by Naomi Martin
“Good call,” I tell him. “Very good call.”
We head down the midway again and stop for some cotton candy before pushing on. We ride the terribly cheesy Tunnel of Love and Haunted Graveyard rides, both of us laughing the entire way through. After that, we play a few games and wolf down some fried Oreos.
Through it all, our conversation doesn’t stop. There are no lulls, no awkward silences, nothing but non-stop chatter and laughter. It turns out, we have a lot of things in common—like songs and bands we both enjoy. He’s a big horror movie fan, too, and we like some of the same franchises.
The longer we talk, the more I feel like I get to know about Xavier. And I find the more I learn about him, the more I want to know. There is just so much about him I find fascinating. He’s a complicated and layered guy. But he’s also very closed off to most people. He doesn’t like the social politics of high school and goes out of his way to avoid it. Xavier would rather not have friends than run with people like Renee just because some might expect it of him.
As we keep talking, I realize that Xavier is kind of like an iceberg. We only see the tip of him that he lets sit above the surface. But there is so much more he keeps hidden below the waterline. There are so many different layers to Xavier that most people never get to see. Not unless you can get him to start opening up.
“You know what I think?” I ask.
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“Ass.” I laugh. “But yes, I will. And what I think is that you enjoy the carnival every bit as much as I do, and that your bringing me here tonight was just as much for you as it was for me.”
“Think so, huh?”
I nod. “I’ve been watching you tonight—”
“What a creeper.”
“Oh my God, shut up.” My laughter bursts from me and I can’t control it for a moment. “But yes, I have been. And you have had a smile on your face the whole night. You have been enjoying yourself—and not just because you were with me.”
Xavier grins. “Okay, you got me. I enjoy the carnival.”
“You’re like a big, overgrown kid.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
I shake my head. “No, of course not,” I tell him. “I actually find it an attractive quality. I like a man who can cut loose and just be a goofy kid from time to time.”
“Well, not to drive you too wild or anything, but sometimes, I enjoy really sugary cereals,” he says. “I even like the ones with the little marshmallows in them. And every now and then, I’ll even eat a bowl while I watch a cartoon.”
“Oh my. I think I’m getting hot,” I say. “I mean it—I think I’m really turned on right now.”
He flashes me a grin and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Come on, let’s go ride the Ferris Wheel.”
I was only joking about being turned on—testing him in a way—and I found his reaction to be really interesting. It also highlights a big difference between him and Ryan. Where Ryan would have jumped on that comment and used it as a segue to try and get in my pants, Xavier didn’t take the bait and moved on.
I’m not saying that Ryan is a dog for being a little more open about his sexuality. His open desire for me is kind of sexy. It makes me feel wanted in a way I haven’t felt before, simply because I know Ryan isn’t using or objectifying me. I know he respects me and would never cross any line I draw.
But with Xavier, the fact that he doesn’t return my innuendos or try to push me toward sleeping with him in any way, shape, or form is also super sexy. I know that Xavier respects me, and the fact that he’s not constantly all over me like a typical teenage boy endears him to me in a profound way.
Both of them—Ryan and Xavier—appeal to me physically. I don’t regret having given myself to Ryan, and there is part of me that wants to sleep with Xavier. Like, tonight. But I have to admit that although there’s this intense sexual chemistry between us that’s thick and tangible, I also enjoy just hanging out with him. He makes me laugh, feel good about myself, and I just I love being around him.
After twenty minutes in line for the Ferris Wheel, we finally get to our car and the attendant shuts the door behind us. I get that ticklish feeling of weightlessness as our car starts to go up the wheel. As we rise, I look out over the fairgrounds and smile. All around us are bright, flashing neon lights of every color. It’s all very garish and tacky, but it’s so perfect all at the same time.
We go around again, that fluttering feeling of falling in my belly making me giggle. The wheel stops with our car near the top and I survey the fairgrounds again. Even up here, I can smell the wide array of fried foods and hear the sound of calliope music drifting up from below.
Beyond the fairgrounds, I can see the dark, vast expanse of the Pacific. The silvery luminescence of the moon glitters dazzlingly off the surface of the ocean and the breakers crashing upon the shore seem to glow with an inner light. The entire scene is absolutely spectacular.
I turn and find Xavier staring at me, an inscrutable expression on his face. I laugh softly and take his hands in mine, squeezing them tight.
“I was just thinking everything out there is just so…”
“Beautiful,” he finishes for me. “Absolutely beautiful.”
I don’t know which one of us moves first but before I know it, our faces are mere inches from each other. As we draw ever closer, my breath catches in my throat. And when our lips finally meet, when our kiss becomes real, the weightless feeling in my belly returns and has nothing to do with the Ferris Wheel.
And, like everything else tonight, it is absolutely perfect.
Chapter Seventeen
“Caravaggio has always been my favorite painter,” Lucas says. “I love the way he uses light and shadow in his work.”
“Caravaggio has some stunning work,” I agree, nodding. “But I’ve always loved Goya. Especially his later works.”
