GETTING LOST WAS half the fun, the travel guide said. Never had Preston expected the statement to be true while strolling along the labyrinthine streets of Venice. Every time they reached an intersection, they would flip a coin to decide where to go. Heads they would go left, and tails they would go right. Coffee at Caffè del Doge definitely helped. It was like with each sip Nathan rebooted himself, and he was back to his old self by the time they left the coffee shop.
Their wandering led them to St. Mary of Health. The basilica sat on a narrow finger of land that lay between the Grand Canal and the Bacino di San Marco on the lagoon.
“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Nathan sighed, staring up at the massive white church with its domed roof. “It’s like something out of a dream.”
“Give me your phone and stand over there.” Preston pointed a few yards away. “I’ll take a picture and you can send it to your mom.”
Instead of doing what he had asked, Nathan approached a group of middle-aged women who were taking pictures of the basilica as well. He pointed at Preston, then gave his phone to a jolly-faced woman wearing a red scarf. Then he hurried back to Preston’s side and slipped beneath his arm. Seeing what he wanted, Preston pulled Nathan against his side. The woman asked them to smile and promptly took the picture the second the corners of his lips turned up.
Nathan retrieved his phone, thanked the lady, and showed Preston the picture.
In the background was the beautiful church, white as a cloud, with statues of angels and saints along its walls, and the two of them in the foreground. What struck Preston were their faces. So happy. Even if he was still a bundle of nerves inside. He was so aware of Nathan beside him that every time the backs of their hands touched, he felt a thrill go up his arm.
Normally thoughts of training occupied most of his mind, but that day his only concern was where they would go next. As enthusiastic as when they’d begun this excursion, Nathan led the way, looking back often and gesturing for Preston to hurry up. And hurry he did, until they strolled side by side.
Minutes later, they stumbled upon the Rialto Bridge, one of three that spanned the Grand Canal. According to the guidebook, it was the oldest in the city.
“I’ve always wanted to see the shops there,” Nathan said.
The energy of his excitement was infectious. Preston allowed himself to be tugged along by the arm.
They walked up the wide steps that would take them across the arch and ambled from shop to shop all the way across the bridge. Some had awnings, while others didn’t. Many had window displays that begged passersby to enter to see what else was inside. Then there were stalls that proudly displayed their wares out in the open.
They tried on gaudy necklaces and sunglasses too large for their faces. Nathan laughed at Preston’s expense. Preston frowned in mock irritation when a particularly heinous feathered cap was placed on top of his head.
“You honestly think this looks good on me?” he asked.
Nathan took a picture of him. “I think we just found the image for your Christmas card.”
“Give me that!” Preston made a grab for the phone, but Nathan danced away nimbly. Preston quickly returned the hat to the stall owner and ran after him.
They stopped at an antique bookshop with an old-timey wooden sign out front and a gondola used as a central display for featured books, besides the floor-to-ceiling shelves along the walls that stretched all the way to the back. They must have spent an hour just wandering the stacks, searching for hidden treasure.
Preston inhaled deeply, addicted to the sweet scent of yellowing pages.
“Do you think Caleb will like this?” Nathan asked, holding up a hardback of The Great Gatsby. “It’s not a first edition, but I love the cover.”
“Get it anyway,” he said.
As if those three words had some kind of magical power, Nathan stopped doubting his purchase and headed for the intricately carved counter with an antique cash register. Five minutes later, they were back on the bridge.
At the other side of the Rialto, they found themselves walking down a path so narrow the tips of Preston’s shoulders touched the opposite walls. At one point he had to angle himself sideways just to make it to the other end, where Nathan had disappeared. He looked left, then right, a bubble of panic beginning inside his chest. He relaxed only when he spotted familiar dark hair in the distance.
Nathan was seated across the table from an old woman, sipping from a cup of tea.
Taking a deep breath to settle his nerves, having been worried over nothing, Preston approached the odd couple. He was about to draw attention to himself as he reached the table, when the woman took the cup from Nathan and stared inside. She had a Grand Canyon of faces, with lines so deep they resembled fissures. He could barely see her eyes from the folds of skin.
“What is she doing?” he whispered, unwilling to break the intense concentration happening in front of him.
“She’s reading my tea leaves.”
A furrow formed on Preston’s brow as the woman swirled the cup three times and dumped its contents onto the white saucer the cup belonged to. A soft humming sound came from her as she stared at the tiny clumps of tea leaves as if she had nothing else more important to do that day.
“What do you see?” Nathan asked, scooting to the edge of his seat.
“You’re not seriously—”
“This acorn,” she said in a heavily accented, shaky voice, interrupting Preston’s skepticism by pointing a gnarled finger at the upper right of the saucer. “This is a very strong and fortunate symbol indicating happiness and contentment. You will be financially successful.”
“Oh!” Nathan clapped once and kissed the tops of his fingers. “What else does it say?”
