Southward - 5. V.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Tomás slurred. Everyone could tell he was already ostensibly drunk. “But why did it have to be in my bathroom?”

“Dude, just be grateful we didn’t use your room,” Valentín snapped back, to laughs and hollers from the group. I heard Valentín chuckle behind me as well.

I pulled his arms closer around me, letting his warmth cover me whole. Sitting on the couch with him I could feel the subtle movements of his chest as he breathed in and out, and I could smell his cologne as clearly as if I’d worn it myself. Just being this close to him was bracing enough on its own, but the fact that we could be this affectionate in front of the boys added a whole different layer to it.

It was nice.

“But wait, Valen,” said Joaco, one of the boys. He’d been mostly quiet since Valentín and I told the group the whole story – that first kiss at the pregame, the chance encounter in the subway, the visit to the park after school.

“Does this mean you’ve been into one of us before?” he asked, somewhat horrified.

Nahuel slapped him playfully in the back of the head. “Who’s gonna be into you, you ugly fuck?”

Valentín laughed, but didn’t say anything. I felt his thumb draw circles on my forearm, sending chills down my spine, and I let out a heavy breath as I melted in his arms.

“It’s whatever, man. I’m happy for you guys,” said Nahuel, raising his glass to us.

I smiled. I wasn’t expecting any less than this sort of relaxed acceptance from them, but I did wonder if Valentín had been dreading this conversation. How many restless nights had he spent up thinking of all the ways his friends of years would possibly reject him? He had so much more at stake, much more to lose if things had gone south with the boys than I ever would.

Moments like these made me understand his initial hesitance, the conflict within him that made him treat me the way he did before.

And it made me appreciate him even more.

Tomás clasped his hands. “So who’s staying? I gotta know how many sleeping pads I gotta take out.”

“Oh, right!”

With all the fuss I’d forgotten how late it was. But before I could say anything, Valentín decided to speak for the both of us.

“Not us. We’re heading off.”

I turned to face him.

“Us?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. He flashed a devilish smirk.

“Well, didn’t you want to see my place?”

Warm little feelings popped up inside me.

“Yeah, I did.”

I made sure to text my mom as we bid our goodbyes – though I did lie about where I was staying. She didn’t need to know I was spending the night with Valentín, and I knew that even in the odd case that she asked around, Nahuel would cover for us.

I was about to open the Uber app when Valentín asked me if I’d ever ridden a motorcycle before.

“No, never,” I said, confused.

He smiled knowingly. “Then you’re gonna like this.”

He ushered me outside and beamed with pride as he showed me our ride home.

“It’s not mine, but I get to take it out for a ride from time to time,” he explained.

I tried not to let the fear show when I spoke.

“Uh, didn’t you drink?” A tight little knot was already forming in the pit of my stomach.

He rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I don’t drink and drive.”

He handed me a worn-out, sticker-bombed helmet and hopped on the bike.

“Hang on tight and fasten your coat, it can get chilly.”

I've never been a religious person, but had I been at the time, I would’ve dedicated a prayer to whatever god was willing to listen right then.

The bike roared as he started up the engine, and within seconds we were gliding through the streets at what most definitely felt like over 60 miles per hour.

At first I stuck to Valentín’s back as if he were a lifesaver and I was drowning at sea, whatever enjoyment I would have otherwise had from hugging him gone in the face of the impending danger of falling to the pavement at high speed. However, as we progressed in our journey through the grid-planned streets, I slowly allowed myself to look up.

And I was so glad I did.

I saw the city as I’d never seen it before. The wide avenues I was so used to seeing congested and bustling with life were now nearly deserted. Pristine white street lights shone with a halo-like glow in the humid spring air, creating a surreal, almost liminal aura.

And the wind… The way the cold wind hit my face reminded me of that familiar winter breeze I’d grown to love ice skating in New Haven. For a brief instant, Noah’s ghost threatened to creep its way into this moment, but I swiftly pushed it aside.

This wasn’t for him. This was for Valentín and me.

I got to see the city morph in real-time, from the packed high-rises of Tomás’s neighborhood through muted quartiers of low-rise residential buildings and suburban-type houses. As we turned to elevated highways to shorten the trip, I got to see from above the small, stacked houses of raw brick in the villas, the sprawling slums spread out through the city, seemingly hidden away unless you’re actively looking for them.

As we neared the end of our trip we were greeted by the towering housing blocks of Valentín’s turf; I immediately recognized the imposing, patched grey cement and the off-colored store signs and graffiti from when we’d dropped him off before.

The vibrations of the engine remained with me even as the bike itself stopped.