Lucas arches an eyebrow at me. “Dark and pessimistic stuff.”
“Let me guess, you expected me to like paintings of rainbows and unicorns?” I stick my tongue out at him.
He laughs. “Of course not. I know you’re far too sophisticated for that,” he says. “I just thought you’d be more of a Degas girl. There’s more life and vibrancy in his work.”
“Well, I suppose I’m just a nuanced girl.”
“That you are.”
Lucas smiles at me as we stroll down the corridor of the Sapphire Bay Museum of Art. To be honest, I didn’t even know Sapphire Bay had a museum, let alone one this extensive. The walls are hung with works of art that stretch from the Renaissance clear through to today. Though I have to admit, I’m not a big fan of modern art and all of its pretense. I prefer the old masters who really showed you the world through their eyes, rather than ridiculously abstract concepts.
I mean, a slice of bologna on a bed as social commentary? Please. No, give me concrete observations about the world. Pieces whose commentary was clear and profound, not mean to simply inflame, outrage, or just confuse.
“Which of Goya’s works are your favorites?” Lucas asks.
“I really like his Black Paintings.”
“Wow. You really do like it dark, don’t you?”
I give him a grin. “I’m just full of surprises.”
“Indeed, you are.”
As we walk together, talking about the different paintings we come across, I marvel about the fact that Lucas is my third date in three days. There’s part of me—that small fragment that still desperately clings to social norms—that’s scolding me for being a total slut. But the vast majority of me is exhilarated by it all. I mean, I have three extraordinary guys in my life. All of them like me and I like all of them.
I know some people would look down on me for what I’m doing. They’d call me trash. A whore. They’d call me any number of things and condemn me for what I’m doing. But for the most part, I don’t care. I am enjoying each of them for different reasons. They all bring something unique to the table.
There is something about each of them I absolutely cherish and adore.
And it isn’t as if I’m juggling them behind each other’s backs. We discussed it and made a rational, adult decision about how we were going to proceed. Together. Maybe I am everything those people say, I don’t know. All I do know is that these three men are incredible, and I care for each of them.
“This is my favorite room,” Lucas says.
I let him lead me into a large hall that’s ornately decorated yet manages to avoid being ostentatious. A large crystal chandelier hangs overhead, but the light in the room is still soft and dim, with only the paintings lit brightly.
On the walls around us are works by Caravaggio, Lucas’ favorite artist. We walk directly over to one painting and Lucas’ face is filled with an expression of awe as he takes it in.
“This is your favorite, isn’t it?” I ask.
He nods. “The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew,” he says. “I’ve always found it intensely striking.”
Lucas goes on to give me a brief history of the piece, the reverence in his tone more than clear. We move onto the other works in the room and he tells me a bit about each of them. His depth of knowledge is incredible and his passion for the artist obvious. The way he tells the stories makes the paintings come alive in ways I didn’t expect, and I find it incredibly compelling.
“Sorry,” he says. “I tend to ramble on.”
“No, don’t be sorry,” I reply. “It’s fascinating to me. It also shows me just how much I don’t know.”
“I read a lot,” he explains.
“And I like that about you.”
“I’m glad,” he replies. “Because I like that you can appreciate things like art.”
I laugh. “I’m more than just a pretty face.”
I’m joking but he takes my hand and squeezes it, his eyes burning into mine. The expression on his face is serious. Earnest. As if he needs me to believe what I’m about to say.
“Yes, you are,” he says. “You’re a very pretty face, don’t get me wrong. But you are so much more than that.”
“Thank you, Lucas.”
He raises my hand to his lips and places a gentle kiss on the back of it. And then, like the clouds moving away from the sun, his face brightens with a smile that does funny things to my insides. I feel that familiar warmth in the center of me spreading out, filling me with its heat.
We walk out of the Caravaggio room hand in hand and stroll through the museum like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It certainly feels that way. We talk about different works we see as well as about ourselves. I learn a lot about Lucas—things like the fact that he got his academic streak from his parents, who are both professors. And that he got his love of art from his grandmother, who was a modestly famous artist herself.
We spend the entire day talking and the conversation never flags. And while it isn’t the laugh riot it was with Xavier, it’s intensely powerful and interesting. Lucas is far and away one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever known. I mean, I’ve always considered myself pretty smart, but he is a walking wealth of knowledge about most any subject. The man runs intellectual circles around me. And not to toot my own horn or anything, but I think that’s pretty tough to do.
“There’s one more room I want to show you,” he says.
“Lead the way.”
We take the elevator up to the top floor and we walk down to a room that’s a little bit bigger than the Caravaggio room downstairs. The lighting in the room is a bit moodier and the decor a little more subdued. And on the walls are all fourteen paintings that make up Goya’s Black Paintings collection.
My breath catches in my throat as we step into the room and I try to look everywhere at once, doing my best to soak it all in. I’ve never seen them all on display at the same time and it is an absolute feast for the eyes.
“Most of them are prints, unfortunately,” Lucas explains. “But the curator said the entire collection was too important to not be displayed in full.”
