Home Again (Finding You Book 1) Page 10

  "David, would you mind driving back?" If I was going to be in a car with David, I wanted to be able to look out of the window and think. Maybe I’d build enough courage to ask him what I needed to know.

  "And drive the old classic? You bet I don’t mind," David said, pulling his keychain out of his pocket.

  We drove back almost the same way I’d come, but at some point, I must have been distracted while looking out of the window because suddenly I realized we were at a beach. Not just any beach, though. We were at Fonte da Telha, our beach, the place we’d spent so much time as teenagers and the backdrop of our first kiss.

  I couldn’t utter a single word when I looked at David, my mouth opening and closing as if I were a fish. David chuckled and said, "Come on, Nemo, we need to talk, and I’m hungry. There’s a snack bar here that does the best bifana you’ll ever have."

  At that prospect, I got out of the car quickly, my mouth watering. It had been years since I had the Portuguese specialty that was a pork steak sandwich.

  David paid for our sandwiches and cold drinks, and we brought them back to the car. We were parked under the shade of a tree, so with the top of the car down, it was the perfect way to enjoy our lunch. It had been a long morning, so we ate in silence, just watching the lulling of the waves on the sand.

  "I’m sorry," I said, breaking the silence.

  "What? What are you sorry for?" he asked.

  "For making a move on you, for weirding out afterward. I...um... when you sucked my finger... I thought..." Jesus, it was like I lost the ability for coherent speech. "I’m sorry I left so quickly. We should have talked about it, but I guess I felt..." My voice trailed off and my sentence went unfinished. I was looking ahead at the ocean, lacking the courage to look at David. How could I say I felt rejected by him and it had hurt more than I thought it should?

  "Joel, look at me," he said, putting his warm hand on my forearm. "We are consenting adults. It happened, and it doesn’t have to be a big deal, but I am sorry I stopped it, and I am sorry I said I didn’t mean to kiss you." He said it in such a relaxed manner as though it really wasn’t a big deal that we kissed. Maybe it hadn’t affected him in the same way as it had me. I could feel the disappointment building in the pit of my stomach.

  "Oh...okay...yeah, no big deal," I muttered.

  I could have left the conversation there, but I needed to know if he was gay. I don’t know why that made a difference to me, lots of guys experimented with other guys, but David was different. Or maybe my feelings toward him were different because of who he was. Gathering the necessary courage, I looked out of the window toward the people walking past and asked, "Are you gay?"

  I must have been too quiet because David asked me to repeat the question. Looking back at him but closing my eyes as I spoke, I asked once more, "David, are you gay?"

  David sighed and let out a big breath. Hell, what did that mean?

  "I am," he said, looking out toward the ocean.

  "But you’re not out," I said, phrasing it as a statement more than a question.

  "No. No, I’m not," David said with finality, and because I was a sucker for punishment, I had to push through for more.

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "Some of us can’t afford to be out as gay, play house, and live our happy lives as if it’s all okay," David said with some anger mixed with a hint of sadness. I wasn’t sure if I should press for more, but I wanted to let him know it was okay to feel whatever he was feeling. I wanted him to know he could open up to me if and whenever he was ready.

  I turned my body to him and held his face, one hand on each cheek. I hoped to convey my feelings without having to use words because I wasn’t sure I knew what to say. He was crying when he looked up at me. His dark brown eyes were shiny with tears, and he looked exhausted. No, he looked defeated, and I didn’t know what to do.

  "David."

  He leaned closer, so close I could feel his breath ghosting across my skin and his mouth was mere inches from mine. Without closing his eyes or breaking eye contact, he kissed me. Even though I was the one holding him, he planted a soft kiss, and then another one, and then he kissed the corner of my mouth, his eyes still on mine. As my lips parted, I let out a moan, and I felt his tongue across my upper lip. I closed my eyes, letting go and leaning into David, deepening the kiss, tasting the salt of his tears. His hands gripped my shirt to keep me close. Fuck, I needed to stop this, or I’d be coming in my pants very soon.

