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When Ari and Dante left the bowling alley, Ari drove the truck toward the desert. Dante stilled, confused by the sudden turn of events. Why couldn’t Ari just drop him off at home so he could be alone with his thoughts?
Ari was acting uncharacteristically weird.
“Where are we going?” Dante asked.
“My favorite hangout,” Ari said, his eyes trained on the road.
There was nothing Dante wanted more than to be with Ari, but this wasn’t the best time. Dante’s head was spinning. He wanted to be alone, or at least away from the one boy he couldn’t have. “It’s late,” he said.
“You tired?” Ari sounded concerned, and a little disappointed.
“Sort of.” No, of course he wasn’t tired. Being with Ari made him aware of all of his senses.
“It’s just ten o’clock,” he said. “Get up early, do you?”
Dante smiled. “Wiseass.”
Ari hesitated, opening and closing his mouth. “Unless you want to just go home.”
“No,” he said. I want to be with you.
“Okay.” Ari loosened his grip on the steering wheel.
Music. Good distraction, right? Dante picked up Ari’s box full of cassette tapes, flipping through each one without really acknowledging them. He didn’t mind the quiet because now he could think. And he thought of the boy sitting next to him, their close proximity, and their friendship. It was the best friendship Dante had known, but he knew he wanted more.
He’d always want more.
They drove into the desert in complete silence. Ari parked in his usual spot, right under the bright stars showcased without all the light pollution. It was beautiful.
“I love it here,” Ari said. His voice sounded a little strained.
Dante pursed his lips. Yeah, he loved it here. He sure loved a lot of things.
Ari touched the tennis shoes Dante had sent him that were hanging from his rearview mirror. They were still swinging in place. “I love these things,” Ari said.
It occurred to Dante that he didn’t have any part in the big love fest that went on in Ari’s heart.
“You love a lot of things, don’t you?” Dante snapped.
“You sound mad,” Ari said. “I thought you weren’t mad anymore.”
“I think I am mad.” Dante turned on his seat, glaring at the helpless look on his best friend. There was so much he wanted to tell him, but he knew Ari didn’t want to hear any of it.
“I’m sorry. I said I was sorry.” Ari was bewildered, and sad. It only made Dante angrier.
This was the hardest decision he would ever make, but he had to put an end to this. Both of them were hurting by now. Something had to change. His voice was barely audible when he said, “I can’t do this, Ari.”
“Can’t do what?” Ari asked, terrified.
“This whole friend thing. I can’t do it.” It’s hurts too much, Ari. Can’t you see? Am I not being obvious enough? Don’t you know me at all?
“Why not?” Ari said, swallowing hard.
“I have to explain it to you?”
Ari was stunned into silence.
Dante took his silence as the end of their conversation, so he got out of the truck and slammed the door. He didn’t move away fast enough because Ari caught up to him. “Hey,” he said, and he touched Dante’s shoulder.
The touch burned his skin, through the fabric. Every time they touched, something happened between them. Something neither of them ever talked about. But Dante was tired of that. Tired of everything.
Dante pushed him away. “I don’t like it when you touch me.”
That’s a lie, Ari. He wanted to tell him how much he wanted him to touch him, but he kept it to himself, just like he always did. What was the point?
They stood there for a long time without saying anything. They stared at each other, trying to decipher the emotions in their eyes. Dante was drawing blanks. He had been resigned to accept that Ari was the most inscrutable person in the universe, but right now he wished that he could know all of his secrets. Dante kept sinking into himself, falling and falling but never reaching the ground.
“Dante?” Ari’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.
“What?” Dante snapped, the anger eating him alive.
“Don’t be mad.” The pacifying voice. Nice trick, Ari.
“I don’t know what to do, Ari.” Dante was well aware how helpless he sounded. He ran his hands through his hair because there was nothing else to do and nowhere else to run.
“Remember that time you kissed me?” Ari asked, like it was the easiest of topics.
Of course. Of course he remembered. The memory haunted him every damned day. It was the most bittersweet moment of his life.
“Yeah,” he said simply.
“Remember I said it didn’t work for me?”
Why did Ari insist on torturing him? It wasn’t fair.
“Why are you bringing this up?” Dante asked. “I remember. I remember. Dammit to hell, Ari, did you think I’d forgotten?” The kiss. That kiss. It had done nothing but give Dante a taste of something wonderful, something too good to be true. With that kiss, Dante had realized what he had been trying to mask with other people. Nothing had proven to work, but Dante had tried. For the sake of his friendship with Ari. Because he knew he shouldn’t want more, but that didn’t mean he didn’t desire more.
Ari blinked at him. “I’ve never seen you this mad.”
“I don’t want to talk about that, Ari. It just makes me feel bad.” What an incredible understatement.
“What did I say when you kissed me?” Ari challenged. He wouldn’t let it go. Why wouldn’t he let it go?
Dante sighed. “You said it didn’t work for you.”
“I lied,” Ari said easily. He slumped his shoulders and softened his eyes. Those pretty eyes that hid so much from Dante.
Dante looked at him, wanting nothing more than to believe him. He wanted to believe that the rejection had all been a big, fat lie, rather than the moment Dante’s life gave a complete turn.
He hesitated. “Don’t play with me, Ari.”
“I’m not,” Ari said in earnest.
And then he took Dante by the shoulders. His hands were strong and yet soft, so soft. He looked at him intently, with a deeper, unhidden emotion. “You said I wasn’t scared of anything. That’s not true. You. That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of you, Dante.” He took a deep breath. “Try it again. Kiss me.”
Dante’s heart was racing. It was going to explode. Me? You’re scared of me? Of what I make you feel? What do I make you feel?
