2025-07-11, 09:03 PM
The boy put his arm around me, pulled me toward him, and kissed me. I felt like I was floating on clouds.
What was that? A loud, shrill sound pierced my eardrums. The beeping of my watch. I blinked. Shit, it had just been a dream again. But wait, where was I? There was a strange smell of rubber all around me, the bed felt incredibly hard. I opened my eyes fully. Oh yeah, right. I was lying in a much too cramped, blue-grey igloo tent on a campsite somewhere in Italy. From outside, I heard the voices of my classmates. They were awake before me again and seemed to be already running around outside.
We were on a week-long trip to Fiumicino, a coastal town on the Mediterranean, just a few kilometers from Rome. Someone had suggested, for financial reasons, that we stay at this campsite instead of a youth hostel. I silently wished that someone all sorts of things on their heads as I lifted my aching bones from the already suspiciously flabby air mattress—not without hitting my head on one of those stupid tent poles, like every morning.
I unzipped my tent a bit and poked my head outside. Most of my classmates were already milling around outside, some of them just returning from their showers. It remained a mystery to me how they managed to wake up so early every morning.
My watch showed 10 to 8. It was awful, getting up in the middle of the night. Breakfast would be ready in ten minutes. I dug my toiletry bag and a towel out of a corner of the tent and headed for the showers. Even at this hour, it was warm enough to walk around in just a towel.
I met Marco in the washroom. He spent at least ten minutes in front of the mirror every morning, using various sprays to give his bleached hair the right look.
"So, awake already?" he grinned at me. I mumbled something and continued on to the showers.
I've been friends with Marco for as long as I can remember. He was in the same class as me in elementary school and then moved on to high school. He was the best friend you could imagine; you could tell him anything and he was up for any fun. Okay, he was a little crazy, I have to say. He sometimes drove our year leader, Ms. Dahlkamp, crazy with his various antics. I spent most of my free time with Marco and Jens – he was also in our year. I could talk to them about anything. Up until now, they were the only people I'd confided in about being gay. They both had no problems with it; they told me that straight away, and nothing changed between us when I came out.
When I returned to the tents, I was horrified to realize that I'd once again lost track of time in the warm shower, and everyone else had already left for breakfast. I searched for my shorts and pulled on a light gray T-shirt, then jumped into my sneakers and raced to the breakfast room. Thankfully, Marco had saved a spot for me.
While a cup of coffee revived my spirits, Ms. Dahlkamp outlined the day's program. We were to meet immediately after breakfast at the bus that would take us to Rome. Today's itinerary included a guided tour of St. Peter's Basilica and the Vatican Gardens. Afterwards, we had some time for lunch, and then the bus would take us to the outskirts of the city, to the Via Appia. There, we would visit the Catacombs of San Sebastiano. After all, this was officially a study trip, and a decent cultural program was part of that.
With this daily schedule, only the evenings remained for our own activities. We made the most of them. Marco, Jens, and a few other guys from our class would party hard in the local pubs and discos, or we'd buy a case of beer and have a bonfire on the beach. This part of the program usually lasted until the early hours of the morning, and it sometimes happened that we couldn't remember how it ended the next morning.
After breakfast, we set off as planned. Shortly before we reached Rome, a young woman boarded the bus to guide us through St. Peter's Basilica. She started rattling off the history of the cathedral through the microphone, but our attention was rather limited.
Things got more interesting when we left St. Peter's Basilica after an hour's sightseeing and walked through the Vatican Gardens. Here, however, we weren't allowed to move freely; instead, we had to stay together and trot behind the young woman. Only Marco didn't seem to mind, and while the guide explained the significance of various trees that had been brought here from all over the world, he whispered to me that he wanted to visit the Pope sometime, and slipped off unnoticed.
About half an hour later, we passed the Papal Station, which, however, consisted only of some rusty tracks and a few old wagons standing around on them, seemingly unused for ages. Suddenly, I saw Marco jump out of a freight car and run toward us. Mrs. Dahlkamp had seen it too and took a deep breath, but then she didn't say anything so our guide wouldn't notice.
