guess,” he said. He held me at arm’s length. “You don’t look very sleepy. In fact, you look…rejuvenated and not at all how you sounded on the phone last week.”
I bit back my smile. “Let’s get some lunch and I’ll tell you all about it. I’m starving.”
We each got grilled salmon and rice from the cafe and sat back down to enjoy our meal.
Gabriel started talking first. “Is he anyone I might know?”
“No,” I said, cracking a can of Diet Coke. “And he is nothing like you might imagine. Heck, even I couldn’t have foreseen myself being with someone like him.”
“Well, like they say, opposites attract. My father never forgets to tell me it’s always the people we expect the least to leave an impression on us.”
“True, but I feel like we're on the same wavelength, you know? Just on opposite ends and we found a way to meet in the middle. We kind of bonded over religious trauma and it all spiraled from there.” Talking about Matteo was coming easier than I thought it would. Looks like I’d passed the want-to-keep-him-all-to-myself phase and was more than happy to brag to the world. “Honestly, I had no fucking chance.”
“Uh oh. He’s not closeted, is he?”
“No. Not even close.” I shuffled my hair and gulped my can of soda.
“Good, because speaking from experience, dating closeted men can only end in trouble.”
“Well, I’ve never dated any closeted men, but I’ve had plenty of sex with them. They can be very…adventurous.”
