Chapter 11: 11 – Your Clothes

I wanted to keep this moment with me forever. But the reality of an approaching morning that would again push us to different coasts arrived faster than I wanted it to.

As our mouths separated, we buried our faces in each other's shoulders, clinging to each other as if our lives depended on it. Don't let go of me. Let's stay like this for one more second. And another one.

"We have to," said Conor, forcing a brief sad smile to rush over my face. I couldn't help but think that there were many things we had to do: go back inside, hold hands, kiss again, exchange phone numbers, and never fall asleep, so we never wake up from this dream.

I slid slightly when Conor pulled his head away to turn toward the entrance, and I didn't want to let go of him. But he held my hand and helped me stay on my feet.

Hand in hand, we glided cautiously as penguins do on thin ice. If one of us fell, he would have taken the other with him. But the closer we got, the stronger the thick layers of snow supported our steps and the easier it got to walk.

When Conor finally opened the door, the warm air inside, hitting the cold outside, produced so much steam that it felt almost as if we had come back from outer space. As if we had just visited another planet and are entirely different people now after seeing the wonders that await humanity elsewhere.

We both had so much snow on our clothes that we almost looked like snowmen. Conor pulled me inside, shoving the door into its place with a snap as if he had just secured the airlock to our spaceship. Conor's face was glowing red, as was probably mine. I shivered, feeling cold and hot and everything in-between.

Conor swept off the snow from his jacket and nodded to me to do the same. As soon as he was done, he came over and opened the zipper of my coat to help me out of it. He didn't even ask me if I needed or wanted his help. I felt old.

The snow under my jacket had already started to melt, leaving my clothes soaking wet.

"You should change clothes. Do you have anything dry with you?"

I shook my head. Everything was in my suitcase, which was already checked in for departure.

"I'm surprised you are still alive after being without me all these years," Conor laughed.

Believe me. I am too.

I was exhausted and slumped on a bench. I shivered and rubbed my red hands on my pants to get warmer while Conor looked through his bag. "It's not fresh, but at least it's dry." He handed me a white shirt and a green pullover, and I graciously took them.

"Let's find a place where you can change without offending public decency."

---

When I came out of the restroom, now wearing Conor's slightly too big-for-me clothes, I felt human again: refreshed, warm and embarrassed. But at least I smell like Conor now.

"Finally, you wear something fashionable," he joked and pushed himself from the wall he had leaned on.

"Where to now? It's your turn to make the call," said Conor. I had almost forgotten that this was our objective for the night. But I am not in the mood to decide anything. I can't even choose how to feel or what to say right now.

My voice cracked when I tried to reply. "Do you want to head back to the movie theater?"

"I told them to stop screening before I came after you."

"Looked right throw my lie, huh?" I didn't dare to meet eyes with Conor, so I directed my view to the floor, slowly following the seam of the dark grey ground tiles touching the beige walls.

"You are a more open book than you probably think, Ash."

Maybe. Or perhaps you still know me better than anyone else, myself included.

"Sorry for ruining the movie for you."

He slammed his right hand on my shoulder and moved my chin with his left hand, forcing me to look at him as if I were a child that needed some help understanding the consequences of their actions. "I'm just happy you didn't do anything stupid, like running away and wandering outside in the middle of the heaviest blizzard this country has seen in years."

He put on a ridiculous Dad-Face, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh wow, I didn't believe that would work," he said and grinned at me, stirring the feeling that made me want to kiss him again. What is the code now? Is it okay for me to kiss him again? Is that a place where we are now? Or was that just a one-time thing in the spur of the moment?

"How about we relax for a bit? It's almost midnight, and most of the stuff is closing soon anyway," suggested Conor, and I gladly nodded. Though I would have liked to stay awake all night so I wouldn't miss a minute with him, I felt pretty tired.

We wandered around the airport for a while, looking for the most suitable spot to camp. Most of the seats were occupied by other travelers sleeping or hypnotized by their smartphones. We walked to the far end of the first-floor seating area and found some unoccupied benches in the back, hidden behind some unseasonable palm trees that invited us to enjoy some privacy.

As soon as we put down our stuff, Conor winked at me briefly and left without a word. I looked where he was heading, but he was quickly out of sight. Since I didn't know when he would be back, I pulled out my phone to look at Instagram. No signal. Thanks, Blizzard.

