There wasn’t much that I knew about Lewis.

But one thing really stood out to me when I first met him, and even now.

Lewis stared at my parked car dazedly, hands at his sides in tight fists, with his head at a tilt, as if he was entranced by the vehicle before him. It was just a black 1967 Plymouth Valiant, 4 doors, nothing too special, unlike what my uncle owned. I treasured it, though. 

I waited a few steps behind, wondering what he was staring at. “Uh . . . Lewis?”

He blinked away the dreamy look in his eyes to stare at me quickly. “Ah, sorry.” He replied, and then walked past me to press the cross-walk button at the edge of the sidewalk.

Those times when he refused to look at me, were what I noticed at first. I came to the conclusion, during our drive, that Lewis probably disliked me.

In high school as well, I couldn’t recall a time when he had talked to me. It very well could’ve been that we’d never held a full conversation until a few days ago.

That was my fault. All of it. I was never a good kid before, much less a dedicated student. With the few people I did hang out with, our circle of friends were never too close. Yeah, I remembered Lewis, but only vaguely. Though, it was starting to look like I’d done something to make him angry.

It would’ve been best to ask him directly, but at the same time I wanted to hear his reasons first. Or maybe I was just overthinking?

This was all new to me. I’d never pretended to be anyone’s boyfriend, much less to a total stranger. I could see why he was still hesitant with this all. I sure was too.

In the spur of the moment then, I’d asked him out on a date. I thought it would break some ice, though it looked like it had only created an iron wall between us.

It took two to dance. I only hoped we wouldn’t break apart before this even started.

I crossed the street beside him, eyes overlooking the horizon, at the way the sun settled into a warm orange before it completely disappeared. It was a hot day, but not many tourists were around, so I was glad of that. It wouldn’t be as crowded as it usually was.

“Where . . . are we?” He said, turning on his heels to look at everything around him. His eyes were blown wide, gazing at the lights and vibrant paper garland strung atop the high trees above us.

We stopped at the beginnings of the historic alleyway, after a short drive from the boarding house where I’d picked him up earlier in the day. I knew, from Theo, that this was the first time Lewis had ever visited the city. I thought that maybe taking him to a beautiful, historic part of town would be a good first for him—also, it was a place I always went to in my childhood. I knew it very well.

It was a rather big alley, tucked away behind a street that led all the way to the downtown buildings of the city. At our feet, uneven cobblestone unfolded into various nooks and hidden corners, leading to a variety of restaurants, shops, and monuments that dated back years and years ago. From where we could see, plenty more people crowded the plaza afar, while a band played traditional music so loudly, it echoed.

He took his camera in his hands, still observing the layout before him. It was an expensive-looking piece of equipment that hung around his neck loosely by a leather grey strap.

That was another thing I learned about him. He was studying photography.

“Do you . . . like it?” I placed my hand behind my head, running my fingers through my hair nervously. I knew this was supposed to be a fake date, to get to know one another better for this act, but it’d been a while since I last dated someone. In a way, I didn’t know what to do with myself because we weren’t an actual couple.

Lewis raised the camera to his face, but lowered it when he registered my question. I could almost recount that he wore glasses. As an adult, he didn’t have them anymore.

The unclear look in his eyes had vanished as he opened his mouth and pointed to the numerous, overflowing storefronts and booths filled to the brim with goods from across the border. “I love it.” His tone grew higher. “I can take so many pictures here.”

“Good.” I relaxed slightly, peering down to study his camera.

He looked up at me, but then his eyes hurriedly flickered from mine as he held the camera in front of his face again. “It—it’s much older than it looks.” He said lowly, taking a quick snapshot of a nearby wall of community art. “My newest one’s at—at home . . .”

I moved away from him. Was I too close? “Then we’ll stay here as long as you want.” I watched the mix of colors in the sky. We could be here for a while. “We’ll do whatever you want, Lewis.”

Lewis shook his head, “No . . . I can’t be taking pictures the entire time.”

“As long as you show some of them to me, then I won’t mind.” I proposed.

He appeared as if he was going to refuse, until his eyes glinted momentarily. An idea had entered his mind. “Actually—you’re right.”

I had no clue what he’d thought of, but it must’ve been important. “Am I?”