After lunch, we boarded the bus again, which made its way for a full hour and a half through Roman traffic to the Catacombs of San Sebastiano. There, we first had to climb countless steep steps and then entered a veritable labyrinth of winding passageways and niches. They were built 2,000 years ago as Christian tombs, but in the centuries that followed, generations of grave robbers had gone wild here. There are said to be more than 150 kilometers of such passageways beneath Rome, explained Ms. Dahlkamp, scanning the area to see if Marco was still with the group.
By the time we arrived back in Fiumicino, it was almost seven o'clock. Phew, I had to lie down in my tent and rest for a bit. Unfortunately, sleep was in short supply here, because even though we didn't crawl into our sleeping bags until around two or three o'clock in the morning, Mrs. Dahlkamp mercilessly insisted on having breakfast at eight o'clock.
As I dozed with my eyes closed, I remembered what the guide had said in the catacombs of San Sebastiano. 2,000 years ago, the first Christians are said to have hidden there when they were persecuted by the Romans. Much of what the woman had said about these Christians sounded familiar to me. It reminded me of the situation of many gay people in today's world. They, too, often have to hide, afraid to openly admit that they are gay. They form a community among themselves that separates itself from the rest of the world, perhaps not because they want nothing to do with the world, but because they only felt safe here. What would things be like in 2,000 years?
At some point, I came out of my tent again and went down to the clubhouse. Marco, Jens, and Mareike, Jens' girlfriend, were sitting at a table on the terrace playing cards. I bought myself an ice cream and sat down, and we played until the sun dipped low over the sea.
A little later, more people from our class joined us and asked what we wanted to do that evening. We decided to walk along the beach to a bar that always had a disco in the evenings, then we got up and left.
We could see the building from afar, built on stilts into the sea. On the waterside, there was a large terrace, from which music blared. We reached the house and climbed a flight of stairs to the terrace. In the middle was a dance floor, which wasn't busy yet. Tables were set up along the railing facing the sea, and in front of the house was a bar. Behind the bar stood an Italian man wearing a Hawaiian shirt who was also the bartender and DJ, playing the summer's latest party hits on the CD players. We pushed two tables together and sat down.
An Italian waitress came over and asked what we wanted. Most of us ordered a Lambrusco, which had become our regular drink here. We chatted about the day's events in Rome. Almost everyone had found the tour of St. Peter's Basilica too long, and the half hour for the shopping spree had once again been far from enough.
Sabine told how she and Julia had returned from the toilet after lunch and noticed that the rest of the class had already made a run for it. Julia, of course, had immediately panicked and wanted to call her parents at home, but Sabine had managed to stop her. Then the two of them wandered through the streets of Rome for hours until they reached us again at the catacombs. Mrs. Dahlkamp, of course, was already at her wits' end, since even after the fourth count the number of people still wasn't right. Marco imitated her as she moaned in her unmistakable way: "My God, what do we do now?" while flailing her arms, and we shook with laughter.
As the sun set over the sea, turning the sky red, the terrace slowly filled up. Most of the people were tourists from the campsite or from the city. A group of young locals, five boys and two girls, just then came up the steps. Two of the boys immediately jumped onto the dance floor, while the others came over and sat at the table next to us.
Marco, Jens and a few of the others couldn't stand it any longer and ran onto the dance floor.
"Come with me!" Marco called to me, but I shook my head. I'd rather stay seated a little longer, sip Lambrusco, and watch the others. I was sitting with my back to the water and had a good view of the dance floor. Well, watching good-looking guys was one of my favorite things to do anyway, and some of the Italian boys here were pretty impressive. My gaze fell on one of the young Italians, who was zipping around the dance floor with his shirt open. He was maybe 18, like me, had black, shaggy hair, and was about 6'1". At that moment, he turned around and looked straight in my direction. For a second, I looked into beautiful, dark eyes, then quickly looked away again. Oops, I hope he hadn't noticed that I'd been staring. I was always embarrassed by things like that, and I would quickly look away whenever someone looked back, even though it was actually perfectly normal—straight guys look at girls, too. I thought to myself, I should be able to approach someone like that. Other people always manage to do it with girls, somehow...
