In front of me, beyond the street, a big, shimmering orange sun starts to sink into the Pacific. Behind me people laugh and talk with pre-food energy as they wait for their tacos and corn dogs and lemonade; couples and families walk slowly, as if they have all the time in the world, casting long, dark shadows in the waning light.

I almost didn’t come. At home, as I was getting ready, all I could think about was how Teo didn’t deserve this second chance, about how I deserved better, about how I’d spent long enough chasing my past and the last thing I needed right now was to chase even harder.

Now I’m here, though, and the soft breeze blowing through my hair is stilling my mind a little. The warm, friendly chatter of people walking past me is charging the air with a satisfying kind of electricity. The smell of the sea mixes with the smell of hot grilled food, the heat of the day calming like an exhalation, and it’s suddenly hard to think about past problems, possible futures. I’m just here, now, and I’m going to try and live in the moment.

Somebody looks at me a little too long as they pass and I realize I’m smiling. I look down, a little embarrassed, but still smiling. Teo always said I should live in the moment more.

I scan the street again, unsure of where he’s going to come from. When I do see him, it’s because he’s pretty hard to miss. He stands almost a foot taller than most people on the street, and walks with a kind of shoulder-rolling, rock star swagger that cuts him apart from anyone else around him. He’s also wearing the same kind of outfit he was wearing at the concert: Black jeans and boots, a tight white t-shirt. He wears it better than most guys in tailor-made suits, however, and those densely-tattooed arms and narrowed eyes are accessories enough.

Suddenly I wonder what the hell I’m doing, why the hell I’m back here, meeting with him. As if he hasn’t hurt me enough, as if the argument at the gig wasn’t proof enough that he’s never going to change, that I’m never going to get the answers I want—that I need—out of him. I feel like a moth being drawn to that flickering blue flame of his eyes, burning myself, killing myself bit by bit. My own curiosity, his impossible beauty, compelling me to do the things I know aren’t good for me.

I wave at him to draw his attention, even though he’s looking right at me, and he salutes casually in response, a warm smile lighting up his already perfect face. I realize I’m smiling back twice as hard and try to stop myself by biting my lip, but it doesn’t work. I could watch him walk toward me forever. A voice in my head tells me to turn around and run away, before Teo crushes my beaten heart even more. But my body weakens, and my blood starts to thump, urging me to get close to him, to touch him, to get him somewhere and take my time tracing out the muscles of his chest…

“Hey,” I say, trying to hold back the quiver in my voice.

“Hey,” he says, his voice slow and sexy. “I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah. Well…I didn’t want to leave things like…”

I trail off, unwilling to bring up the bad taste of what happened at the gig, unable to find the words to explain the complexity of what I’m feeling. That I still hate him for holding so much back, but that I still want to know him, who he is now, and what he’s done for all these years.

“I get it,” he says. “We got off on the wrong foot. No time to breathe. We’ll take it slow this time.”

I nod, more at his calm, steady tone than the idea of just moving forward and forgetting everything that happened between us entirely. But he’s right. We should take it slow.

“Ok. What do you wanna do then?”

He shrugs. “Are you hungry?”

“Actually I just ate. Drinks?”

Teo looks up and scans the beach, Ocean Avenue, Santa Monica, then gets a mischievous look in his eye that makes him look like a teenager again.

“I got it. Come on,” he says, taking my hand, already leading me toward the pier.

A small part of me flares up at the familiar heat of his touch, wants to yank my hand back and kill his air of carefree easiness. To ask him once again why the hell he left, to tell him that it can’t be this easy to just forget what he did, that I won’t make it this easy. But so much more of me wants this.

“Oh no,” I say, laughing as we move closer to the boardwalk. “Are you seriously taking me where I think you’re taking me?”

Teo looks at me, still wearing that mischievous look.

“I just wanna know if you’re still a crack shot.”

I laugh, pushing up against him and hardly even noticing myself doing it.

“I told you, it’s all about watching other people shoot first, seeing how the gun’s misaligned and which one has the best air pressure or whatever.”

I flash back to when we were seventeen. I ached every moment I couldn’t see him, and though it made the brief, secretive meetings we had even sweeter, each one required the same amount of planning as an undercover military operation.

