I took the train from the Twin Cities to Chicago. It was a long ride, but it was cheaper than flying. Unfortunately, I had almost nothing to do on the way but think about Lucas. I should have brought books to read or videos to watch on my laptop. I spoke to Lucas by video on the phone as the train sped through central Wisconsin. I didn’t recognize where he was when he was calling. I could see a few artist easels in the background, and paintings hung on the wall. I asked, “Where are you?”

Lucas said, “This is my studio. I will show it to you in person, but I wanted to share something I finished a few minutes ago.”

“You have a whole studio of your own?”

“I have studio space that the college provided when I was hired to teach. It’s a great perk of the job. They want to help me with moving my painting success forward.” I watched as Lucas stepped closer to the easels. A bluish painting rested on one of them. Lucas re-oriented the phone so that I could see both the painting and Lucas standing beside it.

He said, “This is the one I wanted to show you.”

My mouth dropped open. I said, “That is beautiful.” It was a painting of a speed skater in mid-stride. I touched my fingers to the screen to zoom in and magnify the image of the painting. I thought I recognized the face. I asked, “Is that really…”

“It’s you,” said Lucas.

“But I’ve never worn a speed skating uniform around you.”

Lucas shifted the focus of the camera on the phone back to himself. He said, “That’s true, and the full disclosure is I painted it as a sort of combination of you and me.”

“Wow, and it’s beautiful. I guess you aren’t surprised, but I’ve never had anyone do a painting of me. I guess it doesn’t happen that often anymore. This is the first time. It’s a little weird, but it’s exciting, too. What are you going to do with the painting?”

“I thought about giving it to you.”

My hand holding the phone shook. I said, “Oh, I don’t know if you should do that. I mean, thank you for the idea. That’s so sweet, but I don’t know if I could do it justice. Where would I hang it? The house I live in with my friends in college is falling apart, and it wouldn’t look right in my bedroom at my parents’ house.”

Lucas smiled. “I’ll keep it for you until we figure out its permanent home.”

“It’s a deal.”

I ended the conversation with Lucas when I said that I needed to grab something to eat from the snack car on the train. He told me that he would be waiting at Union Station in Chicago when I got off the train.

When the train stopped briefly in Milwaukee, I thought about the upcoming skating events. I had plans in place to travel with Jordi in September and try out a long track event. I was curious and excited, but I was also terrified that I would end up last. Skating in a race in Milwaukee where Olympic gold medalists like Eric Heiden and Bonnie Blair trained was something entirely different from racing in Minnesota. I knew that other racers would be very skilled and experienced.

In the back of my mind, I expected to see Lucas dressed in winter clothes when I arrived at the station in Chicago. I hadn’t seen him yet in person in warm weather. Instead of a parka, he was wearing navy blue shorts and an orange T-Shirt. He had changed clothes since we talked on the phone, but he wasn’t hard to find. His height and golden hair made him stand out from the bustling crowd greeting passengers from the train.

Lucas hugged me so hard that he nearly lifted me off the ground. Then we kissed. It wasn’t a small peck. It was a passionate kiss. My impulse inside was to look around and see who was watching. I was self-conscious about kissing another man in public in a crowd. Two men embracing and kissing in public was still rare in my hometown, but Lucas demanded and absorbed my full attention. After a few seconds, I relaxed. The rest of the crowd didn’t respond, and they didn’t matter. Only Lucas mattered.

As he opened the door to his apartment, I realized that it was the first time alone with Lucas indoors since we met. I didn’t count the awkward encounter near the restrooms after skating. Lucas said, “Now I can give you a proper kiss.”

Our lips met, and then our tongues touched with my back pushed up against the closed door to his apartment. My toes curled when he exhaled lightly into my mouth. I wondered if we would end up in bed within five minutes, but Lucas behaved like a gentleman. We poured passion into the kiss nibbling each other’s lips, twining our tongues and letting our hands roam over each other’s upper bodies.

Then he pulled back and asked if I wanted something to drink. I said that I wanted to try his cinnamon tea and found my way to the couch in the living room. I said, “One funny thing about seeing the speed skating painting is I’m going to Milwaukee with a friend in September to try racing on an Olympic-quality track. Maybe you can come up and watch us.”

Lucas busied himself making the tea and said, “I would like to see you skate, but please tell me that you’re not doing the skating for me. Stick with your hockey if that’s what you want to do. Speed skating is a great sport, but hockey is, too.”

He handed me a mug and then settled himself on the couch next to me. I said, “I wasn’t doing it for you. I want to see how fast I can move on ice. There’s nothing like the sensation. I read that skaters at top speed move faster than any other humans touching the ground.”

Lucas said, “That’s the only part I miss. The speed. You’ll do well, James. You’re built for it.” He set his mug down on a coaster placed on a modern glass and steel coffee table.

While I started to talk about speed skating again, Lucas leaned forward, nestled his face into my neck and began to unbutton my shirt. Seconds later, I decided that conversation was no longer necessary. Lucas slid his hand slowly downward until his hand closed over the bulging package in my jeans. Long, low moans took over from intelligible words.