You drag your feet through the sand, careful not to dirty your fancy shoes too much, and watch the waves roll in. Your hands in your pockets, you look down at your outfit. Black pants, white dress shirt, white suit jacket and a black bow tie. You look like a freaking waiter. You are a freaking waiter. It annoys you nevertheless though, that you couldn’t have worn jeans and a simple T-shirt.

You let your eyes trail along the beach to the white marquee you snuck out of just ten minutes ago. Sighing, you know you’ll have to go back. They probably wonder where you are, wonder if you’re in the back stuffing your face with the appetizers you’re supposed to pass out to the guests of the beach wedding. You have a record of doing that, or well it happened once. You hadn’t eaten anything all day, and you couldn’t stop yourself when the tray of food was placed in your hands. When the supervisor had caught you, you’d stumbled through an apology followed by an explanation. Luckily, they hadn’t fired you, but the catering service you work for unfortunately hasn’t forgotten either and sneaking away like this, really isn’t something you can afford to do.

But you’d needed air, desperately, and although the marquee is open on both sides, it had gotten so crowded and hot suddenly when you saw him, that you had to go.

You shake your head as the image of the man appears in front of you, the man with brown hair and beautiful blue eyes. The man you’d once known. Or you’d thought you’d known him. It doesn’t matter anymore, you decide stubbornly, he won’t remember you, you try to tell yourself and force the image to disappear from your mind as you make your way back to the party. You don’t want to lose your job and so you hope no one will have noticed your absence.

A new tray is presented to you without a word and you breathe a sigh of relief. You make your way to where the guests reside with the tray balanced high in the air.

Making your rounds, you hope you won’t see him again or more importantly that he won’t see you. Although you’d tried to convince yourself it doesn’t matter, it actually does. It hurts to see him. Even after all those years. And that makes you feel even worse.

“Justin?” a familiar voice asks you in surprise and you just barely suppress the overwhelming urge to cringe. You only allow a soft sigh to pass your lips and lower the tray that you’d kept in front of your face in attempt to stop him from seeing you. But he had seen you and now you almost feel like you got caught.

“Hi, Josh,” you greet him with a smile that’s hard to muster.

“Oh my God, it’s been so long. What are you doing here?” he exclaims as if he’s almost happy to see you.

You only blink at him, because isn’t obvious what you’re doing here? “I’m working,” you answer nevertheless.

“Wow, how have you been?” he’s so enthusiastic that it makes you frown.

“Um, good, I guess, you?”

He nods, “Good, good.”

He eyes you up and down, you try not to squirm. “It’s good to see you again,” he breathes.

“Is it really?” you ask, maybe a little bitterly, “Or are you just saying that?”

It’s his turn to frown, “What are you talking about?”

You look around you, “Great party, you still living a lie?”

You know it’s a blunt question, but you don’t care. There are people within hearing distance, but you don’t care about that either.

You feel a certain satisfaction as he gapes at you, then he’s grasping your upper arm and gently guiding you away from the groups of people.

“I deserve that,” he acknowledges once the two of you are outside of the marquee and away from everyone.

“Oh, so you remember, how nice,” you don’t know what’s wrong with you, the biting in your tone and bitterness in your voice doesn’t dissipate. But maybe you don’t want it to.

He’d hurt you!

You’d once been a couple, back in highschool. You knew you were gay when your were thirteen, when you met Josh at fifteen, you fell for him, hard and fast. You’d had no idea how to deal with the way you felt about him. You’d never had a boyfriend before, you’d never even tried to make a move on someone. And so you’d gone about it sensibly, carefully testing him to decide if it was safe for you to make a move. It took you nearly a year before you finally did. It was during the summer. You ran into him at the local record store, he’d known who you were and after you’d finished discussing this and that record, he’d asked if you wanted to get something to eat. Of course, you’d said yes, and you build it from there.

