Chapter 22 #2
We pack into Luke’s truck, and then he drives toward the freeway.
I have no clue where our destination is for the first forty minutes of our trip, but the further south we move, the more congested it gets.
The lush green fields and trees of the country slowly thin out until it feels like we’ve slipped into a different world.
Luke passes through every major city I would have expected him to stop at, the myriad options my brain can think of dwindling until only one remains. Then, it becomes clear that he has a bigger goal in mind.
“We’re going downtown?” I ask curiously, but my heart gives a little jolt.
“We are.” Luke grins.
My return smile feels a little strained, and I turn to stare out the window so Luke can’t tell I’m suddenly nervous.
“Are you okay?” he asks with concern anyway, and I wince. Clearly, I wasn’t as subtle as I had hoped.
I give him a sheepish look. “I haven’t been to Detroit in years.”
“Really?” Luke seems genuinely shocked. “Not at all? No concerts? Sports games? Nothing?”
I shrug. “Big cities kind of freak me out.”
“Seriously?” Luke frowns, his confidence waning, and I realize that what I’ve just admitted sounds terrible, considering he’s planning on spending the whole day in one.
“It’s not a big deal,” I clarify quickly. “I don’t hyperventilate or anything. I only get a little anxious. The parking situation is weird and complicated, traffic is usually insane, and I’m always afraid I’ll get lost. Big crowds make me nervous, so I generally avoid them altogether.”
Luke nods thoughtfully. “Okay. Good to know. If it helps, I know exactly where we’re going, so you can just sit back and relax. Do you trust me?”
“I do.” I can’t help but smile to know I mean it.
Luke smirks. “Good. But please let me know if you’re really not okay, all right? I don’t want to put you in a situation where you’re uncomfortable. We can turn around and go home if it’s too much, and it won’t upset me. Promise?”
A warm feeling spreads out from my chest that I couldn’t squash down even if I tried.
Luke looks me in the eye, and I can tell he’s being completely serious.
He would cancel this entire thing if I told him I was truly upset, no questions asked.
I think it’s the first time anyone has prioritized my comfort level over anything else.
Normally, I’ve operated under the unspoken assumption that I was just supposed to bite down my discomfort and deal with it like a man, whatever the hell that means.
And for as much as I like to think I’m aware of the unfair expectations put on men to be tough and not complain about their emotional states, I’m clearly still conditioned to follow suit.
But seeing how Luke smashes right through that expectation, actively caring about my emotional well-being enough to make it a priority, sends me over the edge. Internally, I’m screaming. Outwardly, I just smile and nod.
Luke’s answering grin is enough to kill me.
When the city's modest skyline peaks out on the horizon, the distinct shape of the Renaissance Center is the first thing to catch my eye.
Detroit isn't the kind of city with a vista full of skyscrapers, though there are a lot of tall, older buildings that I recognize but could never name. And yet, those not-so-tall buildings seem massive when you’re right next to them.
I instantly lose all sense of direction when Luke pulls off the freeway and starts driving through the city.
The traffic is nuts, but he weaves in and out of the lanes of cars like a pro.
My heart drops to the floor more than once as I think we’re about to get into an accident, but Luke never loses his cool confidence.
He honks his horn at the people he thinks could be going faster and takes turns down one-way streets without hyper-analyzing if he’s going the right way.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d been living here for the last ten years.
He finds a twenty-four-hour parking garage in the heart of the city and squeezes the truck into the first available spot, then we start walking.
Again, Luke leads the way, twisting and turning through the streets like he knows them by heart.
Maybe he memorized a map before we got here just to impress me.
It’s working. But he’s got longer legs than I do, and a gait that clearly screams ‘New York City’ with how fast he’s going.
I almost have to jog to keep up until he forces himself to slow down when he notices that the pace is too much for me.
I’m still not used to being the short one in the relationship.
We walk for about ten minutes before we arrive at our destination, and I stare up the steps of the big white brick building and its arched windows with shock.
“The DIA?” I ask, unable to hide my delighted surprise.
“It’s only our first stop,” Luke says with a pleased grin. “But I thought we could use a little art and culture to start our day. Have you ever been?”
