Chapter Fifteen: Weekend Getaway

It started with a note.

When Cleo opened his locker that Friday, there was a small, neatly folded piece of paper tucked between his textbooks. On it, in Riz's unmistakable handwriting:

Pack a weekend bag. Casual clothes. Don't ask questions. I'll pick you up Saturday at 6 a.m. sharp.

PS: Trust me.

Cleo stared at the note, heartbeat skipping like a scratched record. He reread it twice, then grinned like an idiot.

Saturday, 6:04 a.m.

Cleo stumbled out of his apartment, hair a mess and hoodie half-zipped, to find Riz standing beside a borrowed cherry-red convertible, arms spread wide like he was presenting the crown jewels.

"Convertible? Really?" Cleo asked through a yawn.

Riz shrugged, looking smug in a denim jacket and aviators he clearly didn't need at dawn. "I googled 'How to sweep your boyfriend off his feet' and this came up."

Cleo snorted, sliding into the passenger seat. "You're ridiculous."

"And you love it," Riz said, handing over a warm croissant and an iced coffee. "Now buckle up. I've got a playlist and three hours of winding coastal roads ahead of us."

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The highway stretched out before them, bathed in the soft gold of early morning. Riz drove with one hand on the wheel and the other casually resting on the gearshift, humming along to an old love song playing from the car's speakers. The wind tousled his hair, and the sunlight kissed the curve of his jaw in a way that made Cleo's chest ache.

Cleo leaned back in the passenger seat, legs drawn up slightly, sipping his coffee. But his eyes weren't on the road.

They were on Riz.

The subtle flex of his forearm when he turned the wheel. The way he bit his lip ever so slightly when merging lanes. The casual confidence in his posture, the curve of his smile when a familiar song played. Cleo tried not to stare. Failed.

"You're staring," Riz said, not looking away from the road.

"I am not," Cleo replied too quickly.

Riz grinned. "You definitely are."

A comfortable silence passed, only broken by the rhythmic thrum of the tires and the occasional bird call as they passed through tree-lined stretches of the coast. Cleo turned his gaze out the window for a moment, gathering his breath.

Then came a red light.

Riz slowed to a stop. The sunlight pooled in the windshield like honey, softening everything.

Cleo turned toward him. "I just—"

He didn't finish the sentence. He leaned in.

It was instinctive. Quiet. A kiss that was both a question and an answer. Their lips met gently, and Riz froze—just for a second. Then he leaned in, pressing back, one hand lifting from the gearshift to touch Cleo's jaw.

The honk behind them made them jump apart, laughing breathlessly as the light turned green.

"Okay," Riz said, voice slightly hoarse. "That's not safe for driving."

Cleo smirked, flushed and smug. "Then maybe pull over?"

Riz raised an eyebrow and smirked back. "You're dangerous, Cleo."

He turned off at the next exit, finding a quiet little overlook above the sea. The moment the engine cut off, Riz turned to him. His voice was soft, almost reverent.

"Come here."

They kissed again—slower now, unhurried. The windows steamed slightly from the heat between them, their laughter giving way to soft sighs, hands grazing over arms, shoulders, hair. They didn't rush. They simply stayed there, tangled up in each other, pressed close, whispering little nothings that meant everything.

"Why do you always knock the air out of me?" Riz murmured against Cleo's lips.

"Because you keep letting me," Cleo whispered back.

And there, in the quiet of that hidden place, wrapped in the smell of salt air and the feeling of being completely understood, they shared something deeper than passion—intimacy woven from trust, affection, and all the things they didn't need to say out loud.

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Saturday, 8:07 a.m.

After that quiet moment tucked away above the sea, Riz and Cleo didn't say much as they got back on the road. They didn't have to. The silence between them was warm, their hands brushing often over the center console until Cleo simply laced their fingers together.

By midmorning, they reached the cove Riz had promised—a quiet, hidden spot past the cliffs, where smooth rocks met glittering blue water. Riz parked the convertible in the shade of a wide acacia tree, and they hiked down a sloping trail with a picnic basket Cleo hadn't even noticed packed in the backseat.

"You planned all of this?" Cleo asked, impressed.

Riz shrugged, but the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him. "I know I can't cook like you, but I know a thing or two about snacks and scenery."

The cove was nearly empty. Just a few seagulls and the sound of waves crashing against the rocks. They laid out a blanket near the shore and kicked off their shoes. Riz handed Cleo a bottle of juice and a cheese sandwich.

"This is cute," Cleo said, chewing. "Like, offensively cute."

"I'm trying to win the Best Boyfriend Olympics," Riz replied, flopping down beside him. "Gold or nothing."

They spent the next few hours exploring tide pools, skipping stones, and taking candid photos of each other. At one point, Cleo slipped while trying to hop over a rock and landed right in Riz's arms.

"You planned that," Riz accused.

Cleo only grinned. "Can't help if my legs want to throw me at you."

As the afternoon waned, they settled back on the blanket. Cleo lay on his back, staring at the drifting clouds, while Riz propped himself up on one elbow, eyes fixed on him.

"You ever think about this being it?" Riz asked softly.

Cleo turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"This," Riz said, gesturing around them. "Us. Having days like this. Not worrying about school or people or labels. Just... being."

Cleo's smile was slow, thoughtful. "I think about it a lot more than I admit."

Riz reached over, brushing a strand of hair from Cleo's forehead. "Then let's keep choosing it."

A breeze swept through the cove, lifting the corners of the blanket. Cleo rolled over, nudging Riz's side with his knee. "You're getting all poetic on me again."

"Only because you make me feel like a song," Riz said, grinning.

"Dork," Cleo said fondly.

They stayed like that until the sky turned pink and the tide began to crawl closer to their feet. Cleo rested his head on Riz's shoulder, fingers gently trailing over his wrist.

For the first time in a long time, everything felt still.

Safe.

Exactly where it was supposed to be.

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End of Chapter Fifteen