MAXIM

Whatever had been bothering Derek the afternoon he co-signed the lease at my new apartment appeared to have worked itself out. We spent the next five nights together in his bed, and every morning, he kissed me goodbye before leaving for work. Twice he came to eat dinner at the bar, and Thursday night he even stayed until closing so he’d be able to drive me home, even though he had to get up early the next morning. We didn’t have sex that night because he was so tired, but I didn’t care. Falling asleep with his body curled around mine felt as good as an orgasm in a way—a softer, more tender intimacy that made me feel closer to him than ever before.

My notebook, which had turned into more of a journal than a place for ideas, was full of page after page of my feelings for him, which were growing deeper by the day. We didn’t talk about them, but I wanted to. I wanted to tell him I was falling for him. I wanted to hear him say the same to me. I wanted to know if he saw anything more than hiding at home in our future. We’d sort of left things open-ended when we’d agreed to see where things went, but on Monday, I was moving into my apartment, and we wouldn’t be able to see each other in the middle of the night anymore. What would happen to us? What did he want? I was dying to know all the answers, but I was too nervous to ask the questions. Derek wasn’t someone who liked being pushed. And maybe he didn’t even know what he wanted yet.

I knew what I wanted—more. I’d gotten to the point where I wanted to be with Derek, not only at home, but out in the open. I wanted to make him happy, make him proud of me, make him see we had nothing to be ashamed of. I wanted him to include me in his life. Openly gay relationships were possible here—I saw them all the time. I knew how hard it would be for him, and I didn’t for one second think I deserved it enough to ask for it, but some part of me had begun to hope he might offer.

Another part of me said don’t be ridiculous, he told you flat out he wants a family, not a boyfriend. Even if he accepted me, I couldn’t give him that. I couldn’t work here legally, and if I overstayed my visa and got caught, I could be deported. Who in his right mind would look at a guy like me and see solid parenting material? Certainly not Derek. Half the time, I had no idea what he was doing with me.

But it was the best time I’d ever had, an unexpected gift. I didn’t want it to end.

* * *

On Friday morning, I woke to find a series of texts from Derek on my phone.

You work too hard. You deserve a break.

I’m taking you away this weekend. Pack a bag with your swimsuit, a nice outfit for a dinner, and something cool for today and tomorrow. We’ll get you sunglasses on the way. (I don’t know how you’re living without them in L.A.) Be ready by 3:00.

And yes, I talked to Ellen and she gave you the weekend off. Consider it a paid vacation.

Yes, a paid vacation. Welcome to America.

I sat down on the guest room bed in a daze, my thoughts jumbled, my heart racing. Was this for real? He was taking me on a trip this weekend? Out in public? Where people would see us together? Where were we going?

And he’d told Ellen about it! What was she thinking? How had he described it? Did she suspect anything?

And what was this about a paid vacation? Was there really such a thing?

Confusion swirled, but more than anything, I was happy. Going away together seemed like a big step. He wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t want things to continue, would he?

Maybe this weekend would be a turning point for us.

Packing a bag didn’t take long, and I was ready long before three. Not that I didn’t trust Derek, but I sent a quick message to Ellen making sure it was okay to take three days off. I didn’t want anything to jeopardize my job.

Her reply put my mind at ease. Yes, of course!! I’m so happy Derek is doing this. Don’t let him work while you’re gone. He needs a break too!

He does, I wrote back. He’s too hard on himself.

She replied with a bunch of emojis—the sun, a pair of sunglasses, a bathing suit, a tropical drink, a beach umbrella, a big wave—and told me to have fun.

I grinned. The beach. It had to be the beach. He remembered what I’d said about the ocean, and he was taking me to see it. My chest tightened as my heart drummed with excitement. God, he was perfect. He was everything.

* * *

“Know where we’re going?” he asked once our bags were loaded and we’d hit the road.

“Not for sure.” I couldn’t stop smiling.

“No guessing,” he ordered. “I want it to be a surprise.”

“How long does it take to get there?”

“You sound like my niece and nephew. Not that long,” he promised, placing a hand on my leg. “One or two hours, maybe.”

