Touch the Sky (Free Fall Book 1) (6 page)

“
W
hat the hell
are you so happy about?” Rich asks me on our lunch break at the construction site. It was the same question Ezra had for me last night, after I turned on some head-banger music and started tidying up the apartment. “You get laid or something?”

The other guys laugh but Lou gives me a warning look. My co-workers know I’m gay. I don’t hide who I am, but I also don’t speak openly about it.

“What, I’m not allowed to smile every once in a while?” I ask and then bite into my turkey sandwich. We’re sitting on the grass near the foreman’s trailer so he can have a quick meeting after our hour is up.

These men work with me every day so they’re used to seeing me anywhere from broody to frenetic—although mostly somewhere in between—but they rarely see me grinning with simple contentment.

“Well, you’re not running your mouth this time so I figure you got laid and don’t want to share the details,” Rich says.

Another guy named Mickey thumps my shoulder. “Who’s the girl in those situations, anyway? You? Inquiring minds want to know.”

It’s a question I’m used to so it doesn’t really boil my blood anymore. But before I can open my mouth, Lou steps in for me. “Are you really that uneducated? There ain’t no such thing, you idiot. Your gay porn subscription must’ve expired or something.”

Rich howls with laughter and Mickey shakes his head, pink dotting his cheeks. The other guys start cleaning up their leftovers as I finish up the remainder of the chips in my bag. Lou stays behind as the crew heads toward the foreman’s office.

“You do seem different this week,” he says. “Happy.”

“I just made contact with an old friend.” I shrug. “We realized we live close, so it’s cool to be able to talk again and make plans.”

“Well good for you,” he says. “You could use a friend.”

I scrunch my brows at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means just what I said,” he answers, crumpling up his brown paper bag. “You could use a good friend. Everybody can.”

“Okay then,” I say, throwing out my trash and heading toward the crew. But I know Lou’s right. And a friend like Lucas, somebody who knows me, would be amazing. If I can break through some of those walls he’s built, even better.

After I get home, I shower, shave, and pull on a pair of gray skinny jeans. I stand in front of my closet deliberating what else to throw on. I know this isn’t a date. But Lucas actually asked me to do something which means he’s cool with us hanging out. This is the very thing I daydreamed about when I was younger so for it to come to fruition is pretty surreal.

Ezra clears his throat in my doorway. “You should wear the blue shirt. It brings out your eyes.”

I turn to see him crunching down on an apple. “Thanks, man.”

“So you were friends with this guy back in high school?” he asks around a bite.

“Yeah, he’s the first person I told that I’m gay,” I say. Ezra is asexual—or maybe the word is demisexual. He’s always been open about the fact that he’s never really attracted to anybody physically, only emotionally, which apparently is the ticket for him when it comes to hooking up. If he feels something for the person, he enjoys sex, otherwise, he can go without it. “He was a great friend…but we lost contact.”

I know there’s a question hanging from his lips and before I can say more he asks. “Does he know? Your diagnosis and your history with….”

“Most of it,” I say, trying to shut the topic down. I do not want to ruin my good mood. Sometimes I wish that Ezra hadn’t witnessed some of my highs and lows over the past year. At least I’m getting better at recognizing the signs. “But we’re just getting to know each other again. Give it a minute.”

A small smile lines his lips. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“He’s somebody important to me,” I say after I pull on my shirt and adjust the shoulders. I already know what he’s thinking:
If he’s so important then you’ll consider getting your mental health sorted out.

There’s a knock right then and my entire body thrums with tension. Taking a deep breath, I walk past Ezra and pull open the door.

Lucas stands there looking gorgeous as ever with his faded jeans, blue Converse kicks, and a Henley shirt the color of oatmeal. I’m speechless for a moment as I check him out, but then I get myself together.

“Uh, come inside a minute,” I say, letting him pass me through the entryway. “This is my roommate, Ezra.”

Lucas raises his hand in a wave and then glances around the apartment. Outside of the two bedrooms, we have a decent sized living room, a galley style kitchen with an island and three stools, as well as an eat-in dining area that Ezra uses as his studio. “Nice place. Is that your artwork?”

“Ezra’s a painter,” I say, as I motion to his colorful abstract canvases. “He has a show coming up at the Paper and Clay Gallery next weekend, so these are some of his new pieces.”

“Fantastic,” Lucas says. “I’m jealous of your talent.”

