Page 96 of Without You

Fuck. Is that what we are?

Boyfriend seems like such an immature word for the lives we’ve lived before one another. Two insufficient syllables to describe the depth of the connection between us.

Yet, it’s somehow the only word that makes sense.

Rubbing my hands together, I bring them up to my mouth and try to blow hot air into them, hoping it will warm me up. Deacon and I are standing side by side right underneath the huge ruby red Pike Place Market sign waiting for his friends, Wade and Christy, to arrive, and it’s probably the coldest I’ve ever felt in my life.

I don’t know whether to blame the cold or the nerves, but, either way, my bones are quivering beneath my skin.

Deacon is standing with his hands buried inside his coat pockets, laughing at me. “Come on,” he scoffs. “It’s not even that bad.”

“Shut up,” I quip. “You’re only warm because of those beefy muscles of yours. They add extra pounds to your body.”

He looks down at his arms and then back at me. “Stop your whining, you love these beefy muscles.”

“I can’t believe there’re so many people here and it’s still this cold.”

“Come here,” Deacon calls. He tugs on my jacket and pulls me close to him. He covers my clasped hands with his and brings them to his mouth, blowing on them.

It’s not any different to what I was doing, but the gesture is enough to weaken my knees.

It’s then that I hear a loud voice call out Deacon’s name. I expect him to move away, or drop my hands, and when he does neither of those things, I try to do it for him.

His friends need some time to get used to seeing him with a man, don’t they?

Pinning me with a look that’s filled with irritation, he squeezes my hands and moves them back to his mouth. “I’m not that type of guy,” he says before continuing to try and warm me up.

I don’t get a chance to say anything to him because, grinning from ear to ear, Wade and Christy have arrived.

They’re an attractive couple. Wade has the same build as Deacon, but his skin is tanned, and his hair and eyes border on black. Christy’s tall and has red hair and forest green eyes. She’s wrapped up in a colorful array of ponchos and scarves to keep the cold at bay; the perfect marriage of pretty and petite.

“Oh my God,” she squeals. “I think we picked the coldest day in history to leave the house.” She holds out her hand, “Hi, I’m Christy, it’s so nice to meet you.”

Genuine in her greeting, it’s impossible not to smile back and introduce myself. “Hey, I’m Julian, it’s nice to meet you too.”

She shimmies over to give Deacon, who still hasn’t let go of my hand, a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. So I bite the bullet and smile at Wade, because this is kind of like the first time I’m meeting him.

“Hey,” he enthuses. “It’s good to see you again, man.”

“Yeah, you too.” We shake hands, but it’s still somewhat awkward. “Thanks for letting us crash your day.”

“Anything for Deac.” There’s a serious timbre to his voice, and it’s not hard to read between the lines. Deacon is important to Wade.

They’re family.

The one Deacon chose.

His opinion of all of this matters. And while he doesn’t seem to be perturbed by me or us being together, it doesn’t mean he isn’t wary of me potentially breaking Deacon’s heart.

He has every right to be; I come with a lot of baggage. We both do, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of telling him he’s right. Instead, I slap on a confident smile and squeeze Deacon’s hand.

“We were thinking we could walk around a bit before our reservations at twelve,”I say cheerfully.

“Yes,” Christy exclaims while nudging Wade. “Let’s go see people throw raw fish at other people.”

That’s enough to get him to crack a smile, and the four of us walk around the marketplace checking out all the different stalls. When we come across a lady who knits homemade beanies, scarves, blankets, and gloves, Deacon stops us.

“What are you doing?” I ask, watching Christy and Wade get lost in the crowd.

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