Chapter 12
TWELVE
CAMERON
Kensington Grand Hotel
London, United Kingdom
Late afternoon light spills across the marble floors as I push through the revolving doors of the hotel.
I step inside with a neatly folded bundle of my clothes from the night before tucked under my arm.
I’m still wearing Gregg’s clothes, his soft Cambridge University T-shirt and gym shorts.
They smell like him, and it’s something I’m already missing.
From across the lobby, Riley emerges from another entrance corridor, still in her black dress from the night before, sunglasses perched like a crown in her hair, and wearing a smug little grin of someone who had definitely had a very enjoyable night.
“Well, well, well,” she calls, striding toward me. “You look collegiate.” Her eyes dart between the clothes in my arms and the ones on my body. “Borrowed wardrobe? And I’m guessing not from the hotel gift shop.” She winks mischievously.
“And you’re one to talk?” I shoot back, smirking. “You’re still in last night’s dress!”
“True,” she agrees easily as we fall into step with each other toward the elevators. “But I’m not the one wearing someone else’s clothes. That’s a very specific kind of walk of shame.”
“It’s not a walk of shame,” I insist, lifting my chin. “And even if it was, I wouldn’t call it shameful.” I nudge her. “You’ve been encouraging this, remember? But no, we didn’t—”
“Do anything?” she cuts in, eyebrows raised like a challenge.
“No. Not like that,” I clarify. “We kissed. That’s it.”
Riley’s whole face contorts into dramatic disbelief.
“You spent the night with a super hot guy, and the most scandalous thing that happened was a kiss?”
“That’s exactly what happened. And technically it was this morning, not even last night.” A smile tugs at me again. “And… it was good.”
Riley grabs my arm and squeals so loudly a couple of guests turn to stare.
“So you like him!” she sings teasingly, but mostly genuinely thrilled.
“Maybe I do.” I loop my arm through hers, feeling a ridiculous warmth in my chest. “And he was such a gentleman. Said it wouldn’t have been right to do anything last night. He even slept on the couch.”
“Aww,” she coos dramatically. “He took the couch? In his own house?”
“Mhm.” I nod. “He lent me clothes, made breakfast, and then he played a song for me on the piano. Totally original and in the moment. And he called it…” I let it hang for a beat. “Cameron.”
“Shut. Up.” Riley slaps her hand into my chest. “That is so fucking precious! What did you even talk about?”
“All sorts of things,” I say as I press the elevator button. “Our childhoods, families… I told him about Drew. And he told me he’s not out to his family—”
“Whoa, hold on. Stop.” Riley holds up her hand. “That’s a lot to unpack. You told him about Drew?”
“I did,” I say quietly. “He asked because it came up last night, and I explained.”
“Cameron, I’m really proud of you.” She wraps me in a tight hug just as the elevator arrives. “I know that must’ve taken a lot of courage to do.”
“I’m trying to follow your advice,” I explain, stepping inside with her. “And honestly? I think it’s working. Like you said, I still love Drew, but I think I’m ready to try navigating a new chapter.”
“Well,” she begins, as she presses our floor buttons, “I think you’re doing amazing. I mean, the situation basically fell into your lap, but still, you’re handling it. But… he’s not out. Are you sure that’s a journey you can go on?”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
“I just mean… you’re just so unapologetically gay.”
“Well, I told him I’d be patient with him if he’d be patient with me.”
Riley places her hands over her heart. “Ugh, I adore you. I can’t wait to hear more about last night.”
“Thought you’d say that. And I can’t wait to hear about your night.”
“Well,” she starts as the elevator slows at her floor, holding up her phone with a triumphant flourish. “Julian is already texting me. So that’s a pretty good sign.”
“That is a good sign!” I laugh. “Almost like how I thought I was going to be late because I was under Gregg making out.”
I can’t help letting the memory wash over me, that wonderful hour on Gregg’s sofa after he played that melody.
I’d leaned in first, hesitant. But then his hand slid to the back of my neck and his fingers threaded into my hair.
The kiss deepened and his body drew me closer as the piano bench creaked under our shifting weight.
When he finally pulled back, he took my hand, and guided me gently toward the sofa.
Then we sank into the cushions, he was over me, warm and solid.
His weight pressed against my waist and I hooked a leg around him without thinking.
There was heat everywhere. It radiated through our clothes from our skin.
And beneath his joggers, he was already hard, pressing against my thigh, and it garners a moan from deep within me.