“Lucas, don’t you still—” I’m about to open my mouth and mention that Lucas liked to draw, but as if he knows what I’m thinking he throws me a mortified glance along with a small shake of his head, and I keep my mouth shut. He must not sketch buildings anymore or just keeps that part of himself hidden. “I’ll ask you later.”

As I slide into my hoodie I can feel his gaze on me. “Is that your standard uniform?”

There’s a playfulness in his gaze, and as a smile curves my lips, Ezra grumbles, “Pretty much. Better get used to it.”

The grin slides from Lucas’s face quickly and is replaced by uncertainty. He’s nervous about asking me to hang out and I need to get us moving before he changes his mind. I head toward the door and Lucas follows behind.

“Catch you later,” I throw over my shoulder to my roommate.

“Have fun kids,” he says. “Don’t come home early on my account.”

“Nice meeting you,” Lucas says as we step into the hallway and then take the stairs to the bottom floor. “Is your roommate always—”

“Like some nosy older sibling?” I say. “Yup. Who knew I’d miss being an only child?”

He chuckles and I avoid eye contact with him as we continue down the staircase. After we walk out the rear door to the small parking lot behind the building, I feel a tug on the back of my hoodie.

“You shouldn’t cover yourself up so much,” he says behind my shoulder. “You work hard and have the lean muscles to prove it. You should show them off more.”

My stomach swoops as if I missed a step but I know he’s only being friendly, not flirty. “I guess I still feel like that scrawny kid you used to email way back when.”

“We’re not those people anymore,” he mumbles and our eyes meet briefly and hold.

I sigh. “Guess not.”

L
ucas’s car
is a rusted brown sedan, which seems sturdy enough, but like his apartment, it’s definitely worse for wear. “So where are we going?”

“You said to surprise you,” he says as he opens the passenger side door. At first I think he’s being chivalrous but then he plunks down in the seat and begins sliding over. “Sorry. My car’s a piece of shit. The handle on the driver’s side is busted. So I have to get in this way.”

After we’re situated side by side, he fires up the engine, and pulls out of the lot into traffic.

“You’re not even going to give me hint?” I ask as I attempt to get my pulse under control. I’m sitting in a car with Lucas on our way to who knows where and it feels really cool. And really freaking surreal.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he scoffs. “Just enjoy the ride.”

He turns up the tunes and we fall into a comfortable silence that just borders on awkward. I have trouble with silence sometimes, and my bouncing knee doesn’t help my nerves. “So what’s your work schedule normally like?”

“Weekends are my busiest time and when I make the bulk of my tips,” he says as he maneuvers onto the freeway and takes the 2.

“Makes sense,” I say, wondering where in the hell he’s driving me. “I’m obviously off weekends.”

“You ever hit up any of the WeHo clubs?” he asks, before turning onto La Cienega.

“Sometimes. Depends on my mood,” I say. “And how hard up I am.”

“I hear you.” His gaze momentarily falls to my lap and I try to think of anything other than my dick sporting a chub.

I wonder why we haven’t run into each other before now. I imagine watching his sweaty body on the dance floor at some club and immediately thrust the thought from my brain.

I stop paying attention to directions until we merge onto the 101. It’s crazy, but all the freeways in the area are somehow interconnected. We make conversation here and there until eventually, I grasp that we’re heading to Glendale. Lucas makes his way to a deserted thruway that appears to run alongside the interstate. As I take in the sparse scenery, I realize we’re behind a small airport called Sherman Airfield.

“What are we doing here?” I ask, my head turning in both directions. There’s only one runway and this landing strip doesn’t even have a radio tower. This is the kind of airport my uncle, who’s a pilot, said might be my best bet to seek out one day for lessons. If they weren’t so damn expensive.

“You said you want to fly,” he says, motioning with his hand. “And this is the perfect place to tell me all about it.”

He pulls off the road onto the bumpy grass and drives alongside the metal fence parallel to the runway.

“Are we allowed to park this close?” I ask as I stare in wonderment at the airplane hangars up ahead, and a restricted sign clinging to the one of the posts.

He narrows his eyes like he’s ticked about my question and I realize that I sound ungrateful. He planned this out after all. “I didn’t mean…this is very cool. I have no idea why I haven’t thought to do this before.”

After he puts the car in park, we exit the vehicle through the passenger side, and he pulls a blanket from the backseat.

