know the feeling of desperation—the need to rush it, because the time between not being okay and being okay feels like an endless void of…”
“Nothing,” Lorenzo whispered. Wilder couldn’t hear the word, but he saw it on his lips, in the movement of his tongue as it briefly pressed between his teeth.
“But it isn’t nothing.” When Lorenzo didn’t look up, Wilder touched his chin with his fingers and drew his gaze until their eyes locked. “I like you,” he said again. This time, it was an offering—one he had told himself not to make, but he couldn’t hold back. He wanted Lorenzo to know the choice was there, that Wilder wanted more, but he was willing to take whatever Lorenzo felt safe giving him. “I like you,” he repeated, willing Lorenzo to understand.
And, after a moment, he did. Lorenzo’s eyes softened, and his nostrils went wide with a heavy breath. “Oh.”
“It doesn’t mean…”
But his words died when Lorenzo shifted as close as he could and reached with his other hand—damp from the water—pressing it to the side of Wilder’s neck. “You’ve been through a lot.”
“Yes. And I’m…I have to take it slow. I haven’t been with anyone since my ex. I haven’t wanted to be, until I met you.”
Lorenzo’s cheeks went dusky with a very faint blush, his eyes darting back and forth like pieces of him couldn’t sit still, even though his grip on Wilder was painfully tight. “That’s a lot.”
“I know,” Wilder said. He bowed his head. “I know, and it doesn’t have to mean anything. Just friendship with you is enough, if that’s what you need.”
Lorenzo swallowed thickly, then cleared his throat. “I don’t want your friendship.” Wilder winced, reeling back like he’d been slapped, but before he could stand up, Lorenzo detached his hand from where they were tangled together and bracketed Wilder’s head, thumbs near his temple in a hold so gentle, he could barely feel it. “I mean, I do, but I also want so much more, and I don’t know how to deserve you.” His voice dropped again so low, Wilder had to strain to hear it, to read what he missed on his lips. “All I have to give is myself, and I’m not sure that’ll ever be enough.”
Wilder felt those words rip through him—so much to unpack, so much he wanted to undo. He wanted Lorenzo to feel his own worth, but at the same time, some people needed to be loved anyway—even when they couldn’t love themselves.
And he could do that.
Given time, he could do that.
Closing his hands around Lorenzo’s wrists, he held him tight. “I can think of a thousand ways you’ve already come to matter to me, just by being you.”
Lorenzo’s eyes closed, and his breath shook. “I really want to kiss you.”
And god—god—Wilder wanted that too. He needed it. The first kiss he’d share in so many years, he’d forgotten what it was like to want to feel someone’s lips on his. He didn’t know how to open himself up to it anymore, but things felt easier, suddenly, when Lorenzo took the lead. His hands moved to cup Wilder’s cheeks, and his left thumb brushed over his lower lip.
“Slow,” he said, and Wilder knew he meant more than the kiss—and that was everything.
“Slow.” The word fell from his lips before Lorenzo closed the distance between them, and their mouths brushed. It was more breath than anything, the press so gentle he wasn’t sure it happened until Lorenzo surged forward again. And then again—harder, with a swipe of tongue that made Wilder gasp. He opened to it then, pushing his body into Lorenzo’s, letting him invade his mouth in careful sweeps, like he was trying to taste the essence of him.
He was so gone. He groaned and clawed his nails into Lorenzo’s wrists where he held on for dear life, and his heart thudded so hard, it drowned out what little he could hear.
He thought for a moment he could lose himself entirely in this kiss, and then Lorenzo’s entire body stiffened, and he let out a pained, agonizing groan and wrenched back. “I can’t,” he gasped.
For a moment, Wilder panicked, like maybe the whole thing was too much, or maybe he went too far. Then he saw Lorenzo cupping his hand over his crotch, saw his face drawn and pale, and he realized why. “Oh god, your balls.”
There was a man standing to the left that burst into laughter, and Lorenzo groaned louder as he buried his