Thorns by Faber Feliz

Author:Faber, Feliz [Faber, Feliz]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2013-07-24T16:00:00+00:00

CAEN was every bit the highlight Nic had promised. In wonder and awe, Will wandered the fortress William the Conqueror had built a thousand years ago, and when the rain picked up, he retreated into the Mémorial de Caen. Never one to care much for history, Will had wanted to visit the World War II memorial museum more out of a vague sense of patriotism. But as he walked the exposition, contemplated the portraits of soldiers—fresh-faced youths who looked as if they should wield baseball bats or footballs rather than machine guns—and read the reports about what had happened to them, dry history turned into faces, names, fates. Will felt connected with them; he could’ve been one of them if he’d been born a handful of decades earlier. More than once he wished for a companion, for someone to share this experience. And if he was honest with himself, he’d prefer having Francis over any other of his friends, given the choice. The closer he got to the horror that had been the Battle of the Normandy, the more he wished for Francis’s self-assured strength to help make the unbearable sadness bearable. After a while, it all got to be too much, and Will left the museum depressed and haunted by an irritating feeling of longing.

Half an hour later, staring out the grimy windows of a small café-bar-tabac at the yachts moored in Caen’s Port de Plaisance, Will stirred his coffee and tried to find something else to keep his thoughts busy than pondering over and over why Francis’s silence bothered him so much.

We’ll talk once you’re back, he’d said. Only a few days from now, after all. But what if it wasn’t work that Francis was so preoccupied with he couldn’t spare a few minutes to talk to Will? What if he’d already found another “pretty thing” to pass his time with? Francis had also said they weren’t exclusive.

Stop being a drama queen, he berated himself. Francis may be a lot of things, but he isn’t sneaky. If he wanted to dump you, he’d tell it to you to your face.

But what if that is what he’s waiting to do once you’re back? The little voice inside of Will’s head sounded like Gary this time. He stirred his coffee with enough force to have some spill over the edge and into the saucer. He was thinking in circles here, and he needed a distraction. Desperately.

Some higher force seemed to take pity on him.

The scent hit him first, a wave of patchouli and roses that drowned even the aroma of his coffee. In its wake, a figure sailed past who could’ve made a stone statue turn its head, and of course Will did too—how could he not, with all the fluttering white fur and colorful silk scarves on a bearded, six-foot bear of a man? Granted, Will was used to Trevor’s exuberance—and Gary’s, for that matter—but this guy beat everything. He wore purple eye shadow and platform boots with skintight black leather pants, for Pete’s sake.

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