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“You came here when you were lonely,” I guessed.
“I came here when I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Archie gave me a plastic smile and hauled me between his legs, bringing our mouths together. He gave me a quick, chaste kiss, then let me rebalance myself as the tram pulled up to the museum.
“Jesus,” I muttered, stepping out of the air-conditioned tram and into the warm southern California heat. “This place is massive.”
“This isn’t even half of it.”
“Is it all…” I gestured at the beige tiles that ran underfoot, up the stairs, and up the walls.
“It’s travertine,” Archie said with a shrug.
We walked together up a set of shallow stairs, past a fountain and onto a promenade that held more buildings and the most beautiful view I’d ever seen. I could see the ocean, the city, the mansions that sprawled between the two, and the sky above and all around us. The sight took my breath away, and Archie sidestepped behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. It was the same hold I’d offered him earlier, and it brought up the same illicit feelings in the deepest parts of my chest.
“What is your favorite exhibit here?” I asked.
Archie’s smooth cheek rubbed against my stubble, and I closed my eyes to the view so I could feel him, which was exponentially more necessary.
“The illuminated manuscripts,” he whispered.
“Will you show me?”
Archie hummed, letting out a breath that dropped more of his weight onto my shoulder. It feltrightto be there with him that way, and we stayed like that for so long I lost count of the heartbeats between us.
“We have the whole day,” he finally said, “Do you want to eat? Have some wine?”
“It’s so nice outside.”
He hummed again and pulled me toward a kiosk on the far end of the courtyard.
“We can picnic,” he promised, buying a charcuterie box and a bottle of white wine. I took two small plastic cups from the vendor and waited while Archie collected the food and the wine. We couldn’t hold hands, but we walked close back toward the edge of the courtyard and further down toward a sprawling grassy area.
We sat down and stretched out, and Archie poured me a glass of wine. As soon as his hands were free, he took my hand back into his and I had to admit, this was the best game of pretend I’d ever played.
“Tell me about yourself,” I said, angling my face toward him without making eye contact.
Archie raised our joined hands to his mouth and brushed a kiss across my knuckles before returning them to the grass.
“What do you want to know?” he asked. “That’s such a broad question.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
Archie chuckled and took a sip of his wine. “Navy blue. You?”
“Orange,” I said. “Like, rusty fall orange. Not pumpkin orange.”
“That’s fair. What’s your favorite movie?”
I had a thousand. “The Dreamers,” I said.
“I don’t think I’ve seen that one.”
“We can watch it together,” I suggested, even though I knew we never would. “What about you?”
“The Big Lebowski,” he answered.
I turned to face him fully then, letting my brain strip away the facial hair, the tired eyes, and the expensive clothes. I saw the man beside me as the boy he used to be, with his bold words and fumbling hands, and a lifetime of promise sprawled out ahead of him.
