Twenty-Five Ramin #2
Jake unfroze and a huge smile broke over his face. “Ramin!” He scrambled up and came to sit cross-legged on the edge of the bed, right where the covers were rumpled from Ramin and Noah’s attempt at a little morning excitement.
Jake wore a pair of Spider-Man pajamas. He cocked his head to the side, and his messy hair flopped over. “Are you here for breakfast?”
“Ah, no.” Ramin cleared his throat and scrambled for an answer. “I wasn’t feeling very well last night, so your dad came to help me out, and, uh, he let me stay here since I was so sick.”
That was age appropriate and not technically a lie, right?
Ramin didn’t really believe in lying to kids, but he didn’t know if Jake knew what gin drunk was.
“Aw man, we could’ve had a sleepover!” Jake bounced on the bed.
“It was pretty late, you were already asleep. And I was too sick for company.”
“Dad’s good at taking care of people when they’re sick,” Jake observed. That didn’t surprise Ramin. Noah struck him as the kind of guy with a strong nurturing side. “He makes the best grilled cheese.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. Do you like Spider-Man?”
Ramin grinned. “Of course. Who doesn’t?”
“Total losers,” Jake said dramatically. “We walked by the Lego Store yesterday and they had this huge Spider-Man set, but Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me get it. They said they could get it cheaper back home and not have to fit it into our suitcases.”
Ramin nodded sagely. “I guess that makes sense. The exchange rate isn’t great right now.”
“I suppose,” Jake muttered. He looked down and started plucking at the duvet. He might’ve only been nine, but he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Ramin gave him a little nudge. “Whatcha thinking?”
Jake shrugged. “Just boring stuff.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. Jake had the biggest sigh, and he looked so serious, his brow furrowed over his brown eyes, just like his dad’s did. “My mom is moving here.”
“I heard.”
“But my dad’s staying back in Kansas City.”
“Yeah.”
His voice got smaller. “What’s going to happen to me?”
“What do you want to happen?” Ramin asked. At the end of the day, that was what mattered most, right?
Jake’s face screwed up. “I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry.” Ramin wished he knew what to say. But it wasn’t like Noah and Angela had figured this out, either. If the grown-ups couldn’t work things out, no one could expect Jake to. “That really sucks.”
“Yeah.” Jake nodded solemnly. “It does suck.”
Uh-oh. Ramin tried to remember if he’d heard Jake saying that before, or if he’d just taught him a new way to complain about things. Nine-year-olds knew sucked , though, right?
“Your parents both love you, though. I hope you know that.”
Ramin could see it in the way Noah played with Jake’s hair. In the way Angela laughed at his cheesy jokes.
“I guess. Can I see your tattoos again?”
Ramin nearly got whiplash from the change of topic.
“Uh, sure.” Ramin offered his wrists.
Jake’s little fingers tickled Ramin’s pulse points as he traced the Persian script. “Can you write like this?”
“Only a few words. I’m taking classes, though.”
He’d signed up for online Persian classes last year. He’d finally found a teacher from Yazd, the city his family came from. Most teachers taught you to speak like you were from Tehran, but Yazd had its own idiosyncratic dialect.
Ramin had never told anyone about his classes before. Learning his parents’ language—the language he remembered snatches of from his childhood—felt so personal. Plus he didn’t want to disappoint people if he never made much progress. Somehow, though, he didn’t mind telling Jake.
“You write Farsi right to left, and it’s all in cursive. Have you done cursive in school yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay. Well, most of the letters join up. That’s an n , and s , and r . And then ee and another n . Nasrin.”
“What about the a ?”
“You leave it out. For short vowels you have to just know what goes where.” Ramin sighed, doing his best Jake impression. “It’s really tough.”
“I bet.”
Ramin switched wrists. “And this is Sina—”
The door cracked open. Ramin and Jake both looked up to find Noah peering at them with a soft smile. “Jakey, can I talk to Ramin a sec?”
“Okay.”
Jake offered Ramin a fist bump, then scurried back to Angela’s room. Noah closed the door behind him.
“You two were cute,” Noah said.
“He’s a good kid.”
“Yeah. When he’s not being a pill, at least.”
Ramin didn’t know what to say to that. But being a parent was probably a lot harder than just showing off tattoos and talking about Spider-Man. And explaining to your ex-wife why there was a strange man sleeping in your room.
“Sorry if I made things complicated.”
“Don’t be.” Noah swallowed. “I told Angela we might be kind-of-sort-of… seeing each other.”
Ramin’s chest tightened.
Were they seeing each other? Was that what all this meant? If that’s what Noah wanted, was that what Ramin wanted, too?
Seeing each other?
It also freaked him the fuck out, but one crisis at a time.
“How did she take it?”
Noah snorted. “She’s not always good with unexpected changes, but she’ll come around.”
That sounded like it went badly, then.
“But she already knew you were bi… right?”
“Oh yeah.”
On the one hand, good, she wasn’t freaking out about Noah being with a man.
On the other hand, shit, because she was freaking out about Noah being with Ramin, for whatever reasons.
“I feel like maybe I should let you three process all this?” Ramin said, standing.
To be honest, maybe he needed to process it, too.
“And now that we both have phones that are charged, we can figure out what’s next?”
Noah chewed his lip as Ramin stuffed his phone and wallet and chunky keychain into his pockets.
“See you?”
Noah nodded. But then, before Ramin could open it, Noah had him backed up against the door. His arms were on either side, hemming Ramin in.
Ramin inhaled. Noah still had morning breath, but beneath that, he smelled like he always did, of sugar and wood and sweat and sun. His lips made a perfect heart, until his smile turned wolfish.
“Noah,” Ramin warned. Jake and Angela were in the other room, after all.
“Ramin,” Noah growled, before enveloping Ramin’s mouth. His tongue plunged in without preamble, and Ramin would’ve melted, slumped to the floor, if Noah wasn’t right there holding him up.
Ramin’s blood pounded through his ears as they kissed and kissed and kissed. His skin hummed. His lips burned. His knees weakened.
He never wanted to move, never wanted to do anything but explore every bit of Noah’s luscious mouth. He was getting hard again. But finally he put a gentle hand on Noah’s chest.
Noah was breathing hard. His pupils had dilated.
He looked like he wanted to devour Ramin, and Ramin really, really wanted to be devoured, but they had to be responsible adults.
“I better go,” he said.
“I’ll call you.”
Wow. Moving to calls already? Were they just going to skip the awkward texting phase?
Ramin couldn’t bring himself to complain. He gave Noah one last kiss. “Okay.”
He only looked back once (all right, twice) as he let himself out and headed for the elevator.