Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CALEB
HERMOSA BEACH, CALIFORNIA
Three days. For three days, they can exist together, even if under that paper moon again.
The full weight of it only hits Caleb when Asher swings open a low wrought iron gate and parks his motorcycle along a stretch of red dirt lining the driveway.
Together, they crunch down a gravel path, staring up at a house that exudes a homey blend of contemporary and rustic.
He follows Asher’s cue, toeing off his shoes and lining them up in a neat row by the doormat.
It's an unfamiliar but not at all unwelcome sight—his black Nikes and Asher’s white Adidas sneakers beside two matching pairs of dark brown Birkenstocks. His mouth twitches.
“Holy shit,” Caleb breathes, stuffing his sunglasses into his back pocket as he cautiously steps into the house.
The living room is open and spacious, with hardwood flooring, exposed beams, and warm lighting from elaborately designed chandeliers.
Next to the fireplace are sliding doors that lead out to a balcony with rattan armchairs turned to face the Pacific Ocean.
A pine tree has been set up by the stairs, shimmering tinsel wrapped around the wooden banister.
Judy Garland’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” pours out of a CD player. “This place is stunning.”
Asher shoots him a grin over his shoulder.
“Right? I’ve been nagging my parents to move here permanently.
The city’s too chaotic and traffic is a nightmare.
Still, they refuse, because any place farther away than a ten-minute drive is the emotional equivalent of going on an overseas vacation, so, like, welcome to a typical Singaporean household. ”
“See la. Less than two minutes and he’s already talking behind our back” comes a voice from the back before the kitchen door swings open.
A cheery-looking woman in a bright batik dress steps out, looking even livelier in the flesh.
She’s followed by a plump man with graying hair wearing a simple white polo tee.
“Ma! Pa!”
There’s a round of hugs between Asher and his mom and dad. And then Asher’s mom is in front of Caleb, holding his face in her warm hands as though trying to stare directly into his soul.
“Hi, Mrs. Ross.” Caleb suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “Thank you for letting me tag along.”
She pats his cheek, crow’s feet out in full force. “Aiya, no need to be so formal. I’ve already told you to call me Auntie Soo.” She points to the potbellied man who is cuffing Asher on the shoulder and whispering something to him, grinning broadly. “And that’s Uncle Ray.”
“He’s so much more handsome than you told us he was,” Asher’s father remarks.
“I never said—” Asher lets out a strangled wheeze.
Auntie Soo releases Caleb, moving to point with two fingers down to the east. “Martha’s is right along the beachfront if you want to get some breakfast, a straight walk down from the pier.
And if you want to exercise, or whatever it is that you boys do, Veterans Parkway is along Valley Drive.
” She stretches her arm even farther out before grabbing the dish towel draped across her shoulder and whacks Asher with it.
“Have you shown our guest around the house? So rude.”
“We literally just arrived—” Asher snaps his mouth shut when his mother fixes him with a murderous glare.
He rolls his eyes, and when he reaches out to take Caleb’s hand in his, Caleb feels like a Victorian gentleman who’s just seen a hint of bare skin for the first time with the way his cheeks heat up.
Asher presses a grumble into Caleb’s shoulder before pulling him up the stairs.
They start from the top of the house, working their way from the mediterranean rooftop deck lined with ceramic pots of snake plants, lantanas, and a barbecue grill along the ocean-facing side, past Asher’s parents’ room, and all the way down to Asher’s bedroom on the second floor where views of the ocean stream through large windows.
Rays of the setting sun slink in and paint a warm golden glow over the deep blue walls, illuminating the shelves of trophies and medals neatly displayed in a glass cabinet by a set of drawers.
Caleb takes it all in: trinkets on a desk, elaborate Lego cars on a floating shelf, framed pictures on the walls of Asher and his family posing in front of a large granite rock formation.
He turns to Asher who sits perched on the edge of a dresser across the room, fiddling with a plate of crystals. “Was that taken in Singapore?”
Asher nods. “Yup. That’s Little Guilin. We visited the quarry when we went home last year.”
“Home?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, LA’s my home, but so is Singapore. I don’t really know how to explain it.” He chews on his lip. “It’s like no matter where I am, I never feel entirely whole. My heart’s in two places.”