“Hey, um, before we go up, I need to ask something of you,” said Valentín as we walked over to the door.

“What is it?”

He rubbed his neck. There was a meekness unlike him in his eyes.

“Just…” he winced in anticipation of his own words. “If my dad asks, for now, you’re just a friend, okay?”

I placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Just a friend,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “Got it.”

He smiled, though the uneasiness didn’t leave his gaze.

I couldn’t blame him. I was doing my best to avoid reminiscing on the way I’d handled that conversation with my dad myself. And my mom…

Yeah, let’s not think about that.

The elevator door still hadn’t closed when I’d been pushed against the wall. His lips felt warm against mine, a stark contrast with the cold of his hand as it slid tentatively up my lower back. I didn’t mind it.

I kissed him back, letting his tongue invade my mouth, carrying the slightest hint of a minty breath with it. I let my fingers run through his hair, short and soft – the wind had already screwed up his do, anyway.

We didn’t pull back even as the bell indicating we’d arrived went off after what felt like the shortest eight floors ever.

The apartment door squeaked as he opened it, a screech in the dead of the night. For some reason, I felt as if I needed permission just to enter, as if this place was sacrosanct. He waved for me to come in.

“Dad?” Valentín whispered, just loud enough for anyone who might’ve been awake to hear. “Are you up?”

In the dim light I could barely make out a few silhouettes, of which I found nothing particularly distinctive. The smells did yield some hints of what was here: the earthy musk of cement and rubber, humidity, traces of that night’s dinner – pizza?

“We’re in the clear,” he said, and I managed to see him smirk.

We made it to his room in a blink. New fragrances joined the repertoire; body spray and cologne, the same I'd grown familiar with from being around him.

He didn’t turn on the lights.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he shut me up with another kiss. And another. The back of my legs hit his bed and before I could so much as breathe he’d pushed me down on it, the mattress creaking loudly upon my fall.

No words. There was nothing to say. He threw his weight on me, and I reciprocated by pushing myself against him as well. My hand ventured up his back, raising his shirt, feeling his skin, covered by the faintest hint of baby hairs. As if on cue, he grabbed the shirt by the back of the neckline and took it off in a flash.

I heard myself exhale profusely. I got to catch a glimpse of his bare chest in the lacking light that washed over through the blinds, but that was more than enough to finish fucking my brain over. I let my hands run through his back as he came down again, this time placing soft pecks on my neck.

I contracted, allowing him to kneel before me, my legs resting on his thighs. We shared a long, wanton look, and for an instant I felt as if we could read each other’s minds. I took off my shirt.

I rose to lock lips again, holding onto his neck, letting the skins of our torsos meet for the first time. Gaining confidence, I forced our bodies to shift and soon enough, I was on top of him.

At this point we were both painfully aware of how hard we were. I allowed myself to grind on him, not minding the discomfort of my own dick, constrained by layers of clothing. We spent what felt like hours like that, our gazes fixed on each other, his hands on my hips guiding the circular movements of my body. I wished I could’ve taken a snapshot of him right then, his eyes twinkling, his mouth slightly agape, his plump lips parting slightly with each panting breath – a motion in loop that I never wanted to end.

Then he reached for the zip of my jeans. He stroked me through the rough fabric, gently, seeking permission with his eyes.

Record scratch. I froze.

“Valen…”

Do I want this?

I think I should…

Should I just go ahead?

Where before there’d been eagerness and lust I found an opened Pandora’s box of uncertainty. Thoughts appeared where before there’d been nothing but lust and primal instinct.

This is good.

What's wrong with me?

Just go ahead anyway.

“Hey,” I heard Valentín whisper. “Lauti, talk to me.”

He was sitting upright now, mere inches away from me. His hands cupped my cheeks; his brows were furrowed in concern.

“I’m fine,” I croaked out, though the crack in my voice gave away the insincerity of my words.

“I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he said.

I gulped down. The tension in my shoulders eased, but the shame didn’t leave.

“I’m sorry.”

His hand cupped the back of my head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

The passion of the moment now decisively evaporated, we lay down and I let my head rest on his shoulder. The limited measures of his twin size bed wouldn’t have let us stay apart anyway, but I still much preferred that arrangement. I ran my hand through his chest, circling the tattoo on his left pectoral that I was just now paying attention to.

“Fabiola,” I read the inked words aloud, squinting to see in the dark.

“My mom,” he explained.

I hummed.

“It’s a pretty name.”

He placed a soft peck on my head. “We should probably rest.”

It didn’t take long before he became limp. I lay awake for a little longer, watching him sleep, thinking about just how crazy it was that of all the people in the world, in Buenos Aires, in my school, I'd been lucky enough to have stumbled across someone like him.

