SAM DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT his own name. That would be too weird. Nico clearly had reasons for the alias—someone had tried to kill him! And Sam… well, being James was just a lark, wasn’t it?
Part of him worried that he’d have to say something eventually, but the other part of him pushed it away.
Because they were kissing. And he didn’t want to stop that for anything.
Chess pieces were rolling everywhere as Sam pulled Nico down to the couch, marveling at how Nico’s lips were a completely different, darker color than his tanned face. Sam guessed that everyone’s were different, but his own were more of a matching color. Nico’s were a contrast, a complement—a target! The stubble that made Nico so sexy was pretty scratchy, but Sam liked it. Like flint, it kept sparking things inside him.
They sat up, and Sam yanked off Nico’s V-neck T-shirt, not able to go fast enough. His hands wanted to be everywhere, but stilled as Nico took his turn.
Nico lifted Sam’s favorite Craig-Bond in Casino Royale Sunspel Riviera Navy Blue Polo Shirt, taking his time. Slowly kissing each inch of exposed skin, up, and up, over his waist, his ribs, his chest, the dip at the base of his neck, his cheek, his ear, his forehead, and then Sam’s shirt was off, his breath was lost, and their mouths found each other again.
Hungry for exactly this.
Sam thought about how tongues are amazing things.
He thought about that substance abuse assembly in school, and how they’d been lectured to about the dangers of pot and alcohol, both legal in some states for adults, as “dangerous gateway drugs” for their young minds.
And he thought about how kissing Nico was like a gateway drug. It made him want more.
And then Nico pressed his body full up against his and Sam stopped thinking.
Nico had to work again, but Sam did both adventures he was leading that day, hang gliding and beach volleyball, and hung out near him as much as he could get away with. He told Nico about his parents and their ridiculous, embarrassing affairs, about Ari and Frida and how cool it was to have friends that always had his back, and a lot more about his favorite James Bond movies.
Nico didn’t talk a lot about himself, but he seemed like he wanted to know all about Sam’s life. The one thing Sam didn’t tell him was that his name wasn’t James… it just felt too awkward, and like it might burst this amazing bubble they were in.
They spent the night together in the turquoise suite, Nico on the couch again, but Sam wasn’t going to complain—they were having so much fun. For someone who wasn’t a big talker, Nico was quite the kisser. They were getting whole kissing sessions in. Sam had missed the first night of Chanukah, and he didn’t have any actual candles to light. But this flame, in both of them, felt just right for night two.
Sam slept in longer than he’d planned. Nico was already at work, and the plan was to meet in the lobby at 9:30 AM for the morning adventure: four-wheel ATVing. Sam washed his face, threw on a Connery-Bond outfit from Thunderball—white Jantzen shorts and a navy Fred Perry polo—and on his way to grab something quick from the breakfast buffet spotted the note slid under the suite door. It was from the resort manager, saying they needed to know if Sam was staying for a second week. He’d talk to Nico about it, but Sam wasn’t ready to leave Sunday morning!
Some other tourist got the spot near Nico in the van, and Sam didn’t get a chance to talk to him before the twelve of them were racing dirt tracks in a hilly area about a half hour from the hotel. It was an adrenaline rush.
Nothing handled like one of Zoltan’s exotics, but Bond knew how to drive anything, and Sam could hold his own with a powerful motor. He purred to a stop on the highest rise, checking out the view of the bay while the other tourists zipped and zagged on the trails around him.
Nico raced his four-wheeler over a packed-earth ramp, soared through the air, and landed solid. The ATV under him tore up the slope and skidded to a sideways ice-hockey stop right next to Sam. Finally, they’d get a private moment to talk. Nico pulled off his helmet. The moment was so Bond. So sexy.
“You’re like a real-life James Bond, aren’t you?” Sam said, feeling all warm and connected to him.
Nico’s voice was sharp. “I’m not this fantasy person you’ve created, okay? I’m real.”
And then Sam got angry. He hadn’t even known he felt that way until the words came bursting out of him like hot lava. “How much of your real life have you let me see?” He yanked off his own helmet. “I told you everything about me, but every time I ask you anything about your family, your friends, your past, you dodge it. I don’t even know where you live! I don’t know where you grew up.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “If all I have that’s real is a name, it’s because you haven’t told me anything else!”
They were both quiet then. A long, uncomfortable silence. And the guilt started welling up in Sam. Had he just blown up this whole thing?
Nico just sat there on his four-wheeler. Stony and unreadable. “How do I know anything you told me is real? Samuel.”