“We should take a lot of pictures . . . of each other.” His fingers tapped at the complicated buttons of the camera as he spoke. “In case Felix wants to see them.”

A good idea.

“You’ll take pictures of me, then?” I asked.

He nodded.

“I’ll take pictures of you, too.” I concluded.

That was when he looked away for the second time, taking the camera to capture something far from me. “O-Okay . . .”

Lewis, really didn’t like me, huh?

I prevented myself from feeling dejected at that. I just had to do something about this, but what? I would have to find out . . . on this date.

“Do you still like art?”

I peppered him with multiple questions as we sat in the farthest corner of the nearby park, where a few picnic tables were scattered, filled with customers as waiters took their orders. My roommate’s stomach had growled after nearly an hour of my tour around the wide, historic street. He really had eaten every word that I told him.

Lewis shrank in his seat. “I still . . . like . . . art . . .” He mumbled, taking the straw from his drink to his lips, to sip.

Did he?

It sounded like he was using his entire energy to admit that. But alongside photography, studying art was a thing I wished I could do. At this point, I wasn’t sure if changing my major yet again was a wise choice. I just wanted to do so much.

“We—we were in . . . art class together.” He said the last of that sentence quietly, and then added, “I think.”

I recalled that we had, in fact, shared one art class in high school. “Yeah.” I reminisced that time. The teacher never liked me. “Our assigned seats were pretty close.”

Lewis averted his eyes, “I . . . don’t know . . .” He took another sip. “Were they? Why would I remember that . . .”

“They were.” I said, grinning at the memory. “The teacher was the complete opposite with you. He always scolded me.”

“Oh . . .”

He lowered his gaze, biting at the straw, and then his bottom lip.

Even with all the questions we’d answered and asked of each other. It felt like there was still something missing. Of course we couldn’t get to know one another in a single day, much less a few hours, but it felt more like just two friends hanging out. And not even friends—close acquaintances was the better way to describe us.

How could we fool people, more so his own family, into thinking that we were dating and in love? There had to be an answer out there.

I rested my chin against the palm of my hand, studying his face. When he noticed, he raised a sharp brow at me, still biting his lip like he didn’t want to speak.

“Are you okay with me kissing you?” I blatantly said.

The drink slipped from his hand, accidentally dumping the contents from that cup onto the table. Thankfully, it’d only been water, and the surface was nothing other than wood. It would absorb.

Since he’d given me such a reaction, I figured saying something like that so early on was a mistake. I was fine with doing anything like kissing, though it was possible he wasn’t comfortable with that.

He stood, but sat down when a waiter walked over to bring us a handful of napkins. When the table was partially cleared, Lewis was visibly unsettled.

I felt guilty, “Lewis, sorry—we don’t have to—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” He told me, but then changed his words. “Wait, no—it’s not that I mind . . .”

Days before, when we’d agreed, I waited to ask him this. If he was uncomfortable with the idea of it, then we could abandon it altogether.

“We don’t have to kiss . . .” I assured him.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t like it, it’s just—” He searched for words. “It’s just—I’m not sure you’d want to . . . kiss me.”

I was thoroughly confused.

What?

Was that why he was hesitant? But why wouldn’t I want to kiss him?

Wait, that thought sounded way too much like I wanted to do that. It’s not that I didn’t want to. I simply thought it would help fool the others into believing this fake-dating thing.

Wow—we really were lying so much for the sake of that loft. Shouldn’t I have felt a little more terrible about that?

“I do want to kiss you.” I’d replied without thinking.

His eyes widened at my statement.

“I mean—I don’t mind kissing you either.” I said.

He took a second to respond, but when he did, this time he sounded more relaxed. “If that’ll do the trick, I guess.” His fingers ran along the edge of the table. “I like kissing, anyway.” He remarked.

I agreed. “ . . . me too.”

I knew it wasn’t a mandatory thing for people to do. We could go about this whole fake-relationship without kissing. Though, I wasn’t opposed to the idea since I always kissed the people I dated. It wasn’t like we were going to take things further than that.

Right?

No. No we wouldn’t have to go further than kissing because, in the end, this was all a lie. We weren’t dating for real. This was all fake.

Lewis didn’t meet my gaze. I did the same and looked to the night sky. A small part of me felt sad over this, but who wouldn’t?

So, I chose to ignore this feeling.

