all-violence-is-bad sort of way, but they never acknowledged that it was a hate crime, which I thought was fucked up. But some of the kids at my middle school agreed with the attack and made jokes about it. Even after Kentucky was forced to allow gay marriage, that terrible homophobe county clerk, whose name I would never give the notoriety of saying aloud, refused to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples. We went to this megachurch every Sunday that always had these sermons that were nothing but veiled homophobia. That’s my home, Pierce.”
“Love—”
“Fuck, I got out of high school in three years, but I wish it’d been two. I feel so accepted here. To be in a city with a real pride parade, and gay bars—have you seen all the pride flags in Soho? It’s incredible.”
He slows to a stop. We’re stuck in traffic as a dump truck blocks all lanes. I see hands fly up in car windows in front of me. He places his hand on my leg, which ignites, sending waves of passion up my body.
I brush my fingers across his hands, taking in their heat. He leans in, halfway. I turn and look into his eyes, deep and light and perfect. Everything about him is perfect, even if it’s not—like how his hair’s grown out a bit, and it’s a bit fuzzy on the sides, and how his beard looks patchy when grown out this much. And none of these are negatives.
I’m drawn to him, magnetically. His breath hits my face. The sides of our noses touch. The secret to time manipulation is somewhere in his hooked nose, chin dimple, and that accent. I’m suspended in time and space while reality bends to bring us closer together.
His hand slides farther up my leg, and I shiver at the touch. His lips are so close to mine, but neither of us goes in for the kill. I know what it’d do. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t stop. His hands press higher, bunching up my shorts and pressing into new parts of my body, never explored by others.
I hesitate above his lips, knowing there’d be no limit he couldn’t push, no boundary I wouldn’t jump right now. His hand massages me, and I gasp.
And the driver behind us brings me back into the present by laying on their horn.
I jump back, and see an open road in front of me.
My cheeks flush hot as Pierce hisses with laughter.
“Didn’t even hear the truck go by,” he says with a wink.
“The guy in the car behind us totally saw us.” I shake my head, smile plastered on my face, but I’m still too embarrassed to function.
“Mm. He didn’t see everything.”
A few turns later, he points out the window. “Recognize that?”
We come up on a drawbridge. Two large castle spires stick out of the river, connected by a bright blue bridge and lines. It’s massive, and people are crawling all over the lower bridge like ants. I’ve seen this in every London-based movie.
“Wow,” I say. “London Bridge.”
A groan escapes his lips, and as I turn he shakes his head vehemently. “You’re one of those tourists, aren’t you? I thought you looked things up?”
I fold my arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That’s Tower Bridge. Which leads to the Tower of London. London Bridge is a piece of crap compared to this.”
“Fine,” I say, fully aware my ears and face are burning bright red. “I didn’t look everything up.”
“Hey, I’m just glad I could teach you something.” He puts his hand behind my neck and squeezes, relieving some of the tension that’s stuck there.
Everything’s emotional whiplash with him. I’m sad, he makes me happy. I’m at peace, he makes me frustrated. I’m stressed, he makes me calm. Well, for a couple of seconds, until I’m back where I started, freaking out about the next thing.
We spend the next half hour in more-or-less silence, commenting about the weather or the very British things we’re passing. Pub after pub, high street after high street. The city’s a beast, but it’s more manageable with him by my side.
“Sorry for ranting so much, back there.”
“Most I’ve heard you talk,” he says. “I like it when you ramble, if I’m honest.”
I nod. Stare straight ahead.
“And I’m sorry you’ve felt so out of place your whole life. No one deserves to go through that.”
How long does it take to fall in love with someone—hours, days, years? It barely seems valid, these feelings that control my body and swim