Oh shit! Sam’s stomach lurched, like a trap door had opened and he’d just fallen inside. How did he know? But then Sam realized: Nico worked for the hotel. Of course he’d be able to see Sam’s name on the room registration. The name on his passport.
Sam fiddled with his helmet’s chinstrap, long past time to come clean. “I’m sorry. You’re right. My real name’s not James.”
“I know,” Nico said, putting his helmet back on and staring off to the horizon. “Were you ever going to be honest?”
“I’m telling you now. My real name’s Sam. Samuel Jonas Solomon. Maybe being James was a way to be a better me. And then when you told me you weren’t really—”
Nico shot him a look that stopped Sam from saying what he’d promised to keep secret.
“You can trust me.” Sam resumed. “I’m still the same guy. And I still like you. A lot.”
Silence.
What is he thinking?
Finally Nico said, “You know what, don’t come this afternoon. I need some space.” He pressed the throttle with his thumb and roared down the slope.
Nico didn’t talk to Sam the rest of the morning.
All afternoon, Sam was in a funk. It felt like he’d failed some really important test. He replayed everything over and over, wishing he’d made different choices. Wishing he’d been honest with Nico right away. Been Sam and not pretended to be cooler than he was. But Nico wouldn’t have paid Sam any attention, would he?
He knew it was too needy, but Sam parked himself on a lounge chair by the pool and stared at the Azul Adventures cabana, waiting for five o’clock, for Nico to get back from leading that afternoon’s adventure—sea kayaking—so he could go up to him. Apologize. Make things right.
But at 5:10 PM it was another employee, the one who’d driven him from the airport, the one who’d hugged Nico that first afternoon—Shira?—who came back to sit behind the counter. Nico didn’t show. Sam waited almost another hour before he gave up. Went back to his suite to write things out. Figure out what to do next.
One Good Thing
I meant it in the best way. I love Bond.
I never even got to ask if Nico wants me to stay another week. Does he hate me now? But I can’t imagine going back to New York on Sunday—the day after tomorrow!
But if Nico doesn’t want to see me again, how can I stand being here?
But going back to New York means New Year’s alone.
I was so sure Nico and I were on track to something amazing. The same track.
Sam stopped writing. He’d heard someone outside the suite, in the hallway. They were gone by the time Sam got there, but there was a note slipped under the door. It was on hotel stationery:
Sam—
Thanks for the time.
We have a lot to talk about.
Dinner tonight. My place.
If you’re in, I’ll pick you up at 7.
If you’re not, just don’t answer.
It wasn’t signed, but Sam knew it was from Nico.
There was no one to tell, so he strode over to his journal. He had his one good thing.
I’m in.
Nico got one knock before Sam pulled the door open. He was ready. “Hey!”
“Hey, Sam.” Nico’s voice rumbled through him.
He’d called him Sam. For the first time. Sam liked how it sounded. Tender. And maybe a bit nervous?
Sam was too.
They walked from the hotel, Nico leading the way inland. Neither of them said much. In fifteen minutes they arrived at a run-down apartment building. Up the stairs to the fourth floor.
Nico unlocked the bright purple front door and waved Sam in.
It was pretty humble, but Sam didn’t want to be snobby. He tried to make his voice sound impressed. “This whole place is yours?”
Nico shook his head. “I share it with a couple of other guys from Club Azul. But I have my own room.”
Nico’s room was small. Probably the size of Sam’s mom’s walk-in closet back home. Mattress with a bright quilt on the floor. Nothing on the walls. Cinder block and wood shelves that held a few work polo shirts and khaki shorts, a pair of jeans, and a stack of three neatly folded V-neck T-shirts on top.
Nothing tight around the neck, Sam noticed.
The other shelf had one bathing suit, board shorts style. Three books from the library—two in Spanish, one in English. A single pair of flip-flops.
The whole thing felt like Nico had just moved in. Or like he could shove it all in that green duffel bag and be gone in under a minute.
“They don’t pay you that well, do they?” Sam said, then cringed as he realized how bratty that sounded.
“They do, actually.” Nico shrugged. “But I’ve been saving up. Lawyers are expensive.”
Sam didn’t understand.
Nico gestured for Sam to sit, and since there was nowhere else, they both sat on the mattress. Nico left so much space between them, it made Sam wonder if he was still mad. But Sam wasn’t getting that vibe. Nico’s leg vibrated, and Sam fought the urge to put his hand on it, to tell him it was all going to be okay. He didn’t know that. He didn’t know anything.
“Are you in trouble? Can I help?” Sam asked.
“I don’t think you can help.” Nico seemed so sad it hurt Sam’s heart. “But I love that you asked.”
