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He nods with understanding, then thrusts his hands back into his pockets. We continue to walk again. “I’m really glad you emailed me to meet.”
“Me, too.”
“I feel as if we only scratched the surface.”
“And yet it also feels like we dove into deep waters and nearly drowned somehow.”
He smirks. “That’s true.”
A break in the trees reveals a large pond, over which a family of ducks swim across, leaving trails behind them like ripples in glass. We slowly follow the path as it takes us around the pond, leading us to a wooden bridge that arches over the pond. It’s at the middle of that bridge that we stop and lean against the banister, gazing at the water as the dusk light sparkles across it in golden-red hues.
“Wish I had some bread or something,” I say. “I love feeding the ducks.”
“You come here often?”
More often than I’d admit. “Now and then.”
I feel him studying the side of my face. “I know you have a thing for animals. You talked about it once during a show, when I asked you what your ideal roommate was—or was it your ideal lover?—and do you remember your answer?”
I chuckle, thinking of it. “I believe it was ideal roommate, and I said it’d be a llama.”
He grins. “A llama, that’s it.”
“And it’s more than a thing for animals.” I gaze at the ducks as they reach the opposite bank, where the young start to cluster around their mother. “It’s the reason I’m taking the classes I’m taking. One day, I want to go to an actual veterinarian school with my bachelor’s in animal biology—which I’m working towards online—and get my DVM.”
Richie’s grin relaxes into a tranquil smile. “You never cease to amaze me.”
“What can I say? I love animals.”
“Like those ducks out there? What do you like so much about them?”
Just then, a squirrel appears at the foot of a tree by the water. I watch as he considers whether to dare a sip. “Animals don’t judge you the way that people will. They just look at you as you feed them or pet them or … or just gaze into your eyes. They don’t see a stripper. Or an accountant. Or a prince. Or a murderer. I’m just the guy with the feed. Or the soft hands that know that one spot behind their ear they like.” The squirrel, who’s since gone for a sip, looks up suddenly, his ears twitching. He looks my way, spooked, then hops away into the grass, vanishing. “We could be more like them.”
“We could,” agrees Richie.
The change in his tone makes me look his way. “You think we can be more like animals?”
It’s unmistakable. There’s a change in his eyes, too. He looks restless in the way a lover gets when he’s ready for something. “Yeah. I think we can … be better. At how we see each other. And at …” I choke on my words. Why am I nervous? “At being as direct as they are … about what they want.”
“What do you want, Zak?”
“I want to be direct.”
His eyes warm. “And what else do you want, Zak?”
I turn away from the pond and face him fully. “Most animals don’t indicate what they want. They just go and take it.”
Now I see the first flash of surprise in his face—just before I lunge forward and put my lips to his.
12
He tastes sweet and his lips are perfect.
When his fingers slide onto my arms—whether for support or out of a kind of lustful desire, I don’t know—electricity rushes through my body.
Even hairs on my neck stand on end, as if just as surprised by my reckless kiss as I am.
I slide a hand around the small of his back and pull him against me possessively. Our hips collide, front-to-front, and his arms fall around me as I kiss him deeply.
Something inside me is healed by our lips as they touch. Something deep inside me that nothing has been able to touch for years—no amount of tips or dancing or animal care.
I feel alive.
When we pull apart, I gaze deeply into his eyes that still shine from the light, as iridescent and bold as the setting sun itself. I might be projecting here, but from just a glimpse into that blissed out face of his, I can tell that kiss revived him, too.
“What was that?” he asks me.
I shrug. “It’s what I wanted.”
Richie gazes into my eyes a moment too long. “Are you certain it’s what you wanted? … and not just something you think I wanted?”
I squint critically at him. “Are you suggesting I just kissed you to appease you?”
“I’m not trying to upset you, Zak. It’s just …” Richie winces apologetically. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but … you’re a ‘giver’ by nature. You give to everyone around you. Even to animals in a park. Or strangers on the internet. Forgive me for …” His face is turning red. He shuts his eyes. “… for wondering whether that kiss was what you truly wanted, or if it was … just a gift.”
