I grin, but I can feel my smile slowly sink into a frown as I think about howunlucky I really am. It isn’t fair that Luke will never get the chance to meet my dad, and the thought of that saddens me. The pain of losing him was sharper than anything Ihad ever experienced, but the residual effect of seeing everything he’s missing out on continues to sting just as much.
Suddenly, Luke entwines his fingers through mine, and I glance up to see his soft smile. With that look, I know he understands everything I haven’t said, and I have to remember he lost his real dad, too. My chest suddenly goes tight.
“Is this okay?” Luke asks, his thumb brushing over mine.
“What do you mean?” I squeeze his hand in return.
Luke shrugs, gesturing toward our interlaced fingers. “I’m not sure what you’re comfortable with in public… I don’t want to overstep.”
Oh, my heart.
Glancing at our clasped hands, I realize that this is the first time Luke has touched me since we got out of the car, and I didn’t even notice, too busy babbling on. He’s been holding himself back on purpose, following my request to be discreet without knowing where to draw the line. Now, he’s second-guessing what comes naturally to him, something as simple as wanting to hold my hand to comfort me, and it’s entirely my fault.
This wasn’t my intention when I asked to keep things quiet, and it hurts to think he’s trying so hard to respect my boundaries by denying a part of himself. I don’t want that. Luke should get to feel comfortable reaching out without fear of upsetting me. The truth is, I don’t care what anyone might think looking at the two of us. I’m not bothered by the opinions of idiots, and if anyone wants to be cruel toward us because we’re two men holding hands or kissing, I’ll gladly handle it.
But then, my hesitation has never stemmed from being seen in a same-sex relationship. It’s entirely selfish. A mental hangup with my personal relationships…
However, I don’t like the idea of Luke suffering when it’s not his issue.
Stepping forward, I reach up and cup the side of Luke’s face, pulling him down for a kiss. He smiles, looking into my eyes with a relief that pulls at my chest.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been insensitive at all,” I say softly. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hold back around me—like one wrong move will set me off. I’m not afraid to be seen with you, Luke. Iwantto be seen with you.”
Luke’s smile grows.
“I’m sorry if my not being out with my friends has made you unsure of yourself,” I murmur.
“Don’t worry about me.” Luke shakes his head. “I’ve already told you. You don’t need to rush telling anyone you’re not ready to tell. I’m fine with where you are.”
“Still…” I frown. “I want you to know I’m good with everything. I would only prefer to be more cautious at home until I’ve come out to everyone I need to. It’s such a small town, and everybody talks….”
“Believe me—” Luke snorts. “I have firsthand experience with that. You don’t even need to explain.”
My brows rise in shock as I remember that he really does have firsthand experience with the gossipmongers at home. I can’t believe I almost forgot about his public outing. It eases the worry in my chest to know he understands exactly where I’m coming from.
“But now that I know where you’re at, I can work with that.” Luke grins, leaning down to kiss me again, and my cheeks warm.
As we continue through the museum, it becomes clear almost immediately that Luke really was holding himself back around me. Now that he knows I’m okay with the PDA, he can’t go more than five minutes without touching me in one way or another. The space between us continually shrinks to nothing. We walk hand in hand, our arms entwined, or his fingers will brush against the small of my back, my neck, my stomach. He’ll standbehind me when we’re looking at art and drop his chin on my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my waist. It sends my heart aflutter to be the object of such attention.
At one point, we reach a section of marble statues lining the walls, and I stop to stare at the flawless stone, painstakingly carved to look near lifelike. One, in particular, stands out to me. It’s of a naked man standing on a platform, though he’s missing his head and arms. The plaque reads ‘Torso of Apollo.’ It’s old, the stone weathered and discolored, but the lines of his chest and hips still stick out as the epitome of beauty in male form.
And yet, I can’t help but think that if this is supposed to be Apollo, the one professed to be the most handsome among the gods, he doesn’t even begin to hold a candle to Luke. I tell him as much, and he bursts out laughing.
“I think it might be a faux pas to compare someone to a literal god while standing in front of his statue.” Luke beams, unable to hide the blush that fills his cheeks at the compliment. “I’ll be struck down on the spot if you’re not careful. I’ve heard the Greek gods are petty like that.”
“Well,” I say, turning to face Luke and pulling him closer to me. “If he strikes you down, he’ll have to strike me down, too, because I know the truth.”
“You are incredibly cheesy.” Luke chuckles, but he leans down and kisses me anyway. I grab his ass, and he gasps before shaking his head and rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t move away.
After spending a few hours going through all the exhibits, the museum finally closes at 5 p.m., and we’re ushered onto the street as the sun starts to descend toward the horizon, casting the city in its warm evening glow.
It’s hard to imagine that this was only thefirststop in Luke’s itinerary, but I’m having so much fun that I wouldn’t care if he decided to keep me out all night.
We walk a few blocks down Woodward, stopping at a little restaurant called The BLOCK. It’s quaint, but crowded, though the atmosphere is warm and welcoming, and as we’re seated at a small table across from the bar, I feel like this is probably the kind of place Luke often frequented back in New York. Very modern, but made to look vintage with the exposed brick walls and industrial fixtures. A little hipster, and decidedlynotantiquated.
The food looks fantastic, and the drink menu sounds fun. I decide I absolutelyhaveto get the frozen Kool-Aid to heal my inner child, and Luke gets the frozen mango margarita. Even though they’re not the sort of drinks I would generally order at home, I’m not worried about Luke judging me for wanting to try them. We even pass them back and forth to taste each other’s. It’s delightful, but they’re the kind of drinks you could easily pound back while forgetting the alcohol content, so I limit myself to no more than two. Then I order the Cajun pasta, and Luke picks the salmon, and we talk and laugh over our meal, the alcohol giving me a nice warm buzz.
When the check comes, I immediately snatch it, much to Luke’s protesting, but I won’t back down. After a minute, he acquiesces with a smile, but tells me the rest of the evening is supposed to be on him, so I shouldn’t get any more bright ideas. I make no such promises.
