Page 17 of Between the Lines

“Sure.” Theo felt fluttery, like this was a date, which was a ridiculous if seductive idea. “I’ve warned the ER to be on standby.”

For a moment Moretti just stared, then he laughed as if the sound had been surprised out of him. He had a nice laugh, it made the corners of his eyes crinkle, and Theo’s stomach gave another helpless lurch. “I swear, I’ll keep you out of the ER.”

Theo wasn’t so certain—his last attempt at cycling had seen him go over the handlebars and fracture a wrist—but he didn’t press the point as they headed out.

The Surf Hut was aptly named: a decrepit old shack above the dune line at the quiet end of the beach. It was accessed from town via Sandy Lane, a narrow street lined with vacation rentals. Many of which stood empty.

Moretti had the key and let them into the hut, flicking on the light to reveal rows of wetsuits hanging up along the wall. “Okay,” he said, “let’s get you suited up.” He ran an assessing eye over Theo, which lingered long enough to make him feel hot all over. “You’re what, five-eleven and 160 pounds?”

“Give or take.” He didn’t have noodle arms—he worked out with weights at home—but compared to Moretti’s solid bulk he felt scrawny. Not that anyone was looking. “Here.” Moretti snagged a wetsuit with short arms and legs and handed it over. “Try this.”

Theo glanced around. There was nowhere else to change and Moretti was already stripping off his t-shirt to reveal an expanse of bare back and broad shoulders that made Theo’s eyes pop. He turned away hurriedly and started working on his own clothes, trying to ignore the sudden inappropriate flush of heat across his skin. “So, ah,” he said, to distract himself, “you grew up here?”

“Yup, born and bred.”

Theo pulled his t-shirt up over his head and dumped it on the bench next to him. “Must have been a great place to be a child.”

A pause, then, “Um... Sorry, what?”

“I said, it must have been a great place to be a child.”

“Oh, yeah, it was awesome.” Luca’s voice went soft as he spoke, a little dreamy. “Running around barefoot the whole summer, learning to swim and then to surf. Hiding in the dunes. Mom and Dad used to have this little boat and we’d—” He broke off, cleared his throat. “Yeah, it was great.”

Theo glanced over, caught a glimpse of Moretti’s Lycra swim trunks that made his breathing hitch, and looked away again, embarrassed by the strength of his own reaction. “So, uh, your dad’s not around anymore?” He fiddled with the awkward button at the top of his shorts, got it undone, and sat down on the bench to get them over his feet.

“No. He left. And then...” Theo glanced up to find Moretti’s gaze slipping away from him. “And then it was just me and Mom. Until she married Don and—” He shrugged, but didn’t finish.

“It didn’t feel like home anymore?” Theo suggested, reaching for his wetsuit with some trepidation.

“Yeah, exactly.”

Theo nodded, turning the wetsuit over. Ah, there was a zip at the back. “That’s how it felt when my dad remarried. Well, it did the first time. By the third time, I’d given up caring.” He tugged at the zip. “So where’s home for you, now?”

“Nowhere. I don’t do ‘home,’ as a concept.”

Theo laughed, but when he looked over Luca’s mouth had settled into a serious, straight line. No hint of a smile.

“I prefer life on the road,” he said. “Not getting tied down to one place, or to one person. I find that...leaves you open to a lot of shit.”

“But you’re tied to New Milton, right?” Theo set the wetsuit on his lap. God only knew how you were meant to get into the thing. “And you’re tied to the Majestic.”

“Not anymore. Don’t get me wrong, New Milton’s my favorite place in the world and I can’t imagine the Majestic not being here, but that doesn’t mean I want to stay.” Luca ran his fingers through his hair, making it glint in the evening sunlight streaming through the open door. “Ican’tstay. But knowing the Majestic’s here...it’s important to me.” He shook his head, as if bewildered by the idea. “I guess that sounds stupid.”

Theo considered it. Moretti was much easier to figure out than the stiff black wetsuit on his lap, and more interesting, too, so Theo gave him his full attention. “It was your home,” he said. “When you were a child this was your safe place, but then your father left and your mother remarried and it didn’t feel safe anymore. But even if you don’t want to live here, you still want your home to exist.” It made perfect sense. “I can see why you don’t want anything to change. It must feel like we’re attacking your foundations.”

Silence followed, a tense silence suggesting he’d said too much. Or the wrong thing. He cast a wary glance at Moretti only to find the guy staring, lips slightly parted, his silvery eyes fixed on him. Theo shifted under his unfathomable gaze. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s...” Moretti shook his head. “It’s just, yeah, you’re spot on. Most people don’t get it.”

Theo smiled. “I can relate, I guess.”

“Yeah?” Moretti’s gaze lingered on him, as if seeking answers on Theo’s skin. “Where’s home for you, then? I’m assuming, by the accent, it’s not around here.”

“Well, it’s been Greenwich Village for the last five years,” Theo said. If you could call his sterile, one-bedroom apartment a home. “But I moved around a lot growing up: boarding school and uni in London, holidays with Dad in the States. He’s English, but moved here before I was born. My mother’s American, but lives in France now. I grew up kinda rootless, I guess, so I do get why the Majestic’s important to you.” He smiled, feeling wistful and self-conscious. “I always wanted that, you know? A real home, somewhere unchanging. I suppose I still do, if I’m honest.”

Moretti nodded and for a long while they simply stared at each other and it didn’t feel difficult or awkward, but something else entirely. Something alive and buzzing that made Theo want impossible things and—And then Moretti cleared his throat, gesturing at Theo’s wetsuit. “You need a hand?”

“I’m fine.” The automatic response came out snappier than Theo intended, shattering the strange atmosphere, but he hated being treated like a child. “I mean, I can do it.”

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