Chapter Two: Touching Hands

Caleb 

  “You did not have to go and pick him up. It’s not like he cannot get to the house from the shelter. Why did you have to kiss him on the cheek!?” 

   I sigh, sitting on the chair in my room. I know we were bound to have this argument, one way or the other. And no matter which excuse I give, it will not be enough for Anna. Not that I can blame her. We had been dating on and off for three years, and even though she knew I did not believe in marriage, she decided to stick with me. 

   Even when I told her that having a fake relationship with Ryan meant that my parents would no longer harass her, and we could live our lives in peace, she did not question why I could not stand up to them and also defend what we had together. 

I was, I am a coward. 

    “Don’t you have anything to say? Do I have to go out there and ask him why he cannot just go back to his family? His mother came to bring him home, while yours couldn’t care less. If you ask me, I think you are getting the short end of this arrangement,” she says. 

   “I- I’m sorry,” I tell her. Because it is the only thing I can say that makes any sense. Because I am tired of having this argument over and again when I have come too far to quit. 

  If I decide to break up with Ryan, the paparazzi would have a field day with that. We had to go out at least once every two weeks and give them something to talk about. If not, they went ahead with headlines that were targeted at my family and the company my father worked hard to build. 

   As the son of the wealthiest president in the automobile manufacturing industry, my life had always been public, even before I was born. Everyone knew I would take over from my father, who had a stellar reputation, and wanted to see if I would fail in the process or not. 

  If I made a mistake, the public would proclaim it a scandal. If I acted out of character, they would claim that my father’s company was bound to crash in a couple of years if his heir did not shape up. Every single thing I did was scrutinized, down to my relationship with Anna. 

   So when my father told me that he had found someone for me to marry, I decided that it was time to leave. Even if it meant losing everything and being in a fake relationship with another man. 

        

      “You’re not even listening to me,” Anna’s voice breaks my thoughts. “I should just go. You don’t even care if I am uncomfortable or not. You’d rather kiss another boy in public than your girlfriend.” 

  I reach out to hold her hand and pull her close to me. “Don’t. I’m sorry that you have to be put in a tight spot. I just don’t know what else to do.” 

“You can always end the relationship,” she says. “It’s not as if your parents acknowledge you as their son anymore. Nobody cares if you are dating me or some other girl down the street.” 

   As I pull her gently on the bed and kiss her, I think about her statement. While it is true that my father no longer sees me as his son, there is still Ryan, who is expected to take over his father’s company when he retires. 

   He is the one the press pays attention to every time we leave the house, but I was the one who asked if he would be open to being in a fake relationship with him. I started this, and ending it abruptly seems unfair. 

  “You should put a sock on the door,” Anna says as she kisses my neck, and her hands find their way beneath my shirt. Her kisses become more hurried, and her fingers found the button of my jeans. “The sock,” she repeats, when I do not move, and stops to stare at me. “I don’t want your boyfriend walking in on us. It’s enough that we have to do it here.” 

    I stand up and make my way to the door with a sock in my hand. I open it and wear it on the door handle and am about to shut it when I see Ryan come out from his room looking paler than he did in the morning. 

   He glances at me and doesn’t say anything before heading to the living room. I close the door and go back to bed, but something doesn’t sit right, and I am distracted when Anna tries to kiss me again. 

   “What? Now you don’t want me?” 

I shake my head. “It’s not that. I think something is wrong with Ryan. He looked- “

“Seriously? You are going to talk about Ryan now?”

   “I have to make sure he’s okay,” I tell her. “I’ll be back once I make sure he’s fine.”

She pushes me away and picks up her bag. I don’t try to stop her this time, because the look on Ryan’s face has taken away any desire to do anything else. 

   “One of these days, you’ll come begging me to help you out,” Anna says, before she slams the door and leaves. 

     I wait for a couple of minutes before walking out to the living room, where Ryan is sitting on the couch, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. 

  I stand there for a couple of seconds, unable to stop myself from staring at him. Saying that he was handsome was an understatement that I concluded on the first day we met. 

    Ryan was popular for many reasons. Not only because he was the only son of a wealthy family, but also for his looks. The first day we met, it was at an art class. A studio—in the other part of the city—opened its doors, inviting artists—established and beginners—to come and create art. 

  I decided to attend and was there with about twenty others, drawing lines and geometric shapes when Ryan stumbled in, muttering his apologies. Everyone forgot about the unfinished artwork in front of them, mesmerized by this boy who was art himself. He ended up acting as a model for the class, and I did my best to draw him, not leaving out the emotions I could see in his eyes and his posture as he sat there for hours. 

  After the class, I went to give him the drawing. It felt too intimate to have captured a part of him that he must have tried to hide from everyone else. I was only lucky because I could see a glimpse of myself in him.  Less than a week later, I asked him if he wanted a chance to live life the way he dreamed. And we rented this apartment. 

    “Did she leave?” He asks, eyes opening slowly. 

I nod, coming to sit beside him. 

“Did I cause it? 

I shake my head. 

  “No.” 

“You sure? I know she doesn’t like the arrangement we have going on. Perhaps we should put an end to it. I don’t want to jeopardize what you have now,” he says. 

   I put my palm to his forehead, noting that his temperature isn’t higher than it was in the morning. Maybe it was a mild spell of dizziness, I conclude. 

  “Are you cold? Do you feel weak?” 

“No, I’m fine. Maybe a little tired, but I’ll get better once I sleep it off,” he tells me. 

“Okay.”

    I start to stand up when he holds my hand. 

“I don’t want to ruin your life, Caleb. I know you asked me to, but I think you are still carrying on because of me. We can- 

I don’t know why I did it, just that it was the only thing that came to my mind at that moment.     

      Without thinking, needing him to stop worrying, I bend down and kiss him, our lips meeting for the first time. In that moment, even as my arms come around to frame his face, I am stunned. 

I break the kiss quickly, expecting him to slap me for crossing the line. But he reaches out, covering the space between us, and captures my lips in a deeper kiss. 

   A soft moan leaves my lips as I pull the boy who has been my roommate and fake partner for six months into my arms, tasting the heady flavor of the glass of wine he must have had earlier, his body melding with mine as I lean back, pulling his body flush against mine.