Ω

When my eyes fluttered open, it took me a hot minute to realize where I was. My throat felt dry. Sunlight passed timidly through the blinds, the only indication I had of what time it was. Valentín was still soundly asleep beside me, his lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in even motions.

I briefly considered closing my eyes again and drifting off to sleep, but I soon realized I was in a bit of a predicament.

Ah, fuck, I gotta piss.

Just sitting upright in the bed took an unfathomable effort. In the daylight I could now see Valentín’s room was a mess, with dirty plates and half-filled glasses on nearly every surface and clothes pooling on different spots in the ground. I chuckled to myself. It felt fitting.

The wooden floor creaked as I took my first steps. Fucking parquetry. My hand was already posed on the door handle when I heard music and voices across the door.

Shit.

I pondered my options, but I knew there was no way I was going to hold it in for long. I gulped down. Valentín’s words resounded in my head: ‘if my dad asks, you’re just a friend’.

I took a deep breath.

Two people – a tough-looking, bald, bearded man and a petite woman with long, crudely bleached hair – sat at a little dining table, chatting casually and drinking mate. Facing away from me and distracted by the Redondos song playing loudly in the background, they initially appeared not to realize I was there.

“Uh, hello?”

When they turned, only the man seemed surprised to see me.

“Well, you’re not my son,” he said, raising an eyebrow. Even if he hadn’t just casually mentioned it, I could’ve easily recognized it was Valentín’s father. The resemblance was definitely there.

“I’m Lautaro, a classmate of Valentín’s,” I said, reaching out my hand at him.

He shook it, and I was somewhat taken aback by the force of his grip.

“A pleasure,” he said, though he didn’t look convinced. “Are you from the neighborhood? Valen’s never mentioned you before.”

It was then that the petite woman spoke for the first time.

“Don’t you remember, Sergio?” she asked him, though her eyes were posed on me. There was something about her expression that I couldn’t really pinpoint. She looked… amused? “He’s the friend who’s been helping Valen out with math.”

I blinked. How’d she known about that?

“Pleasure to meet you,” she leaned forward to kiss my cheek. “I’m Marian.”

I flashed the most sincere smile I could muster.

“Uh, sorry, where’s the bathroom?”

I gave myself a good look in the mirror. There were dark bags under my eyes, no doubt a product of having deviated so much from the ordinary sleeping schedule. My hair didn’t look any better. It’d grown past its acceptable length and was starting to get in my eyes. I wondered if Valentín liked it that way.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket, and I suddenly realized I hadn’t checked it since last night. I mindlessly scrolled through messages from my mom requesting status updates and a myriad of trifling social media notifications, until I came across one particular note that made my heart skip a beat.

“Hey L, you there?”

The simplicity of the words was definitely on brand for Noah, but that didn’t make it feel any less out of place after weeks of radio silence on his part.

No, I’m not here.

I rolled my eyes and put the phone back in my pocket. He’d made me wait for this long for a life signal, I had the right to reciprocate.

When I went out into the living room again, Valentín’s dad was nowhere to be seen.

“Sergio had to take care of something, he’ll be back soon,” said Marian, now sitting on her own. She poured water into the gourd. “Care for a sip?”

I nodded and sat down beside her. I couldn’t deny it was somewhat awkward just drinking mate with this person I didn’t know, but I didn’t want to wake Valentín up and I didn’t want to leave either – I was well aware of the sermon awaiting me at home.

So mate with Marian it was.

“So,” she said as I handed the gourd back to her. “You’re the one who’s been keeping my number one assistant away from the workshop.”

I tilted my head in confusion. “Come again?”

She laughed. “I suppose Valen hasn’t told you about me. He helps out with the bikes at my garage.”

“Oh.” I remembered the Instagram post. “Right.”

I wondered if the bike we’d ridden the night before was hers. At a first glance she didn’t look like the type of person who’d run a motorcycle workshop, but as she poured the water again I noticed the darkened tint on her fingernails and the calluses on her hands. It still surprised me just how young she looked; she couldn’t have been older than 30.

“And how are those math classes coming along?” she asked.

I shifted in my seat. “Uh, that – I mean, they’re going well…”

“I’m a good student,” I heard Valentín speak behind me. Startled, I turned around to see him leaning nonchalant against the wall, a dashing smile on his face.

“Good morning.”

“It’s noon,” Marian said, emulating his smile.

He came up to us, and before I could react, he’d wrapped his arms around me and placed a soft kiss on the crown of my head.

I turned to Marian with eyes wide as plates, expecting some sort of reaction. She simply raised an eyebrow, but the upward curve of her lips never faltered.