  I pulled out of the kiss breathless, our foreheads touching, and my eyes still closed. "Do you want to tell me?"

  David leaned back into his seat, let out a tired breath, and started talking. I held his hand and rubbed circles on his wrist in soothing encouragement.

  "My friend Isaac came out to his parents when he was seventeen. I remember him telling me he was going to do it. He got along with his parents so well that he was sure they would be okay with it. They weren’t. In fact, they kicked him out of the house that same night. He came to stay with me. He was so upset. His world had shattered because the parents he was so sure loved him unconditionally had just basically decided he wasn't their son anymore just because he liked boys." David stopped for a moment as though he was considering what to say next, so I nodded for him to continue.

  "He was telling me what had happened when my uncle came to the apartment. He used to have the keys to check up on me when I was younger, but I was eighteen then. He found us sitting together on the sofa. I was comforting Isaac, but my uncle thought it was something else and lost it."

  "David, what’s going on?" Uncle Mário had shouted, his face beet red with anger.

  Isaac jumped back and landed on the other end of the sofa.

  "Uncle Mário, it’s not—" I tried to explain but was interrupted.

  "Shut up! Is this what you do to your family, you little faggot? We look after you, and you behave in this way? What will your aunt think?"

  I’d never seen my uncle display such an extreme reaction, and it scared me. I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t hurt me such was the extent of his rage.

  "And you," he’d said turning to Isaac, "You leave this house and do not come back, or I will make you regret it." He grabbed hold of Isaac by the shirt and dragged him out the door.

  “I was in shock, unable to react. I was afraid my uncle would become violent, and the last thing I wanted was to provoke him into action."

  I couldn’t believe what David was telling me. I didn’t remember much of Mário other than he was always at the café and seemed like a nice man. He used to sneak us treats when we were kids. I didn’t recognize this version of the same man, but then I remembered the feeling in my gut when I met him that first night at the café during the family dinner.

  "I was only eighteen, and while I was self-sufficient at home, I didn’t have any life experience. I’d never even had a boyfriend," David explained. “My uncle said it would break my aunt’s heart if she found out about it. I didn’t want to believe him, but after his reaction that evening, I wasn’t sure my aunt wouldn’t be the same. I couldn’t even lie and say it was a misunderstanding because while nothing had happened with Isaac and we were just friends, the truth was that I was gay. I didn’t confirm it, but I also didn’t want to lie.”

  “You don’t have to justify it. My parents and my family accepted me, but I am not immune to homophobia, and I have some friends whose parents weren’t as accepting.” I couldn’t know how it felt to be in his shoes, but I wanted him to share this burden he’d been carrying for so long. “What happened to Isaac?”

  “I spent the whole week looking for him. He’d left his parents’ with very little, and my uncle didn’t let him grab his stuff before throwing him out of my apartment. I tried to chase after him but couldn’t find him. His brother was going crazy, looking everywhere he could think of as well.” David looked upset as he recounted the events, but I let him do it without interruption.

  “That first night, he didn’t know what to do, so he went to
the bus station hoping to feel safer with people around. He ended up being punched by a man who wanted Isaac to blow him and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I went to the bus station the next day, but as it turned out, I missed him by hours. I found him a week later in the field near our school. There was an old bus shelter that wasn’t in use anymore, and that’s where he had been. He’d lived on scraps of food he’d found in supermarket trash containers. He’d tried to look for a job, but without any clean clothes or a chance to bathe, no one looked at him twice. I brought him home with me and made him stay until he got on his feet. I changed the locks to the apartment too.”

  “You are a good man, David. Not many people would have been that brave.”

  “I was a coward, still am. I’m afraid to tell my aunt, even though I think she will be okay with it. The fear that she might not be is stopping me from telling her.”

  “It’s okay. You’ll figure it out,” I said reassuringly. “I don’t think either of us should be alone tonight. What do you say we go back to your place and watch trash TV? Maybe even read more of the journal if you want?”

