The Luckiest (6 page)

As the last of the photos of that night fades into video from junior year football season antics, Nik’s hand comes to rest where Aaron’s arms are folded. Nik’s fingers are warm and calloused and gentle. The tips of his fingers slide over the back of Aaron’s hand and glide down to follow the length of his fingers one by one. Then they trace back up. Aaron doesn’t know what this is, but he follows the advice of the warm liquid of his belly and moves his hand closer to Nik, let­ting it rest in the small space between them so that the backs of his fingers curl against the side of Nik’s thigh. He can’t bring him­self to look at Nik, but it’s okay because Nik turns Aaron’s hand to stroke lazy, drifting circles into his palm, starting at its arches and running down to trace over the bones of his wrist before spiraling back up.
God, his hands.
The moment is a sweet reminder, not just of that night on the Ferris wheel, but also of the few times they’d been able to share a bed, of Nik drawing those same circles down his back so long ago, lazy in the afterglow. Aaron’s whole hand feels extra sensitive, as if every pore is trying to absorb Nik, every hair is reaching out to understand, every square centimeter of his skin is aware of Nik and the mystery of his thoughts. Every movement feels significant, laden and slow, so that when Nik slides his fingers between Aaron’s own and rubs heavily, deliberately against the juncture of his fingers, loops their fingers together and slides down until they are fingertip to fingertip, Aaron feels it in his dick and can’t help it—he has to turn his head to look.

Nik is staring at him, one cheek resting on the back of the sofa and the other lit by the TV. Nik’s eyes are dark, his mouth is soft, and their hands slot together palm to palm, fingers interlaced, as Nik’s thumb rubs the side of Aaron’s hand softly and steadily. For a time after their breakup they’d been so careful not to touch each other; that time has been over for a while, but Aaron is still very aware of where the lines are, of what is a friendly touch and what is something else, and this, this isn’t like a hug or a pat on the shoulder or even perching on somebody’s lap when there aren’t enough chairs. This is deliberate, a statement of intent, and the look on Nik’s face makes Aaron want to brace for impact.

Aaron can’t take the intensity of Nik’s gaze, so he turns back to the television to watch without seeing and concentrate on the feeling of their hands. He’s almost twenty-three years old, and the first boy who ever held his hand has taken it again, so sweetly, and it doesn’t seem to matter how much sex he’s had in the interim, how many ways he’s opened his body or seen others do the same for him, because he’s suddenly right back at sixteen, when hand-holding seemed the most intimate thing two people could do. He’s simultaneously terrified and des­perate to feel and remember every moment of contact. It had seemed like such a chaste thing to him in recent years, hold­ing hands, and he hasn’t done all that much of it in the last couple years. But this is Nik, and everything about the way he’s touching Aaron feels intimate, sexual and exploratory, as if when Nik touches his hands, he’s thinking about touching him
everywhere.

Aaron looks back to see Nik facing forward again. It’s funny—they’ve known each other for so long, they still know so much about each other, and right now all that means is that Aaron can see the trouble etched across Nik’s brow, and at the corners of his eyes and mouth, but can only guess at the cause. He squeezes Nik’s hand and rubs his thumb across Nik’s knuckles just once, and Nik turns back to face him.

The music changes just as their eyes meet in the low light in a moment pregnant with possibility. Aaron feels heavy with it; his body is boneless and pressed into the cushions with the relief of inevitability and the promise of this man’s body on his. Nik holds his stare, and his lips purse lazily in a soundless whisper of Aaron’s name; his mouth is still so beautiful. Aaron is thinking about leaning over to taste it, just to see, when everybody bursts out laughing and David says, “Oh, man, I can’t believe Nik is missing this.”

The moment is shattered; a second too late, Aaron realizes what the music change indicated. A moment was captured on this video that he only just now remembers: He and Alex were in the backseat of Nik’s car on the way to the grocery store to get supplies to make queso, Nik driving and David in the passenger’s seat, when Chamillionaire came on the radio and David and Nik launched into performance mode. Alex was carrying her camera everywhere still, and she had captured the absurdity of the moment by focusing tightly on Nik—this clean-cut Desi with his short hair and spread-collared shirt, driving his mother’s Volvo and screaming out lyrics about the police—and then turning the camera on her own grimacing face.

