34. Kyle
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
KYLE
W e step off the bus in front of what appears to be a classic old movie theater.
“ Castro, ” I say aloud, reading the giant neon sign.
“Yep. We’re in the heart of the city,” Ren says.
I spin around, slowly taking in my surroundings and pausing when I see the pride flags attached to every light post.
“And gay central,” he adds.
“ What? ”
“Just relax, Ky,” he chuckles. “It’s a huge part of the city’s history, and a safe space for us at the moment.” He holds a hand out and I rest my palm against his, allowing him to tug me into his chest. “We can do things like this.” Ren takes his hat off, standing on his toes to press his soft lips to mine.
He tastes like beer and vanilla lip balm.
My vanilla lip balm.
The one with SPF in it that we’ve been sharing this whole trip.
I kiss him, allowing his hands to roam my back and squeeze my ass in public, earning us a whistle and cheer from across the street.
Ren pulls away laughing and grabs my hand, tugging me down the sidewalk. “Let’s check it out.” He points to the little saloon-looking bar across the street a few shops down.
Twin Peaks Tavern.
We wait for the crosswalk to light up, and then we hustle across the street, hand in hand.
When we stroll in and look around, we pause for a moment, expecting to find some of the Giants fans we hopped on the bus with, not a bar full of older gay men.
“We may as well get a drink while we’re here, I don’t want to be rude and just leave,” I mutter under my breath.
“They have a really nice sidewalk patio, let’s order beers at the bar and head outside for some people watching.”
We make our way to the patio, choosing a table by the little black fence so we have front row seats to all the excitement that seems to be happening in the streets.
A couple of old guys walk past us, heading toward the bar entrance.
“Aw. Look, Harold. Two baby gays. How precious.”
“I . . . I’m not . . . What? ” I stumble over my words, heat rushing to my cheeks.
And of course, Ren just smiles like the cat that got the canary.
“ Honey, ” Harold admonishes, shushing the other man, presumably his husband, based on the wedding rings around their fingers.
Harold’s husband places a hand to his heart, apologizing immediately. “How presumptuous of me. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me? I’m Steven.”
There isn’t a malicious bone in this man’s body, so we all shake hands, chit-chatting a bit before they head inside to meet friends.
“You want another beer?” Ren asks before declaring quite abruptly that he needs to take a piss.
“Uh. Sure, thanks.”
“Okay, be right back.” Ren hops up, disappearing inside.
Slouching in my seat, I take a deep breath and stare out at the bustling neighborhood full of art, life, and so much color. An organic produce stand across the street catches my eye with its rainbow selection of fruits and vegetables. The simple displays of pride everywhere bring a small smile to my face.
I like it here, and today was a blast, especially getting to see the Giants beat their rivals.
“Dude!” Ren’s loud voice interrupts my thoughts. “The bathroom smells like fresh-baked cookies! I shit you not!”
My nose scrunches up, and my brows pull together. “Gross, bro. What? ”
“The shitter smells like cookies,” Warren says very, very slowly, sounding each word out as if I’m too drunk to understand him at regular speed.
Steven comes outside again, catching the tail end of it, his tinkling laughter floating around me.
“It’s true. The bathrooms that share a wall with the cookie shop next door also share a ventilation shaft.”
“Hah! Told you!” Ren shouts, and I shake my head because I never said I didn’t believe him.
“Well, I’ll take your word for it because I don’t go around sniffing public bathrooms,” I deadpan.
“Fair point,” Ren chuckles before plopping back down in his seat.
After another round, we head out to explore more of the neighborhood.
We discover murals, art installations, and even rainbow crosswalks—taking selfies with it all. I’m enjoying the Castro way more than I thought I would, and soon the daylight starts to fade.
I hiccup, feeling a little sleepy and a lot drunk after a long day of activities and lots of beer. “I’m getting kinda tired, wanna head back?” I ask after we stagger from our third bar.
“Mhm. Yeah, we better get going before it’s completely dark.”
We take the bus out of the city, catching an Uber the rest of the way home, and I’ve never been so relieved to see Carmen.
I am dead on my feet.
Collapsing in bed, I crawl under the covers, reaching out into the darkness for Ren’s hand. I find it, gently lifting his fingers and placing a soft kiss on top of his knuckles. “ Thank you. For today, and every day before it.” I kiss his hand again, and we just lie here, luxuriating in the feel of each other’s presence.
The remainder of our trip flies by faster than I want it to, filled with more epicness, like an Alcatraz ghost tour, a sunset cruise around the Golden Gate Bridge, and finally the gorgeous redwoods of Muir Woods.
Our string light timeline is complete, and we stare at it with pride after Warren clips up the last photo of us smiling in front of a massive redwood.
“It’s perfect,” he sighs, stepping back into my arms.
I curl around him, whispering into his ear. “It is. It’s amazing, Ren. Have you thought about that blog anymore? I’m telling you, it would be a hit. I know it. ”
Warren ignores me, slipping out of my arms and jumping into the driver’s seat, so I climb up front after him.
He drums his fingers against the steering wheel, thinking hard. “If I decide to do it, do I have permission to use photos of you?”
“Yes, of course. Any of them.” I glance back at the string lights, smiling at our journey and how far we’ve come.
“I’ll think about it.”
That’s what Ren likes to say when he’s brushing something or someone off, but I don’t push.
“Ready to go home?” he asks, changing the subject.
“No, not really. But we don’t have a choice this time, do we?” I sigh, resigned to my fate of summer school in Colorado.
“Unfortunately, no. Although, I suppose we could grab lunch one last time before we hit the road,” Ren offers with a handsome little grin.
I return his smile and nod. I’m always ready to eat.
We don’t get on the highway until we absolutely have to, driving straight back to Haven Creek and only stopping a handful of times during the nearly twenty-hour trip.
There’s definitely an elephant in the RV that neither of us seems to have the courage to address. Along with a hoard of questions that won’t stop buzzing around my head like a swarm of annoying gnats.
What will it be like when we return to the real world?
Swat.
Will we keep messing around until the pact ends?
Swat.
Or do things end the moment we step off the RV?
Swat.
Was this happiness too good to be true?
I turn up the stereo, blasting one of Ren’s pop songs and attempting to drown out the questions and distract my mind from whatever the future holds.
All I know is that if things end up going south, I’ll lose my best friend, too.
And that wouldn’t just be devastating.
It would be catastrophic.
I can’t imagine my life without Warren in it.