by A. J. Truman
“You’ll have to teach me.” He kissed Rafe again. And again.
“What do they do in England for New Year’s?”
“Where my mum is from, right before midnight, you say ‘black rabbit’ a few times. And then right after midnight, you say ‘white rabbit.’ And we also light off fireworks.”
“Like on the Fourth of July?”
“You Americans, always trying to upstage us.” Eamonn dragged his lips along his neck, smelling the Rafe scent that was imprinted on his brain. Rafe dug his hands into his back. He wasn’t letting go. Neither am I.
“I can’t believe you’re here. When do you go back?” Rafe asked.
“Tomorrow night. But it’s only temporary.”
“What?”
“I’ve never been to America. I want to see all this great country has to offer.”
Rafe stepped back, another wave of shock lighting up his face.
“I applied to Water Water Everywhere.”
“You did.”
“Don’t celebrate just yet. I have a first interview in January, so nothing is a done deal. But I’ve been doing some research and there are loads of companies and non-profits that sponsor work visas, particularly for recent college graduates. I even found summer camps that hire Brits as counselors.”
The chatter from the party got louder as it got closer to midnight, but he and Rafe were in their own bubble.
“What about your job at the box company?”
“I turned it down. They’re not short of applicants, so they’ll find someone else to fill my position. I’m going to work part-time in the warehouse until I graduate, so at least I’ll have money saved.”
He was surprised at how cool his uncle was about the whole thing. He understood that Eamonn wanted to explore what was out there. He himself had backpacked across Europe for a good six months before settling down into his first job. He even offered to connect Eamonn with colleagues who do business with American companies.
“Until then, we’ll have ample amounts of phone sex,” Rafe said.
“And sexting.”
“And Skype sex.”
“And I’ll write you dirty handwritten letters.”
“And I’ll commission an oil painting of me reading them while touching myself.” Rafe rested his head on Eamonn’s shoulder, right where it belonged.
“We’ll figure it out. Winter holiday has been bloody awful, thinking I was never going to see you again. But we’re only getting started.”
They joined in a kiss that turned into a long embrace. Rafe nestled against him, warming Eamonn all throughout his body. They swayed to nonexistent music, just the buzz and chatter inside.
“I’m no expert on phone sex,” Eamonn said, itching at his scruff. “but I reckon we’ll need experience to draw upon, to make sure our calls are technically accurate.”
“That’s a valid point. What do you think we should do?”
Eamonn leaned in and whispered in Rafe’s ear: “I’m going to drill your arse until your fucking legs fall off.”
Rafe wrapped his arms around Eamonn’s neck and kissed him. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“You said it first.”
“That’s right! I did!” Rafe shook his head with realization. “I am such a bad ass.”
Minutes later, Eamonn had Rafe up against the side of the house. His legs fastened themselves around Eamonn’s sturdy hips. His pants bunched up just below his ass as Eamonn reamed his thick uncut cock inside Rafe’s opening. Eamonn hoped nobody came outside and saw his bare bum pumping into his boyfriend. Americans could be squeamish like that, and he didn’t want to make a bad impression in this new land, one he looked forward to knowing better. Need pulled them together, and they held on so tight that Rafe was going to rip Eamonn’s coat sleeves.
Their mouths bounced around trying to find each other in the heat. Snowflakes fluttered out of the black sky. Rafe’s face clenched up.
“Is something wrong?” Eamonn asked. They had had to improvise with spit.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Rafe was a vision of peace. “As you were.”
Eamonn wanted to hold onto this moment, but he didn’t worry. He knew there would be more. Many more.
Inside the house, people began the countdown. Their voices carried through the house. From all the houses on the block, they heard the countdown. Eamonn didn’t know what the new year would bring for them. He was scared, but that was what made all adventures worth it.
“I love you,” Eamonn said. “I should’ve said it when you left. I bloody love you so much.”
“I love you, too.”
6…5…4…
“We’ll figure it out.”
“We will,” Rafe said.
They held each other’s vision, neither one looking away.
3…2…1…
Chapter 31
RAFE
“Eamonn, do you have your passport?”
“Yes.” Eamonn patted the front pocket of his backpack.
“Why is it loose in your backpack?” Rafe rubbed his forehead as Eamonn cocked his head at him. “Your passport is the most important document you have in your possession…”
Eamonn silenced him with a kiss for the whole Pittsburgh Airport to see. Rafe realized the familiarity of this conversation. Even though his parents could be annoying, they did have a point. Pickpockets probably had a field day with student travelers.
“Do you have a window, aisle, or middle seat?”
Eamonn shrugged his shoulders. “I got the last seat on the flight. I’m probably sitting on the drink cart.”
“Will they let you drink on international flights since you’re under twenty-one?” It was one of many complicated questions Rafe looked forward solving with his international romance.
“My mum told me not to get drunk on the plane. She didn’t want to see a news story about me being dragged through Heathrow in handcuffs.”
“How is she about all this?” Rafe asked. He thought about Eamonn’s family more than he should. And that photo of little Eamonn dressed up as Harry Styles.
