27. THE BOY I LOST
THE BOY I LOST
It’s a warm afternoon when I finally step out of my penthouse—well, more like scorching hot.
But I feel too cooped up to stay inside.
It’s a feeling of being trapped that I haven’t experienced in a long time, but I’m definitely feeling it today.
Thankfully, I’m wearing very short gym shorts and a loose T-shirt.
The five-inch seam of the shorts rides up as I walk, granting me the cooling feeling of the breeze against my exposed skin.
I’m keeping to the shadows as much as possible, avoiding the direct light of the sun, as if that will help me stay cooler. Which it might. Who even knows anymore?
I walk aimlessly for a while, four blocks to be exact, before a bookstore catches my eye.
Sitting down with a latte and a poetry book sounds pretty damn good right now, so I go inside and get in line to order.
The barista gives me flirty eyes when I order an iced vanilla latte, and I almost roll my own.
I want to tell her she has no chance, but that would be rude, so I give her a polite smile and pay.
When I finally get my latte, there, right on the side of the cup, is her phone number.
I sigh, looking up just to make eye contact with her.
She has a wide grin on her face that makes me a bit uncomfortable, so I just turn around without another look or smile, making my way past the bookshelves in the center of the room.
I finally make it into a sort of clearing, and there are tables everywhere, with books sitting atop them.
‘Best of BookTok’ and ‘Spicy Romance’ tags sit in the middle of the table between the stacks of books, and I shake my head with a smile.
I’ll never be one to grab one of those, mostly because I rather enjoy poetry instead.
But I can see the appeal. Getting lost in another world sounds good right about now.
That thought almost has me turning around, maybe to browse that section, but I decide not to.
I go to the poetry section instead, browsing alphabetically until I make it to the P.
My eyes catch on the book of Ariel by Sylvia Plath, and I go to reach for it when someone clears their throat behind me.
I freeze when he speaks, mostly because it feels like I must be hallucinating.
“Oh my God,” Kenneth says softly. “I found you.”
I found you.
My nostrils flare with the effort to keep my shit together, but I can’t help the raging butterflies in my stomach at the sound of those words.
I turn around slowly, my eyes widening at the sight of him across from me.
He’s wearing a cropped T-shirt, his abs exposed, and low-slung linen pants that sit precariously low on his hips.
My eyes drift to what he’s holding in his hand—a book.
The book of Ariel by Sylvia Plath, specifically.
The same one I was just about to grab. My very favorite.
I wonder what drew him to it. Does he remember she’s my favorite poet?
I swallow hard and look up at his face after at least a full minute of gawking at his body, which I now realize is a long time and fucking impolite.
Immediately, I regret looking up. Because his face undoes me more than any other part of him.
His eyes are wide, his mouth slightly ajar, and his cheeks flushed a deep red.
As if he’s embarrassed by his words. But he can’t take them back now; they’re out.
They’re in the space between us. In the air.
Echoing in my ears. I don’t think I’ll ever forget this moment for the rest of my life.
My heart pounds in my chest the longer we stare at each other, and it feels slightly out of rhythm.
Off. Like maybe it’s going to give out on me.
I wouldn’t be surprised if it did. I’m not really sure how to reply, so I lick my lips, trying to think of something, anything.
To my surprise, his eyes follow the movement of my tongue, and my body turns hot. I’m burning from the inside out.
“Y-you remember me?” I ask, just as softly as he spoke.
His wide eyes sparkle, then squint with his smirk. It makes me feel more alive than I ever have before. It’s so him, so fucking Kenny, that I almost faint with happiness. Then he does something completely unexpected, raking his gaze down my body slowly, clearly checking me out.
“Of course, I remember you.” His smirk deepens when I gulp. “A face like yours is hard to forget.”
He’s fucking flirting with me.
I open my mouth to reply, but he cuts me off. “I did think I recognized you, though—the first time I saw you. You look so… familiar. Have we met before?”
