But there was this guy named Justin, and it seemed Wes didn’t have a choice in the matter, because he was already on the way.
He led Justin to the front of the park as the hour mark neared. It was dark now, the city lit by streetlamps and the glowing windows of old buildings, and the Eiffel Tower was a dark mass looming above them, shadow against midnight ink. He thought of black swans, and Justin’s heat beside him, and his hand in the dark, so close Wes could feel the charge dancing between the backs of their palms.
When the tower lit up, it was as if every star in the sky had fallen in the same spot, winking and dancing for the crowd. Cheers rose around them, gasps of awe, applause. Justin, too, gasped, his eyes so full of joy that Wes’s heart ached. Justin smiled—not the smirk, not the playful giggle, but a beaming grin.
In your whole life, there will never be a moment like this again.
Beneath the twinkling Eiffel Tower, in the dark Champ de Mars, Wes stepped forward and cupped his hand around Justin’s cheek, and then stroked his football-calloused thumb over Justin’s sharp jawline.
Justin’s gaze flicked to his. Wes leaned in, eyes open, until their lips were millimeters apart.
Wes waited, counting his breaths. He kept his eyes open. He wanted to see everything: the lights playing over Justin’s skin, dancing in the glow of his eyes, falling into the strands of his hair, wild from their all-day sightseeing jaunt around the city. He wanted to see what Justin looked like when their lips met, if his eyes would go wide or if he would smile. Wanted to see, somehow, the lightning they’d created between them arc from his lips to Justin’s.
Wes felt Justin’s breath hitch, and then he felt Justin’s fingertips brush his cheek, the tiniest fragile touch. A warm glancing wind across his sunburned face. A butterfly landing on his arm. A falling star winking overhead.
“Wes,” Justin whispered. They were so close, bodies aligned, Justin seeming to fit into all the nooks and crannies of Wes’s oversized frame. All week, Wes had dreamed of how they’d fit together. How their elbows and hip bones and chests would align.
Perfectly. They fit together perfectly. Like drawing Justin close was something he was meant to do.
“Wes,” Justin breathed again. The corners of his eyes crinkled. A single frown line appeared between his eyebrows. “Are you…”
Wes nodded. “I’ve never told anyone. Ever.”
Justin stared, really stared, at him, like he was digging for all of Wes’s secrets. Wes let him look, stood and bared himself as he breathed in Justin’s smell and rubbed his thumb up and down his jawline, over the hint of stubble just starting to appear.
Panic he’d tamped down rose again. Justin hadn’t kissed him. Was he wrong? He stiffened and started to pull away. Dropped his eyes to stare at the dirt, at the trampled edges of the grass, the bottle caps dug into the ground. What had he done? He’d made a terrible mistake.
Justin grabbed his face with both hands and dragged him up to press their foreheads together. Wes’s hat tipped back and fell to the ground. He let it go, grabbing Justin’s hip and sliding his hands into Justin’s hair, the short, shaved strands at the back of his neck.
“Is this really happening?” Justin whispered.
“I hope so.” His voice trembled.
Justin’s exhale was hot on his cheek, a short bark of shaking air. His eyes were huge, ringed with desire and, inexplicably, fear. Wes ran his hand down Justin’s back, pulling him closer. “You’re afraid?”
“A little, yeah.”
“Of me?”
Justin bit his lip so hard Wes saw the red skin turn white around the divots he created. “I never get what I want,” he murmured. “This isn’t real. This is a dream. I’m going to wake up and you’re getting ready to go on a run, you’re tiptoeing around the room, you’re putting your earbuds in—”
Wes kissed Justin, pressed their lips together, cut off Justin’s breathless ramble. He tasted cherry ChapStick and felt the slide of Justin’s slick, soft lips against his own dry, rough pair. Did Justin wish he was softer, that his lips were gentler—
Groaning, Justin hurled himself into Wes’s arms. Wrapped his arms around Wes’s head, cradled him in the crooks of his elbows, hooked one knee around the solidity of Wes’s thigh. He kissed Wes as if he’d wanted to kiss him from the moment they’d met, the