“She’s all right. She’s going to miss me in the states, but she’s glad that I’ll be here with you. She trusts you to make sure I don’t cock up. My sisters want me to get Jennifer Lawrence’s autograph. Because that won’t be a problem.” Eamonn glanced at Rafe sheepishly. “So, when do I get to meet your parents?”
“Are you nervous?”
“They sound somewhat intense.”
“Nah. You can handle ‘em.” Rafe’s parents always called him just after midnight to wish him a good new year. This time, he didn’t pick up since he was in the middle of getting his brains fucked out. Thank goodness nobody came outside! When he finally called them back, flush with afterglow and a full heart, he told them all about his night—minus the sex part—and the plan he and Eamonn drafted. They talked about the challenges that would come with this relationship, ones Rafe admitted up front. But they didn’t tell him what to do. That was all Rafe.
“You’ll meet them this summer,” Rafe said.
They hung around just before the security checkpoint. Rafe kept looking at the departure board, hoping that Eamonn’s flight would be delayed and they would have just a little more time. He tried to stretch out the minutes and seconds as far as they would go.
Eamonn seemed to sense this. “This isn’t the last time we’ll be together. No bloody way.”
“When are we seeing each other next?” Rafe asked. “I was thinking I could fly to Europe for spring break. I was in England for almost four months, and I never traveled. There are so many countries I want to see.”
“Spring break, dude,” Eamonn said in his American accent.
A pair of actual California dudes, complete with flowing blond hair and wearing flip flops despite it being January 2nd in the Northeast, walked by.
“Can’t wait for spring break, dude!” One of them said to Eamonn.
“Totally!” said the
other.
“It’s gonna be so rad,” Eamonn said. It shocked Rafe how spot-on his accent really was.
They each hi-fived Eamonn and entered the security line.
“I reckon I’m going to like this country.”
Even though Eamonn had smiled at Rafe countless times, it still made him swoon. Those sparkling blue eyes, his bed head and scruff. But mostly it was the heart underneath, the heart that cared so much for people he loved.
They spent the next ten minutes chatting about nothing important, but using that time just to be with each other.
And then it was time to go.
Eamonn hoisted his backpack over his shoulder, but dropped it right after to hold and kiss Rafe one more time.
“Don’t forget Skype sex,” Rafe said, a single tear pooling in his left eye. “Lots of fucking Skype sex.”
Eamonn wiped it away. “Hey Rafe. Don’t be afraid…” he sang, the familiar melody of Hey Jude filling Rafe’s ears.
“Take a sad song…” Rafe rested his head on his firm chest. They swayed to the song in their head.
One more explosive kiss and slip of Eamonn’s tongue in his mouth, and then it really was time to go. Eamonn headed to the TSA agent.
“I know you like to wear your wallet in your back pocket, but maybe you should wear it in front,” Rafe said.
Eamonn made a small production of putting his wallet in his front pocket for Rafe. He showed off the new bulge proudly. It was Rafe’s second-favorite bulge on him.
“I’m your boyfriend. It’s my job to worry about you.”
“I like it.”
Eamonn faded into the crowd of travelers, but before he went through the body scanner and disappeared into the terminal, his eyes found Rafe. He interlocked his fingers together.
Rafe did the same.
Connected.
Chapter 32
EAMONN – THREE MONTHS LATER
“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” Rafe asked as they walked in the park just beneath the Eiffel Tower. Kids and families scurried all around them on this crisp day.
“I’m not a fan of ice cream,” Eamonn said. “I prefer gelato.”
“Then what’s your favorite gelato flavor?”
“Coffee.”
“But you don’t drink coffee.”
“Coffee by itself is gross.” Eamonn extended his arm, letting Rafe go in front of him as they headed inside the Eiffel Tower. “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”
“Vanilla.”
“Are you serious? Out of all the flavors available, you would choose vanilla?”
They climbed inside the crowded elevator that creaked up the tower. They had only been together for eight hours, but to Eamonn, they hadn’t missed a beat. All the emails, texts, calls, FaceTimes, and Skypes really did add up. They even mailed each other a worn T-shirt to see if they could smell each other. Not really, but that didn’t stop Eamonn from wanking it many a time with the shirt balled up in his fist. Rafe said the key was not waiting for big events to contact one another. They had to keep each other abreast of the little, inconsequential events of their day, too.
Although no matter how much Skype sex they had, it couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing. As soon as Rafe landed, Eamonn picked him up from the Charles de Gaulle Airport. They went to the hostel just to drop off Rafe’s suitcase, but within seconds were clawing at each other’s clothes, even though they were in a shared room. Eamonn put his tongue on pretty much every spot of Rafe’s body. It was unstoppable, inevitable. Eamonn was going to take advantage of all their alone time.
They ascended higher and higher over Paris. Rafe was about to make a point, something he had clearly thought about for a while.
“When somebody gives me vanilla ice cream, there’s so much I can do with it. I can put it in a sundae under hot fudge. I can smother it in whipped cream. I can plop it on top of a brownie. I can eat it in an ice cream sandwich or Klondike bar. Vanilla enhances the flavors of the food around it. Try having an ice cream sundae with rocky road or butter pecan. It’s weird. Because you want to taste the ice cream, but you’re also trying to taste the toppings. Not so with vanilla. You can taste both without feeling you’re missing out on anything. Vanilla is the ultimate team player.”
