“I think,” he announced, “that the father of the bride and the mother of the groom should have a little private time.” Let them think that he and Rosa were talking about the intricacies of their respective families, or the logistics of the ceremony. Let them think they had to discuss the seating arrangements, or how to handle Annette when, and if, she showed up. “Rosa, can I show you the beach?”
Sam
At just after seven a.m., Sam parked his car on the cul-de-sac in front of his mother’s house so he wouldn’t crunch down the driveway and wake the house. He walked to the front door, beneath a gorgeous early-morning sky. He felt like he was floating, like he’d inhaled helium and moonbeams, and a puff of wind would send him soaring.
He’d left Anthony with his car, in a public lot in the West End at five in the morning, with the sky just starting to get lighter. “Can I have your number?” Sam had asked.
Anthony looked a little shamefaced. “I’m on Grindr,” he said. “I haven’t used it in a few years, but that would probably be the best way to keep in touch right now.”
Sam must have looked dubious, because Anthony said, “I promise, I’m not lying, and I’m not cheating on anyone. It’s just, with my phone…” He cleared his throat. “I’m on my girlfriend’s family’s plan. I don’t know if that means she can see my texts or anything, but better safe than sorry, right?”
Anthony gave Sam his username, which was ZiggyStardust01, and grinned at SamIAm. “I’ll message you tomorrow,” Sam said.
“Got it. Okay.” He gave Sam another meltingly tender smile and stood on his tiptoes to kiss him. “I’ll see you soon.”
Sam kissed him one last time, and closed the car door, watching Anthony’s taillights getting smaller and smaller, until they were twinkling red dots in the dawn. He walked back into town as the sun rose, turning the sky from pale gray to gold. Then, because he was already awake, he went to the Portuguese bakery, which opened at five a.m., and got a brown paper bag full of fresh malasadas. Finally, so full of joy that he wanted to shout it to everyone in the world, he drove home.
He slipped through the front door, easing the screen door shut behind him. In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth, even though he was tempted to keep the taste of Anthony’s mouth on his lips and tongue. He could hear the sound of footsteps over his head and the low murmur of voices. Maybe his sister, or Eli, he thought, or Ruby and her intended, getting an early start to the day.
He turned on the shower, got out of his clothes, and spent a long time under the hot water. His neck and lips felt tender; his face felt flushed. He couldn’t stop thinking about Anthony—the warm velvet of his skin, the sound of his voice, how his hair had felt between Sam’s fingers. Once he was wrapped in a towel, his cheeks still stretched and aching from smiling, he couldn’t help himself. He wiped condensation off his phone’s screen and opened Grindr.
He found Anthony’s profile quickly enough and smiled again when he saw that Anthony had used a David Bowie album cover instead of his own face or body. The green dot by his name was glowing, which meant that he was online.
Sam looked at his profile, then wiped the screen down again and peered at it more closely. There was the name that Anthony had given Sam, and the picture—dark curls, dark eyes, the flash of a white smile—was unquestionably him. Except the location feature must have been broken, or confused. It said that Anthony was in Truro. Massachusetts. 02666. Less than fifty feet away from where Sam was standing.
Sam stared, feeling his mouth drop open, his wet hair uncombed and dripping on his forehead. Fragments of the previous night’s conversation were coming back to him; tumbling into his brain.
In town for a week.
Just broke up with someone.
My girlfriend knows I’m bi.
Things had been moving really fast. She’s probably just as relieved as I am.
He didn’t want to believe it, but Anthony was the right age, in town for the right length of time, and, worst of all, in the right location—namely, less than ten yards away from Sam.
Sam put down the phone. Picked it up. Put it down. Picked it up again and tapped out a message to Anthony.
GO DOWN TO THE BEACH AND WAIT FOR ME, he typed. Then, just in case, IT’S SAM.
A minute later, the reply came. WHICH BEACH? WHERE ARE YOU?
CURRENTLY I AM ONE FLOOR BELOW YOU, Sam typed. GO DOWN THE BEACH STAIRS AT THE BACK OF THE HOUSE. WAIT FOR ME THERE. WE NEED TO TALK.
Bubbles indicated that Anthony—no, not Anthony, Gabe, as in Ruby’s fiancé, Gabe—was typing. OKAY.