Page 101 of Thirsty
They’d spent a lot of time in the last few months working on themselves and their relationship, rebuilding the trust that had been lost. Charlie had shown Lorenzo the parts of himself he’d kept hidden before—when he’d first wanted to be a writer; landing the gig atMidnightand crafting his Crone voice; the kind of artistic projects he’d long dreamt of but never dared to say out loud. He could whisper those things to Lorenzo in the middle of the night on a random Tuesday and feel like no one heard them, because he was speaking directly into the universe via the slow, even way Lorenzo stroked his hair as he listened to Charlie.
Charlie apologized in many different ways and different languages, both love and literal, for violating Lorenzo’s trust.They reread and dissected every column he’d written since moving back to Brookville. They had long meandering conversations that went until five a.m. and were often half crying, and they had nonsensical, barely coherent conversations about love and trust and meaning and honor while they were still short of breath and glued to each other, watching some inane movie on mute in the dark of Charlie’s room.
They stayed at Charlie’s place more.
But they were at a good place with the roommates again. Charlie was in a good place with Maggie again, thank Satan. And it was just at that moment that a text from Rachel popped up on Charlie’s phone, blocking the top third of the movie.
Charlie winced when he saw Isolde’s name. Without even opening it all the way, he looked at Lorenzo, who had a weary look on his face.
Charlie swiped the notification away, unread.
“Cold,” Lorenzo murmured, though he was starting to smile.
“We’re on vacation,” Charlie said. “And I’m not touching that mess with a ten-foot pole.”
An echoing voice reminded them that it was almost time to board, so Charlie turned off the movie and started getting his things together. “How many more flights?” Lorenzo asked, staring at the gate with dread. To hear him tell it, plane coffins ran the gamut from tolerable to medieval torture device.
“Just one,” Charlie reassured him. “And then a teeny tiny boat.”
Lorenzo perked up at that.
“Hm,” Charlie said, as they stepped into the accordion-like boarding apparatus. He was pointing at a sign. “What does that say?”
Lorenzo sighed happily and translated for him. “Keep seatbelts and coffins fastened.”
One flight, one boat, and one sunset later, Charlie and Lorenzo were in the heated pool. By the time the sky was fully dark, they were well on their way to hammered.
The hotel was gorgeous, a thoroughly modern glass and steel enclave set right onto the pebbled beach. It had the standard-issue infinity pool with a huge swim-up bar, close enough to hear the waves crashing in the dark.
And Charlie and Lorenzo were being every inch the obnoxious American tourists, laughing too loudly and falling over each other and making out without a care in the world for who could see. There weren’t even that many other guests out at this time of night, but those that were must have been judging them. Charlie just couldn’t find it in himself to care.
He’d almost lost this.
The hotel was in Cagliari, a big, bustling city all the way across the island from Lorenzo’s hometown. Italy from the U.S. was already a long trip, so they were stopping along the way, and he didn’t want those stops to necessarily be laden with meaning, not if Lorenzo wasn’t ready for that. He’d have time to show Charlie everything here that meant something to him, everything he might’ve touched or seen centuries ago, but that was tomorrow. Tonight, they could take a night off in a luxury hotel that was younger than Charlie.
“Hang on, hang on,” Charlie said, only slurring a little. “Watch this.”
He was trying to tie a cherry stem into a knot with histongue, but it was difficult with Lorenzo standing just behind him in the pool, his hands roving all over Charlie’s body, practically drooling onto Charlie’s shoulder as he scented his latest bite.
Lorenzo had bitten him in a number of fun places by now, but Charlie’s favorite would always be the bite on his neck. After he and Lorenzo had gotten back together, it had finally healed, though it never went away completely; Charlie knew the two shiny, thick scars on his neck would never fade. He loved rubbing at his bite absently, or in the mornings, when he missed Lorenzo; the reminder that he belonged to him; that they were bound together by this messy, painful connection they shared; that they’d chosen.
Lorenzo’s fingers drifted over Charlie’s nipple, and he shivered, turning to kiss Lorenzo with his sticky-sweet cherry mouth. Lorenzo’s lips were shining when he pulled back.
Charlie went on his back in the pool, looking up at the stars. Lorenzo kept a hand under his back and helped him float, pushing and pulling gently so he was rocking in the water. “Can vampires float?” Charlie asked him.
“Yes.”
“Can you drown?”
“No.”
“I already know you can hold your breath for a really long time.”
Lorenzo quirked an eyebrow down at him, but didn’t bother dignifying the remark with a response.
Charlie stretched and then stood up again, water rolling off his shoulders, and put his hands on Lorenzo’s hips. “What’s the worst part about it?”
They both knew why he was really asking, but they weren’ttalking about that directly just quite yet. He appreciated that Lorenzo wasn’t rushing him. He knew Charlie would tell him when he was ready.
Lorenzo thought about Charlie’s question carefully, and said, “No sunlight.” Charlie hummed. “Being stereotyped by vampire fiction.” Charlie laughed. “Obsessive advice columnists.”
Smiling, Charlie asked, “And what do you do with those?”
“I’m a vampire,” Lorenzo said softly, catching Charlie’s jaw in his palm. “I seduce them.”
And they kissed under the moonlight, surrounded by the ocean and a whole unknown world waiting just for them.
