Chapter Eleven

THEN

 

Lyric owned a Jeep Wrangler 4 X 4. In typical Ibizan style, although painted white, it appeared more of a deep grey due to the thick layer of dust that covered every inch. The seats were worn yet comfortable, and as Lenox climbed into the passenger side he felt like he was at the helm of a safari vehicle.

Lenox had been anticipating this moment all afternoon and now he was finally back, sitting side by side with this gorgeous man he couldn’t get out of his head and whose taste he’d had on his lips since this morning, he was almost vibrating with nervous excitement. Bambi had helped him choose an appropriate outfit that said casual yet up for anything. They had settled with an oversized white vest and black distressed denim shorts.

Lyric was dressed in a smart deep blue short-sleeved button-down shirt and sandblasted denim shorts. He smelled a deliciously masculine and fresh combination of vanilla and mint. His golden skin radiated heat and Lenox swore the intense hue of his eyes could act as a torch in the night sky. He tossed a few dreadlocks off his shoulder and leaned in to kiss Lenox gently and traditionally on the left cheek then the right. Although it wasn’t where he was hoping to be kissed, Lenox accepted it shyly and flashed a toothy smile back at him.

“Hi,” Lyric breathed, returning his smile with a lazy grin.

“How are you?” Lenox asked, breathing deeply and desperately trying to rid himself of his nervous twitches.

“All right, thanks. Hungry?” He put the Jeep into gear and set off down the narrow road.

Lyric took him to a magnificent restaurant called Teatro Pereyra, set in a beautiful old building in Ibiza Old Town. It had high ceilings and once had a cinema at the back. As they were ushered to a quaint, very private table for two off to the side, Lenox noticed the tall, red velvet curtains that remained from when it had served as a theatre.

A slinky waitress with a high, glossy ponytail was at their side to take their drink order even before they sat down. Lyric spoke to her in Spanish and they exchanged some pleasantries before he turned to Lenox and asked, “Red?”

“Excellent!” he answered, confirming his taste in wine.

The waitress glided off after flashing them both a warm smile and uttering something that Lenox couldn’t understand.

“This place is amazing,” he ventured, looking around once more at the understated lavishness of the place.

“I love it here. They have a strict, how do you say, anti-VIP rule to keep it separate from the overwhelming commercialism of the island.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, when the island became popular with the club scene in the eighties, so many local businesses suffered from the booming tourism and the high demand for posh restaurants and lounges. But this place remains untouched. It’s incredible on the weekends when they hold live music nights.”

“Wow, sounds authentic.”

“It’s been around since 1889.”

Lenox was in awe of Lyric’s apparent wealth of knowledge about his beautiful home, and his seductively rounded English-Spanish accent only accentuated his allure even further.

The waitress returned with their wine and two tall, thin-stemmed glasses that sparkled in the candlelight. She proudly displayed the label to them as though she was showing off a new car before corking the bottle and pouring a modest amount of wine in each of their glasses.

Lyric held up his glass and looked Lenox in the eye.

“What shall we toast to?” he asked, nailing him with another stirring smile.

“To…Hot summer nights…”

Lyric grinned madly in his direction before adding, “And even hotter company.”

As they clinked glasses, Lenox was thankful for the dim lighting that surely masked his blushing cheeks.

 

THEIR CONVERSATION FLOWED as easily as the wine as they dined on an incredible variety of tapas. A solo guitarist strummed an acoustic tune on the small stage behind them as they ate and drank and talked, sharing tales of friendships and family.

Lenox was amazed to hear that Lyric worked in a modest café on the Northern part of the island that he owned; gifted to him from his parents. He managed a staff of three and made his own hours that often changed depending on the volume of business and the time of year. His life seemed beautifully simplistic; a far cry from the hustle and stress and noise of London that was Lenox’s world, and Lenox found himself filled with a gentle feeling of envy for the life that Lyric had built for himself here in paradise.

“So, you’re a photographer?” Lyric said.

“Well, I hope to be. One day.”

“Do you have any of your pictures on your phone?”

Lenox hesitated, ever the modest one. “Well, a couple…I guess.”

“Can I see a few?”

“I dunno…”

“Oh, come on, please? I bet they’re amazing.”

Lenox caved and pulled out his phone. He unlocked the screen and swiped through his pictures, trying to find an album that would showcase his talent and not make him appear to be some sort of pretentious poser as he feared they might.

“Oh, God, these are all so…Wait, here’s a couple nice ones.”

He tilted the screen so Lyric could get a good look and he swiped right through a series he had taken on wild flowers.

“Oh, wow, these are beautiful.”

“I’ve always loved flowers. My mother used to fill our house with them growing up. Every room would have a vase brimming with the most beautiful and overlooked blooms, every colour you could imagine. I suppose that’s where I get my appreciation from.”

“You know, if we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly, our whole life would change.”

Lyric’s words were like poetry and struck a chord with Lenox somewhere deep inside his stomach. He stopped flicking the pictures and stared at Lyric who seemed even more stunning and beautiful than he had only an instant before. Lyric, sensing his eyes on him, turned away from the phone and met his stare. They shared a silence for a moment, their bodies still and their breathing slowed, before Lyric broke the trance and spoke.

“You wanna get outta here?”