“The curator is smart,” I say. “I mean, look at these paintings. They show the man’s slow descent into madness and his absolute loathing of humanity.”
“Yeah, he’s a bright and cheery guy,” Lucas chuckles.
My brain goes on auto-pilot and I find myself giving him a walking history lesson as we view each painting. I share all of the insights I gleaned from studying these works as closely as I have. And it’s only after we finish up that I realize how much I had just dominated the conversation over the last hour.
“Sorry,” I say. “I guess I got caught up in my favorite artist, too.”
“No need to apologize to me. I think your nerdiness is adorable,” he replies. “And kind of sexy, if you don’t mind me saying so. There aren’t many girls I know who can give me a dissertation on one of Goya’s paintings, let alone fourteen of them.”
I laugh softly and turn to him. “Thank you for this,” I say. “Thank you for today. This has been unexpected but really special.”
“You’re welcome,” he replies. “But it’s not over yet.”
“No?”
He shakes his head and with my hand still in his, he leads me through a set of glass doors and out onto a large deck that houses a small restaurant. He gives the hostess his name and she guides us over to a table set against the railing at the far end of the deck. We take our seats and I look at the view of the Pacific beyond the railing, smiling as I watch the sun slipping toward the horizon.
“This is absolutely perfect,” I say to Lucas.
“I was kind of thinking the same thing about you.”
“That was smooth.”
He laughs. “I thought so, thanks.”
This date is such a vastly different experience than my dates with Ryan and Xavier that it makes my head spin. But it illustrates just how different the boys are from one another. Even though they grew up together, they didn’t fall into the trap some longtime friends do. They didn’t become carbon copies of each other. Each of the boys have their own personalities. Their own interests. Their own passions. And yet, as different from each other as they are, they still somehow fit together seamlessly as friends. It’s almost as if their differences enhance and strengthen that bond between them.
“By the way, if I haven’t mentioned it yet, you look absolutely beautiful today,” Lucas said.
My cheeks flush with warmth and a smile touches my lips at his compliment. I don’t think I look especially beautiful. I mean, I’m wearing a simple black dress that falls to the middle of my thigh, black heels, and a white sweater. Nothing special.
But it’s a little dressier than normal. And I have to admit that as much as I enjoy being casual, dressing up and doing my hair now and then feels nice. It’s nothing too dressy, but it’s not jeans and a hoodie, either.
Lucas, on the other hand, is wearing a very stylish black suit that is tailored to fit his frame and looks really good on him. He looks very dashing and the whole evening just feels elegant. It’s not what I’m used to, but I have to say, I really, really like it.
“Thanks,” I say. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
He favors me with a smile that melts me inside. The whole day has been so utterly perfect that I can’t begin to describe it. And as we dine with the ocean and the most gorgeous sunset I’ve ever seen as our backdrop, I almost have to pinch myself to make sure it’s all real.
Chapter Eighteen
I’m sitting with Katie in a back booth at Patty’s the day after the last of my three dates and she’s grinning like a fool. I take a sip of my milkshake, unable to keep a smile from creeping across my own face.
“So, I take it things with Danny went well,” I say.
I already know the answer to that question, but I just want to hear her say it. She’s practically bursting at the seams to tell me.
“Things are amazing. When you said you could work magic, you weren’t kidding,” she crows.
“Nothing too magical about it. Jus
t a few of the right words in the right places.”
She gives me a grin. “He said you called him an idiot who needed to pull his head out of his ass and see what he had right in front of him.”
I laugh. “Granted, it’s not as magical sounding as abracadabra, but I might have said something along those lines.”
“Well, it worked,” she says. “And that’s pretty magical to me.”
“It’s about time he got his shit together and asked you out. I’m really happy for you.”
“I’m happy for me, too!”
We sip our shakes and share a plate of fries, chatting away about her burgeoning relationship with the boy she’s had a crush on forever. It makes me glad to see her so happy. She deserves it.
“So, what about you?” she asks. “You still haven’t told me about your date with Ryan. Or Xavier. Or Lucas. You’ve been dodging my questions about it.”
“I haven’t been dodging them. I’ve just been… processing it all.”
“Processing it,” she laughs. “That’s just a cute name for dodging. So, which one of them do you like the best?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.”
I sit back in the booth and ponder the question. I turn it over in my mind and yet, can’t seem to find an answer. Three dates with three different guys in three days. I’m not sure it’s a record, but it should be. I have to say it was an experience. And not a bad one. Each of the boys and our dates had something really special and unique about them. Something I’m going to remember for a really long time.
With Xavier, it will be the fact that we never stopped talking. Or laughing. There was such a great rapport and chemistry between us that it made the night fun and enjoyable from start to finish.
With Lucas, it was the way he challenged my mind. Our conversations were fun and lively, but they were a little deeper and more thoughtful than the conversations I had with the other two boys. What I found really intriguing about Lucas is that even though there is definitely a physical attraction between us, he didn’t play on that. Instead, he actively engaged my mind and I have to say, it was incredibly hot.