Now the other Italian boys from the next table got up and came over to us. They sat down in the empty seats, a few chairs away from me, and started talking. One of their friends from the dance floor joined us too. They seemed to have their eye on the girls in our class. Two of them spoke pretty good German. I noticed that they had both grown up in Germany. Then they asked us where we were from and what we had seen so far, and Sabine, of course, told the story about her and Julia this afternoon, which the Italians seemed to find incredibly funny. One of them then said something in Italian, at which everyone burst out laughing. When Maik asked them what he had said, they replied that it couldn't be translated.
I leaned back and looked out at the sea. The sun had almost set, the last rays still glittering on the water. Further out, a few sailboats were cruising. It was a beautiful, warm evening, and I wondered how often I would experience something like this in the near future. Tomorrow we would be heading back to Germany, and there were only a few months left until school ended for us. Then we would all go our separate ways, and such school trips would probably be a thing of the past forever.
I looked away and took another sip from my glass. The Italians at the table were still flirting with the girls from our class. I saw that one of them had sat down, it was the cute guy I had just been watching. I discreetly glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was barely participating in the conversation – he probably didn't speak German either – only once did he say something short in Italian to his friend. I wondered if there was any way I could get ahold of him – completely by chance. Today, after all, it had to work. First, I reached for my glass again – maybe because it's sometimes easier to approach others when you're a bit drunk. That's how it is for me anyway. As I went to put it back, with him constantly in the corner of my eye, I bumped my elbow against a half-full beer bottle. Shit! Before I could put the bottle back down, some of the contents had spilled across the table and onto the floor. Although nothing spilled on anyone's clothes, everyone at the table turned around and looked at me, making me blush. "Hey, can't you be careful?" Sabine growled at me. I mumbled something and tried to clean up the mess with a few napkins. When I looked up, I noticed the Italian who had just arrived smiling at me from across the table. I tried to manage something resembling a smile, but then he looked away again, and I stood up and threw away the wet napkins.
When I returned, the last notes of Britney Spears' latest compilation album were just fading out on the dance floor. The DJ behind the bar was now spinning "Don't Be Afraid" by DJ Tonka, one of this year's party hits. The dance floor immediately filled up again, and the Italians invited Julia, Sabine, and Bettina, all three of whom didn't mind and giggled as they joined in. Marco ran past me, shouting, "Come on, come on!" and I followed him onto the dance floor.
Things really got going there, and for the next half hour, I forgot the world around me. The rhythm got into my blood and dictated my movements. Even though the sun had already set, it was still incredibly warm, and I was sweating from every pore. Some of the guys had taken off their T-shirts, and seeing so many well-built, incredibly good-looking boys dancing around me with their shirts off made me sweat even more. You almost have to pull yourself together a bit to keep yourself in check. You might know the feeling...
The song had just ended, and I was completely exhausted. Marco came up to me and handed me a bottle of Peroni, and I took a deep drag. I'd actually wanted to sit down for a moment, but then the DJ started playing "Around The World" by ATC, this year's absolute summer hit. Immediately, the dance floor was packed again. A few boys from our class grabbed each other's shoulders and formed a chain, and more and more joined them. Suddenly, someone nudged me from behind; I turned around and—looked into the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. It was the Italian boy I'd been watching at the table. He was dancing shirtless at one end of the chain and probably wanted me to join him. I must have stared at him, pretty bewildered, and before I could react, he pulled me closer and put his arm around my shoulder. It took a moment for me to regain control of my senses, then I put my arm around his bare shoulders, and more people joined us, so that we finally formed a circle.
My heart beat a little faster as I danced shoulder to shoulder with the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. He had his arm tightly around my shoulders, and I felt the warmth of his body. It seemed completely normal to him, but I felt like I was floating on air. I think it might have been the most beautiful dance of my life. When I turned slightly in his direction, I could smell his shower gel. I glanced at his face from the side, but then quickly looked straight ahead again.
The song ended far too quickly, and the circle dissolved. I wished I hadn't let go of him at all. It was as if I'd woken up from a dream. I turned to him briefly and looked into his beautiful black eyes for a moment. I wanted to say something else, but he had already disappeared into the hustle and bustle. My heart was pounding and I was sweating, so I slowly walked toward the bar. Jens was perched on a barstool, and I sat down next to him.
"Well, everything okay?" he asked hypocritically.