Sneaking off into the woods and following instructions like ‘left at the mound of walnuts caused by the hill, at the fallen tree covered in moss.’ Abandoned playground, the grim underpass, windows of time when our parents weren’t around, when we knew we’d be the only people in some place or other. Sometimes wearing hoodies and baggy clothes so people wouldn’t recognize me, joining so many after school clubs that tracing me to one was virtually impossible. I deleted so many messages from my phone that I wished I could keep (but remembered anyway) and our phone conversations were filled with so many code words they were almost a different language.

It was kind of romantic for a while. A secret that bonded us together, our love growing stronger for all it had to endure, for the difficulty we had to go through just to share it.

“Ooh,” I say, pointing at a stand. “You gonna get me some cotton candy?”

Teo shoots me an amused look even as he changes direction to head toward the stand.

“Thought you said you weren’t hungry?”

“I’m not. It’s just been a while since I had it.”

Teo’s eyes narrow a little and his half-smile gets a little more directed.

“That’s as good a reason as any.”

It was hard work though, hiding something so big. Having to cram so much we wanted to express, so much we wanted to share, into just a few stolen moments. Always looking over our shoulders. Living in two worlds, never overlapping. Holding back and never talking about this part of our lives that felt so natural at the dinner table, in between classes, or at the hangout. But what begins as romance can start to feel like a heavy burden when you have to keep hiding it.

More than anything, I remember just wanting to walk down the street with him, holding his hand. I wanted to stop at some place to eat, sitting at the tables with people around us. To laugh as loud as I wanted to, to relax and do what normal couples did.

“Strange how this place doesn’t ever seem to change that much,” I say, sucking down the sticky sweet pink and blue spun sugar as we stroll away from the stand.

“Why would it?”

We planned it for ages. A weekend away, just the two of us. Isabel helped me construct some story about how we were both going to go camping up north, and how it was somehow related to a school science project. Teo scrapped together some wages from odd jobs around town, and I used some birthday money for us to afford a small motel room and gas, and we went to L.A.

That first time felt like a dream. Scary and alien at first, until it went warm and satisfying, wonderful and perfect. I almost skipped beside him, the freedom of just being out with him a weight off my shoulders, making me feel physically lighter. The vivid colors and entrancing sounds of the pier made me feel more alive than I had anywhere else. We sat at a restaurant side-by-side and ate slowly, talking between every bite, our hands going to each other’s legs, leaning over to kiss tenderly when we couldn’t find anything more to say. Then we sat on the beach and watched the sunset, my head against his chest, his arm around my waist. I felt as happy as I ever had, knowing this was all I wanted, and as sad as I ever had, knowing that it wouldn’t last.

We went down to L.A. a couple of times after that, and each time was as good as the first, but coming home only got harder.

“Okay, killer,” Teo says, snatching my cotton candy from me and pointing at the midway booth. “Time to show me if you’ve still got it.”

I look at the shooting stand. It’s one of those where you have to shoot out the red star on a sheet of paper. There are three BB guns—somebody’s already using the left, and the booth employee is standing over the middle one, making eye contact to beckon us over.

I suck the stickiness off my fingers, slow enough to give him a little show, eyes locked on him, and nod. Playful, innocent, but I know how dirty his mind is.

“Just figure out which toy you want,” I say with a wink, and move toward the rightmost gun.

Teo lays five bucks down and I peer at the stand worker as he loads the BBs, making sure he doesn’t short me.

“Here you go, sir,” the stand worker says, offering the gun to Teo.

He laughs gently. “The lady’s gonna do my shooting for me,” he says.

It takes the stand worker a second to understand—too long, so I take the gun from him, and while he’s still looking befuddled, raise the gun and aim. I’m slow, patient—squeezing off only a few rounds at a time—not aiming for the red, but around the star, cutting it out point by point.

“God damn,” Teo mutters with appreciative awe, as the last of the star falls out with ammo to spare.

“Well how about that…” the stand worker says.

I lower the gun and try not to look too smug.

“Your lady’s pretty dangerous,” the stand worker says, his smile a little forced now as he takes the gun from me. “You better treat her well.”

I turn a satisfied smile back to Teo, who doesn’t bother correcting him.

“So, what do you want?”

Teo’s still looking at me with a sense of bemused pride, then turns to study the fluffy toys at the back of the stand.

“Hmm…” he says, scratching his stubble. “Well, I gotta go for the goofy-looking dragon. Duke’s got a thing for dragons. You just made my dog very happy.”

The stand owner plucks the toy, hands it to me, and I give it to Teo, who nods at me with a grin, not even looking at the toy.

“Ok. Now you’ve got to win me something,” I challenge.

