Wren wanted nothing more than to grab Rufus’s hand and lead him down to the beach, where they could pull off their shirts and chase each other into the surf, playing like the boys they were barely past being. For a moment he saw the horseplay in his mind’s eye—their playful touches, the water glistening on their skin. Hell, he even imagined a kiss. In his mind there was no one around to cast a disapproving or mocking stare their way.
Instead of going back to the apartment and finding out—yes—how the rest of his life was going to go, Wren wanted to simply lie on the beach, fingers loosely intertwined with Rufus’s as they stared up at the sky and compared notes on what images the cloud formations suggested. He imagined falling asleep next to Rufus, their sun-warmed bodies just barely touching.
“Hey! You comin’ or what? Tick-tock, little man. We got places to go and people to see.”
Wren turned to see Rufus staring at him from a distance, smiling.
He hurried to join him.