This time, instead of darkness and rain, they had a view of the sunset over the Hudson, every surface of Rafi’s condo painted gold and orange and pink. The mushroom tartlets hadn’t reheated well, but they were both eating them anyway, sitting across from each other at Rafi’s marble-topped dining table. Scuffing his foot forward to touch Julian’s felt daring, even if Julian’s only reaction was a glance up at him through red-gold lashes.
“You managed not to burn yourself,” Rafi said, gesturing at Julian’s cheeks, undamaged by the sun.
“No, our friends delivered all the burns,” Julian replied.
“Alleged friends!” Rafi laughed. “Your cousin is a handful. Where did your uncle find him?”
“Foster care. A talent scout saw him at a school play.” Julian fiddled with his fork. “His foster parents