And then Nico talked. For hours. About being thrown out and foster care. About recycling and being on his own. About Dr. H’s Institute and the electric collar and escaping. About the cruise ship and Warren’s gift and getting to Mexico. About the crooked lawyer and not having any leverage. And Sam heard, under everything, the guilt of not being able to help all those other teens who couldn’t escape like Nico had.
And by the end Sam was holding him as Nico cried. Huge, messy, heaving sobs. Tears and snot, and all Sam cared about was being there for him. Holding him close until the hurricane of emotions passed.
And then they lay there, together, for a long time.
Nico. Not Warren.
And Sam, not James.
One Good Thing
He opened his heart to me, and told me… God, what a terrible hand he’s been dealt. He’s this self-made guy. I’m kind of in awe of him.
Afterward, to lighten things up, we went bowling. (He’s a terrible bowler. I beat him with a 102!) And then late-night Chinese food—in Mexico!
And then we went back to Nico’s room.
Yeah!!!
Best Things Ever
Being naked with Nico!
Best Things Ever
And then, it must have been two in the morning, with just the stars and a quarter moon above us, we went out, down to the beach.
Best Things Ever
Skinny dipping in the ocean with Nico!
Best Things Ever
Later, back at his place, just before we fell asleep, I was holding him close, snuggled up against his crazy-amazing body, the side of my face pressed into his scratchy cheek, and I told him.
“Nico?”
“Sam?” he answered, and I could hear the full-on grin in his voice.
“I want to stay,” I told him. “Tonight, and all next week too.”
And then he said it: “I want you to stay.”
Best Things Ever
How I feel right now.
One Good Thing
Nico!!!!!
One Good Thing
Nico’s lips. Heck, his whole body. And yeah, his lips.
That spark between us—all he has to do is touch me (like his finger on the inside of my arm. Or his nose on my neck, just under my ear. Or his chest pressed into mine, God!) and it feels like every cell in me is fired up, on some new level I didn’t even know was there.
Like I’ve leveled up in life. Clarity. Are colors brighter? Maybe. Life is.
One good thing? Every second with Nico is one good thing. He’s the math wiz, and probably knows off the top of his head how many seconds are in a day.
86,400
I used the calculator on my phone.
I get to spend another day with Nico. And when he’s busy, I’ll be thinking about him. And when I’m dreaming, I’ll be dreaming about him. And when we’re together… level up!
So yeah, 86,400 Good Things about today.
One Good Thing
New Year’s Eve with Nico, tonight!
Sam and Nico were lying on stand-up paddleboards, just a few yards past the soft-breaking waves. Their legs rested on each other’s boards so they wouldn’t drift apart as the water lapped at them.
“Ten! Nine!” They heard the countdown coming from the crowd at the resort’s outdoor bar. Nico reached out and took Sam’s hand.
“Eight! Seven!”
Sam got goosebumps, spreading from where their fingers touched.
“Six! Five! Four!” The countdown felt like it was speeding up. Or maybe that was just Sam’s heartbeat.
“Three!” A firework shot into the sky. “Two!” Two more fireworks arced orange paths directly over them.
BOOM! BOOM-BOOM!
“Happy New Year!” Shouts and music blasted from the shore.
A salty breeze blew the smoke back toward land, and in the clear night, the stars shimmered more intensely than Sam could remember seeing them. The fireworks had been neon, but the stars felt like the real show.
Nico leaned in close. “Happy New Year.”
“Yeah,” Sam breathed. “Think we can kiss without tipping over?” He couldn’t wipe the mischievous grin off his face.
“It’s just water,” Nico said.
Sam rolled onto Nico’s board to kiss him, toppling them, laughing, into the gentle sea.
They surfaced and held on to one of the boards, side-by-side. “You did that on purpose,” Nico accused, eyes teasing as he swept Sam’s wet hair back off his forehead.
Sam repeated the gesture, smoothing back Nico’s shorter hair. “I bet your hair would look great longer,” Sam said, and Nico got that sad faraway look again. It happened a lot.
“They buzzed it off, in the Institute.” Nico stared at the board under their hands. “Bec’s been in there for 186 days. And now it’s a new year, and she’s still trapped.”
Sam put his hand on Nico’s back. “There’s nothing you can do right now.”
Nico gave a sad smile.
Sam wanted to take Nico’s sadness away. “We should start the New Year off with a proper kiss, don’t you think?”
“Proper?”
And then Sam stopped talking. Because kissing Nico seemed more important.
Sam found Nico past the tethered jet skis, at the end of the skinny pier. Nico’s feet drumrolled against the gentle waves as they rolled in below him. Like he was barely holding himself back from running on top of the water.
