I WAS in the lobby twenty minutes early.
Josh came out of the elevator fifteen minutes later, came up to me smiling that smile, and gave me a huge hug.
“Good to see you,” he said. “Really good.” And I could tell he meant it. “Let’s go.”
Except for the time I spent touring the campus, which was nice although not what I thought it would be and I wasn’t really focused on it anyway… we spent the whole day together.
Talking, just talking. Or not talking and enjoying being together.
Walking around town. Eating lunch.
Getting to know each other.
In the car on the way into town, Josh casually put his hand on my leg to make a point and just as casually left it there.
I quietly freaked out at first. Then I relaxed.
We talked about our favorite movies. Or politics. Or something else altogether…. Because honestly, after he put his hand on my leg and I put mine on top of his, I forget whatever it was we were talking about. All I remember is the way his hand felt on mine. And its weight on my leg with an occasional squeeze to emphasize a point.
He did tell me about his parents and his coming out. How easy they made it for him and how easy it felt. About his summer in Europe. And the places he wanted to show me. But the details escape me.
I told him that my coming out had been difficult and told him about my best friend who died, but left it at that. Things were going so well, and everything felt so like it was before it happened, that I didn’t want to ruin the moment. It felt like I was cheating him, that I was lying to him by not telling him everything, but when I started shaking, he looked at me gently and said, “When you’re ready you can tell me.”
It was clear he’d googled me. So I knew he knew.
A few moments later as we walked through town, talking about other things, he smiled at me, took away one of my crutches and took my hand. “Lean on me,” he said. And I froze. But he wouldn’t let it go, and as we walked down the street surrounded by students and ski bums and tourists like my parents, I noticed that nobody else seemed to notice. Or even care. So I relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of Josh holding my hand. And of mine holding his.
It felt good. It was what I needed.
I hoped my hand wasn’t sweating too much.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
As the sun went down, we started walking closer and closer to each other. I could feel his body pressing against mine, and again, it felt good. It felt natural. It felt right.
Driving back to the lodge, his hand on my leg and mine on his, his muscled thigh pressing hard against the denim of his jeans, he pulled over on the side of the road and asked me a question. “What do you want?”
I hesitated and then answered all in a rush without thinking. Nobody had asked me that question and meant it, asking me what I wanted instead of about what happened, in a long time. Since that night.
Since Nate.
“Right now,” I said, “I want a burger. And fries. I want to do something with my life that makes a difference. I want to stop being so afraid and spending so much time in my head. I want someone to love me completely and totally, and I want to love someone the same way. I want to be brave. I want…. Did I mention I want fries?
“I want someone to look at me exactly like you’re doing right now as much as possible. And what I really want right now, really want, more than anything in the world, is for you to kiss me.”
Inside I freaked out when I realized what I’d said. I hadn’t meant to say so much, but it came spilling out. But now that it was out there, what if he didn’t want to? What if I’d gone too far? Why was I talking so much?
Why had I said that?
He smiled at me in that way that made me forget everything else, at least in that moment. “Good answer,” he said.
And he leaned over and kissed me. And kissed me. And kissed me.
He cupped my face with his hands, a gesture I never until that moment knew I would love so much, and kissed me.
When he finally stopped and we were looking at each other, we knew. He knew. I knew. And we both knew that the other one knew.
It was one of those moments.
We drove back in silence, each of us deep in our own thoughts, holding hands.
He had to meet up with his family for dinner; I had to have dinner with mine. He was leaving early the next morning with his family to go visit relatives in California; we were going home the day after.
This would be it.
It sucked. But in some ways, it seemed the perfect time to say goodbye.
Even though we both knew it wasn’t even close to goodbye.
I had no idea where this was going to go, but I knew, in that moment, I was as happy as I’d been in a very long time. Maybe ever.
I wasn’t about to give that up.