Family flame 2
969 Words
He noticed, the way the fabric of Dami’s shirt pulled across his chest. The small scar on his lower lip from some bar fight years ago.
The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he genuinely smiled, which wasn’t as often as people thought.
Kids shrieked as they chased each other around the trampoline. Cousins argued over cornhole.
Alex’s father manned the cooler, passing out drinks with the quiet pride of a man who’d built a good life. Everything was exactly as it should be.
Except for the secret flame flickering low in Alex’s gut every time Dami looked his way.
Later, when the sun dipped lower and golden light painted the yard in warm hues, the group migrated toward the long picnic tables.
Alex carried a platter of grilled meat, setting it down amid cheers.
He slid onto the bench across from Dami—Marcus had claimed the spot next to his best friend, of course.
Plates filled.
Conversations overlapped.
Alex tried to focus on his aunt’s questions about his latest project, describing the sleek downtown office building his team was pitching.
But his attention kept fracturing.Dami reached for the bowl of grilled corn. His arm extended across the table, and for a split second, their eyes locked again. Dami’s foot—accidentally? —brushed against Alex’s calf under the table. The contact was brief, gone before Alex could react, but it sent a spark racing up his leg.
Alex swallowed hard and took a long pull from his beer.
Off-limits, he reminded himself.
Brother’s best friend.
Family.
The mantra had worked for years.
Until tonight, when the air felt thicker, the laughter sharper, and Dami’s presence impossible to ignore.
As dusk settled and string lights clicked on overhead, Marcus stood to make a toast—something sappy about family and the new baby on the way.
Everyone raised their glasses. Dami’s eyes found Alex’s over the rim of his bottle.
No smile this time.
Just a quiet intensity that made Alex’s skin feel too tight.
The night stretched on.
Fireflies danced at the edge of the yard. Someone started a playlist of old-school R&B.
Alex helped clear plates, grateful for the movement. In the kitchen, his mother cornered him briefly.
“You okay, mijo? You seem distracted.”
“I’m fine, Ma. Just tired from work.”
She studied him with those knowing eyes.
“You work too hard. And you never bring anyone around anymore.”
Alex kissed her cheek. “When I find the right one, you’ll be the first to know.”
He escaped back outside before she could press further. The yard had thinned out a little—some relatives heading home with sleepy kids.
Marcus and his wife were saying goodbyes near the gate. Dami lingered by the fence again, guitar case now at his feet.
He’d brought it on a whim, promising to play a few songs later if the mood struck.Alex approached under the pretense of collecting empty bottles.
“You sticking around?”Dami shrugged, one shoulder lifting.
“Maybe. Marcus wants me to crash here tonight anyway. Save me the drive.”
Their voices stayed low, casual. But the space between them hummed.
“You should play something,” Alex said.
“The family loves your stuff.”Dami’s mouth curved into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah? You like it when I play?”
The question carried weight. Alex’s breath caught.
He searched Dami’s face, looking for the joke that wasn’t there.
“I do.”
For a moment, neither spoke. The distant hum of conversation faded. It was just the two of them, standing a careful distance apart while the secret flame licked higher.
Dami broke the silence first.
“Careful, Rivera. Keep looking at me like that and people might start asking questions.”
Alex’s heart slammed against his ribs. “What kind of questions?”
“The kind neither of us wants to answer tonight.”
Before Alex could reply, Marcus called out from across the yard. “Dami! You bringing that guitar or what?”
Dami picked up the case, eyes never leaving Alex’s.
“Duty calls.”
He walked away, leaving Alex standing there with empty bottles in hand and a fire he could no longer pretend wasn’t burning.
The rest of the evening blurred—Dami’s voice rich and smoky as he played acoustic covers under the string lights, the family singing along off-key.
Alex sat on the periphery, nursing another beer, watching the way Dami’s fingers moved over the strings with effortless skill.
Every chord seemed to resonate somewhere deep inside him.By the time the party wound down, most guests had left.
Marcus and his wife headed inside to crash in the guest room. Alex volunteered to help with final cleanup, mostly to give himself something to do.
Dami stayed to help too.
They worked side by side in the dim backyard, gathering stray cups and folding chairs.
Their arms brushed once while reaching for the same plate. Neither pulled away immediately.“You heading home soon?” Dami asked quietly.Alex nodded.
“Yeah. Early meeting tomorrow.”
Silence stretched, comfortable yet charged.Dami set down the last chair.
“Drive safe.”
“You too—if you end up leaving.”
Their eyes met one final time under the soft glow of the remaining lights. The air crackled with everything unsaid:
years of careful distance, stolen glances, the growing awareness that something between them had shifted.
Alex turned toward his car before he could do something stupid.
As he pulled out of the driveway, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Dami stood at the fence, watching him go.
The flame had always been there—quiet, contained, secret.Tonight, it felt dangerously close to catching.
- Writer