  “My place, huh?” he asked.

  Maybe it was wrong of me to invite myself over to his apartment, but his place felt more homely than mine. Tonight, we both needed to feel at home.

  “Yep, you have ingredients. Ingredients equal cake.” I grinned.

  David chuckled in disbelief but gave me a quick hug and got the car started.

  Chapter Thirteen

  David

  Leaving my bed this morning was hands down the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. Ask me to bake two hundred custard tarts and then a four-tier cake? Easy. Getting out of bed when Joel was in it? Hard. Although not as hard as I was right the fuck now, thinking of Joel lying there in boxer shorts and a T-shirt that was crumpled up, showing the outline of his perfect ass.

  Maybe it was good that I had to go to work today because had I not, I’m not sure I would have stopped myself from touching Joel like I wanted to.

  Now that Joel knew I was gay and we’d kissed again, it was like my mind had found permission to think of all the possible scenarios in which I wanted Joel. On me, under me, in me, around me, fuuuck!

  Yesterday when we came back from the beach, we went to my place, planning on watching a load of crap TV, eating cake, and working on the plans for our road trip. Joel had gone to his apartment to grab some sweatpants and a T-shirt while I’d been in charge of rustling up a cake.

  By the time Joel had come back, the cake was nearly ready to go in the oven, so he grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat at the kitchen table watching me work.

  “Wow, you work fast. What are you making?” he asked.

  “Thanks.” I smiled. “I’m used to doing it, I guess. I’m making a chocolate-and-vanilla marble cake.”

  “Can’t wait. When is it going to be ready?” Joel asked impatiently.

  “We had bifanas not that long ago. How are you still hungry?”

  “Who said I was hungry? It’s cake. There’s always room for cake. Besides, I need to test the quality of your baking. I hear it’s the best.”

  I felt my skin warm at the compliment.

  In the safety and comfort of the walls of my apartment, I was comfortable talking and even flirting with Joel. It felt good, natural, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t just because I was attracted to him. We were first and foremost friends, and the ease with which our relationship had worked when we were kids hadn’t disappeared in adulthood.

  For the rest of the day, we talked, drank beer, and finally caught up with the missing years. We also ate cake, and I found out that Joel was right. For him, there was always space for cake, and the proof was in the plate of crumbs that was still sitting in the sink when I left this morning.

  True to Joel’s suggestion, we weren’t alone last night. He slept in my bed right next to me, and I fell asleep fast and deep like I hadn’t in a long time. We hadn’t kissed again, but we held each other close.

  I usually slept on my side, facing the door, but this morning when I woke up and opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the ceiling and then felt a weight on me, warming me like a blanket.

  I’d looked down and saw Joel wrapped all around me, his head on my chest, his arm had come around my torso, trapped under me, and his legs snaked around mine. I felt his morning erection against my thigh while mine was trapped against his leg, and I’d wanted for nothing else but to pull him even closer, wake him up with kisses, and take care of our growing problem.

  Needing to get up to go to work was the only thing that was stopping me from giving in.

  I’d carefully disentangled myself from Joel, leaving him mumbling in his sleep—something about cake—and took care of myself with a quick shower. I left a note asking Joel to join me in the café later and left.

  It was almost ten in the morning when Joel came through the café doors, looking rested and having the biggest smile on his face. It suited him, being happy. His eyes were always a little bluer when he smiled.

  “Hey, bom dia, sleepyhead.” He looked around as if checking there was no one around. My heart warmed at the thought he was mindful of my secret. “It’s just me here. We had a quiet spell, so my aunt went out to run some errands. My uncle is closing, so he’ll be in at lunchtime. Have you had breakfast?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I went home for a shower and had something to eat too. Although I wouldn’t say no to a fresh custard tart, and I’m not even ashamed to ask for one.” He winked.

  God, this man was going to be the death of me.

  “Anyway, you left me a message asking to come here.”