“Mhm,” I said, and Jens ordered us two Lambruscos.
"He must have done it to you, huh?"
I looked at him. "Huh? Who are you talking about?"
"Come on, it's obvious you've got your eye on that boy over there," he grinned.
Oh shit. "Well..." I mumbled, embarrassed. Jens didn't miss a thing either. Before I could say anything else, Mareike interrupted.
"Well, Jens, weren't you just about to ask me to dance?" They were now playing "Eternal Flame" on the dance floor. "Or should I wait until someone else asks me?"
Before Jens could respond, she dragged him onto the dance floor. He gave me an apologetic look. "I wish you the best of luck!" he called out before the two disappeared into the crowd.
"Yes, thanks," I mumbled and turned back to the bar. The waitress was just pushing two Lambrusco glasses across the counter, so I had no choice but to pay for Jens's. Then I took a sip and stared at the bar. Shit, I thought, if I don't finally manage to approach someone, I'll probably never meet anyone. But what can I say? "Hi, I'm gay, are you?" The odds of someone saying yes were about one in twenty against me, so not a great prospect.
So I sat at the bar for a while, lost in thought, and eventually the second glass was empty. Uh, I was starting to notice the Lambrusco. The bar stool suddenly wasn't quite as stable anymore. Behind me, the guys and girls were still dancing the blues, tightly embraced. My God, couldn't he finally play something else?
And then suddenly someone tapped me from behind. I turned my head, thinking the alcohol had finally confused my senses. Standing in front of me was the cute boy from before—it really was him, and he meant me!
"Hi, can I sit next to you?" he said in not-so-bad German. I was still staring at him.
"Uh, sure, yeah," I stammered, immediately blushing. The boy sat down on the empty bar stool next to me, where Jens had just been sitting, and called something to the waiter in Italian.
"Tiring, isn't it?" He probably meant the dancing.
“Yes,” was all I could manage.
»Where in Germany are you from?«
"We? From, uh... from Stade. Near Hamburg." I almost forgot where I lived. I still couldn't believe that this boy had just spoken to me like that, of all people. And I, the idiot I am, could barely manage a coherent sentence!
The Italian waiter brought a large beer and placed it in front of the boy. I watched him raise the glass to his mouth and take several deep sips. Then, slowly, I found my voice again.
"How do you speak German so well?" I asked him. At least I know a little.
"I lived with my parents in Germany for 14 years. In Munich. Then I came back here three years ago."
He took another sip. I frantically thought about what else I could ask him, but he got there first.
“And you’re here on a school trip?” he asked me.
"Yes, our graduation trip. School's over for us this summer."
Well, and so it went on for a while, slowly we got into conversation, talking about this and that, the things you usually talk about. I told him about our school trip, our excursions to Rome and other destinations, and of course about the big and small disasters that had occurred during the trip. Then I talked about my friends, Marco, Jens, and Mareike, and what we do together. Only afterwards did I realize that it was mostly him who was asking questions; I hardly learned anything about him in the conversation. When I mentioned Jens and Mareike, he asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I said no. Then he pointed to the dance floor and said:
"A lot of nice girls here, huh?"
“Mhm,” I just said.
"Not the right one for you?"
"Oh, well... I'm not that interested in girls..." I mumbled, and then choked. Shit, what did I just say? I could have slapped myself! I hoped he hadn't misunderstood, I mean, understood correctly. But he didn't pursue it any further, and we changed the subject.
During the conversation, I couldn't take my eyes off him. His body, now covered by a shirt again, was well-built, his skin a dark tan. Around his neck he wore a silver chain with a small pendant dangling from it. But the most handsome thing was his face. When our eyes met and I looked into his black eyes, a shiver ran through my entire body. Sometimes he smiled briefly, and it was the sweetest smile I had ever seen.
"Okay, I need to go," he said at some point with a wink. I watched him as he got up and walked down the stairs to the beach to relieve himself.
"Hey, are you coming?" I suddenly heard Marco's voice. "We want to walk down the beach again, maybe we'll find a bar or something..."
"Just a minute," I called back. I couldn't leave now; I had to at least wait until he came back. But I didn't want to stay here alone either.