“No,” Dante said when he found his voice.
“Kiss me.” Ari was determined and suddenly as stubborn as Dante.
“No.” Dante smiled slowly. If you want it that bad, make the first move, Ari. “You kiss me.”
Ari placed his hand on the back of Dante’s neck and pulled him toward him. The first kiss was tentative, gentle, and sweet. Dante was holding off, waiting for that inevitable moment when Ari would pull away and tell him yet again that this wasn’t what he wanted. That they were just friends. But then Ari kissed him again, with a new fierceness. His other hand settled on Dante’s waist, and Dante surrendered himself to him. He wrapped his hands around Ari’s firm shoulders and kissed him back. Ari’s lips against his were so passionate and honest and warm. Dante didn’t think kissing could ever feel this good. And he had done his fair share of kissing already.
Ari was breathless, but he did not break away. Dante smiled against his lips at the little gasps that escaped him. That determination Ari was feeling was apparently to give Dante the kiss of his life. Ari’s tongue traced Dante’s lips, and it induced a moan that ignited a fire in Ari.
Dante laughed. He pulled away first, needing to breathe. As much fun as Ari’s lips were, he was still only human. But it was okay because Ari was laughing too. He was beaming. Dante had never seen Ari so desperately happy.
“I thought you didn’t like kissing boys,” Dante muttered, leaning his forehead against Ari’s. He could still taste him, could still feel his breath against his cheek.
Ari smiled. “I like kissing you,” he whispered.
“I’m a boy.”
“You’re my boy.”
He wasn’t sure what that implied, but Dante liked the sound of it. “Through all of youth I was looking for you without knowing what I was looking for,” Dante whispered.
“Huh?”
Dante smiled. “It’s a quote by W. S. Merwin. It makes me think of you.”
Ari got serious then. “Do you think of me a lot?”
“A lot,” Dante confessed.
“I think of you too,” Ari said. Dante would have to get used to Ari saying exactly what he was thinking. It was different. Good different. “You are always in my dreams.”
“I know,” Dante said softly.
“You know?”
Dante lifted his head, loosening his hold. His hands lowered to Ari’s waist, and he held him there. “Last year, when you got sick and I came over to sketch you, I heard you calling my name. I thought you were awake, but then you started tossing and turning. You sounded scared.”
“I didn’t know,” Ari said, looking embarrassed. “I wanted to tell you, but my dreams are always disturbing.”
“Disturbing?”
“I’m always searching for you,” Ari said quickly. “And I never find you. And when I’m not searching for you, I’m watching you cry over dead birds or Richie Valens. And then I had this dream where I would run over you with my truck. And it killed me to even think of that.”
“You ran over me with your truck?” Dante asked, gripping his hands on Ari’s waist.
“I’m sorry, Dante. I would never do that. You know I would never do that.”
Dante laughed. It was effortless. “Ari, calm down. It was a dream. You can’t blame yourself for a dream.”
Ari nodded before kissing him again. The rush was gone, and now all that remained was tenderness. Ari kissed him like he had just discovered the marvelous taste of chocolate in Dante’s mouth. And Dante couldn’t stop smiling.
When they walked over to the bed of Ari’s truck, Dante gazed up at the many stars lighting up the night. If he concentrated, he could make the sound of thunder. But it wasn’t coming. Tonight, it wouldn’t rain.
“I wished it rain,” Dante said, sitting down.
Ari sat beside him, leaving no space between them. “I don’t need the rain,” he said. “I need you.”
Dante looked at him, and there was so much affection in Ari’s eyes that it was hard to look away. He was paralyzed.
“Turn around,” Dante said. “I want to do something.”
Ari smiled easily. He had that playful look in his face. “Can I stop you?”
“Do you want to stop me?”
“No.” Ari turned around. “I’m all yours.”
Dante laughed and then his hands were on Ari’s back, trembling. Ari’s torso moved peacefully with his breathing. Dante moved his hands lower, pulling Ari’s shirt all the way up. “Is this okay?” he asked nervously.
“We went over this,” Ari said with amusement.
“Just making sure.” Dante touched Ari’s bare chest, the muscles that he’d built for himself. His skin was that beautiful color of hazelnut. And then, Dante traced his name on Ari’s back.
“Dante,” Ari muttered.
“That’s right,” Dante said. “That’s my pact to you. I’ll always have your back, Ari.”
Ari turned around and took Dante’s hands in his. Dante didn’t expect it when Ari kissed them. “Turn around.”
Dante held his breath as he turned on the bed of the truck. Ari pulled up his shirt slowly and teasingly, and then Dante felt the press of his lips, trailing horizontally across his back. “Ari…”
Ari kissed him one last time before Dante felt his index finger on his back. He traced his own name. His full name: Aristotle. Dante smiled. His face was going to eventually hurt from all that smiling.
When Dante turned around, he decided to kiss Ari first. And then they were both lying on the bed of the truck, stargazing. It was quiet and desolate out in the desert, but it wasn’t lonely. Not tonight.
And then Ari held his hand.
“When did you know?” Dante asked.
“That I love you?” Ari said.
Dante closed his eyes for a moment. He never thought he’d get to hear those words from his best friend. His Ari.
“It was my parents,” Ari said. “They helped me come to terms with what I was feeling. With what I’ve always felt. Since that moment at the swimming pool.”
“I love you, Ari,” Dante said. It was like a huge weight being lifted off his shoulders. And he wondered if Ari would be burdened by that weight now that Dante had passed it on. But Ari was gazing at him now, not at the stars. And something in his face let Dante know that he was okay with this moment. With everything that it meant.