I still don’t know exactly what he’s thinking so I stand there awkwardly as anticipation buzzes through my veins. He spreads out the blanket on the sparse lawn and sits down.

“C’mon.” He nods to the space beside him. After I sink down on my knees he leans all the way back so that he’s level with the ground and staring up at the bright sky.

As soon as I mimic his position I hear a propeller winding up and realize that a plane is about to take off from the runway.

The rumble of the motor is such a rush that I gasp and then go completely still, allowing the sound to reverberate in my bones. As the plane floats into the sky like some magic carpet, I shut my eyes, picturing the pilot’s amazing view.

In this position I feel hyperaware of the strong and warm body lying beside me. Lucas’s hand rests near mine on the blanket, lifting all of the fine hairs on my arms. When I open my eyes, his head is turned, and he’s watching me. There’s something like awe and admiration in his gaze and it warms me to my toes.

Our eyes snag and hold and I drink in the sight of him—his curly locks fanning in a halo against the plaid pattern of the blanket and his long eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. Lucas thought up this cool idea tonight because he remembered. He remembered my dream. And it feels so incredible to realize that somebody knows me like that.

“So tell me how you’re going to fly.” His voice is low and breathy and I have the urge to tilt my head and meet his lips. Taste his tongue. Our fingers brush inadvertently as he angles himself toward me and I feel a shock wave rush through my body.

But there’s still a vast amount of space between us. So much we still don’t know about each other. Not anymore.

“How about you share something first?” I say. “Something I don’t know from the past five years?”

He inhales sharply through his nose and I think I’ve ruined it. This magical moment. My heart thrashes in my chest trying to think of what to say to fix it.

“Okay,” he finally says. “Fair enough.”

I exhale, gaze up at the soft fluff of clouds, and wait. I can hear how his breaths have changed, feel how his fist keeps clenching on the blanket beside me. “Luke, it’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“You’re not the only one who went off the rails,” he says in a rush. “You don’t know the half of it.”

My mouth gapes open as I angle my head to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark and unfocused and agitated and he’s completely on edge. I want to reach out and comfort him because I cannot imagine what brought on this change.

“I was messed up too, only I didn’t have a good excuse like you did. Mine was just me being an idiot,” he says, looking me in the eye. “I screwed up. Got locked up in juvie for six months for doing some really stupid shit.”

My heart falls like a stone to my stomach.

“Shut up.” I sit up suddenly so I can see him better. “Are you serious?”

He nods and lifts up onto his elbows. “Yeah. And I was going out of my fucking mind in there. I swore that’d be the last time I ever let myself get locked away.”

I attempt to inhale a lungful of air through my nose, experiencing that familiar tightness in my chest. “I know the feeling. I never want to feel trapped like that again.”

Fuck. Lucas was in juvie? What the hell did he do?

As if he can read my mind, he says, “I was never perfect. You know that. I used to tell you some of the shit I did, but that…? Every fucking thing in my life changed when I got put away. I learned my lesson and turned myself around. I won’t be that person again.”

I realize that my hands are clenched on my lap and I loosen them as he watches me, hardness yet vulnerability in his gaze. “You believe me? That I don’t do shit like that anymore?”

“Absolutely.” I would’ve been his friend no matter what. Because I know his heart. At least I thought I did.

“Want to know the most fucked-up part?” he whispers and my eyes widen.

I nod and reach out to tap his arm in a show of support.

“The worst part is, my m—”

All at once, there’s an ear splitting roar that seems to come out of nowhere. I hunch my shoulders as both of our gazes snap up to the sky.

There’s a low flying plane circling the runway directly above our heads. It’s as terrifying as it is exhilarating. It reminds me of when I used to sit on my porch just to get out of that stuffy house and wait for the jets to fly overhead on their flight path from Lindbergh Field back home. I used to imagine the aircraft slowing long enough to throw a ladder down to pick me up and off I’d go on some expedition. Somewhere that I wasn’t invisible. Where I was wanted—needed—for some secret mission. Someplace where I belonged.

Openly panting we watch the plane angle into position. As it passes over us, I throw up my hands and whoop in sheer elation, the noise making my teeth clatter. I can hear Lucas chuckling beside me.

As my heart rate slows, I realize the moment is lost. Whatever it was that Lucas was going to share with me just a minute earlier is crammed behind that steel trap door again. I can see it in his posture, in his expression. It’s just gone.