He didn’t look up as Sam sat next to him, close enough to touch Nico’s hand. Sam noticed Nico was wearing the puka shell bracelet. He’d worn it every day since Sam gave it to him.
They sat there for a quiet minute. Sam watched the sun about to set on the horizon, heart racing at what he was about to do. Bond takes risks. It’s what makes him so badass. I want to be badass.
“Our last night,” Nico said, eyes on the rippling waves.
“It doesn’t have to be.” Sam pulled the envelope out of his back pocket and handed it over. It was a gamble, but Sam was feeling lucky. Nico made him feel lucky.
Nico gave him a What did you do? sideways glance and opened it. Scanned the first class plane ticket to New York. The seat next to Sam’s. Made out to Warren Bennett.
Nico slipped the ticket back in the envelope. “You should have just let it be.” He said it so softly, Sam pretended he hadn’t heard him.
“I want to take you dancing,” Sam said, studying Nico’s profile, wishing he could figure out what he was thinking. “I want you to hang out in my room. I want to watch every single Bond movie with you in a crazy marathon. I want to take you out for sushi. I want you to meet my friends. I want… more. More days. More sunsets. More everything with you!”
Nico still didn’t say anything. It made Sam nervous, putting his heart out like this. But this was his last chance, wasn’t it? Tomorrow he’d be flying home. “Come with me to New York.”
“What am I going to do in New York?”
“You can do school. Finish high school.”
“Where would I live? How am I going to eat?” Nico kicked at the water under them. “You’ve got all these people taking care of you, all this money. I don’t have anyone!”
Sam put his hand over Nico’s. “You have me.”
Nico released his hand from Sam’s and scrubbed at his own face.
Sam’s hand felt so cold on its own.
“Go home, Sam. Fly home in your first class seat to your first class life and let this be what we both always knew it was—a vacation fling.”
“Fuck you!”
Nico’s mouth quirked up in a half smile that was more wistful than anything else. “Don’t get mad at me for telling the truth.”
“The truth?” Sam scoffed. “You wanna know the truth? I think you’re scared. And you’re glad I’m going home, because then you don’t have to feel anything!”
Nico glanced around them, left, right. End of the pier meant he was trapped. He acted like he was trapped. “Go home.”
“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it. Third time I walk away.” Sam struggled to keep his voice even. “Don’t push me away.”
Sam felt tears rolling down his cheeks. Fuck!
Nico finally looked at him. His hand went up, maybe to wipe at a tear on Sam’s face, but paused midair, and then lowered back to his side. “This has been great. Like some fantasy. But it was never meant to last.”
“Why not?” Sam’s voice cracked.
Hold it together, Solomon.
Nico sighed, then started listing the reasons. “There’s a warrant out for my arrest, I’m being blackmailed, my friend’s on day 191 in prison and I just left her there to rot, and you’re some fancy prince in a castle living this charmed life…
“Put aside the money. Pretend I don’t have it—I don’t, actually, it’s my family’s money.”
“Only someone with money could care so little about it.”
“Nico. Come on! We have something really good here. You said so yourself. Let’s keep it going. Come with me.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking. Go home, Sam.”
That was three. Sam swiped at his face, got up, and headed back to his room without turning back. He had to have some pride.
He needed to pack. And kick himself for caring so damn much. For feeling everything, so strong. He wished he could surgically take out all this sensitive shit inside him and just be strong and silent and more Bond, James Bond, and less Samuel Jonas Solomon.
One Good Thing
I ruined our last night together, wanting too much. Pushing for too much.
And I got nothing.
Except four more acts of The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet to slog through.
Figures.
I’m a Solomon. Unlucky in love.
Like the star-cross’d lovers in Verona.
Like Dad and Mom.
Like Bond.
One Good Thing
On the plane to Mexico City, and then home to New York.
The empty seat next to me is taunting me.
I want… no, I wish…
I thought this was different than with Kevin. Kevin was fun while it lasted but hurt like hell when I realized he just used me.
Somehow, this is so much worse.
I was so sure Nico and I were both in it, together.
Maybe what I need to do is prove to Nico that I’m here for him. That I can help. That we can change his life.
I need to get him some leverage. Over that lawyer? No, he’s just a henchman. It’s Dr. H who’s the real villain. If I can eliminate Dr. H’s hold over Nico, the lawyer loses his leverage too.
And if I can stop Dr. H, maybe Nico and me—I—we—will have a chance.
I’ll need Ari’s help.
First thing, I need to figure out Dr. H’s full name.