A couple hours later, we were still on the road, stuck in traffic. But I didn’t care—we’d rolled down the windows, and I could smell the ocean. I kept inhaling deeply, unable to get enough of the warm, salty air.

“Sorry we’re not there yet. I wish we could have come during the week. Everybody wants to be at the beach on the weekend. Oh, fuck!” He realized he’d given away the surprise and clapped a hand over his mouth.

“It’s okay,” I told him, patting his leg. “I had a feeling it was the beach when you said to pack a swimsuit, and then Ellen sent me a bunch of emojis that sort of gave it away.”

He groaned. “See? Fucking Ellen and her big mouth. I don’t know why I told her the truth. I should have told her I was taking you camping or something.”

“No, this is perfect! It will still be a surprise to see it and swim in it and hear the waves. I can’t wait.”

In a move that shocked me, he took my hand from his leg and kissed my fingers. “Good. I love seeing you so excited.”

As we turned from the freeway onto a beautiful road shaded with palm trees on either side, I thought my heart might burst right out of my chest. We drove past a gate that said Ritz Carlton, and I stared at Derek. “Is this… Are we…staying here?” There was a Ritz in Moscow, but it was so expensive and luxurious, I’d never even crossed its doorstep.

“Yes. I’ve driven by this place and always wanted to come here. You gave me a reason. So thank you.”

I couldn’t even speak.

We checked in, and the ocean beckoned to me through big glass windows in the lobby. “It’s so beautiful,” I said, my voice full of awe.

Derek smiled. “I asked for a room with an ocean view, so you can see it any time you want.”

As soon as we got into our room, I dropped my bag to race out onto the balcony, which overlooked the ocean, as promised. I drew in deep breaths as I drank in the sight of so much blue. “I can’t get enough,” I said when Derek joined me. “It’s even more incredible than I thought.”

Pressed close behind me, he wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder. “Want to take a walk on the beach?”

“Yes. Although this is nice, too. Being alone here with you.” I covered his arms with mine.

“I promise you’ll have plenty of both the beach and being alone with me.”

I sighed, closing my eyes. “Is this real? Don’t tell me if it isn’t.”

“It’s real.” He kissed my shoulder, my neck, my jaw. Rested his forehead against my temple. “It’s real.”

* * *

Later, after we’d walked on the beach and swum in the ocean and drunk colorful cocktails as we watched the sun go down, we went back to the room to clean up. As thrilling as it had been to get in the ocean for the first time, I was even happier watching Derek get dressed for dinner. It seemed ridiculous that something mundane like watching him iron a shirt or shave, or style his hair or button his shirt could have such an effect on me, but it did. I could still hear his voice in my head. It’s real. It’s real.

I felt like it was. The more time we spent together, the more willing I was to do whatever it took to keep it. I hadn’t moved here expecting to meet someone, but life was strange and wonderful, and I had to believe that this feeling had a purpose. It was too strong, too good, too unlikely for it to be random. Everything inside me, every instinct I had, was telling me to fight for him.

But what weapons did I have? What could I give him in return for changing his life for me? Sex didn’t seem like enough. What else did he want?

“So tell me more about what you would do with that house. And did you make the appointment to see it yet?” We were at dinner, sitting on the hotel restaurant patio overlooking the ocean.

He turned his head to look at the water. “Not yet. I don’t know that I want to see it.”

“What? Why not?”

The waiter appeared with our drinks, and asked if we were ready to order. Once he’d left us alone, I asked again. “Why don’t you want to see the house?”

“Because what’s the use? I can’t buy it. My dad was right—I don’t have the time for a project like that. I probably never will.” He picked up his wine and drank.

“You asked your dad about it?”

“Yeah. It didn’t go well. He wants me to take on more work, not less. I’ll get more money too.”

“But what about all the things you told me about creativity and risk and passion?”

He shrugged. “It was just an idea, and not a very practical one. There are other things I want more. And you know what?” He drank again and set down his glass before leaning toward me. “Let’s not talk about that stuff. We’re here to have fun, and I don’t want to think about anything beyond that. All that matters is now.”

But I don’t want to be just fun to you. I want to matter. I want to mean something. I want to talk about where we can go, what we can be.

I want you to let me in.

I was beginning to worry it wasn’t going to happen.