What now? Staring into the distance? Boring. Play some Strike Force? Won't work properly without Wifi. Stressing out about the past and the future? I have already worried more in the past couple of hours than an average person probably does in a year.

I scrolled through my photo library. So many memories: a picture of my coworkers and me at the Christmas party; pictures from my games my mother took and sent me; selfies with classmates; memes I liked; Milo, Will, Leo, Conor, and I in the park; and eventually my favorite picture of Conor in our backyard in the winter.

"What are you looking at?"

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I nearly dropped my phone, scared to death for not realizing Conor had returned.

He cautiously balanced two to-go cups with his index finger at the bottom and his thumb on the top and leaned slightly over me, but not in a way that suggested he wanted to snoop on me. More like in a way that asked me to take the cups out of his hands so that he could sit down next to me without spilling the drinks.

"Be careful. The tea is way too hot."

I slid my phone onto my lap and tried my best not to burn myself when I took the cup out of his hands.

"I'm surprised you still have pictures of me on your phone."

"So you were snooping!"

"I own all rights to my own image."

"Okay, okay. Sue me."

I unlocked my phone by looking at it and shoved it right under his nose. He studied the image closely and tried to figure out when and where it was taken.

"It's in your backyard, isn't it? When was that?"

I slightly clenched my lips, hurt that he didn't remember me taking this picture.

"Shouldn't you have the opposite picture on your phone?"

He shrugged, pulling the corners of his mouth almost to the floor as if he wanted to say that he didn't know. He flipped out his phone and began scrolling through his library. It would be best if you didn't look at his screen while he was doing that. So I cautiously took the cap off my cup and inspected the tea. It was a simple herbal blend, something my grandma would give me so I wouldn't get sick. I drew my head back to avoid the steaming water burning me and blew at it in a futile attempt to cool it down.

Conor held his phone up, showing me a picture of Milo and me inside my living room, maliciously grinning at him.

"So you also didn't delete them."

"Why would I?"

I had to smile as I looked at us, being so young and innocent. Well, maybe not as pure as the driven snow, but not as worldly as now. Oh fuck, I sound like a 30-year-old man that feels old for the first time in his life. I put the cap back on the cup and stored the tea safely next to me on a small table. It was way too hot to drink, after all.

"I miss those times," Conor muttered as he flipped through more pictures of our shared past. I leaned over his phone, curious about what else he had stored there.

"Me too."

He turned to me, his face now dangerously close to mine, and we both had to smile, wallowing in nostalgia like retirees. I want to kiss him so badly again. To show him what he means to me. But can I... do that?

Inhaling a deep breath, Conor pushed the right button on his smartphone to turn the screen off. He kept his gaze fixed on me and his head as close to mine as one can be. Does he want me to kiss him? If it had been a one-time thing, he wouldn't look at me like this, would he?

I wanted to hold his hand, but all I could do was place mine on my knee, hoping he would have the guts to touch it. I could see that he glanced at it for a second before lecherously smiling at me again.

"Are you afraid?"

"No," I said softly, even though I stifled my tremors. I leaned closer and waited to see how he would react. He copied me as well, leaning closer, awaiting my next move. We both chuckled and grabbed another kiss at the same time.

---

I ended up lying in his arms, just like in the cinema. But this time, I decided to enjoy it. There is enough time to feel guilty once we have to part ways again. I should only focus on the moment. Be with him. Like he told me when we were out in the storm.

Conor held up his smartphone, trying to find the perfect position for a selfie of us. I pushed myself up, so my face was closer to his when he pressed the red button, and the screen turned white for milliseconds. The picture he had taken was immediately displayed, and his happy smile struck me. I can't believe I'm with him again. My jaw suddenly dropped as I realized I had kissed him. Twice!

"I can't believe we... did that," I said, feeling at ease for the first time in years.

"Taking a picture?"

"You know what I mean," I said, surprisingly calm. Four hours earlier, a joke like this would have driven me crazy.

"So..."

I turned my head to Conor, looking at his curiously bent eyebrows, which reminded me of cute black hairy caterpillars.

"...no worries about kissing another guy?"

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