Thirteen Ramin
thirteen
Ramin
It was Noah. Sitting there, next to Jake and Angela, in a clean white T-shirt, the kind that Hollywood actors always seemed to be able to pull off.
“Ramin?” Noah gifted him a smile so bright, Ramin squinted behind his sunglasses. “I can’t believe it!”
Ramin couldn’t believe it, either. He’d looked it up: Once is an accident, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action.
Ramin didn’t think he had any enemies, unless you counted Robert in accounting, but that was just a big misunderstanding…
Or maybe third time was the charm. But the charm of… what? It wasn’t like anything was going to happen between them.
Maybe this was a tattoo-fueled hallucination.
Yeah. Maybe the needle had been laced with drugs and he was on one hell of a trip.
Or maybe it was an allergic reaction. Did they use different inks in Italy?
Toxic ones? He thought the European Union was usually ahead of the US when it came to removing toxins from things, but who knew?
Noah was still looking at him, though his smile had started to dim into a question. Maybe this was real after all.
“Sorry, I just… was not expecting to see you here. I had a bit of a brain fart.”
Behind Noah, Jake let out a giggle.
“I was pretty surprised too,” Noah said. “Where are you headed?”
“Bellagio. I heard it’s nice?”
He’d picked Como on a whim—it was the next train when he showed up at Milano Centrale—but his seatmate had talked his ear off about how great Bellagio was.
She lived in Milan but was headed to Como to catch a soccer game, and after giving Ramin advice on what to see, she’d spent the rest of the ride explaining Italy’s Serie B football league to Ramin in intricate (some might say obsessive) detail.
“We are too!” Jake shouted, grabbing Noah’s shoulder to pull himself up so he was kneeling on the chair. “Nonno and Nonna live there.”
“Nonno and Nonna?”
“My grandparents,” Angela said, peeking over Jake’s shoulder.
“Oh. Cool.” Great. He’d interrupted family time. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll just—”
He glanced around, though the only seat he could see was the one next to Noah. Then again, standing the whole time wouldn’t be so bad. Or being dragged behind the boat in a little life preserver. Or keelhauled.
“What? No, sit with us.” Noah thumped the plastic seat next to him. “We’re all headed the same way.”
Jake was nearly bouncing out of his seat. “Yeah, and you have an awesome face!”
The compliment was so unexpected, so absurd, Ramin couldn’t help but smile.
“No one’s ever told me that before.” He reached for his wrist, but the move chafed his plastic-wrapped chest. Why the fuck did he get a tattoo yesterday? He reached up to twist his studs instead. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Positive,” Noah said.
Ramin covered a wince and sat, accidentally knocking his legs into Noah’s before he could snap them together. Noah was wearing longer khaki shorts today, and with the way he was sitting they pooched up in the front. Either that or it was just full, and—
No, nope, definitely not thinking about Noah’s Ark. Ramin’s own shorts were a proper gay five-inch inseam. He hoped his goosebumps didn’t show.
“Dad? Can I have your phone?” Jake asked.
“Remember what you agreed to on the bus?” Noah asked. “No screen time until the way back.”
Jack harumphed and crossed his arms, kicking his feet. He looked like the human equivalent of a Muppet, all loose limbs and goofy expressions, especially with one of his front teeth missing.
On Jake’s other side, Angela was checking something on her own phone.
“Sorry for crashing your party,” Ramin told her. “I know you’re trying to have family time.”
“It’s fine.” She gave him a wry smile. “You’re in charge of entertaining them, though.”
Ramin laughed. “Deal. Jake said your grandparents are in Bellagio?”
“They own a wine store there.”
“Really?” That sounded kind of amazing, actually.
“You should come with us,” Noah said, before turning to Angela. “Ramin knows a ton about wine.”
Angela nodded, but she also gave Noah a look , and Noah gave her a look right back.
Ramin and Todd used to have their little looks , too. What did this one mean?
A final announcement played over the speakers, but Ramin couldn’t make it out over the hubbub.
Then, with a soft lurch, they were off. Ramin closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the breeze in his hair, the sun against his face.
The water was bottle-green all around them, reflecting the tree-lined mountains hemming them in.
He took a deep breath of mountain air and sighed it out.
When he opened his eyes, Noah was watching him.
“What?”
“You looked really content is all. You didn’t used to smile so much.”
“Senior year was tough.”
“I remember.” Noah’s eyes softened. “Sorry for bringing it up.”
Damn Noah. Straight people shouldn’t be allowed to be so nice.
“It’s fine.” Ramin swallowed and fought back a blush. “Anyway. I love the water. Lakes, rivers. The ocean. Doesn’t matter.”
“Really?” Noah shifted, pressing his knee against Ramin’s. For someone with ridiculously hairy forearms, Noah didn’t actually have much leg hair. There was a manspreader on Ramin’s other side, so he couldn’t pull away; he waited for Noah to do so instead, but he didn’t.
Damn Noah for not being homophobic, either.
“I love the water, too. Growing up, my parents took me to Lake of the Ozarks all the time. I take Jake when I can, too.”
At the sound of his name, Jake perked up. He pointed toward a collection of colorful buildings in the distance and asked, “Is that where we’re going?”
“It’s a little farther,” Angela said. “And sit properly, please.”
Jake planted his butt on the plastic seat and started in on an endless stream of questions about Bellagio: how big it was, how many people lived there, whether you could fish. Noah gifted Ramin another one of his sparkly eyed smiles.
He looked so beautiful then, his hair fluttering slightly in the wind. He brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, giving Ramin a perfect view of his bicep in action.
Ramin made himself stare out at the lake.
He hadn’t believed in God for a long time.
Not since his mom got diagnosed with cancer.
But it certainly felt like some sort of divine comedy of errors that he was here, stuck on a boat next to Noah.
Why couldn’t he have found a seat next to a handsome, single Italian man?
He could be getting dicked down off the starboard bow or something.
Instead he had to sit here feeling Noah’s body heat. Smelling his sweet, woodsy cologne. Listening to his deep, smooth voice as he talked to Jake.
This was going to be a nightmare.
“Are we walking the plank?” Jake asked, reaching for Ramin’s hand as they disembarked. Ramin folded it into his, surprised how well it fit.
“Why? Did you mutiny?”
“Arrrr,” Jake said, closing one eye and making a hook with his free hand.
Ramin laughed, guiding Jake to the side once they’d reached land so Noah and Angela could catch up.
“Okay, have fun today,” he said, but Jake held on.
“Do you have to go?”
“Uh…” He did. Right? They were on a family vacation. He was just… wandering. He looked to Noah for help.
Rather than helping, Noah just smiled. “Don’t you want to at least see the wine store?”
“Uh…”
Ramin waited for Angela to object— someone had to be the voice of reason—but she was on her phone, turning on the spot so the compass would align. Ramin did like wine. And Jake was still holding his hand, and seemed comfortable, and he was so adorable with that mop of chestnut hair.
“Please?” Jake smiled up at him, gap-toothed, brown eyes glowing with warmth. He had his father’s eyes.
Fuckety-fuck. Ramin had never been able to resist Noah’s eyes.
“All right.”