He took Lionel to Hamburger Hamlet on Sunset, and had him follow him there in his car, driving carefully. For some reason, he found himself anxious about the kid. He didn't want him to get hurt, physically or in any other way. He liked him, more than he'd liked anyone in a while. It was just a damn shame that he was only eighteen. That was rotten luck. He was so damn beautiful and so fucking young. He couldn't take his eyes off him as they ate, and afterwards they stood outside, Lionel not even sure how to thank him for the honor and the rare treat, Paul dying to invite him up to his place, but afraid of how it would sound so they stood there, awkwardly, as Paul looked at him. He wished he knew what Lionel knew of himself, but he still wasn't sure of that. If the boy knew, maybe it would be different, but if he didn't even suspect as yet … just looking at him, Paul was already sure, but was Lionel? And then suddenly, as they stood there in the parking lot, Paul knew he had to take the bull by the horns, so to speak. Maybe he'd even ask him eventually. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they could be friends. But he couldn't let him go … not yet … not now … not quite so soon.

“I know this sounds dumb. But would you like to come to my place for a drink?” He was almost embarrassed to say the words, but Lionel's eyes grew wide with delight.

“I'd love it.” Maybe he did know … Paul was going crazy trying to figure it out, and there was no way to guess.

“I live in Malibu. You want to follow me again, or leave your car here? I could drive you back afterwards.”

“Wouldn't that be a lot of trouble?” Malibu was an hour from there.

“No, not at all. I never go to bed very early. And I may not go to bed tonight at all. We shoot at four A.M. tomorrow, and I work better on calls like that without going to bed.”

“Will my car be safe?” They looked around, and decided that it would. The hamburger place was open all night, so people would come and go, and no one would dare break into it with people around. And that decided, Lionel slid into the passenger seat of Paul's Porsche and instantly felt that he had died and gone to heaven. It was like being lifted into another world, sitting on the smooth black leather seats, the dashboard looked like the panel of a plane and with a shift of gears they took off, and Paul turned the stereo on as the music of Roger Miller singing “King of the Road” filled their ears. It was almost a sensual experience getting to Malibu. Paul was dying for a joint, but he didn't want to smoke dope in front of the boy, and he was a little bit afraid of what he might do if he did, so he refrained, and they talked from time to time on the brief drive, listened to the music as they flew along, and by the time they reached the house on the beach, Lionel was totally relaxed with his new friend.

Paul put his key in the lock, and let them in, and the house just continued the same mood. There was a full ocean view with soft lights, a sunken living room filled with couches and soft cushions, huge plants and recessed lights that highlighted a few pieces of art Paul loved. There was a handsome bar, a wall of books, and a stereo that seemed to fill the whole world with soft music as Lionel sat down and looked around. Paul threw his leather jacket on the couch, poured them each a glass of white wine, and came to sit down with him.

“Well,” he smiled, “you like?” He had to admit, he was proud of it. For a poor boy from Buffalo, he had come a long, long way, and he was happy here.

“My God … it's so beautiful….”

“It is, isn't it?” He didn't disagree. They could look out at the beach, the sea. The whole world seemed to lie at their feet, and when they finished their wine, Paul suggested a walk. He loved to walk on the beach late at night, and it was only eleven o'clock. He kicked off his shoes, and Lionel did the same, and they walked out onto the smooth white sand, and Lionel thought he had never been as happy as this. He felt something he had never felt before, and he felt it each time he looked at this man. And it was confusing to him. He fell silent after a while, and on their way back, Paul stopped and sat down on the sand. He looked out at the ocean, and then at Lionel and suddenly the words just came. “You're confused, aren't you, Li?” He had heard his mother call him that and wondered if he'd mind the familiarity, but he didn't seem to object, and he nodded his head, almost relieved to admit what he felt to this man who was becoming his friend.

“Yes …” He wanted to be honest with him, maybe then he'd understand what he felt himself. He felt both very old and very young. “I am.”

“I used to feel like that too. Before I came out here from Buffalo.” He sighed in the night air. “I used to hate it there.”

Lionel smiled. “It must be very different than this.” They both laughed, and as the laughter subsided, Paul looked at him.