He turns back to the TV and sees Alex roll her eyes one last time before the video cuts to Andres and Alex at a home­coming dance.

Nik squeezes his hand one more time before he extricates his own. He gives Aaron a weak smile and turns to face the room. “Yeah, laugh it up, Williams—you’re still sporting the same haircut from high school.”

Aaron feels off-balance, as though he’s reeling, until Nik pushes back toward him, sliding his whole body a little closer and pressing into Aaron. Aaron keeps breathing and laughs at Jasmine mugging for the camera in a Santa hat with red and green streaks in her bleached blonde hair.

As the film wraps up, while everyone laughs at Alex pulling faces at the camera during senior spring break—just before prom, right before it all fell apart—Aaron slides his arm back and around Nik, drapes it over his shoulder and holds his breath for the instant it takes Nik to nestle into Aaron’s side and relax there with a sigh.

A few moments later, Nik stifles a yawn, and his hand comes to rest right above Aaron’s knee. Nik’s fingers brush the inseam of Aaron’s shorts, while his thumb idly traces the shape of Aaron’s kneecap. It shouldn’t be so sexy, but Aaron can’t help leaning down, only for a second, to bury his nose in Nik’s dark hair and breathe deeply.
He’s changed his shampoo
. Maybe—maybe he’s remembering it wrong. It’s been a long time.

Aaron thinks about everything they’re not saying, and about how much he doesn’t
want
to say any of it, not yet, how he wants to stay in this moment of potential for as long as they can. It doesn’t look as if he can dodge defin­ing what this moment means for long; he’s not ready to answer ques­tions about what’s happening between them, and though they’ve somehow flown under the radar so far, their friends are starting to get restless and soon will be looking around for the next interesting thing to do.

Aaron brings Nik’s hand to his lips, and Nik’s fingers squeeze around his own when Aaron presses a soft, slow kiss into his knuckles. “Later,” he whispers into Nik’s hair, and Nik nods against his shoulder before Aaron urges him to shift his weight so he can stand.

He stretches. “Mmmm, I think last night is still catching up with me, and we have a long day tomorrow, ladies. I’m for bed.” Nik looks at him and then face-plants into the cushioned arm of the sofa with a muffled groan; Aaron can’t help reaching down to ruffle his hair. “’Night, all!”

Jasmine gives him a look, and Alex and David look at him and Nik and each other speculatively, but Stephanie is captivated by her own performance on the screen and everybody else is eat­ing popcorn and seems to be amused by her, so they wave him on.

His bed feels bigger, emptier tonight. But there’s a lot to think about, and he lets himself smile just a little while he stares up at the ceiling and finally falls asleep.

In Their Own Words

A
n email exchange
between Aaron and Nik, August 14, 2010:

Hey Nik.

Last night at the Boardwalk we were talking about that game-leveling guide. Here is the link.

It was good to see you and to finally meet the rest of your friends. Alex and Jasmine liked y’all.

* * *

Really, that’s what you’re saying this morning? You sound like an alien. What is wrong with you?

Hey Aaron,

Thanks for the link. Obviously that conversation about a video game was the most important thing that happened last night.

Sincerely,

Nikhil Warren

* * *

Thanks for making this easy, Nik. Your compassion is over­whelming. But fine.

You disappeared pretty fast after we got off the Ferris wheel. Were you mad at me? Or upset?

* * *

My mom was on her way and you know how she gets if she has to wait. And the whole thing was kind of weird because everybody was there? If I had a chance to do that over again, it would be when it was just us.

* * *

I’m sorry. I couldn’t wait anymore. I thought it was kind of perfect but I guess not.

It’s okay if you just want to be friends, but I really wanted to try. I never did that before, so thanks for at least not freaking out. It will be an okay memory, I think. :-)

* * *

That is not at ALL what I want, Aaron. It was perfect in every way except for that one. I just didn’t know what to do—you already know I’m a dork. I feel like I’m making you feel bad and I’m sorry—that is not what I want.

Are you going to make me say it?

* * *

I think you better.

* * *

I was really glad when you held my hand—you have really nice hands. And you’re right—it was pretty romantic.

Before, when I imagined a boyfriend, I never thought he could be as cute as you. Now when I imagine a boyfriend, he IS you.