  “Yes, thanks for coming. Are you busy today? I was hoping to recruit your help,” I said, hoping he’d say yes.

  “My help? Yes, of course. What can I do?” Joel sounded excited, and that made me feel much better about asking for his help. Truth be told, I was also looking forward to spending the day with him.

  I didn’t have any outstanding cake orders and no events, so my work for the day consisted of making five hundred custard tarts to freeze. I always preferred to bake them fresh each day, but there wasn’t much difference in the resulting product. This way, I could be away from the café without it having an impact on our primary product offering. With Joel’s help, I was hoping to be able to finish it all in time for us to go away tomorrow.

  As soon as my aunt came back from her errands, I took Joel into the kitchen and explained what I needed help with. He wouldn’t be required to do anything very complex, but measuring ingredients and cleaning stuff as we went along was vital to the speed of the process.

  We moved around with ease as we did our respective tasks, occasionally touching a hand or an arm while reaching out for something and smiling at each other. I felt relaxed and happy despite the heavy workload.

  My aunt came into the kitchen to grab something just as a new song played on the radio, so in one stealthy move, I caught her and made her dance with me.

  “David! Put me down,” she said with a shriek. “What’s come down with you?” She put her hand on my forehead as soon as I stopped twirling her around. Joel was leaning against the worktop, laughing at us.

  “Nothing, aunt, just happy to go on holiday tomorrow. It’s been a while since I’ve been away, and I’m in a good mood, I guess,” I said, giving her a big kiss on her cheek.

  “I’d give you a holiday every day to see you this happy.” She put her hands on my chest and looked up at me as though seeing me for the first time in a long time. “You boys have fun on your holiday, and don’t you worry about the café, okay? I’ve got it covered here.” She gave me one last hug before returning to the front of the café.

  We went back to work in silence for a while with only the noise of the radio in the background. The result of our work was all over the kitchen. There were bags of flour, sugar, cartons of eggs, and a variety of other ingredients on one end of the kitchen. On the other end, the trays with custard tarts ready to go in the fr
eezer were piling up high.

  Around two o’clock, we took a break. My arms needed as much rest as the pastry dough I put in the fridge. While I was there, I also took out what I needed to make us some sandwiches and asked Joel to get us a couple of sodas from the chillers out front.

  We were eating our lunch and discussing the route we would take tomorrow when my uncle walked into the kitchen. He looked at us, and I felt my back go rigid at the look on his face.

  “Good afternoon,” he said, greeting us, but I could hear the strain in his voice. He was trying not to show his disapproval at Joel’s presence in the kitchen. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Joel stood up to greet my uncle by offering his hand to shake. “Olá, Mário. I came to help David while he’s making the custard tarts. I’m not a baker, but I have mastered the scales and the art of cleaning.” I could see Joel was trying to deflect the situation by injecting some humor, but I knew it wouldn’t wash with my uncle. He just nodded, and without shaking Joel's hand, he went out front to start his shift.

  “I’m sorry.” Suddenly I lost my appetite, so I got up to carry on with the work. The earlier I finished it, the earlier I could go home and away from my uncle.

  “Hey,” Joel said, getting up to follow me, “I get it. It’s fine. Look, he’s a jerk, but he can’t deny we’re here doing hard work, so let's ignore him.” He grabbed the scales to start measuring the ingredients for my next batch of custard. “Just think, this time tomorrow we’ll be exploring Évora.”

  Joel was right. Living on the coast was great, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. Let’s face it. I got to run on the beach anytime I wanted. However, I had only been to the town of Évora once on a school trip, and there was one place I still remembered well, the Chapel of Bones. As creepy as it was, I wanted to take Joel there.

  Being further inland, Évora, the capital of the south-central Alentejo, also had a different climate. The temperatures were always much higher than in the rest of the country. I could imagine Joel and me chilling out in a taverna, cold beer in hand and not a custard tart in sight. That thought was like a fire lighting up inside me, and I got a renewed rush of energy.