“I want to be honest with you. I'm gay.” Suddenly he was terrified. What if Lionel hated him for that? … What if he jumped up and ran away? … It was the first time he had been afraid of that kind of rejection in years and that frightened him. It was like taking a giant step back … back to Buffalo … to being in love with Mr. Hoolihan at baseball practice in the spring and not being able to say anything … just watch him in the shower and want so desperately to touch his face … his arm … his leg … to touch him anywhere … to touch him there … he turned to Lionel with frightened eyes. “Do you know what that means?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I don't mean just that I'm a homosexual. I assume you'd understand that. I mean do you know the special kind of loneliness that can mean to a man?” Paul emptied his soul into his eyes and Lionel nodded, never taking his eyes from him. “I think you do know, Lionel … I think you've felt the same things I have. Haven't you?”

Tears slowly ran down Lionel's cheeks as he nodded his head, and suddenly he couldn't bear looking into those eyes anymore, he dropped his face into his hands and began to cry, and a thousand years of loneliness welled up in him, as Paul took him in his arms and held him there until he stopped, and then he lifted his chin until he looked into his eyes again.

“I'm falling in love with you. And I don't know what to do about it.” He had never felt as free as he did just then. It felt wonderful to admit it to him, and Lionel felt his whole body turn to fire. Suddenly he understood things he had never understood before about himself … things he had never wanted to know … or was afraid to think about … he knew them all as he looked into this man's eyes. “You're a virgin aren't you?”

Lionel nodded and his voice was hoarse. “Yes, I am.” He was falling in love with him too, but he didn't know how to say it yet. He prayed that in time he would, that Paul wouldn't send him away … that he would always, always let him be with him….

“Have you ever slept with a girl?” He shook his head silently. That was how he had known. He had never wanted to. Ever. It just wasn't there. “Neither had I.” He sighed and lay back on the sand with a sigh, gently taking Lionel's hand and kissing the palm over and over again. “Maybe it's easier like this. The choice is made for us a long time ago. I've always believed that about people like us. I know we have nothing to do with the choice, and it's there even when you're a very little boy. I think I knew it way back then, but I was afraid to know.”

Lionel felt braver now. “So was I … I was afraid somebody would find out … would know … would see my thoughts … my brother is this all-out jock, and my father wanted me to be like that. And I just couldn't be … I couldn't…” Tears filled his eyes again, and Paul held his hand tight in his own.

“Does anyone in your family suspect?”

Lionel quickly shook his head. “I never really even admitted it to myself until tonight.” But now he knew. He knew for sure. He wanted it to be like this. With Paul. And no one else. He had waited for him all his life and wasn't going to lose him now.

But Paul was watching him carefully. “Are you sure you're ready to admit it now? You can never go back again. You can't really change your mind … some do, I guess, but I always wonder how convinced they are … I don't know …” He looked up at Lionel as they lay on the sand side by side. He was propped up on one elbow, looking down at him, and there was no one around for miles. The houses were lit up behind them like jewels, a thousand engagement rings he was offering him … a crown…. “I don't want to do anything you're not ready for.”

“I am … I know I am, Paul … it's been so lonely until now … don't leave me out there again….” Paul took him in his arms and held him tight, and he couldn't bear it anymore. He had done what was right. He had offered him a choice. He had never taken advantage of anyone and he didn't intend to start now with this boy.

“Come on, let's go home.” He stood up gracefully on the sand, and held out a hand to Lionel, who sprang up beside him easily, and with an easy, carefree smile, Lionel followed him home, hand in hand, as they talked, suddenly more animatedly. Suddenly Lionel felt as though a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from him. He knew who and what he was, and where he was going now, and suddenly it was all right. It wasn't as frightening anymore. They reached the house a few moments later, and walked back inside, feeling invigorated by the night air. Paul poured them each another glass of wine, took a sip of his, and lit the fire, and then he disappeared into another room, and left Lionel with his own thoughts and his wine, and when he returned, the lights were dim, the room was dark, the fire was lit, and he stood naked in the center of the room, beckoning to him. He said no words, and Lionel didn't hesitate. He stood up and followed him.