* * *

Wow. Okay. Now I’m blushing. And smiling.

I am smiling a lot.

Because I like you so much, Nik. You are a big part of my life and you are a big part of my coming out and I just LIKE you. I like how you get excited about things and I like how smart you are and I like your eyes, which just keep getting more gorgeous. I like how you like your little sister and how you aren’t shy or weird about it. I like that you’re a good trumpet player and I like that you don’t care who knows all these things about you. I like that you let ME know all these things about you, and also that last night you let me hold your hand.

So will you be my boyfriend? Because you also have a really nice mouth and the next time I see you I want to tell you more things I like about you and then go from there.

* * *

I haven’t been able to stop smiling since last night. I know what you mean.

Band practice lets out in 20 minutes (Mr. D is going to kill me if he sees me emailing but it’s worth it) and I am coming straight to your house if you say it’s okay.

* * *

It’s okay.

Tuesday

A
aron wakes to
Alex letting herself into his room; she’s still dressed in boxer shorts and a tank top, and her hair is tied in two low pigtails.

“Good morning,” she whispers.

“Morning. What time is it?”

“It’s a little after eight. I think everybody else is still sleeping, but I couldn’t stay in bed any longer. It’s dress day!” Her voice is hushed as she makes her way over to the bed and flips back the covers to slide in next to him. She doesn’t look likely to go back to sleep, though; her eyes are bright and her expression is filled with barely suppressed excitement. Aaron smiles.

“It
is
dress day.” He yawns into his hand and rolls toward her. “When’s the last time you tried it on?”

“Not since the final fitting. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Mmmm, admirable restraint; I’m impressed.”

“I’m not a moron, Aaron.”

“No, I know. Sorry.” He scrubs at his eyes, willing himself to wake up a little more. “I just… it’s your wedding dress. It’s a big deal.”

“I know.” She grins at him. “Can we do it now?”

He pulled a face. “Now?”

“Please? Please, please, please?”

Alex is so cute like this, pigtails and all; she’s always been able to get him to do anything, and she knows it. “Fine, okay! Where is it, anyway? You haven’t been keeping it in your room, have you? For David to see?”

“Are you kidding? He doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body—he’d be peeking at it without even waiting for me to leave the room.” Aaron thinks about the serenade and sup­presses a smile. “It’s wrapped and hanging in Jasmine and Stephanie’s room.”

“Hmm. Is she up yet?”

“Not sure.”

“Go get the dress and bring her back with you. We’ll do the fitting in here—you can change in the bathroom.”

He’s up and out of the bathroom when she struggles to clear the doorway with the dress still wrapped in its bag. Her face is lit up, excited, and he can’t even resent the early morning wake-up when she looks like this.

Jasmine drags in and face-plants on his bed while Alex gets dressed. “Doesn’t she need your help getting into that?” Aaron asks.

“At this hour, she can bring her undressed self out here if she needs help.”

“Remind me never to ask you to be
my
maid of honor,” he quips, even as his hand strokes her hair while she snug­gles more deeply into his discarded pillow. He hates that it’s probably going to smell like the smoke she dragged in; their friends must have been up late last night.

Alex shuffles out of the bathroom with her arms twisted behind her, and Aaron zips her up, while Jasmine cracks an eye and squints up at them.

Aaron spins Alex around and holds her hands out to the side, looking her up and down. “Cups sewn in?”

“Yep. The seamstress did that, and added detachable straps, and took it in at the waist and the hem.”

“How does it feel? Can you sit?”

Alex perches on the edge of the bed, holding herself tense and upright, and there’s not so much as a pucker at the waist.

“No, I mean
really
sit. Are you going to sit like that while you’re half-drunk and exhausted from dancing?”

Alex slides back onto the bed, sprawling against Jasmine. Jasmine laughs and shoves her, and Alex leans back harder, throwing her arms out to the side and stretching.

“How does it look when I’m
really sitting?”

“The dress looks like a dream. You, however, look like you’ve just puked from too much champagne. You’re the bridal cau­tionary tale.”

Alex turns her head to face Jasmine. “Remember how sar­castic and bitchy he was in high school?”

Jasmine slings an arm over Alex’s shoulder. “We’re so lucky he grew out of that.”