"The others are leaving, hurry up!" There was still no sign of the Italian boy, and finally I got up and ran after Marco.
The alcohol had obviously already taken its toll on some of the people in our class; they were supporting each other, beer cans in hand, as they staggered along the beach in a not-quite-straight direction. A small group led the way, including Ben and two other boys.
When I caught up with Marco and Jens, they couldn't help but grin. Of course, they had been watching the conversation at the bar, and they probably hadn't missed my glances at the boy either.
"Don't say anything wrong," I grumbled, whereupon my grin grew even wider and Marco had to ask innocently, "Why, I don't even know what you mean..."
At least they didn't make any more stupid comments after that. Instead, Marco took off his sandals and let the surf wash around his calves; a few others did the same. We walked a little further until Ben and the others stopped in a small, rocky cove. Apparently, they had some kind of idea again.
“What’s going on?” Marco called as we got closer.
"Hey, who's coming swimming with me?" Ben called back.
"Now?!" Jens asked, aghast. Most of the others were immediately fired up and disappeared behind a rock. Marco ran after them, too.
“Do you want to swim too?” I asked Jens.
He shook his head, and I also preferred to stay on dry land, so we sat down on the rocks a few meters from the water. I was already a little tired, and just watching the others swim was enough for me.
Suddenly, we heard voices coming from the direction we'd come from. I turned around and recognized the young Italians from the beach bar. Apparently, they had been following us. Naturally, I immediately looked for the boy who had been dancing next to me.
Marco immediately yelled, "Hey, come with me!" He had stripped completely naked and ran into the surf. The locals said something in Italian, then came running up, yelling, took off their clothes, and rushed after him. Now I recognized the cute boy from the bar.
They swam further out, squealing with delight. Shit, maybe I should have gone with them after all. The thought of swimming stark naked in the ocean with these cute boys made my heart race.
“So, is he gay too?” Jens pulled me out of my fantasies.
"What? Who?"
What was that? A loud, shrill sound pierced my eardrums. The beeping of my watch. I blinked. Shit, it had just been a dream again. But wait, where was I? There was a strange smell of rubber all around me, the bed felt incredibly hard. I opened my eyes fully. Oh yeah, right. I was lying in a much too cramped, blue-grey igloo tent on a campsite somewhere in Italy. From outside, I heard the voices of my classmates. They were awake before me again and seemed to be already running around outside.
We were on a week-long trip to Fiumicino, a coastal town on the Mediterranean, just a few kilometers from Rome. Someone had suggested, for financial reasons, that we stay at this campsite instead of a youth hostel. I silently wished that someone all sorts of things on their heads as I lifted my aching bones from the already suspiciously flabby air mattress—not without hitting my head on one of those stupid tent poles, like every morning.
I unzipped my tent a bit and poked my head outside. Most of my classmates were already milling around outside, some of them just returning from their showers. It remained a mystery to me how they managed to wake up so early every morning.
My watch showed 10 to 8. It was awful, getting up in the middle of the night. Breakfast would be ready in ten minutes. I dug my toiletry bag and a towel out of a corner of the tent and headed for the showers. Even at this hour, it was warm enough to walk around in just a towel.
I met Marco in the washroom. He spent at least ten minutes in front of the mirror every morning, using various sprays to give his bleached hair the right look.
"So, awake already?" he grinned at me. I mumbled something and continued on to the showers.
I've been friends with Marco for as long as I can remember. He was in the same class as me in elementary school and then moved on to high school. He was the best friend you could imagine; you could tell him anything and he was up for any fun. Okay, he was a little crazy, I have to say. He sometimes drove our year leader, Ms. Dahlkamp, crazy with his various antics. I spent most of my free time with Marco and Jens – he was also in our year. I could talk to them about anything. Up until now, they were the only people I'd confided in about being gay. They both had no problems with it; they told me that straight away, and nothing changed between us when I came out.
When I returned to the tents, I was horrified to realize that I'd once again lost track of time in the warm shower, and everyone else had already left for breakfast. I searched for my shorts and pulled on a light gray T-shirt, then jumped into my sneakers and raced to the breakfast room. Thankfully, Marco had saved a spot for me.
