He and Grayson were eating sandwiches on a bench on the High Line, a quick lunch break because Nolan had looked at so many material samples in the studio that morning that he’d lost all sense of what colors and textures even went together. Grayson was chattering about the house tours they’d done with the Cruzes the day before and what things had stood out to Jason and Lara, who had nearly diametrically opposed tastes. Jason seemed to like sleek and modern, minimalist, black and white. Lara liked softer, more traditional elements and was open to bright colors. Grayson talked about how to reconcile these things, as if trying to solve a math problem.
Nolan just sat there watching him, only hearing half of what he said. Grayson was so different from Ricky. It wasn’t just his youth. Ricky had often been taciturn, only speaking when he had something important to say, but Grayson just rambled on all the time. Ricky had been patient and calm; Grayson was constantly moving. In a way, the contrast wasn’t so different from Jason and Lara Cruz. Ricky had been soft, traditional, comforting like a warm blanket; Grayson was edgy and hard, clomping around in those ridiculous motorcycle boots. Today he had on a gray-and-white-striped scarf draped around the collar of his leather jacket and those damned pants with the zippers in weird places.
But maybe what Nolan really needed right now was not so much a warm blanket as a bucket of ice water. He’d been asleep for a year. And Grayson seemed unknowingly determined to wake him up.
Grayson sat there now and pulled a roasted red pepper off his sandwich. “Ugh. Why does everyone put roasted red peppers oneverything.”
“Do you not like them?”
“I like them in moderation. This is a lot. I feel like all I taste are red peppers and not the good stuff on the sandwich. Anyway, my thought is, anything too pink or floral is a nonstarter, but maybe we could do a two-tone kitchen with white uppers and gray lowers and light counters, and we carry that through to the bathrooms. Flat-panel cabinets. But we soften it up with accessories. Put cushiony stools at the kitchen island, maybe add a banquette in that little nook by the window, soft curtains, that kind of thing. Something geometric for the backsplash but more interesting than subway tile.”
Nolan nodded because he wasn’t even sure which house they were talking about anymore.
The thing with Grayson, though, was that he drew Nolan in. He was a talker, sure, but his voice had a strange, soothing quality on Nolan. It was sort of like Grayson was worrying about all these little challenges so Nolan didn’t have to. And not even in a facetious way, but actually because Grayson cared about this stuff and Nolan wasn’t actually ready to be back at work and functioning at full capacity.
And Grayson wasalive. He was so alive, constantly moving, constantly talking, soaking everything in, moving through the world like he belonged there. It was refreshing, in a way, to be with someone who lived so loudly.
“Oh, so, I saw this documentary,” Grayson said, apparently making a left turn in the conversation. “I think you would like it. It was about….”
And Nolan just stared, because how could he not? He nodded when appropriate and continued to eat his lunch, but mostly he just watched Grayson talk and move and go on about whatever he was going on about.
It wasn’t the same as falling in love with Ricky. Well, maybe it was a little. It had that same instant quality. The same lightning-bolt attraction. The same desire to spend as much time with this person as possible. But it was different too, because Nolan was different now. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to fall in love again, because going through a loss like that again would kill him.
Maybe it wasn’t fair to think this would be the same thing. For now, he and Grayson were just having fun; they could break up in two weeks. They might never fall in love.
But in a way, it was reassuring to know maybe Nolan still could.
“Are you even listening?” Grayson asked.
“Sure.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re pretty.”
Grayson laughed. “Okay, you’re forgiven. You ready to head back to the studio?”
“Ugh, no. What’s a paint card? I don’t even know anymore.”
“All right. We can people watch a little more. There’s a girl walking a poodle at eleven o’clock who has a fox tail attached to her belt.”
Nolan looked and spotted the woman. She looked like she was in her midthirties. She wore a cute black-and-white dress. And, indeed, there was a fox tail hanging over her butt.
“It’s a look,” Nolan said.
“I have questions.”
“Best not to ask. Cute dog, though.”
“Man, I would love to get a dog. We had a big dumb black Lab when I was a kid. I loved that dog. My current landlord won’t allow pets, though.”
“Ricky had a collie mix when we first met. Sweet dog, but he got hair all over everything. After he passed, Ricky didn’t want to get another dog right away, and then we just… didn’t.”
“Yeah, I get it. And dogs are a lot. Tough to have one in a New York City apartment. I know people do it, but….”
“I’m still kind of adjusting to being back in an apartment. I love this city in a way I never loved LA, but I’m still getting used to living here again.” He’d lived in New York for most of his twenties, only moving to LA because he’d started getting design clients there.
“I’ve never been to LA.”
