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Summary
Richard watched as Francis rowed, biceps straining through his white button up, biting his lip. Richard suddenly felt unwell.
“God, Richard, you look green.” Francis ran a hand through his unruly hair after he set the paddles to rest. “What’s wrong?”
All Richard could think about was the last time the two of them had been out on this boat alone. The way Francis’ hand had felt against his cheek. Richard had left feeling even more confused than he had been before, but telling himself he should be relieved. He wasn’t into Francis; effeminate, charming, queer Francis. And so there should be no more considerations otherwise.
“Nothing.” Richard averted his eyes from the other man’s face and laid back against the wood bottom of the rowboat. “Nothing at all.” He stared at the sky, the water around him sloshing calmly against the sides of the boat.
OR, Richard & Francis have yet another conversation in a rowboat. This time it goes quite differently.