Art

We’d left our loft at around 8 in the morning, when the sun was just about to heat up the city as it usually did in the middle of summer. It was becoming so much more humid as the weeks went by, sometimes working in that garage could be potentially dangerous. My uncle must’ve noticed that, which is why I believed he gladly gave me a few days off.

And it wasn’t like the temperature was going to get any better. The middle of the city could get unbearable, so much that you couldn’t breathe, even when standing outside. At least the night air was somewhat better, though hardly.

The trip that Theo told us about was what I hoped I’d get to do during this vacation time. He’d let us know only two days ago, and now both Lewis and I were in my car, on our way back to the coastal town where we’d grown up.

It hadn’t been long since I last visited, but what with most of my family now living in the city, I found that I hadn’t returned as much as I liked. Truth be told, I loved the beach a lot more than I loved inner city living. The nostalgia of it was what made me fall in love with the place. The sandy shore reminded me of simpler times, when I ditched class and ran away from responsibilities, to the beach where I could look out into the never-ending blue horizon.

My roommate didn’t seem all that thrilled with going back. I’d agreed without thinking much of it. I assumed it was a fun idea, though when I saw the look of dislike on my partner's face, I automatically knew that I must’ve said something wrong.

In the end, he resolutely agreed to join in.

He was resting on my car, arms folded in front of him as he eyed the tiny screen that read the amount of gasoline being pumped into my car. We’d stopped at a gas station, about an hour away from the boarding house. It would take at least a few hours to arrive at the beach, so I parked for a minute to catch some fresh air.

My vintage car did not have the much-needed air conditioning you’d want in 90 degree weather. I was kind of used to the heat, since I worked outdoors mostly, though I could tell that Lewis was struggling, even with the windows open.

I walked in his direction, looking both ways before crossing the parking lot and into the spot where my car was filling up. When I reached Lewis, I copied his position, with my back to the hot car window.

His fingers were pinching the top of his collar, pulling at his buttoned shirt repeatedly in an attempt to cool himself down. There was a line of sweat cutting through his temple and onto his neck, matting his black hair against his skin.

When I presented him a watermelon popsicle from the small store, he took it with wide, thankful eyes, unwrapping the treat carefully and bringing it to his lips, wordless.

I bit at my own popsicle, half-smiling at his reaction.

This was the very first time I saw Lewis awake so early in the morning. Throughout our drive, I couldn’t help but steal glances at him from the mirror, taking in the different appearance I never thought I’d get the pleasure to see.

He never wore glasses when I was around, but this time it looked like he was too tired to put on his contacts and brush his hair. I knew he wasn’t a morning person. It was interesting seeing him in that sleepy state of disarray.

Lewis didn’t bother raising his glasses, even when they were at the edge of his nose. They were thin, round, and they framed his face loosely, emphasizing that pretty color in his eyes that I could sometimes see if I gazed close enough.

His hair was also left untouched. Black, long enough to hug the back of his neck and cheeks, softly fluffy. His bangs curled over his brows, splitting down the middle like he’d ran his fingers through his fringe.

I watched, out of the corner of my eye, at how he’d unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, revealing his prominent collarbones to the burning sun. If I leaned down, I could probably see the small marks I left on him the other night.

That had been on my mind recently, honestly. I enjoyed it more than I previously thought I would. And originally, I had thought that I would like it a lot, so I was anticipating the next time he wanted to practice.

This train of thought had come and gone, making me think back to what my original goal was. I hadn’t realized that this would turn out to be a very physical, fake relationship, but I wasn’t complaining. This just turned out to be a ruse with benefits.

And Lewis hadn’t complained either. Thus, our journey along this road would continue, with more lying, and with more touching than we planned.

I tried to clear my head of that, though it was distracting when I noticed how I couldn’t stop myself from staring at the way Lewis ate his popsicle slowly, food dye tinting his curved lips bright red.

His mouth was glistening with the melted ice, almost as if he was wearing some type of gloss. It was tempting to reach down and kiss him, since I hadn’t done it that night when we were in bed. Ever since that occurred, I wondered when we would actually go forward and do it.

