Page 77 of Learn Your Limits
We make easy small talk with the couple in front of us, and we end up agreeing to be each other’s photographers once we reach the start of the line.
Reid is dressed opposite of me, almost literally. While I sport wide-legged black linen pants and a sleeveless black shirt showing my sides, he’s dressed in light blue jeans and a short sleeve white dress shirt splattered with rainbow paint. How we look together, the ever-present happiness on his face... This is a moment I want immortalized as a permanent picture hung up in the home we share.
Within a minute, we make it to the front of the line, and I invite the other couple to get their photo first, but I hand off their phone to Reid.
“You’re the better photographer,Muñeco.” He blushes as he takes the phone. It’s true, though, the way he’s taken pictures of his gorgeous body, no art could compare.
Before my mind can drift off to more indecent thoughts, it becomes our turn to pose for a photo, and I hand off my phone to one of the ladies we were speaking to. Deciding a pose is easy, our bodies slide together so effortlessly with my arm around Reid’s waist and his arm around my shoulder as we stand hip-to-hip.
As we are finishing our photos, I suddenly hear a cheer from the crowd that’s gathered by the mural to wait their turn for a photo.
“Kiss!” “Un beso!” they shout, clapping and whooping in our direction. A full-bodied laugh leaves me, and the playful taunts of the crowd make Reid blush even more. Turning my body so I stand in front of Reid, I block him from the crowd, putting us in our own little bubble for a second. I’d like to make sure he’s not uncomfortable, knowing he’s still fairly new to PDA with another man.
“What do you say?” I ask, rubbing soothing circles onto his hips as he looks at me wide-eyed and a little overwhelmed.
“I-I want to,” he stammers, his eyes flicking to the gathered crowd of people surrounding us. With a deep breath, he steadies himself. “But you’ll have to take charge.”
“Nothing new, baby,” I tease, taking his moment of surprise to wrap my hand around the back of his neck and lean in to kiss him, angling us toward the camera. Reid’s hands find my waist as he anchors himself to me, knowing I'll always be here to keep him safe and protected. His hands tighten their hold as he smiles into the kiss, and the crowd erupts in cheer.
The woman taking our photo appears suddenly beside us, handing me my phone and politely pointing out the other people in line behind us. I must have lost track of how long we were kissing. Waving a quick wave in apology, I guide a beet-red blushing Reid away from the crowd with one hand as I pull up our photos with the other.
“Take a look.” Bringing my phone up between us as we slow down our steps now that we’re out of people’s way, I huddle close to Reid as he begins to swipe through the images. We look like two opposites—quite literally dressed as night and day—and the pictures couldn’t be more perfect. He’s sunshine in every frame; a sweet smile shines on his face, yet a hint of that shy man I met nearly a year ago still sneaks through. And I love every facet of him.
Reid’s phone goes off in his pocket, and as he reaches for it, I take a second to make the picture of us kissing into my new background.
“It’s a text from my dad.” He stiffens beside me, his thumb hovering over his notification screen as if indecisive on whether or not to open it. Given how his father has been acting since Reid revealed our relationship last Christmas, I cannot blame him for hesitating.
I watch as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, steadying himself. “Fuck it,” he says on an exhale, swiping to unlock the phone. I am about to look away to give him some privacy when he reaches out and grasps my forearm. “Read it with me, please, Milo.”
Arthur Callahan:Hello, son. I know it has been some time since we last spoke. I’m aware that the distance between us is my doing, and I’m sorry.
Arthur Callahan:I just wanted to give my congratulations.
Reid remains quiet after reading through the messages. With a sigh, he locks his phone and puts it back into his pocket. With a shift of his feet, he’s turned in my direction and holds out his hand to entwine our fingers again. Immediately, I wrap my handaround his, holding it tightly in support as I watch him take a few more calming breaths.
Even with Reid inviting me to see the messages, it still feels like an intrusion with how raw those words from his father felt.
“I didn’t expect to hear anything from him—definitely not an apology,” he begins, his voice shaky with emotion. “But it’s a start, right?”
“It’s a start.” I nod.
“I can’t text back right now. I feel like I have to sit and think about what to say, and I don’t want it to take over our weekend.” His amber eyes are glassy only for a moment, the shine in them wiping away as he dabs his eyes with the collar of his shirt. When his eyes are revealed to me again, his gaze is focused, spine resolute as he squeezes my hand. “We’re still celebrating.”
“I’d support you in whatever you choose,Muñeco.” I mean it. If he wants to go back home, I’ll lead him out the gates right now, but only at his command. If my boyfriend wants to stay and celebrate, that’s what we’ll do.
“Well, I’m choosing us.” Reid presses into my side as he leans down, his lips brushing a gentle kiss to my cheek.
The gesture is so sweet, so caring after he’s just experienced a whirlwind of emotions. And somehow,I’mthe recipient of his adoration.
“Always,” he adds, his lips moving against my stubble. I can’t resist the temptation of nuzzling into him. After another moment of our embrace, I lean back and, with an open palm, gesture for us to keep walking the festival grounds.
“So, how are we celebrating? What would you like to do, baby?” As I ask the question, I notice Reid’s eyes drift to my upper arm where my newly healed tattoo is on display in my cut-off shirt.
It’s the image of the phoenix that Reid was drawing in my class all those months ago. At the time, him sharing that drawingwith me felt as transformational in our relationship as the mythical bird rising from its ashes. He found the drawing when clearing out old assignments right before graduation. Much to his surprise, we visited a tattoo parlor after his graduation dinner so I could get it tattooed; the bird wrapped in flames became as permanent as Reid is in my heart.
“Reid?” I ask again, knowing he’s still distracted looking at it as I look around the various stations and booths set up. I find it adorable how he fixates on his art decorating my arm.
“Hm? Oh, I saw a few things that looked interesting,” he replies. From my periphery I can see he’s now facing forward and looking around as well. “I saw something about a burlesque show when we were walking in.”
