Page 22 of Friendly Skies
“Okay.”
They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms just like they had on so many other nights. And just like so many other nights, Darius was woken by Luis mumbling and whimpering in his sleep. He wasn’t having a full-blown nightmare, but he was clearly in distress. Darius rolled him onto his back, then gathered Luis into his arms.
“I’ve got you, chico,” he whispered and kissed the top of Luis’ head. “I’ll always be here for you.”
Darius tried to relax, tried to let his mind quiet, but he couldn’t. He held Luis, hands lightly caressing, soothing, comforting as he listened to Luis’ breathing grow steady again as he drifted into a deeper sleep. Gradually, he started to drift off as well, but it was just at the moment that sleep was descending that Darius heard Luis whisper something that sounded like “Andrés” and was instantly awake again.
Propping himself on one elbow, Darius stared down at Luis’ sleeping face, willing him to repeat whatever he’d just said, but of course, he didn’t. Moreover, Luis looked fully relaxed, his mouth curved into a smile. Darius’ heart pounded so hard he was afraid Luis would hear it and wake, but Luis only shifted closer, his body moving into the space Darius had created as he’d shifted positions.
“Love you, Drés,” Luis whispered.
Darius’ heart pounded even harder as he replayed the sounds in his head. No, he hadn’t heard his own name. Luis called him “Dar,” not “Drés.” A horrible thought blinded Darius with its sudden intensity. All these years, he’d thought Luis’ animosity toward Andrés stemmed from what had happened at Marissa’s party, that he was angry about being drugged and—though Darius had always shoved the possibility to the back of his mind because he couldn’t bear the thought of it—even assaulted.
The events of that night and Luis’ subsequent actions scrolled through his memory, and Darius started seeing them in a new light. Their kisses, followed by Luis crying in the bathroom. The way Luis had told him to go home and refused to talk about what had happened later. Luis’ anger whenever his family talked about his cousin’s boyfriend and the way it had come bubbling to the surface when Rosa mentioned Andrés’ release from prison.
Was it possible Darius had been wrong all these years? Had Luis’ tears that night been because he wanted Andrés and not Darius? That thought stabbed through Darius’ heart like a knifeand refused to let him fall back asleep. He lay awake for most of the night, feigning sleep when Luis’ alarm went off, only emerging from the bedroom after he heard the front door close with Luis’ departure at five.
In the kitchen, Darius tossed a pod into the Keurig and pressed the button to start it brewing. He’d only gotten a few hours of sleep and felt like shit, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep any better now that the day had started. Though he’d intended to run some errands today, Darius decided to take it easy. Sitting out on the balcony, watching all the pretty boys play in the pool, sipping a steady stream of mimosas, and listening to an audiobook sounded like the perfect day. It would give him time to consider everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. As if more time might make things clearer to him.
When his coffee was done, Darius added creamer, then headed to the table, where he waited for the liquid to cool enough to take his first sip. His mind was still on Luis—what else was new?—but now, it was only spinning in circles with the same questions and thoughts on endless repeat. His stomach and chest were a tangled mess of hurt and bewilderment, and his entire body ached with longing for Luis. Who was—Darius checked the time on his phone—just about to board the plane and start the preflight prep. Any answers Darius might be able to get from him were going to have to wait.
Darius reached out for the next best thing and texted Greg.
When are you coming home?
Greg:Why?
Darius:I need someone to talk to.
Greg:What did Luis do now?
Trying hard not to smile, Darius texted back:Why would you think this has anything to do with Luis?
His phone rang almost immediately with a FaceTime call from Greg. When he answered it, he was met by a close-up of Greg’s face and his raised, skeptical eyebrow. Beyond Greg’s shoulder, Darius caught sight of his silver fox boyfriend, Holden. They were apparently sitting on the couch, and Darius was relieved he hadn’t interrupted anything intimate. He’d meant his text to be more of a joke than the call for help Greg had apparently taken it to be.
“Talk to me,” Greg said.
“I’m being stupid,” Darius told him.
“Of course you are. And I’d bet Luis is, too. Doesn’t mean there isn’t something going on.”
“Yeah.” Darius looked away from his phone and stared out the window. The sun was starting to come up, and the world was beginning to take on its normal shapes and colors. It was strange how the dark always made things unfamiliar. Even less tangible things like memories became something different in the middle of the night.
“Come on, Darius. Tell me what’s going on.”
And Darius did, spilling the whole story from growing up with Luis, realizing he was gay and in love with his best friend, then the party and its aftermath, Luis’ coming out and how he’d still been in the friend zone, and the way in which Darius had learned to live with the ache in his heart even while he was able to hold Luis in his arms. He tried to stay away from saying anything that was too much a part of Luis’ story, but there were things he had to tell Greg in order to explain where they were now. Like Andrés.
When he was finished, Greg remained silent, which didn’t surprise Darius. Of all their roommates, Greg was the most reserved and preferred to think before he spoke. Darius got up from the table and made himself another cup of coffee.
“That’s a lot,” Greg finally said.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Oh, my God,” Ricky said as he entered the kitchen, obviously having overheard most if not all of Darius’ conversation with Greg. “What is with you people? No one is worth waiting decades for, if you ask me. There is no way I would do what you and Micah have done, Darius. Twenty years for him? Twelve for you? No fucking thank you.”
“And how’s that working out for you, sweetheart?” Greg asked.
“Just fine, if you want to know. I’d rather it be like you and your silver fox because when you know, you know, right? None of this pining and mooning and angst in the middle of the night.”