It was moments like these when Eamonn wanted to smother Rafe with a kiss. He would forever be curious as to how Rafe’s mind worked.
“How did you come to this realization?”
“Years of practice and research.”
They stared out the elevator window as they rose above Paris. The scope and size of the city hit Eamonn more than he expected. He hadn’t wanted to do such a touristy activity, but he found himself awed by the Eiffel Tower. He held Rafe’s hand. It was instinctual, like he had to process this with another human being or else he was going to implode in a cloud of dust.
They stepped out onto the landing. The air felt different up here, like they were in their own private universe.
“This really is a beautiful city,” Rafe said. “I can’t believe I’m here. I am on top of the Eiffel Tower. It’s like next stop world domination.”
“With a spot in BISHoP, you’re on your way.”
“Almost. I only filled out the application.”
“Your professors this term said you had a great shot.”
Rafe nodded modestly. “I’m not going to jinx it.”
“Fair enough.” Eamonn would just silently root for his boyfriend then.
They looked out at the twinkling lights in the night sky.
“I’m trying to hold onto this moment as long as I can,” he said.
“Me, too,” Rafe said. “But it’s only going to be one of many.”
Eamonn didn’t know how long they stood there, watching the City of Love twinkling in the darkness. It wasn’t long enough.
“I can’t believe you don’t like ice cream,” Rafe said on the way back down.
“I like gelato, which is a million times better.”
“I doubt it.”
“Have you ever had gelato?”
“I can’t say I have.”
“We have to get some,” Eamonn said.
“Is anyplace still open?”
Eamonn raised his eyebrow. “I’ve heard Spain has some of the best gelato in the world.”
RAFE
The next day, they were in Barcelona, strolling down Las Ramblas, the main strip of the city. Rafe had counted at least five gelato places so far. He and Eamonn had hit up three, and they’d only been in the city for seven hours. He couldn’t believe how easy it was to travel from country to country by train. It was like the DC Metro system, but instead of different neighborhood stops, they were in different countries. When Eamonn had proposed a spontaneous trip through Europe, he really meant it!
It was warmer here than it had been back at Browerton, and the sun shone down on them, making it very appropriate to be eating gelato.
Rafe was not disappointed. He shoveled coffee gelato into his mouth faster than his mouth could shallow it.
“This is freaking amazing,” he said.
“What did I tell you? You refused to believe me.”
“What’s the difference between ice cream and gelato anyway?”
“One is the best dessert in the world, and the other is ice cream.” Eamonn held his hands and gave him one of those deep gazes that locked Rafe in place, even when it was through a computer or phone screen.
A girl walked by carrying a Water Water Everywhere-branded Nalgene bottle. Rafe instantly glared at it.
“They suck,” he said to Eamonn.
“They are helping millions of people get access to clean water. They do not suck just because they didn’t hire me.” Eamonn had been particularly disappointed about not getting the job and the form email their human resources rep had sent him. It had been like a cold rejection to him. As someone very familiar with rejection, Rafe told him to get used to it. It just meant that job wasn’t the right one, something Rafe a
lso knew much about.
“Heath’s cousin works for the British embassy. He’s gotten in touch with some humanitarian organizations that work with ambassadors, and long story short, I got an email this morning about a second interview with this one called Food Planet. They’re focused on hunger initiatives. They have an opening for an assistant project manager that starts this summer.”
“That’s great! Look at you networking. Where are they located?”
“Washington, D.C.”
“That’s right by me! You can have dinner with me and my parents every night,” Rafe said, hoping Eamonn found the humor in that. Eamonn had met Rafe’s parents in a group Skype session last month, and he told Rafe afterward how he couldn’t get over all the questions they asked him.
“Just wait,” Rafe had said.
“I really hope I get it,” Eamonn said of the job. “There are millions of people who need our help.”
“And you’re just the one to help them.”
Rafe yawned with the last remnants of jetlag. He wouldn’t let it take over him, not for this precious week. It didn’t help that he’d just completed a five-hour shift at Dollop before racing to the airport to catch his flight. He didn’t think standing behind a counter serving cupcakes could be exhausting, but it was, especially when they hosted kids’ birthday parties. Those things were like surviving battle. But at least it came with a paycheck. Rafe didn’t tell Eamonn that he was saving up for a flight back to England for Eamonn’s graduation.
On Las Ramblas, music played while people dined and drank outside. It was like a tourist advertisement come to life. He dug the relaxed vibe of Spain. It chilled him automatically. They found a spot to order sangria. Rafe took all the fruit. He didn’t know why he never tried soaking fruit in alcohol before. It was best of both worlds.
“So you’ve conquered gelato and sangria. What’s next on your culinary bucket list?” Eamonn asked.
“Honestly?”
“No, I’d prefer a lie.”
Rafe cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’ve always wanted to smoke pot.”
“They don’t have weed back in the States?”