Teo laughs, then looks around at the other booths. His eyes fall on the game with the basketball hoops.

“Ok. Let’s go.”

A little while later we move away from the games, toward the end of the pier, feeling like Bonnie and Clyde. Teo holding his goofy dragon and me holding a stuffed lion.

Tempted by the baseball toss, Teo ends up winning a toddler-sized teddy bear.

“There you go,” he says, handing it over to me.

I laugh.

“I’m good with the lion,” I say, raising it. “What would I do with that? It’s huge!”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” I say, still laughing a little. “I don’t have the space for it.”

Teo notices something behind me. I hear a wail, and I turn to look. There’s a little girl crying as she holds an empty ice cream cone, standing in front of a pink and green splat. Her mother tries to console her.

“Hold up,” Teo says, and I watch as he walks over to them.

He exchanges a few words with the mother, then lowers himself to the girl’s level, her face frozen in an expression of despair as he stands the teddy bear up. He nods the bear’s head, sticks the bear’s hand out, as if the bear’s talking, and a shy smile breaks out on the little girl’s face. He says something else, glances up at the mother, who nods, then the little girl opens her arms wide and takes the bear from Teo.

He returns, the mother and daughter smiling in his wake.

“Problem solved,” he says.

I look away, trying to hide how much I’m blushing.

We grab some hot dogs and walk slow as we eat. Teo wipes a smudge of ketchup from my lip with a paper napkin, and the fact that it doesn’t make me feel awkward makes me realize that I haven’t been protecting my heart today, not at all. But I can’t bring myself to shut down, not yet anyway. Moving toward the sunset on slow, light steps, it’s like we don’t want to run out of pier. The sky dims to an ethereal shimmer, the Pacific breeze making me light-headed.

“You know, it’s funny,” I say, feeling the space between what I want to say and what I allow myself to say fade, “I keep thinking of what I wanted to say to you the last time we met, and now that I’m actually here, I can’t think of anything.”

Teo smiles as we near the pier’s end, and he leans over it, dangling the dragon over the water.

“Treppenwitz.”

“What?” I say, leaning back against the rail beside him.

“It’s a German word, for the things you only think about saying after you’ve left someone. The Germans have a lot of words for little things like that.”

“Huh,” I say, looking at his face, half-lit by the sun. “When did you learn German?”

He shrugs, almost seeming embarrassed. “I lived there for a year.”

“Seriously?”

Teo looks at me and laughs.

“Yeah… After I left…I spent a couple years skipping around the states, grabbing work wherever I could. Construction, fixing up cars and bikes, even a little ranch work. Wasn’t any kind of life, just enough to get something to eat, and just enough beer to keep me from thinking too much about what a waste it was. Anyway, I was working security down in Miami for an illegal backroom card game—pretty dangerous, but the money was the best I ever had. Shit happened, though, and I had to leave fast. Figured the best thing to do was get out of the country and lay low for a while. A lot of the people involved went south, to Mexico and Brazil, but I decided to go to Europe. I don’t know why…or maybe I did.”

“Wow,” I say, taken aback by the thought of Teo being in that kind of danger. The wind picks up and I pull my light jacket around me, Teo reaching out to tuck my hair gently behind my ear. His finger traces my jaw, leaving a tingling trail on my skin. When his thumb brushes my lips, I let out a gasp. I want him so bad I can taste it. I feel my cheeks flush under his intense gaze. But then he pulls away.

“Berlin,” he continues, his voice a little wistful, his expression a little more contented as he says it, “I’d heard it was the place to be. Full of artists, musicians—a good scene. Good place to be forgotten, to make a new identity.” He shifts to show me his left arm, pulling his shirt sleeve over his huge bicep to reveal a tattoo of a falcon, the wings tensed in mid-flight, feet extended. Poised and dynamic, as if it’s just taking off. “Few days after I got there I decided to get a tattoo—mark the occasion. Managed to get some time with Esther—the best artist in the city. I drew the flash myself, and she was impressed. Asked me if I’d ever handled a needle before. Next thing you know I’m apprenticing under her. She was incredible, taught me everything I know.”

“That’s pretty amazing,” I say, feeling a sudden sinking feeling even as I enjoy the obvious happiness he has in remembering all this.