There’d been chemistry from day one and it didn’t take long before you two shared your first kiss. You spent a few blissful months together and you felt like the sky was the limit. But after those few months you discovered that wasn’t true. Because for one, no one, not your friends nor anyone else, knew about your new found love. Your relationship was kept quiet, you’d both decided it would be safer to not say anything to anybody. It had felt wrong, but you thought you were sure if was for the best. Just like you were sure of Josh.

But he proved you wrong when he told you one night at the end of October that he wasn’t sure he was gay and he wanted to experiment with girls. It wasn’t anything personal, but he just didn’t want to commit to being gay. You’d been so shocked when he said it. It was as if he saw it as a choice, something he could decide.

He avoided you after, and you were forced to watch with pain in your heart how he dated one hot girl after the other. It felt like a slap in your face, a knife in your heart. You tried to move on, and it went easier after you graduated highschool. You never saw him again.

You realize though as he is standing right in front of you, staring at your with those gorgeous eyes, that the wound had never truly healed completely.

You let your eyes drift over his suit, and you draw your conclusion, “So you got married.”

He frowns and shakes his head, “No, why would you think that?” The thought almost incredulous to him.

You wave at his outfit, “Your suit.”

“Oh! No, I’m the best man, my sister got married.”

You feel like the biggest fool in the world, embarrassed and angry still. It colors your cheeks and you duck your head. “Well, okay then, I better get back to…” you try to make a quick escape, with a little bit of dignity left, but he wraps his hand around your arm and stops you.

You look from the hand up, into his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. You know immediately what he’s talking about, despite that it’s been nearly seven years.

You shake your head, “It’s been so long,”

“Still doesn’t make it okay.”

“No,” you agree. “You’re right, it doesn’t.”

He smiles at you, “So I’m sorry.”

“Why?” you finally get to ask the question, you’d thought you’d made peace with the fact that it would never be answered.

He understands what you’re asking right away and sighs, he sits down on a white bench that was part of the wedding ceremony earlier, and as you sit down beside him, putting the half empty tray of food to the side, he answers,

“There were a few reasons, I was confused, scared of what I felt for you, of not fitting in, of angering my parents, of not being normal. I thought I wasn’t supposed to feel that way and that if,” he sighs and pulls his hand through his hair, “I thought if I’d date girls, I’d be normal and, straight.”

You frown.

He shakes his head with a smile, “I know it doesn’t really make much sense now, but I believed it then, wanted to believe it.”

“So you’re… I mean you’re family knows?”

He nods, “Yeah, I’m out.”

“And proud.” He adds with a chuckle. You can’t help but join him.

“It took me a while before I realized what an idiot I’d been for thinking I could just not be gay,” he sighs, eyes you, “And even longer before I realized what I’d done to you.”

You look away from him, out to the ocean, the waves crashing, but he gently takes your chin and turns your head until you meet his eyes. “And the good thing I’d lost.”

His eyes are intent on yours and you swallow hard. This can’t be happening. But surely you’re not dreaming as you watch how he closes his eyes, and leans in towards you. The hand that had been on your chin, moves to cup your right cheek and then his lips are on yours. Gently touching, his tongue softly probing. You can’t stop the moan and open your mouth to allow him to meet your tongue. You scoot closer to him, your hands blindly moving to his waist, as he settles his other hand on your left cheek, pulling you in further.

Your face stays only inches from his once you finally pull back. “Wow,” he sighs, “I forgot what it felt like.”

“What what felt like?” you ask, your eyes still half closed in pleasure.

“Kissing you, touching you, being near you,” he lightly pants.

You look up at him, and smile.

He meets your eyes, asks pleadingly, “Don’t let me forget again?”

You know what he’s asking of you, but you don’t respond right away. He leans in again, trying to convince you maybe, to take a chance, to trust him.

He’s so gentle, so incredible sweet against your lips and so willing for you to say yes, you can almost feel the desperation.

When he pulls back, he leaves you breathless and as he stares deeply into your eyes you know there is only one answer that will satisfy both of you.

“Okay,” you nod.

He smiles wide, and you grin back. He pulls you against him and you snuggle in his embrace. He was your first love, he might just be your last.