While they’re giving him shit, he grins and digs his phone out of his pocket, and the moment they look back his way he snaps a photo. Jasmine’s hair is everywhere, Alex slouches in her wedding dress and pigtails, and there’s not a swipe of makeup to be seen. They look gorgeous.

Alex comes after his phone with vengeance in her voice until he grabs her by the shoulders and bends to look into her eyes. “Your dress, girl.
Your dress,
” he says, and she crushes him in her arms.

When she pulls back, Alex says, “Yes?”

He nods. “Absolutely. Now. Shoes, hair, makeup, jewelry?”

She grins at him and claps her hands. “Shopping.”

Two hours later, they’ve made their excuses to the rest of the house and made it to the Galleria in Houston, chatting a mile a minute in the Tahoe while the radio drones beneath their voices. It feels familiar, a comfortable kind of exciting. Alex and Aaron have finally heard the entire, inglorious last chapter of Jasmine-and-Mitchell, and Alex has given Aaron the “ask me later” look, so he knows there’s something missing.

Just as they pull into the underground garage, Jasmine says, “You know, the hell of it is that Mitchell isn’t even… I mean, he’s good in bed, don’t get me wrong.” Aaron pulls a face at her in the mirror. “And we have a good time when we’re together. But I don’t think…”

He pulls into a parking space, and Jasmine’s last words hang in the air when he turns off the ignition. “He’s not your love story, princess.”

She looks at Aaron, then at Alex, and her jaw hardens. “Maybe not everybody gets a love story.”

“That’s probably true,” he concedes. “That doesn’t mean I’m accepting anything less than that for any of us.”

Jasmine raises a brow. “That’s very interesting. Tell me about your love story, Aaron. You been holding out on us?”

Alex chimes in. “That’s a very good point. Are we actually in the
middle
of your love story?” Her grin is positively terrifying.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, tucking his sunglasses into their case.

“You had your arm around Nik last night.” Jasmine says this as if she’s presenting facts in a courtroom.

“Shut up! When I saw them, they were just holding hands!”

“Ohhh, girl, you missed it, then. Aaron had his arm around Nik’s shoulders, and Nik’s hand was clutching his knee, and they both looked like were ready to pass out in each other’s arms. That was some grade-A sexual tension.”

“Ladies,” he interrupts before Alex can respond. “We need to stay focused. You—” he jabs a finger in Alex’s direction, “are getting married in
five days,
and you’ll be walking down the beach in bare feet. Which is a choice, but I’m not sure it’s the one you want to make. And you,” he says, sweeping his gaze to Jasmine, “are the maid of honor, and you still don’t have a dress, for goodness’ sake. Now. Priorities. Everybody out of the car.”

Alex sweeps around the car to take his arm as he locks the door and sweetly says, “That’s okay, honey. We have a long drive back.”

Nine grueling, exhilarating hours later they’re back in the car. Jasmine has shucked off her shoes and is rubbing the balls of her feet, and Alex has collapsed in the back seat to loll her head against the window. They’re all exhausted, but it’s been a good day. They’ve found perfect little ivory slingbacks with a low heel for Alex to slip on after they’re back on the grass, as well as a thin jeweled headband—”It’s like a crown. Stephanie will try to steal that from you; guard it with your
life.
”—that Aaron can attach veiling to. For Jasmine they’ve bought lavender chiffon—the flowing skirt shows off her killer legs and the halter-style neckline leaves her glowing shoulders bare—with nude shoes that make her legs go on
forever.
There’s new waterproof mascara and eyeliner, and probably too many accessories, bags and hair combs, and everything they’ll need to sparkle. They’re going to be
perfect.

They’ve cleared the Loop and are headed toward the coast when Jasmine abruptly turns and says, “Okay, spill it.”

Aaron is quiet, until Alex’s sleepy voice says, “Really, Aaron. We sort of need to know. It’s time.”

Aaron silently focuses on traffic, then sighs and says, “I don’t know what to tell you. Yeah, that happened. No, I don’t know what’s going on. That was all Nik.” He glances at Jasmine, who doesn’t seem impressed. “What do you want me to say? If I’m looking for a fuck, it’s not like I’m going to be looking in his direction? Because that’s true.”