“Is this okay?” he whispered into my neck, his palm sliding up under my shirt.
“Yes,” I breathed back, and then our mouths met again, slowly and deeply, learning each other.
Riley gasps, throwing her arm out to block the elevator doors from closing. They bounce open again with an offended and flustered chime.
“Excuse me,” she sputters. “You told me you only kissed!”
“We did!” I exclaim. “And then we kissed some more.”
She shakes her head with pure scandalized delight. “I’m fucking obsessed! Absolutely obsessed.”
I stand by the window of my hotel room, buttoning my shirt.
My uniform is freshly pressed, the deep coffee stain now only a memory.
The scent of commercial starch and detergent feels like a far cry from the warmth that clings to Gregg’s clothes.
I find myself wishing I could pull his T-shirt back on and breathe him in again.
The morning I’d spent with him still lingers fresh on my mind and in my chest. Our quiet conversation, the sunlight bathing us through the windows of his home.
The piano melody. Gregg on top of me, our lips pressed together, the way he’d looked at me and really seen me, without any pretense.
And last night at Velvet Noir, the dance floor still shifts behind my eyelids in vivid flashes.
The bass pulsing through our bodies, the heat of Gregg so close I felt wrapped inside him.
In the strobes, I’d seen two faces, Gregg’s in front of me, and Drew’s somewhere between light and shadow.
Hold you in my mind… I fall into visions of you.
It hadn’t felt like a haunting. It felt like permission.
There’d been a sense of Drew’s voice, his warmth, like he was telling me it was okay.
Not to let go of him, but to carry him and myself forward.
And when Gregg’s lips met mine earlier this morning, I hadn’t thought about running.
I’d thought of staying. A sharp vibration and chime brings me back to the present, and I grab my phone off the nightstand, already smiling when I see the name on the screen.
GH: Ever since you’ve left you’ve been on my mind. Distractingly so!
My smile widens as I type back.
CH: Ur ears must have been burning. I’ve been thinking about you too.
CH: Distracted by what exactly?
GH: Glad to know it’s mutual. Let’s just say my piano bench has never been quite so inspiring… nor my sofa.
Heat rushes into my cheeks.
CH: Well at least you don’t have to fly tonight with the thought of your hands on me.
GH: Oh it’ll be very hard to catch up on my emails while thinking of that.
GH: BTW, I hope I’m not the cause of too much awkwardness between you and your coworker.
My stomach flips a little bit at the thought of facing Marc after last night.
Where had he even disappeared to before we all went down to the dance floor?
The question hovered, but I push it away.
It feels mean to admit it even just to myself, but I don’t really care enough to analyze it.
I don’t owe Marc anything, and definitely not an explanation.
We aren’t together. We never were really, and never would be.
And whatever had happened with Gregg isn’t something I felt I had to justify.
I’m not going to apologize for choosing to live again.
CH: Marc? He’ll be ok. But you didn’t make it awkward, trust me :)
GH: I’m glad.
GH: I like knowing I’m still in your head.
CH: Oh you’re in there alright. Might be hard to get you out…
GH: Then don’t ;)
I pull on my pants and tuck in my shirt. The flight is scheduled to arrive in Istanbul at one in the morning, and a new adventure in Turkey is just a four-hour flight away. I close my suitcase and roll it toward the door before stopping to check myself in the mirror.
The thought of rising into the sky in a balloon sends a rush of anticipation through me.
It had been one of Drew’s dreams, something we’d planned together but never made it happen.
Now I have the chance to carry both memory and possibility with me, grief and hope woven together in the same breath.
A sunrise suspended between earth and heaven.
Balloons drifting around me like lanterns released into the sky. The thought feels absolutely freeing.
Celestial Airlines Flight CA02
LHR - IST
The cabin is hushed and wrapped in a stillness that came when every passenger had surrendered to sleep.
Overhead, the lights are dimmed to a soft glow, casting the Business Class lounge in amber shadows.
I move quietly around the curved bar, aligning crystal tumblers in perfect rows and note the dwindling supply of vodka and champagne on an inventory sheet.
The low hum of the engines is the only sound until footsteps break the quiet.
Marc appears from the aisles, his hands are tucked into his pockets, but his eyes are fixed on me in a way that makes the air feel heavy.
“Hey, guapo. Got a minute?” His tone is low and insistent.
“I’m a little busy right now,” I state as I straighten a bottle on the shelf, keeping my eyes on my work.