“God, I never realized painting was so much work. All those home design shows make it look like nothing,” Reed says, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
“Just a few more hours and we’ll be done. It’s going to look awesome,” I say, touching up the corner of the wall I’m working on, the cyan blue popping. Reed’s decided to go for bold colors instead of the pastels he originally planned on. I talked him into being a little adventurous in his color choice. I think it’s going to pay off. The Sand Dollar is definitely going to be eye-catching, at the very least.
A pizza sits on the counter, and I put down my brush to go eat another slice. We’ve been at it for an hour, Reed insisting I didn’t have to help him. I reassured him I wanted to—and it’s true. In reality, I find myself doing just about anything to spend time with him.
“So, when do you think your grand opening will be?” I ask.
“Probably August or so, I hope. My manager, Carly, is getting married next month, so I sort of wanted to wait until she’s back from her honeymoon.”
“Oh, you mean the pink-haired girl that was here earlier? That’s awesome. I’ll have to tell her congratulations.” I stuff the slice of pepperoni in, taking a seat on a stool at the counter for a moment.
Reed shrugs. “I guess. She’s a total bridezilla these days, though. Wants everything to be perfect. Yesterday she spent an hour asking my opinion about the color of the bows on the pews. I mean, I’m all for fashion and aesthetics, but it seems a little ludicrous for a one-day celebration of something that probably won’t last.”
I raise an eyebrow, and Reed turns to me. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “Cynical, I know. I just haven’t really ever been a huge believer in the whole institution.”
I slowly chew the bite of pizza in my mouth, feelings of dread creeping in. He’s a cynic when it comes to love and marriage. He’s not a believer in the whole forever scheme—one I ascribe firmly too.
I knew this man was too good to be true.
I try to tell myself not to panic and ask myself WWJD—in my case, representing “What would Jodie do?”
She’d tell me to stop spazzing out, that we’re not at the forever stage anyway. In reality, she’d say forever is overrated and fun is more important. And I’m certainly having a lot of fun with Reed. It’s more than that, too. Just because he doesn’t believe in marriage doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe in serious, right?
I sigh. I don’t know. We’re not far enough in to know.
But dammit, I need to. So, at the risk of ruining everything—like I do so well—I stand up and walk over to him.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
He puts his paint roller down and turns to me. “Sure.”
“Look, I know we haven’t been at this whole thing—whatever it is—between us for long. And I know I don’t have a right to ask this yet or be this forward. But I like you. A lot. I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I’m already feeling things for you I haven’t felt in forever. And I just want to know if you feel it too, or if this is just a fling for you. Because I’ve been with so many guys who are just in it for a few weeks or a few months of fun. I’m not looking for that anymore. So I just need to know.”
After the words are out, I freeze, panicking. Did I really just spew all that?
Reed stares at me, and my heart pounds. He takes a step toward me.
“I’m going to be honest. Love for me is really complicated. Relationships are hard. I don’t really navigate them well. But since that first kiss, yes, I’ve felt something powerful. To be honest, it’s pretty scary. I don’t know where this whole thing is going or if it’s going anywhere, but I do know being around you has made this whole move worth it. I’m really into you, Lysander. Really.”
With that, I close the gap between us, pull his face into mine, and kiss him hard. This kiss is different, passionate, strong. I feel the doubts slipping away.
Reed Wilder may not believe in marriage and forever just yet. He may be scared of this whole thing—hell, I am too. But every time our lips meet, our bodies touching, I know one thing for sure.
There’s something between us that can only be described as powerful, as magical, and maybe even as once-in-a-lifetime.
We pull back slightly, staring into each other’s eyes, the moment sealing in something new between us. But then the bells on the door tinkle, and Reed startles, jumping back. The moment is gone.
“Hey, Reed, I just wanted to ask your opinion on something,” the manager, Carly, says. She comes into view, Reed turning to pretend he’s studying the paint. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not,” Reed assures, quick to jump in to defend the statement. “This is Lysander Wyatt. He owns Midsummer Nights. He’s a friend. A fellow entrepreneur. He’s helping me out.”
Carly smiles at me, glancing between us. I know she doesn’t buy it, but she pretends she does. I turn and grab the paintbrush, sighing as I listen to Carly and Reed talk about artwork and some other details.
I barely hear.
How the hell do we go from confessions like we just made, a kiss like that, to Reed saying we’re friends—or just working together on business?
Tears sting in my eyes, the pain of confusion and rejection creeping in. For as sure as I was a minute ago about what this was becoming, now all that fills my chest is muddled confusion.
When Carly leaves, Reed smiles animatedly. “Looks great, huh?” he says, studying my work, hands in his pockets. I turn and look at him, not mustering a smile.
Reed sighs, apparently sensing my frustration. He rustles a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Lysander. I know… that was just… it’s complicated. Please understand. It’s not you. It’s me.”
“I see.” Which is a lie. I don’t see, and I’ve heard that line so many times.
“Things for me weren’t straightforward. And I’ll be honest. This is all new to me.”
“What is?” I ask, wondering if this conversation is going to take an even bigger twist.
“Being open about it all. I’ve never really been in a relationship I was open about.”
I raise an eyebrow, confused. “So you’ve never been open about being gay?”
“Not until now.” He averts his eyes, and I sense the pain and shame in his voice.
I inhale, taking it all in. It makes sense. It’s hard for me to fathom living that way because I’ve never, ever kept back who I am. But then again, I was lucky to have the parents I did. With Reed’s foster care background, things must’ve been different for him, probably in ways I can’t understand.
“It’s okay,” I say now, meaning it. I take a step closer to him, reaching out to turn him toward me. We stare at each other. “I understand. We’ll take it slow. There’s no rush. But Reed, you don’t have to be ashamed, not with me. Not here. You need to own your life if you want to be truly happy.”
He nods, hands in his pockets. “Thank you,” he says before grabbing his paintbrush.
We spend the night finishing the painting job, laughing about the newest Jodie drama with Sven and chatting about places we’ve travelled to. We let the serious, heavy talk subside, and I’m glad for it.
Because being with Reed in the moment, living in the present, and not worrying about putting labels and rules on us, I know we’re going to be okay. More than okay. I know we can help each other figure out where this is going and what’s next.