While a cup of coffee revived my spirits, Ms. Dahlkamp outlined the day's program. We were to meet immediately after breakfast at the bus that would take us to Rome. Today's itinerary included a guided tour of St. Peter's Basilica and the Vatican Gardens. Afterwards, we had some time for lunch, and then the bus would take us to the outskirts of the city, to the Via Appia. There, we would visit the Catacombs of San Sebastiano. After all, this was officially a study trip, and a decent cultural program was part of that.
With this daily schedule, only the evenings remained for our own activities. We made the most of them. Marco, Jens, and a few other guys from our class would party hard in the local pubs and discos, or we'd buy a case of beer and have a bonfire on the beach. This part of the program usually lasted until the early hours of the morning, and it sometimes happened that we couldn't remember how it ended the next morning.
After breakfast, we set off as planned. Shortly before we reached Rome, a young woman boarded the bus to guide us through St. Peter's Basilica. She started rattling off the history of the cathedral through the microphone, but our attention was rather limited.
Things got more interesting when we left St. Peter's Basilica after an hour's sightseeing and walked through the Vatican Gardens. Here, however, we weren't allowed to move freely; instead, we had to stay together and trot behind the young woman. Only Marco didn't seem to mind, and while the guide explained the significance of various trees that had been brought here from all over the world, he whispered to me that he wanted to visit the Pope sometime, and slipped off unnoticed.
About half an hour later, we passed the Papal Station, which, however, consisted only of some rusty tracks and a few old wagons standing around on them, seemingly unused for ages. Suddenly, I saw Marco jump out of a freight car and run toward us. Mrs. Dahlkamp had seen it too and took a deep breath, but then she didn't say anything so our guide wouldn't notice.
After lunch, we boarded the bus again, which made its way for a full hour and a half through Roman traffic to the Catacombs of San Sebastiano. There, we first had to climb countless steep steps and then entered a veritable labyrinth of winding passageways and niches. They were built 2,000 years ago as Christian tombs, but in the centuries that followed, generations of grave robbers had gone wild here. There are said to be more than 150 kilometers of such passageways beneath Rome, explained Ms. Dahlkamp, scanning the area to see if Marco was still with the group.
By the time we arrived back in Fiumicino, it was almost seven o'clock. Phew, I had to lie down in my tent and rest for a bit. Unfortunately, sleep was in short supply here, because even though we didn't crawl into our sleeping bags until around two or three o'clock in the morning, Mrs. Dahlkamp mercilessly insisted on having breakfast at eight o'clock.
As I dozed with my eyes closed, I remembered what the guide had said in the catacombs of San Sebastiano. 2,000 years ago, the first Christians are said to have hidden there when they were persecuted by the Romans. Much of what the woman had said about these Christians sounded familiar to me. It reminded me of the situation of many gay people in today's world. They, too, often have to hide, afraid to openly admit that they are gay. They form a community among themselves that separates itself from the rest of the world, perhaps not because they want nothing to do with the world, but because they only felt safe here. What would things be like in 2,000 years?
At some point, I came out of my tent again and went down to the clubhouse. Marco, Jens, and Mareike, Jens' girlfriend, were sitting at a table on the terrace playing cards. I bought myself an ice cream and sat down, and we played until the sun dipped low over the sea.
A little later, more people from our class joined us and asked what we wanted to do that evening. We decided to walk along the beach to a bar that always had a disco in the evenings, then we got up and left.
We could see the building from afar, built on stilts into the sea. On the waterside, there was a large terrace, from which music blared. We reached the house and climbed a flight of stairs to the terrace. In the middle was a dance floor, which wasn't busy yet. Tables were set up along the railing facing the sea, and in front of the house was a bar. Behind the bar stood an Italian man wearing a Hawaiian shirt who was also the bartender and DJ, playing the summer's latest party hits on the CD players. We pushed two tables together and sat down.
An Italian waitress came over and asked what we wanted. Most of us ordered a Lambrusco, which had become our regular drink here. We chatted about the day's events in Rome. Almost everyone had found the tour of St. Peter's Basilica too long, and the half hour for the shopping spree had once again been far from enough.