I shake my head. “Not exactly.” I grip the back of my neck nervously. “But I know you.”
“That makes no sense.” But he grins.
I’ve thought about this specific encounter for a while now.
What I’d do when I finally had him in front of me.
I think I’ve already decided something, but now I have to put that plan into action, and I’m not sure how to go about it.
What I do know is that I want him back. I want to do it differently, though.
I want to change our course, maybe even change our fate if I can.
I want to not die by the end of this. Can I accomplish that?
I clear my throat, fidgeting with my fingers nervously. “Would you go out with me?”
Kenneth’s grin widens. “Like on a date?”
“Exactly like that,” I reply, my hands shaking. The fear of his rejection runs deep. I still remember the first time I asked him out, how I had to convince him.
“You don’t even know me,” he pauses, eyebrows rising. “Do you usually ask strangers on dates?”
“I think we just established that I do know you.” My smile is slightly wobbly, but I force myself to continue. “But that’s usually how it goes. You ask a stranger out on a date, then get to know each other.”
Kenny laughs, low and throaty. His real laugh. And it feels like a punch to my chest. “Is that how you usually convince people to go out with you?”
I smirk. “Nah. Just you.”
He looks me up and down again, gaze lingering on my face for a beat longer, then nods slowly. “Okay. One date.”
“I’m Conrad,” I say, offering my hand so he can shake it. He doesn’t. “And you are?”
Kenneth. Ken. Kenny.
Love of my life.
The best thing that’s ever happened to me.
My sun.
My moon.
And all my stars.
“I’m Kenneth.” He smiles. “But you can call me Ken.”
“Are you going to shake my hand, Ken?” I raise an eyebrow. “Or are you going to leave me hanging?”
Kenneth grins, clasping my hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulls me closer until our chests crash together.
He lets go of my hand and wraps his arms around my neck, burying his face in the crook of my neck.
His spot. The one he always gravitated to.
The gesture feels intimate, not like something two strangers should be doing.
I wonder if he feels it too—this thing between us.
This undeniable energy. This raging tornado of feelings.
My arms wrap around his waist tightly, and I squeeze my eyes shut, inhaling his tropical scent deep into my lungs.
It makes me feel alive. Like an addict who finally got his fix again.
Fuck, and it feels so good. It’s indescribable.
And the way my body trembles, I know he can feel how much this is affecting me.
Kenneth pulls away first, taking a step back, and my arms fall to my sides. “Wanna go sit down, Conrad?” he asks, tipping his chin back toward the café. “You can tell me more about yourself.”
I swallow hard, my hands suddenly sweating, but I nod. “Sure. Just a second.”
Kenneth smiles, “I’ll get us a table.”
He walks away before I can say anything else, and I take deep breaths, trying to get my shit together. What the hell just happened? Did I really just ask him out? Is this real life or another dream?
I pinch my leg—hard—and curse. Yeah, definitely real.
I hurry up and grab the book I was looking at earlier, hurrying towards the café in hopes I don’t run out of time with him.
What if he left me while I was looking for this stupid book, and I never see him again?
With that new fear unlocked, I make my way toward the café even faster, stopping short when I see him sitting at a corner table in the very back.
His eyes are locked on me, a sexy little smirk on his face, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
But he doesn’t. There’s no way he can actually know.
I force myself to slow down, rearrange my features until I’m sure I look less desperate, then sit across from him.
For a moment, there’s only silence, and I’m not really sure how to break it.
There’s so much I want to say to him, but none of it fits this moment.
I love you. I miss you. Please come back to me.
I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry about your mom.
“So, Conrad,” Kenneth says, breaking the silence. “What do you do for work?”
“I’m a pharmaceutical chemical engineer,” I reply robotically, then wince. But he grins instead, eyes taking in this little shimmer of interest. “It’s not as exciting as it sounds.”
“Oh, it sounds fucking dreadful,” he replies, and I laugh. “I knew you were smart.”
“Oh?” I smirk. “Was it the short shorts that clued you in?”