Eating the last bit of my popsicle, I rested my arm across the roof of my car, behind his shoulders to lean in front of him, “Lewis . . .”

He peered up at me, biting at the exposed wooden stick of his eaten frozen treat. “Yeah?”

I lowered his arm and took the plastic wrapping from his hands. My gaze fell to his lips, and then back up to meet his eyes. “There’s a bit of syrup on the side of your mouth.”

“Oh—” He brought a finger to that exact spot, but I stopped him before he could wipe it off.

Closer, I lingered over his lips, and held the back of his head, gently pushing him forward so that I could lick at the sweet puddle of melted ice that’d collected near his mouth. 

He didn’t move.

As I released him to see his reaction, he appeared dazed. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the heat, or if it was due to what I’d just done. Still dripping in that red popsicle, I went in again, aiming for his lips, though was halted.

His fingers seized my shirt, “You too . . .”

Lewis dove in, eyes shut as he licked his lips and lightly pressed a kiss to the side of my mouth. His hand traced my neck, staying there when he backed away to look elsewhere over my shoulder.

When I noticed that I was pressing him against my car, barring him from leaving, I let go slightly. I had been so distracted by him, I’d forgotten where we were.

“I thought—” I tried to stop from divulging how much I liked that. “I thought I saw Felix over there . . . that’s why . . .”

He nodded, “I—I thought I saw him too, so—yeah . . .”

How many excuses was I going to make in order to practice like this with Lewis? I knew it was unfair, and that he most likely did not want to do it with me, but I was selfish. It reminded me of how I used to be five years ago. I was greedy with people.

I couldn’t be like that. Not with Lewis, who had thought of me countless times in this relationship. For all I knew, he probably liked someone else, and that this ruse was an obstacle he had to get over with me.

Exhaling, I retreated back to stand against my car once more.

Yeah I enjoyed what this had come to be, though I was debating on whether or not I was beginning to see something else—something that I hadn’t thought of before.

When I counted the time we’d known or were aware of each other, I saw that it amounted to almost ten years. In all of that, how had I not known?

I couldn’t name it yet, but this feeling I’d gotten ever since I met him officially was definitely a thing I wanted to explore.

Maybe I could find it if I kissed him, at least once.

Lewis

“I know Thousand-Steps Beach is great but—I know a better one.” He turned into a different street, right where the old surf shop I used to frequent was, still there after so many years. It was dark now, lights off since it was getting late.

We’d come when the moon was looming high in the sky, almost nine in the evening after much traffic. That was fine with me. No matter how much I loved my cousins, I had to get away from them for a few hours. In that time, I could bask in the cool coastal, nightly breeze that I remembered growing up in.

It was a smallish town, but it became winding once you reached the cliffs and beyond. I used to live a bit far from my high school, on a hill that overlooked the sea. The school itself was only a short walk away from the beach. If you stood on the topmost bleachers near the football field, you could clearly see the shore below.

That was where we were at the moment. The edge of that shore. 

I hadn’t known how much I preferred the night to the day in my old hometown. The narrow coast highway, packed with tourist spots and restaurants, was currently silent, closed for the night. It was peaceful, compared to the day when beachgoers traversed the sandy concrete streets around us.

From the passenger seat of his car, I looked out, arms resting on the opened window as I observed the places I hadn’t known I would miss. In some areas that I could see, I could remember hanging out with friends, and sometimes spotting Art with his own posse.

Back then, I was too nervous to even talk to him. The me of the past would have a very hard time believing that I was sitting in his car, playing the part of his boyfriend.

That fake boyfriend of mine was parallel parking, hand on the shoulder of my seat as he craned his neck back to check his progress. It was the sort of thing I’d always wanted to see him do. He looked . . . really good. Dammit.

I regarded the area where he brought us. It was recognizable. As I’d mentioned, we were near that old surf shop, in the circular parking space where residents could park their cars. It was a rather expensive area, considering the beachfront vacation homes I could spot in every direction.

The beach he’d brought up was located a street away, and was very popular with both locals and tourists, and was very much the epitome of the name we’d given it. A thousand steps leading to the shore.