If I wasn’t sure how I felt about Teo before, hearing him talk in such glowing tones about another woman puts it into sharp focus. Even as he confides in me, I feel a distance between us. A realization that this isn’t the Teo who left me, but another Teo. One who’s lived a lot of life in between, met a lot of other people, done a lot of things I know nothing about. Suddenly I feel a little silly about being indignant, about feeling that sense of ownership, and I start to get the same danger signals that made me abandon him in the alley outside the gig—the feeling that even though I want him so bad, I need to keep my guard up.

“Yeah. She even let me crash with her for a while since I didn’t have a place—until she moved in with her girlfriend, anyway.”

“Girlfriend?” I say, too quickly to stop myself sounding overly interested.

“Yeah. They’d been together for four years, so I knew she’d be moving out soon. But it gave me the time I needed to get my shit together. Man,” Teo says, laughing a little as he looks out to sea. “It was a hell of a culture shock—but a good one. One minute I’m working the crane at a junkyard making just enough for some canned beans and cheap whiskey, surrounded by country music and bitter old men; the next I’m being invited to punk rock roller derbies and fancy club nights. Bars full of craft beers and seventeen languages. Even had some of my art up in a gallery at one point.” Teo turns back to me, eyes narrowed, turning me to stone under his gaze. “I never got the chance to say thanks. You were right. You had me figured out before I did. Who I was.”

I look at him, struggling to understand.

“What do you mean?”

Teo laughs a little.

“You probably don’t even remember…” he says, shaking his head.

“Remind me?”

After a pause, Teo says, “You remember that spot under the highway overpass, with all the trees? We went there a few times. I used to go there a lot to clear my head.”

“Sure. Where you painted those animals?”

Teo smiles broadly now, looking at me tenderly when he sees I remember.

“Right. Just some graffiti, something to pass the time, take my mind off things.”

“It wasn’t just graffiti—it was beautiful.”

Teo pauses again, as if to savor what I said.

“I didn’t think much of it. Nothing important. Until one day I go there,” Teo says, his face darkening, a flash of frustration, “and saw they’d cleaned the place up. Steam cleaned the whole damned thing. Columns, walls—not a dot of color left. Then that night I came to see you. Climbed in your window and sat on the edge of your bed. Told you about it, trying to figure out why it got me so cut up. It wasn’t like anybody went there, or actually saw what I did. Half of it was fading anyway. I just couldn’t understand why it made me so angry…”

He turns away from the ocean, directing his body at me now. He turns me to face him, his hands on my shoulders.

“And you put your hands on my shoulders, like this, and looked me right in the eye, and said: ‘Teo, you’re an artist. Of course you’re angry. You’ve every right to be.’”

He holds me there for a second, our eyes locked, heat flickering in the small space between us.

“I remember,” I whisper, my heart pounding.

I part my lips, but Teo pulls his hands away and continues.

“You don’t know what that did to me,” he says, looking out at the waves again now. “I thought you were just being nice, saying whatever to calm me down—maybe you meant it like that. But it stuck with me. I’d be halfway through a bottle of whiskey, or dragging feet across Michigan snow for a half chance at a job, thinking about what a fuck-up I was, remembering all the times my dad said I belonged in jail with him…then I’d feel your hands on my shoulders…see your face right there…and hear you say that to me again… It was the only thing that kept me going sometimes, knowing you believed in me. God knows where I’d’ve ended up without it.”

As he says it, a flood of emotion holds me still, unsure of what to say, but certain of the need to say something meaningful. In an instant I feel like I understand, the way I understood before. The beautiful soul born to a deadbeat dad, who painted highway columns nobody would see, for whom a few words were enough to keep going.

Right now I feel closer to Teo than anyone else in the seven years since he left, more intimate and understanding. I try to think of how to tell him this, of how to express that he meant as much to me as I did to him, but there aren’t words for it.

I put my hand on his arm, and he turns those eyes to me, a little soft, but never unfocused, never unaware. I move my hand up to his shoulder, turn his body to face me, move my hands to his neck, and pull him close to kiss with parted lips. Softly, tenderly, as if to slow down time. A kiss that makes my skin shiver in the breeze, my knees weaken until Teo holds me to him tightly and it feels like I’m weightless.

Then something shifts, our kiss gaining urgency, my insides going taut and white-hot. His hands pull at my ass, his cock hardening against me. As his tongue presses into my mouth I can feel his hunger for me too. A growl in his chest reverberates through my breasts, and I know he’s on the verge of losing control, desire roused fully now.

I pull my lips away, our foreheads together, my hand on his cheek.

“Do you have your bike?”

“Yeah.”

“Come home with me.”