Chapter 22 #3
Stepping forward, I reach up and cup the side of Luke’s face, pulling him down for a kiss. He smiles, looking into my eyes with a relief that pulls at my chest.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been insensitive at all,” I say softly. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hold back around me—like one wrong move will set me off. I’m not afraid to be seen with you, Luke. I want to be seen with you.”
Luke’s smile grows.
“I’m sorry if my not being out with my friends has made you unsure of yourself,” I murmur.
“Don’t worry about me.” Luke shakes his head. “I’ve already told you. You don’t need to rush telling anyone you’re not ready to tell. I’m fine with where you are.”
“Still…” I frown. “I want you to know I’m good with everything. I would only prefer to be more cautious at home until I’ve come out to everyone I need to. It’s such a small town, and everybody talks….”
“Believe me—” Luke snorts. “I have firsthand experience with that. You don’t even need to explain.”
My brows rise in shock as I remember that he really does have firsthand experience with the gossipmongers at home. I can’t believe I almost forgot about his public outing. It eases the worry in my chest to know he understands exactly where I’m coming from.
“But now that I know where you’re at, I can work with that.” Luke grins, leaning down to kiss me again, and my cheeks warm.
As we continue through the museum, it becomes clear almost immediately that Luke really was holding himself back around me.
Now that he knows I’m okay with the PDA, he can’t go more than five minutes without touching me in one way or another.
The space between us continually shrinks to nothing.
We walk hand in hand, our arms entwined, or his fingers will brush against the small of my back, my neck, my stomach.
He’ll stand behind me when we’re looking at art and drop his chin on my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my waist. It sends my heart aflutter to be the object of such attention.
At one point, we reach a section of marble statues lining the walls, and I stop to stare at the flawless stone, painstakingly carved to look near lifelike.
One, in particular, stands out to me. It’s of a naked man standing on a platform, though he’s missing his head and arms. The plaque reads ‘Torso of Apollo.’ It’s old, the stone weathered and discolored, but the lines of his chest and hips still stick out as the epitome of beauty in male form.
And yet, I can’t help but think that if this is supposed to be Apollo, the one professed to be the most handsome among the gods, he doesn’t even begin to hold a candle to Luke. I tell him as much, and he bursts out laughing.
“I think it might be a faux pas to compare someone to a literal god while standing in front of his statue.” Luke beams, unable to hide the blush that fills his cheeks at the compliment. “I’ll be struck down on the spot if you’re not careful. I’ve heard the Greek gods are petty like that.”
“Well,” I say, turning to face Luke and pulling him closer to me. “If he strikes you down, he’ll have to strike me down, too, because I know the truth.”
“You are incredibly cheesy.” Luke chuckles, but he leans down and kisses me anyway. I grab his ass, and he gasps before shaking his head and rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t move away.
After spending a few hours going through all the exhibits, the museum finally closes at 5 p.m., and we’re ushered onto the street as the sun starts to descend toward the horizon, casting the city in its warm evening glow.
It’s hard to imagine that this was only the first stop in Luke’s itinerary, but I’m having so much fun that I wouldn’t care if he decided to keep me out all night.
We walk a few blocks down Woodward, stopping at a little restaurant called The BLOCK.
It’s quaint, but crowded, though the atmosphere is warm and welcoming, and as we’re seated at a small table across from the bar, I feel like this is probably the kind of place Luke often frequented back in New York.
Very modern, but made to look vintage with the exposed brick walls and industrial fixtures.
A little hipster, and decidedly not antiquated.
The food looks fantastic, and the drink menu sounds fun.
I decide I absolutely have to get the frozen Kool-Aid to heal my inner child, and Luke gets the frozen mango margarita.
Even though they’re not the sort of drinks I would generally order at home, I’m not worried about Luke judging me for wanting to try them.
We even pass them back and forth to taste each other’s.