That’s the problem, isn’t it? Caleb swallows and shoves the thought to the back of his mind. All they have is three days. There is no point wasting a single second yearning for a home, a forever that can never be.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Asher remarks. He sets the plate down. “In my bedroom. Time truly is a flat circle.”
“Who knew manifesting worked?” Caleb teases.
They blink at each other before dissolving into laughter.
Hues of vivid pinks and oranges light Asher up. They make the deep red strands tumbling about his face glow against his cheek, like heaven can’t help but touch him. It makes Caleb feel kind of out of breath, kind of out of his depth.
For a moment, time slows again. Asher cocks his head, regarding Caleb. His throat bobs as he swallows. Asher licks his lips. That is what does it. Restraint burning away like overproof liquor, Caleb says, “Get over here.”
Giggling, Asher takes off. He crosses the room in five large strides and launches himself into Caleb’s outstretched arms, legs wrapping around Caleb’s waist. Caleb catches him with ease and laughs over it, over how weightless this moment feels.
The kiss is earnest and filled with relief.
Asher whimpers into his mouth, high and punched out from the back of his throat.
He plunges his fingers in Caleb’s hair, knocking Caleb’s baseball cap to the ground.
Asher is smiling. Caleb can feel it against his lips and on his cheeks where his palm rests.
Caleb turns the kiss slow, letting himself be greedy, lapping it all up because he can. This world is theirs and theirs alone. Caleb is here even though he shouldn’t be. That has to count for something.
“Oh,” Asher inhales, mouth falling open as Caleb turns his attention to that little dip beneath the hinge of Asher’s jaw. Caleb’s always loved that spot, the way Asher seems most sensitive there. He would commit minor crimes for it. He chuckles when Asher squirms happily.
Satisfied, he pulls back and admires the mark he’s left on Asher’s skin with a sigh.
The final streaks of sunlight drip like honey down Asher’s bruised neck, who somehow manages to look like both a saint and sinner wearing Caleb’s brand.
Pride surges through Caleb’s veins. It looks good. It looks right.
He feels the words thrashing wildly inside him, desperately begging to be set free. Instead, the ones that bubble to the surface are “I can’t believe you’re mine.”
It’s enough to thrill Asher, who presses a kiss of his own against Caleb’s forehead and says, “Always have been.”
That evening, Caleb joins Asher’s family on the rooftop deck, the ocean crashing nearby.
Caleb watches, doing an awful job of hiding the indulgent, a ridiculously lovesick grin creeping over his face, as Asher excitedly yet poorly flips beef patties on the barbecue alongside his father who does most of the heavy lifting.
While they prepare dinner, Caleb lounges on the couch, explaining to Auntie Soo how “the YouTube” works.
“Must everything be so tiny?” she complains. She’s got her glasses pushes up into her curls, nose practically flattened against the screen.
“If you just . . .” Caleb bites back a laugh and wrangles the phone out of her grasp. He rotates it by ninety degrees. “That turns it into a full screen, see?”
Auntie Soo gapes at him like he’s just done a magic trick. “Can I watch my Chinese dramas here?”
“Netflix might be better suited for that.”
She pulls a face. “Not another app.”
“Maybe we could”—Caleb opens and closes his mouth a couple times—“we could share a family plan?” He picks at a sleeve, then hurriedly adds, “It’s cheaper that way.”
Caleb is going to have a huge dumbass fucking capitalism-induced heart attack.
But Asher’s mom touches his knee, and says, “That’d be lovely.”
“Cool.” Caleb nods. “And you can cast it to your television so you don’t have to squint.”
“None of these verbs existed when I was your age.”
“I’ll show you later. It takes, like, a minute.”
Auntie Soo wags a finger in Asher’s direction.
A thick Singaporean accent that parallels Asher’s when he speaks fervently shines through, heavy with slang when she says, “That boy, ah, so impatient. I tell you, one day his eyes are going to get stuck in the back of his head. Every time I ask him to teach me how to use the technology, he grumble grumble grumble.”
“I can hear you,” Asher calls over his shoulder.
“Good,” Auntie Soo replies.
Caleb takes another sip of his beer, eyes going soft when Asher flips another patty and it flops over the ledge and down onto the patio with a wet splat.
“You make him happy.”
Caleb startles. Cool amber liquid sloshes out of the mouth of the bottle and dribbles down his fingers. He hastily wipes his sticky hands on his jeans.