“Nah. You just have a look about you,” he says with his own smirk, then drops his eyes to my mouth. “Your hoochie-daddy shorts say other things about you.”
He emphasizes the word other, and my eyes widen.
“What?” I breathe. “What do they say about me?”
“It’s just a theory.” He shrugs. “But it says that you’re cocky, and that you actually have a reason to be cocky.”
I shiver at the look he gives me, and his smirk stays firmly in place. We lock eyes for a moment too long, until my hands start shaking again, and I clasp them together on my lap. “Do you think I do?” I ask quietly. “Have a reason to be cocky?”
“I don’t know,” Kenneth says, leaning over the table, propping his elbows on it, and cradling his face between his hands as he stares at me. “You look like you have a nice cock, though.”
I cough once and turn bright red, an overwhelming wave of déjà vu washing over me. But still, I say, “Maybe I do.”
Ken throws his head back and laughs, and I chuckle quietly. When his eyes return to mine, he whispers, “I take it back. Now I’m sure you do.”
“What do you do for work?” I ask him, trying to get back to a safe conversation, even though I already know what he does. But I can’t look like I know those answers.
“I’m a professional photographer,” he tells me, shrugging. “It pays the bills.”
“Pays the bills?” I gawk. “I have your portrait on my living room wall. My bank account doesn’t think it just pays the bills.”
My eyes widen at the realization of what I’ve said, horror filling me to bursting. Oh, fuck. Why would I admit to that? There’s no fixing this. His eyes are wide, his cheeks bright red, his mouth ajar. Then a smile takes over his face.
“Creepy.” He grins. I panic. There’s no other way to describe it. I’m about to get up from this fucking chair and bolt, maybe even move out of Boston entirely, when he waggles his eyebrows. “Kinda hot though.”
My entire body deflates, relaxing into my chair. “Sorry I didn’t tell you I knew who you were. I didn’t really think I should lead with that.”
“Dating someone who owns my portrait wasn’t ever on my bucket list, but I’ll admit—I’m flattered, truly.”
“Oh, uh,” I stammer. “Yeah.”
Kenneth laughs. “You’re horrible at flirting, you know that?”
I flush, my face turning hot. “Not usually.”
“So it’s just a me thing?”
“You could say that.” I shrug.
“Is it because you have my picture in your living room?” Kenneth smirks. “Or am I just hot?”
“Both,” I blurt out.
“Cute,” he sighs. “You’re adorable.”
“Adorable?” I scrunch my nose at the word. “I’ve never heard that one before.”
“Then they didn’t know you that well.” He shrugs. “I think I’ll get to know you soon enough, and when I do, I bet I’ll think you’re even more adorable.”
“Well, let me know if you do.” I smirk, and he smiles, making his dimples appear. The ones at the corners of his mouth, the other on the apple of his cheek. “You’re really beautiful.”
Kenneth blushes furiously. He plays with the golden chain around his neck, too, and it makes something inside of me light up with hope. “You don’t have to butter me up, sweetheart. I already said I’d go out with you.”
“Let me guess—you don’t know how to take a compliment.” I smile.
“Busted,” he sighs. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I shake my head, offering him my phone. “Give me your number.”
Kenneth raises an eyebrow. “Is that a question?”
“No,” I reply bluntly. “You already said yes to our date, so the phone number is a given. I have to text you the address somehow.”
Kenneth grins and grabs my phone, saving his number in it, then raises it and takes a picture.
He updates his contact photo right before my eyes, then hands the cell phone back.
I’m speechless for a moment, but then I grin triumphantly.
It feels like the best thing I’ve ever accomplished, getting this from him.
It’s stupid, I know that, but I can’t shake the feeling that this is the start of something incredible.
Life-changing.
Mind-blowing.
I really made this happen.
I almost don’t believe it.
But then I do.
Because, of course, I fucking made this happen. Kenneth and I are meant to be. In this lifetime and every future one, too.
Forever.