I Want to Kiss You in Public
Page 31
“Hey, birthday boy.”
My shock, on recognising Michael’s voice, is such that I let go of the string. Michael’s hand shoots up, but too late. The balloon, still smiling, still ridiculous, takes off under our very eyes.
Michael makes a grimace. “Sorry.”
I look at him. I mean, really look at him. I take in everything. His Converse, classic red. His blue jeans, a little loose on his hips. The burgundy shade of his t-shirt. The sinuous veins apparent on his wrists and arms, his Adam’s apple, which sends a pang of longing into the depths of my groin. At last, his face. The plump bottom lip stuck between the straight white teeth, almost apologetically. The shadow of a crease where his dimples would be. The straight nose, angular cheekbones, furnished eyebrows. Eyes as fine as a lover can imagine when not constraint by limits of time. Finally, the curls. Dark, glossy, and reminiscent of a flock of lambs.
I blink several times, to make sure. But it’s him. It’s the man I love.
He smiles. Dimples appear, my heart leaps up, the soft fluttering of the butterflies swarming around in my stomach intensifies.
“How?” My brain struggles to reboot itself. “How did you—”
Michael points toward the sky. “I was boarding the train when I saw this balloon, and under the balloon, I saw you, trying to force your way through the gate.”
I give a nervous laugh. “Oh, right.”
His smile fading, Michael lift a hand to the back of his neck. “Were you trying to stop me?”
“Yes.” One quick glance. “Am I too late?”
Michael shakes his head. “Just in time.”
We both glance up to check the balloon’s progress, while near the road, my father is in deep negotiations with the taxi driver, while Eugénie makes rude signs behind his back.
“François called me earlier,” Michael says. “He told me about Abby. I almost jumped off the train to come to you, to tell you she lied, but… I wasn’t really sure how you’d take it, coming from me.”
“That’s okay, Michael. François told me too. About Abbie, and Peter too. He gave me a hard time at first, saying I’d broke your heart.”
François the matchmaker. You would have thought? He might even become my new best friend! I can wait to tell Tony.
Michael approaches, looking to meet my eyes. I humour him. “I can’t believe you decided to trust Abby, so easily, I mean, why?”
I decide to tell the truth and nothing but the truth from now on. With a smile, I dip my head.
“I didn’t think you were so into me… you gave me no signs.”
Michael lets out a shocked gasp. “No signs? I gave you plenty of signs, you were the one who reacted lukewarm about everything.”
“Apparently your lurked under my windows.”
“I did that, yes.”
My cheeks start burning. I have to look away.
“I did give you signs,” Michael says, pouting in the sunlight. “When I came to your place? And was hammering down the fact that I’d spend the summer alone, etc? Wink, wink?”
“I have no recollection of that. You have to know that I lose track of about half of everything you say everything I look at your face.”
As we stand only inches from each other, Michael gazes into my face, an incredulous smile hanging on his lip.
“Are you serious?”
“Very.”
“But, the essay?” Ever so studious, his thoughts turn immediately back to school. “Did you even learn anything from when we worked together?”
“Oh, yes.” I say, with a solemn nod. “I learned that your curls prefer days with low humidity, and that you only chew on the end of your pencil when you’re very close to the answer, but don’t have right words for it yet.”
Michael leans into my ear. “Valuable skills.” He sighs against my cheek, sending my head spinning.
“The most valuable.”
My phone rings. Lucie is texting me, asking for news. And apparently, everybody is invited to party at the Shark for my birthday. Including the Golden Fork. Which reminds me of something.
“Michael, did you ever tell Sacha you’re gay?”
“Yes,” Michael says, his eyebrow waggling. “I had to say something when I turned up to school completely depressed. Don’t worry, she doesn’t know it’s you.”
“Apparently I’m having a birthday party tonight, with everybody who hated my guts until this morning. So, I’ll get to explain.”
“Explain…”
“That I’m gay.”
“You are gay?” Michael repeats, an uncertain glint in his eye.
“Yes. Gay.”
His hands shoot toward the sky. “Finally! Every time I tried to talk to you about sexuality, you acted completely mental, like at the museum.”
“What?” I protest, offended. “You were showing me picture of fannies!”
“Please don’t call it that! And you were the one who seemed hellbent on NOT breaking up with Lucie, so I thought you were probably some sort of closeted bisexual—”
I hold up a finger in front of his delicious face. “You were staring at Lucie’s boobs, in the park! Confess!”
“I… What?” His whole face tenses as he tries to remember. “Did I?”
“Sacha even commented on it, remember? You blushed. I will never forget that blush.”
“Oh, that!” Michael’s face relaxes. “I might have been staring at Lucie a lot, yes. Wondering what she had that I didn’t. Afraid of her… powerful arguments. But, remember what we did that same evening?”
I snort. “Like I would ever forget.”
“Did my actions that night really fail to convince you I’m irremediably attracted to men?”
A yell coming from of the taxi lane near the road makes me jump. My father has taken hold of the newspaper and is now beating the taxi driver himself while Eugénie makes signs for people to move along.
“Is that your dad?” Michael asks, squinting.
Looking at his face, a overwhelming need to hold him close and never let him go arises.
“I was so afraid I’d never see you again…”
“What?” He points at his ear.
“I said I thought I’d never see you again.”
Michael appeased me with a full-on, dimples-all-the-way, laughing smile.
“You know I have to take my exams here, don’t you? I was only going to spend the week with my parents. I was coming back.”
I shouldn’t tell him this didn’t occur to me at the time. Some things are probably better left unsaid.
Michael scans our surrounding for prying eyes and pulls me, discreetly to him. He lifts his arm. A little pouch is dangling from his finger.
“Happy birthday, Louis.”
Close to giggling, but amazed at my own self-control, I unwrap the strings, wrench the bag open, and hold my breath as I remove a pair of vintage sunglasses.
“Thank you…”
Looking very pleased with himself, Michael pushes them delicately up my nose, and steps away to admire the result.
“How do I look?” I ask.
“Good.” Michael clears his throat, a violent flush creeping up his neck. “Like a rockstar.”
He hesitates an instant then steps closer, blocking the view of Miss Eugénie and my father slapping their hands together in a high five and waving the taxi driver goodbye with the other.
“Tell me, do rockstars kiss outside train stations?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t give a damn.”
I hook a hand behind his neck and bring our lips together.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
XOXO
IN THE DIM basement of the Shark, our young bodies flailing, brushing, knocking against each other, boys, and girls, and boys, are swept into a whirlwind of music and whispers, until our identities, our affinities become all but a blur, sweating, screaming, loving, being eighteen, everything’s fine, Michael’s lips are on my ear, I’ve never been so high.
I might never see my
friends again. We were growing apart before we even knew it. It wasn’t because of Michael, because of London, because of her, or him, or me. It was perhaps, because it lasted long enough. And it was good while it lasted.
I spent some much time being afraid, afraid of losing everything, my relations, myself, that I have never stopped to admire the present. I wish you could all see me now. The moment it hits me, the realisation, Michael’s body against mine, Tony pouring champagne over my head, my scream:
WE WILL NEVER BE THAT YOUNG AGAIN!
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LOUIS’S SPOTIFY PLAYLIST
Louis’s big fan of music and never leaves the house without his iPod. As a result, here’s a small compilation of the songs he was listening at the time of this story.
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