This one, however, was not well-known. I’d passed it before, but never gave it much thought. Even then as I unlocked my car door and stepped out, I didn’t think much of the view. The parking lot was distracting, and the entrance to the hidden beach he wanted to show me wasn’t as fantastical.

I closed the door behind me, holding myself loosely. This was the first time I’d felt cold outside in a while. The coast was vastly different from the city life I’d grown used to.

“I remember this vaguely.” I told him, bending back to see the massive array of stars above us.

That was another thing you couldn’t fully get in the city. The stars here were clearer, shining more brightly than the moon.

Art circled his car to take my hand carefully, tugging me in the direction of the entrance. I followed him without complaint. How could I complain about anything if he was holding my hand?

I stared longingly at his back, relishing in the way he kept his grip on me firmly, not letting go even as we descended down darkened steps. It was so difficult to see, I had to grab onto the metal railing. Art helped as well, walking as slowly as he could so that I wouldn’t slip.

From our perch, I took a second to look at the ocean, at the cluster of luxury homes far on the other cliff. If I squinted hard enough, I could also see a handful of yachts out in the water, drifting lazily.

Once again, I was drowning in nostalgia.

I hadn’t wanted to return here for a reason, though I wasn’t going to totally reject the idea. I loved the beach, more than any other place I’d lived in, this was what my ideal home was. I just disliked what I had been back then, but—it wasn’t uncommon to feel that way.

Art took both of my hands, and then let go just as quickly when I reached the last step, feeling the sinking texture of sand beneath my Converse. Along with the sensations, I could smell the pungent aroma of salt and sea life too. It transported me to times I thought I’d forgotten.

Turning on my heels, I watched the empty beach on either side, thankful that we were alone. “It’s . . .”

It’s lovely.

In front of me, Art was looking out at the view, waves lapping at his shoes closely, though not reaching enough to completely wet them. “I wanted to visit this—my favorite beach, with you.” His hair was being pushed back by the wind, appearing soft. “Before going to the campsite.”

There was absolutely no reason to respond immediately to him. Art, looking just as he did in high school, standing before a beautiful beach from my childhood days—

I had to simply take a mental picture.

“Thank you . . .” I took my glasses off, to see him in a fuzzier, but unobstructed way.

The fact that he wanted to show me this place was rather unbelievable. It was like I was somehow special. 

Art left his spot to walk up to me, eyeing me curiously. When he brought his fingers to my temple, brushing away my bangs, I didn’t even attempt to move away. I wouldn’t. Not anymore.

His thumb traced over my cheekbone, “I haven’t seen you in your glasses for years.”

I was rattled by his observation, but I kept my calm. There was a whole other view that was beautiful behind him, and yet he was looking at me, bringing up the fact that I was wearing glasses. Why?

“I—I don’t wear them often anymore.” I said, tucking them away to let them hang on my shirt collar.

When he touched me like this, I was reminded of the night when we exchanged those small kisses. Before all of this, I had hoped we’d do well together, but I was pleasantly surprised when we exceeded my expectations.

As I anticipated, Art was skilled. His voice, his body temperature—they wouldn’t leave my mind. All of it muddled my thoughts, to the point where I wondered if I would get to experience more of him again.

I latched onto the end of his white t-shirt, drawing him in. His other hand stayed over my waist, gradually taking it to play with my own shirt. I wasn’t sure what we were doing, but it was so natural, I couldn’t question our actions for very long.

What had he done to me in bed? I recalled the way he wouldn’t let go, keeping me as close as he possibly could, as I bit at my lips to prevent myself from spilling any noises out when he stole small bites at my neck—

Glasses aside, my vision grew fuzzy just thinking about it.

Art lowered his head to reach my height, hinting at a smile. Yeah, I loved this view way more than the beach, even the stars.

But in a way, he could easily be a part of them. “Thank you.” I said, for the second time. “Thank you for doing this.”

He drew his hand from my cheek to the crook of my neck, smoothing out my collar, “Me too.” His skin on mine was warm, familiar now. “Thank you, Lewis.”

The lack of light hid the visible red flush I could feel on my face.

All of it. The ocean, the waves, the lights, the moon, the sky, the stars, the sand, and Art—

I wished I had my camera . . . to capture this moment.