But before she could say another word, the Wicked Witch’s theme from The Wizard of Oz filled the air. Preston patted his pocket for his phone, but then he remembered that wasn’t his ringtone. At about the same time Nathan scrambled for his phone. There was a summer when he had been obsessed with everything yellow brick road. A spark of mischief went through Preston as he snatched the phone out of Nathan’s hand before he could answer it and started running.
“Hey!” came the shout from behind him.
Giddy energy burst out of Preston in chuckles as he looked back from a few yards away to catch Nathan paying the woman, then he started running after him. Knowing Nathan wasn’t much of a runner, Preston kept his pace easy, turning around and jogging backward so he could see the annoyance on his pursuer’s face.
“Give it back!” Nathan yelled, arms stretched out, fingers grabbing for the still-ringing device.
“Really?” Preston teased. “You picked the Wicked Witch’s theme for my mother’s ringtone?”
“Well, she’s been a complete witch with a B lately.”
“I should really be insulted.” Instead he answered the phone. “Mother—”
“No!” Nathan’s eyes looked like they were about to fall out of his head.
He lunged, but Preston sidestepped him easily, laughing as he said, “We’re really busy right now. He’ll have to call you back.”
The gray clouds above them finally made good on their threat. As the first drops fell to the ground, Preston grabbed Nathan’s arm. Almost immediately the raindrops turned into actual rainfall. It was as if someone had opened a faucet in the sky.
“Come on.” Preston tugged at Nathan’s arm. “We have to find a place to wait this out.”
“What? Afraid you’ll drown?”
“Ha. Ha.”
They ran as fast as they could but were already soaked by the time Preston spotted an alleyway that had a balcony right over it. He eased Nathan under the overhang.
Just as Nathan leaned back against the wall, he bowed his head as if he was searching for answers to unspoken questions along the streams that formed on the cobbled street beneath their feet. With droplets crawling down the side of his face, he resembled a sad kitten that had been forced to walk through a storm.
Preston braced his hand against the wall beside Nathan’s head and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Nathan let out a tch sound while his face crumpled in disgust. “You shouldn’t have answered my phone like that.”
“Oh, come on,” he said. “My mother won’t think less of you because of it.”
Sighing, Nathan dropped his head again. “But it’s unprofessional.”
“Do you want me to call her back and apologize?”
As if brought back to life by his words, Nathan grabbed Preston’s sweater front and shook his head. “That’s even more unprofessional.”
The air around them grew still. Preston’s gaze dropped to Nathan’s mouth. The pitter-patter of the rain and other people running to take shelter melted away.
“I’ve wanted to do this since Amsterdam,” he whispered, bending down and pressing his lips against Nathan’s.
After a second’s stunned hesitation, Nathan snaked his arms around Preston’s shoulders and plunged into the kiss. Preston took the parting of lips as an invitation. Their tongues met in a dance that was both new and as old as time. They matched each other—equally hungry to explore and taste.
The mingled scents of rain, cologne, and the musk of the canals created a heady mix that fanned the flames burning in Preston’s chest. He wanted … no, needed more. Hands glided up his shoulders until Nathan’s fingers curled into his hair. Encouraged, Preston moved his hand from the wall to Nathan’s hip, crushing their bodies together in an attempt to alleviate some of the building pressure inside him. Nathan shuddered at the contact.
His murmurs of pleasure pushed Preston further. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that kissing would feel this good. It took over his mind completely, flooding it with sensation after sensation until he thought his head would explode.
He slipped his other hand into the hem of Nathan’s shirt. The skin-on-skin contact elicited a moan. From whom, he couldn’t tell. It sounded almost desperate to his ears.
With what little control he had left, Preston broke the kiss. Their breaths mingled when they searched each other’s faces for the right thing to say. There was no mistaking the desire in Nathan’s almost black eyes. Only a blue ring remained.
“Wow,” Nathan breathed out.
A grin tugged at Preston’s lips. “Now that should have been our first kiss.”
Nathan bit the corner of his swollen lower lip. “Where did you learn to kiss like that?”
“Swim camp wasn’t just about swimming.”
“With girls?” He paused a breath. “Boys?”
“Both.”
Nathan’s eyebrows shot up. “And?”
“I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
Grabbing Preston’s soaked sweater front, Nathan pulled. Preston bent down and took possession of Nathan’s lips once again. Nathan’s grip tightened, as he matched Preston’s need to explore with a hunger of his own. He took Preston’s lower lip between his teeth and traced the tip of his tongue over it. Preston gasped, feeling the touch all the way to the base of his spine.
This time, when Preston broke the contact he made sure to press their foreheads together. He wouldn’t have been surprised if steam rose from their bodies.
Breathing hard, he said, “Have dinner with me.”
“Are you going to pretend to be my boyfriend again?”
Despite the teasing in Nathan’s tone, Preston pulled back and pinned him with a serious stare. “This time it won’t be pretend.”