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"It's so fucking good to see you."
"It's good to see you, too," I say.
One of the best things about Tal is that he's agoooodhugger. He gives these incredible, long, full-body hugs that warm you up from head to toe and make you miss the contact you just shared when you break apart.
Which I'm sure is a common reaction that everyone has, not just me.
I move back slightly, holding on to his biceps as I take him in, standing on my front porch. He may photograph some of the most beautiful men in the world, but Tal is no slouch in the looks department himself.
He's almost as tall as me and solidly built. Strands of his thick, silver hair poke out the sides and bottom of his beanie, and his gray eyes sparkle as he looks back at me. He's also got these pillowy lips that look so incredibly soft.
"Are you going to let me in or what? I'm freezing out here. It's so fucking cold my balls have taken up residence in my body."
"Of course, sorry."
I swing the door open, and he bursts inside, rubbing his gloved hands together.
"What was the temperature in Australia when you left?"
"A hundred and ten."
"Shit. That's a huge difference."
It's been snowing and topping out at twenty degrees here this past week. I grab his suitcases and wheel them inside, kicking the door closed behind me. "It'd be so weird to have summer in January. I don't know how they do it."
"Aussies have their quirks, but I'm starting to get used to them."
He unzips his puffer jacket, revealing a white long-sleeved Henley, and man, he may be in his fifties, but tell that to his muscles. They're big, popping, and stretching the material of his shirt so much it looks like it was spray painted onto his body.
"What, um…" My mind's suddenly a little distracted. "What time zone is your body in?"
He stops biting off his gloves one finger at a time. "Who the fuck knows? I've lost track of everything. Couldn't even tell you what day it is. But I'm up for a drink if that's what you're asking."
"It wasn't, but I can get you something. Scotch okay?"
"Of course."
I walk over to the small bar I have just off the main living area and pour us two drinks. Tal wanders over and plops down on a barstool.
"What were you going to ask?"
"If you were hungry. Here." I hand him the drink.
"Thanks."
We tap our drinks together. My eyes meet his and a happy buzz flows through me. He means the world to me, but despite being in regular contact and seeing him two or three times a year, it never feels like enough.
I take a swig of scotch and swoosh it around my mouth. Sometime over the next few days, I am going to work up the courage to tell him something no one else knows about me. I'll need booze, for sure. Plenty of it.
Tal's gray eyes linger on me. "I could actually do with some food." He lifts his chin and smirks. "I take it you still don't cook."
"That's correct." I look at my watch. "We're in luck. It's just gone six. The diner's senior special is still good for the next thirty minutes."
He lets out a hearty laugh. "I fucking hate you."
"Yeah. I fucking hate you, too. Now come on, let's get you fed."
