Page 58 of Say It Again
“Mm-hmm, and how do you want to be kissed?”
“Duh.” Daniel grinned, his eyes still shut as he puckered his lips. “Kiss me like you did at the—”
The kiss from the party immortalized. Again. Thrilling and yet caring. Mild and yet not at all. Demanding tongue that said, Lie on the bed and open your mouth, and a delicate touch that said, You. You, you, you, Daniel Greene, of all people, have nothing to worry about.
“Get some sleep,” Aaron whispered through a gentle smile. He clicked the lamp off and wound the dancer snow globe on the dresser.
Someone worth liking.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Aaron stood at the door, his comforting voice lingering in the air like birthday candle smoke. “Good night, kid.”
“Good night, mister.” He closed his eyes while the soft clinks of The Nutcracker serenaded him to sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
NESTLED SOMEWHERE on the list of things that made Daniel nervous were boats. It was the next day, and he followed behind Aaron as they made their way down a dock toward a shiny cabin cruiser named Nauti Rhonda III. One might wonder what happened to Nauti Rhonda I and II. One might fear they sank. Perhaps attacked by something monstrous from the choppy, ominous waters below.
“You okay?” Aaron said, coaxing him by the hand as they stepped onto the shaky deck. “Almost there. You’re doing great.”
The boat shifted and swayed as if to prove Aaron wrong about him doing great, but they reached the stern, where a touching scene unfolded, nearly taking his breath away. Someone had strewn blankets around cozy seating and uncorked a bottle of malbec on a table with two stemless glasses and a lit candle between them. A setting sun in the backdrop glistened over the lake in individual ripples.
“How did you…?” He cupped his hands over his heart. “Did you rent this? It’s stunning.”
“No, a friend of mine owns it. He’s always told me I could use it whenever, but I’ve never taken him up on it. You know why?”
“BUIs?”
“Because I’ve never operated a boat in my life. I don’t know what I’m doing. Like, at all.” Aaron laughed.
Daniel did not.
So they never left the dock. They never even started the engine. They snuggled into the blankets and one another, drinking wine and joking about how people should not lend boats to people who didn’t know how to work them.
The water lapped at the wood around them in a serenade of warbles and swishes, and the sun dipped lower until darkness fell. When the mosquitoes grew too handsy, they meandered to the sleep quarters downstairs, where Daniel huddled into Aaron’s chest atop a bed surrounded by purple ambient lighting.
“We shouldn’t get too comfortable,” Aaron said, massaging Daniel’s neck. “We have dinner reservations.”
Daniel nuzzled farther into the nook between Aaron’s chest and shoulder, reveling in his little hum. “Fuck your reservations.”
“Daniel,” Aaron gasped. “I can’t believe you would say that. They’re our reservations.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I live here now.”
“You do? Okay, I’ll live here with you.” Aaron squeezed him tighter. “But we have to get rid of that dresser.”
He lifted his head to see where Aaron pointed. “Why? Looks fine to me.”
“Exactly. Fine is not a good look. Like that valance—fine. That chair needs something downy; a pillow or something. And gray to cool it down in here.”
“God, I’d hate to hear what you think about my place.”
“Oh, I try not to think about your place.”
Daniel snorted. “What do you mean? It’s all rearranged, and it’s still perfectly clean.”
“No, it’s not.”
“No,” Daniel sighed, recalling the dishes that had started to pile up and the clothing on his floor. “It’s not.”