That was when I listened faintly to the band playing behind us. Nothing but love songs had been reaching my ears since we sat down. We couldn’t escape it for a single second.

But . . . this song in particular wasn’t too much. If anything, it sent me back to the times when my mom would blast it on her record player.

I stood abruptly.

Lewis observed me confusedly. “What?”

“Let’s dance.” I said, getting up completely to tug at his arm in the direction of the plaza. “Just this song.”

He definitely thought I’d lost it, judging by his expression. “Are you serious?”

“Why not?” I tried for a smile, which worked because Lewis sighed, standing as well, though not without my encouragement.

“I don’t know . . .”

“Let’s give it a try.” I offered. “It’ll probably go well.”

I was saying all of that like I was discussing our overall goal. Fake-dating or not, this was a thing I never imagined I’d do. Sure I felt bad lying to people, but if Lewis could do it, then I could try too. What could possibly go wrong?

He glowered. It was then that I knew he would be the only one in this relationship with common sense. “I can’t dance.”

“Then I’ll help you.” I told him. “It takes two to waltz, right?”

Lewis nodded curtly. “I guess . . .”

“Let’s go.” I pulled him to the plaza, where a gathering of people, young and old, danced, swayed, and even talked amongst each other as the band played on in the background.

It wasn’t something I’d planned, but those earlier words we’d exchanged meant more than just dancing. If we were going through with this, then it would take both of our efforts to complete these three long summer months together.

If he needed help, then he could depend on me, and I could depend on him. This was a team effort. Not a dance solo or a competition.

I let go of his wrist, extending my arms out carefully as if to ask for permission to hold him. Reading me, he took my hand in agreement as I slipped my other around his waist.

So far, he was doing a good job.

“I really can’t dance . . .” He warned me.

“I’ll lead you, until you get more comfortable,” I said this near his ear. “You’re doing great already.”

Lewis turned in the direction of my voice, eyes latching onto mine. For once, in this entire date, this was the closest we’d gotten.

I took this opportunity to send him a reassuring smile. The more I directed him, and the more he swayed naturally to the music, he became less tense.

“Why dancing . . . though . . . ?” He questioned, hand cold in comparison to mine.

I let go of his waist to spin him, only to bring him back and hold him much closer than before. “It’ll bring us together.”

“Will it work, though?” He didn’t sound so certain.

“Is it not working now?” I couldn’t help but laugh softly at how different we were going on about this. “I’m just hoping you’ll see I’m not a bad dance partner.”

Lewis gripped my hand tighter, “No. No you’re not a bad partner at all, Art.”

I relaxed too. “Good.”

If he disliked me, then it wasn’t so prominent now. Maybe he disliked me only a little. Or maybe I was just overthinking, as I had been earlier in the day.

Whatever the case, fake-dating aside, the fact that we were here, now, was amazing in itself. Who knew that we would ever see each other again?

I lowered my head into the crook of his neck. I never thought I would reconnect with my past like this. I thought I’d escaped it five years ago.

But I couldn’t escape from it this time. This time, someone needed my help, and I needed his. Neither one of us could be absent from this for any longer, if we wanted this to work.

“Me está doliendo su ausencia . . .” I said, saying part of the lyrics.

He lifted his head, “Art?”

“My mom loves this song,” I admitted, sheepishly. “I thought dancing to it would make me feel less nervous.”

“You’re nervous?” He asked me, like he couldn’t believe it.

I shrugged, “Well . . . yeah.”

Was I the only one?

He smiled back at me for that. He finally smiled, and I felt like I could breathe. Looking at it, I was probably the most nervous one between us.

“What do the lyrics mean?” He said, stopping in the middle of the plaza. The lights cast a dim glow around us, so that all I could see was him and nothing else.

I brought our connected hands down, “His absence is hurting me . . .”

His fingers on my shoulder tugged at the fabric of my shirt. I watched his lips part. “Oh.” He said, and nothing else.

Frankly, I wasn’t too proud of the person I was back then, so I was glad to have met Lewis now, but as adults this time.

Later on I found that I would’ve liked to have known him in high school.

If only . . . our paths had crossed more often then.

I held up our interlocked fingers, and carried on dancing once more. “Thanks for having this dance with me.” I murmured.

He only squeezed my hand in response.

Thank you, Lewis. For being my partner.