It’s delightful, but they’re the kind of drinks you could easily pound back while forgetting the alcohol content, so I limit myself to no more than two.
Then I order the Cajun pasta, and Luke picks the salmon, and we talk and laugh over our meal, the alcohol giving me a nice warm buzz.
When the check comes, I immediately snatch it, much to Luke’s protesting, but I won’t back down. After a minute, he acquiesces with a smile, but tells me the rest of the evening is supposed to be on him, so I shouldn’t get any more bright ideas. I make no such promises.
Then, Luke drags us out of the restaurant to the next stop on this date night—the one he says is the biggest surprise.
We continue walking down Woodward until we come to an old, nondescript building that would otherwise seem unassuming among the buildings surrounding it, save for the wrought-iron marquee with soft orange lights illuminating the entrance.
It looks like there’s a big event happening here, and a massive crowd of very well-dressed people is pouring inside.
A bright red carpet has been laid out on the sidewalk, where people are gathering to take photos in beautiful gowns and suits.
At first, I assume we’ll be passing by the fancy assembly for something else.
But as Luke files us in line with them, I glean that this is our next destination, though I still have no clue what it is or why we’re here.
When I see the poster on the wall outside, I drag Luke to a stop, my jaw dropping at what’s advertised for the evening. ‘Detroit Symphony Orchestra: Opening Night Gala with Yo-Yo Ma.’
“Wait.” I gasp, and I have to read it again to be sure I’m not seeing things. “You’re joking, right? Are we really here to see this?”
“Surprise!”
“You’re not joking?” I search Luke’s face for any sign or hint that this isn’t real, but he’s entirely serious. “Yo-Yo Ma is here playing with the DSO tonight? The cellist?”
“Oh, good! So you’ve heard of him?” Luke beams. “I wasn’t sure if you knew who he was when I bought the tickets, but I figured you'd still appreciate this even if you didn’t.”
I can’t help but gawk at Luke in awe. “When did you… Where did you… How?”
Luke cocks his head to the side and gives me a curious look. “I bought the tickets on a resale site from someone who couldn’t go last minute.” He shrugs. “I thought you might like it since I know you enjoy this type of music.”
My throat suddenly closes with a swell of emotion I wasn’t expecting, and I have to turn away, dragging a hand over my mouth as I contemplate his words and what they mean.
Luke found out I like classical music on a lark, and we only really discussed it once, but it obviously made enough of an impression that he went out of his way to find something that I would enjoy.
He planned an entire surprise date around it.
I don’t know what to do with this information.
None of my friends even really know I like classical music, let alone would ever go to a concert like this with me.
I’ve been too cowardly to drive downtown on my own to see the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, even though there were plenty of times I would have liked to.
The last time I saw them live, I was sixteen, and my dad took me and my mom to watch them perform at some special concert in a park.
I don’t remember where or what they played, only that it was one of the best nights of my life.
Now, I get to see them again, playing with one of my favorite contemporary musicians, and I didn’t even get the chance to freak out about it before we got here.
Luke had no way of knowing any of this beforehand, let alone how much something like this would mean to me.
Still, he noticed my interest and ran with it.
This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. Like, specifically for me. Who knew something like this could get me so choked up? Honestly, I think I’m in shock.
I can’t help but stare at the poster, then out at the crowd of well-dressed men and women who are all here to watch the DSO as if this isn’t the most earth-shattering thing in the world to them.
But then, they all look like they belong here—like this isn’t a new experience for them.
Suddenly, I feel incredibly out of place.
Oh, god. Am I dressed okay? I don’t think I’m dressed-up well enough for this. I’ve spotted at least five fur coats.
“Are you okay?” Luke asks, watching me with uncertainty. “Did I break you?”
“No… Yes. But, no.” I chuckle, but I can’t hide the tears that come to my eyes. God damn, that alcohol from dinner is making me so emotional. It’s embarrassing. “I’m sorry, this is just…really sweet. Fuck.”