“You mean you won’t do that
again
.” The only thing Jasmine had ever said to him on the subject was, “You both deserve better from each other.” She had always liked Nik and had thought he was good for Aaron. He always thought she might have a bit of a crush on him—nothing that could be a problem, and it’s not as though he could blame her, but still. Jasmine spent most of high school boy-crazy, at least until she settled down with Joe, and Aaron is not sure that many guys escaped her eye.

“I do. There was nothing about that that I want to do again.” Even as he says it, he knows it’s a lie. He
wants
Nik’s hands on him, wants to taste his red mouth and his tan skin, wants to bury his own hands and face and dick in him and stay there for as long as he can. But that’s always been true—he has wanted Nik since he was just starting to understand what that meant—and this simple desire is not the point, anyway, because Nik is not somebody it will
ever
be that easy with.

Alex slides forward to lean between the seats. “What if it’s not about sex, Aaron? What if he wants to be with you?”

“First of all: it’s
always
about sex, at least a little. And if it’s more than that, how is that supposed to work? I don’t have any idea where he’s going to grad school, but you said he was happy in Austin; I can only guess he’ll stay somewhere in Texas. It’s not like there aren’t any schools here, and you know what his dad is like. My work is the opposite of mobile and, besides that, fuck, I
love
New York.”

Alex doesn’t meet his eyes in the rearview mirror, and just like that his heart splinters. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been hoping, in some small, immature way, that the new connection with Nik
could
be something. Alex looks uncom­fortable, maybe even sad, and he knows: It isn’t happening. Last night had been wonderful and very exciting, but it can’t happen.

“More than you love Nik?” Jasmine throws back.

He bristles. “What are you even
talking
about? I haven’t been in love with him for years.”

Jasmine gives him a look. “Do you think you’re funny?”

He gives her a look of his own, but she goes on. “Look. Aaron. I know you’re not that boy from high school anymore, that you’re not still an uptight little overachiever who only wants to get the hell out of here. You have moved up and on and I don’t even want to know how many men you’ve slept with, because there’s having a good time and then there’s full-on-slutty, and it makes me sad to think about you that way.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Fine, you make that face, but I remember the boy you used to be, that sweet boy who just wanted somebody wonderful to love you, and baby,
you found him.
You found him five years ago and the two of you managed to fuck it up, and he’s still here, and he still makes you crazy. Do you know what I would give to feel that way about somebody again? You’re a fool if you’re too chickenshit to at least
try.”

Aaron drives.

When Alex speaks up; her body is still, so he knows she’s serious. “She’s right. And Aaron, you still make
him
crazy. I can’t… you
really
need to talk to him.”

He sighs. “You don’t understand. I’m not that boy anymore, and besides that—” He breaks off and is quiet before he says, “You don’t know how fucked up that whole thing was by the time it ended. Just be glad it’s better now. At least we can be in the same room. It’s better if nobody pushes it.”

Alex locks eyes with him in the rearview mirror. “That’s bullshit. That boy is still a part of you. And I know more about that breakup than you realize, Aaron. Not that
you
ever told me anything.”

He narrows his eyes and his gaze darts back and forth between the road and the mirror. “What do you know?”

“Nothing you couldn’t find out, if you had the balls to do it,” Alex says with a look of defiance, as she throws herself back into the seat.

They’re quiet for the rest of the drive.

When they pull up to the house, it’s after nine. The windows are ablaze with light, and they can hear people laughing from the back decks that face the water. Nik is sitting on the steps facing the street, fooling around on his guitar with his laptop open next to him.

Aaron shakes Alex awake and they all go to the back of the Tahoe to collect their packages. The girls leave Aaron to struggle with everything that isn’t Jasmine’s dress. Nik laughs and closes his laptop, trying to stop Alex from grabbing a sneak peek at his playlist. “It’s not ready yet, Alex! Thursday, we said Thursday!”

“It’s my wedding! It has to be perfect, Nik! Just a hint?”

Jasmine, bless her, rolls her eyes and says, “Come on, Bride­zilla. Let’s get you inside before your sense of entitlement swells any more—Aaron’s not going to be able to bake the cake
and
alter your dress again before Saturday.” She pokes Alex with her dress hanger.