“Once or twice when I was younger.” I shrug, smiling. “I came on a school field trip with my dad.”
It was one of the best field trips I’d ever been on because my dad came along as one of the chaperones.
While the rest of the class meandered ahead following a school-sanctioned guided tour, he took the opportunity to give me one of his own.
The Detroit Institute of Arts was one of his favorite museums, and he showed it off to me with such pride that I couldn’t help but feel awe-inspired about it, even at thirteen years old.
As Luke and I walk into the building, I’m hit with a wave of nostalgia. With every piece we come across that I remember, I’m greeted with an image of my dad’s passionate history lessons and the way his whole face lit up at the chance to teach me.
I can’t help myself as I tell Luke about that trip and everything that comes up from the depths of my memory, the words babbling out of me like a stream.
It all comes flooding back—things I didn’t think I could recall after all these years.
To his credit, Luke listens patiently, considering the art intently as I talk.
He follows me without complaint as I zig-zag through the exhibits, searching for specific artworks I can remember, if they’re still on display.
At a certain point, I feel like I’ve taken over the entire conversation with this reminiscent nonsense, and I realize I’m messing up what is supposed to be a date of new memories with Luke.
I can only imagine he’s bored out of his mind, politely indulging me.
When I apologize and offer to stop talking, Luke looks at me with confusion.
“Why would I want you to stop? This is fascinating,” he says seriously.
“Really?” I frown. “I feel like I’m talking about my dad too much.”
“Please do! I like hearing about him. It’s like I was right there with you.” Luke smiles. “Your dad sounds amazing. I wish I could have met him.”
I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “He would have really liked you.”
“You think so?” Luke grins. “The devilishly handsome titan who awakened his only son’s latent homosexual tendencies? I’m every parent’s dream.”
I snort. “He’d have liked you for those reasons, especially.”
“Seriously?” Luke arches his brows in genuine shock.
“Apparently, my parents had a running bet about whether or not I was gay.”
Luke laughs a little too loudly for the quiet museum setting and has to cover his mouth with his hand. He offers silent apologies to the museum-goers shooting him dirty looks and then turns back to me with a smile.
“So, your mom knows?” he asks. “Does she know about us?”
I nod sheepishly. “She’s the first person I told. That’s how I found out that little tidbit. But I know he would have been fine with this anyway, because that’s just the kind of person he was.”
“You’re lucky.”
I grin, but I can feel my smile slowly sink into a frown as I think about how unlucky I really am.
It isn’t fair that Luke will never get the chance to meet my dad, and the thought of that saddens me.
The pain of losing him was sharper than anything I had ever experienced, but the residual effect of seeing everything he’s missing out on continues to sting just as much.
Suddenly, Luke entwines his fingers through mine, and I glance up to see his soft smile. With that look, I know he understands everything I haven’t said, and I have to remember he lost his real dad, too. My chest suddenly goes tight.
“Is this okay?” Luke asks, his thumb brushing over mine.
“What do you mean?” I squeeze his hand in return.
Luke shrugs, gesturing toward our interlaced fingers. “I’m not sure what you’re comfortable with in public… I don’t want to overstep.”
Oh, my heart.
Glancing at our clasped hands, I realize that this is the first time Luke has touched me since we got out of the car, and I didn’t even notice, too busy babbling on.
He’s been holding himself back on purpose, following my request to be discreet without knowing where to draw the line.
Now, he’s second-guessing what comes naturally to him, something as simple as wanting to hold my hand to comfort me, and it’s entirely my fault.
This wasn’t my intention when I asked to keep things quiet, and it hurts to think he’s trying so hard to respect my boundaries by denying a part of himself.
I don’t want that. Luke should get to feel comfortable reaching out without fear of upsetting me.
The truth is, I don’t care what anyone might think looking at the two of us.
I’m not bothered by the opinions of idiots, and if anyone wants to be cruel toward us because we’re two men holding hands or kissing, I’ll gladly handle it.
But then, my hesitation has never stemmed from being seen in a same-sex relationship. It’s entirely selfish. A mental hangup with my personal relationships…
However, I don’t like the idea of Luke suffering when it’s not his issue.