Valentín plopped down on the seat beside us. “We’re cool with Marian,” he said.

I nodded to myself, relieved. “Alright, then, cool.”

“You’ve been slacking off,” Marian told Valentín, her tone suggesting she was both being playful and serious. “You don’t get to take the bike on the weekend if you didn’t step foot in the shop all week.”

Valentín groaned and motioned towards me. “C’mon, you gotta be like that with him here?”

“Of course,” she smiled over a sip of mate. “I need witnesses, don’t I?”

I watched the whole exchange with a smirk. It was nice being able to tap into Valentín’s home life, even if just through a mere vignette. But before the conversation could progress any further, my ringtone went off again.

A deep sigh escaped my mouth. I didn’t have to check to know who it was.

“That’s my mom. I should probably get going.”

Valentín’s face fell. “Oh. Yeah, you’re right.”

I nudged him in the arm.

“We’ll see each other at school tomorrow,” I said, pretending it didn’t bother me as much as it did.

He offered to take me home, but I refused. As much as I’d loved the night city ride, I felt as though I’d already overstayed my welcome and I didn’t want any more favors for the time being. We settled on having him escort me to the bus stop.

In the grey daylight the towering apartment blocks appeared even more intimidating, rising to the sky as far as the eye could see; a maze of concrete in a bleak palette of opaque tones. In my line of sight the brightest colors were the ubiquitous royal blue and gold of Valentín’s Boca shirt and the warm ochre of his skin.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about Marian,” said Valentín as we waited for the bus. He was reclined against the railings of the bus stop, his gaze absently posed on the empty street.

“That’s okay, it just took me a little by surprise.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you should’ve seen your face.”

I swatted his arm. “Dummy.”

He relapsed into a pensive silence for a moment.

“She’s like an older sister for me, you know?” he said. “She was the only one I could talk to about all of this.”

I didn’t say anything, but I didn’t feel pressured to, either. He turned to me, and for the briefest instant I felt as if I’d forgotten just how beautiful he was. The reminder was very much welcome.

“Do you have someone like that?

I stared at him, and he stared back. Those dark eyes of him were a damn Trojan horse.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Oh.” He made a pause, and then a beaming smile formed on his face. He said: “Then maybe I can be that person for you.”

He probably didn’t think much of that. The sentiment was sincere and it was a nice thing to say, and that was all. But the way those words made me feel; as if he’d somehow lit a candle in a place within me that had never seen light before – I’m pretty sure that will go down as one of those moments I will always vividly remember.

Or, at least, I hope it does.

Ω

Mom’s lecture when I got home was not as severe as I’d feared, probably due to her inability to hide just how glad she was I was alive and well after ignoring her messages for over 12 hours straight.

A Redondos song played in the background. I lay in my bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling, replaying the events of the past few weeks on loop. In my ears I could still feel the low buzz of the music at Tomás’s house party. I could clearly hear the rumble of a bike cruising down the streets of Caballito in the dead of the night, and the smacking of hungry lips against lips with reckless abandon.

I thought about Valentín; about how I knew next to nothing about him and he was, in many ways, still a stranger. His aspirations and desires, his pet peeves, the kind of music he liked – did he even like music?

And yet somehow, overnight, that walking mystery of a guy had become my closest friend.

Was that even a good thing?

All I knew for certain was that I could not stop thinking about Valentín, and I could not ignore the eerily familiar fluttering of butterfly wings in the pit of my stomach whenever his name popped up in my mind.

I knew that feeling well; I’d felt it many times before.

There were new feelings there too, and emotions I’d hardly ever allowed myself to dwell on out of fear they’d lead me down a path from which I would’ve never returned. Even though I’d held back that night at Valentín’s place, as he had me in his hands…

It didn’t take long before that part of the movie was the only one I kept rewinding back to, the images playing over and over in high definition in my mind. Droplets of sweat running down his bare chest, his grip on my thighs as I rocked back and forth on top of him, the unbridled want in his dark eyes.

Eventually my imagination took over, creativity filling the gaps of a counterfactual rabbithole. What would’ve been if I hadn’t chickened out. If other clothes joined our shirts on the floor, if I’d simply let him do with me what he’d done before to who knows how many girls.

His chest, his arms, his hands, his face, his hard dick against my ass – in time the images lost all definition and blended together into a single blurred mess.

I let out a deep sigh as I came down from the high, the music in the background slowly resurfacing as my own panting died out. I looked down at the warm white trail that now coated my shirt.

Fuck.

If before there’d been any parts of me that still weren’t sure I was head over heels for Valentín Gómez, now I could be certain they’d been successfully swayed.