Sabine told how she and Julia had returned from the toilet after lunch and noticed that the rest of the class had already made a run for it. Julia, of course, had immediately panicked and wanted to call her parents at home, but Sabine had managed to stop her. Then the two of them wandered through the streets of Rome for hours until they reached us again at the catacombs. Mrs. Dahlkamp, of course, was already at her wits' end, since even after the fourth count the number of people still wasn't right. Marco imitated her as she moaned in her unmistakable way: "My God, what do we do now?" while flailing her arms, and we shook with laughter.
As the sun set over the sea, turning the sky red, the terrace slowly filled up. Most of the people were tourists from the campsite or from the city. A group of young locals, five boys and two girls, just then came up the steps. Two of the boys immediately jumped onto the dance floor, while the others came over and sat at the table next to us.
Marco, Jens and a few of the others couldn't stand it any longer and ran onto the dance floor.
"Come with me!" Marco called to me, but I shook my head. I'd rather stay seated a little longer, sip Lambrusco, and watch the others. I was sitting with my back to the water and had a good view of the dance floor. Well, watching good-looking guys was one of my favorite things to do anyway, and some of the Italian boys here were pretty impressive. My gaze fell on one of the young Italians, who was zipping around the dance floor with his shirt open. He was maybe 18, like me, had black, shaggy hair, and was about 6'1". At that moment, he turned around and looked straight in my direction. For a second, I looked into beautiful, dark eyes, then quickly looked away again. Oops, I hope he hadn't noticed that I'd been staring. I was always embarrassed by things like that, and I would quickly look away whenever someone looked back, even though it was actually perfectly normal—straight guys look at girls, too. I thought to myself, I should be able to approach someone like that. Other people always manage to do it with girls, somehow...
Now the other Italian boys from the next table got up and came over to us. They sat down in the empty seats, a few chairs away from me, and started talking. One of their friends from the dance floor joined us too. They seemed to have their eye on the girls in our class. Two of them spoke pretty good German. I noticed that they had both grown up in Germany. Then they asked us where we were from and what we had seen so far, and Sabine, of course, told the story about her and Julia this afternoon, which the Italians seemed to find incredibly funny. One of them then said something in Italian, at which everyone burst out laughing. When Maik asked them what he had said, they replied that it couldn't be translated.
I leaned back and looked out at the sea. The sun had almost set, the last rays still glittering on the water. Further out, a few sailboats were cruising. It was a beautiful, warm evening, and I wondered how often I would experience something like this in the near future. Tomorrow we would be heading back to Germany, and there were only a few months left until school ended for us. Then we would all go our separate ways, and such school trips would probably be a thing of the past forever.
I looked away and took another sip from my glass. The Italians at the table were still flirting with the girls from our class. I saw that one of them had sat down, it was the cute guy I had just been watching. I discreetly glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was barely participating in the conversation – he probably didn't speak German either – only once did he say something short in Italian to his friend. I wondered if there was any way I could get ahold of him – completely by chance. Today, after all, it had to work. First, I reached for my glass again – maybe because it's sometimes easier to approach others when you're a bit drunk. That's how it is for me anyway. As I went to put it back, with him constantly in the corner of my eye, I bumped my elbow against a half-full beer bottle. Shit! Before I could put the bottle back down, some of the contents had spilled across the table and onto the floor. Although nothing spilled on anyone's clothes, everyone at the table turned around and looked at me, making me blush. "Hey, can't you be careful?" Sabine growled at me. I mumbled something and tried to clean up the mess with a few napkins. When I looked up, I noticed the Italian who had just arrived smiling at me from across the table. I tried to manage something resembling a smile, but then he looked away again, and I stood up and threw away the wet napkins.
When I returned, the last notes of Britney Spears' latest compilation album were just fading out on the dance floor. The DJ behind the bar was now spinning "Don't Be Afraid" by DJ Tonka, one of this year's party hits. The dance floor immediately filled up again, and the Italians invited Julia, Sabine, and Bettina, all three of whom didn't mind and giggled as they joined in. Marco ran past me, shouting, "Come on, come on!" and I followed him onto the dance floor.
Things really got going there, and for the next half hour, I forgot the world around me. The rhythm got into my blood and dictated my movements. Even though the sun had already set, it was still incredibly warm, and I was sweating from every pore. Some of the guys had taken off their T-shirts, and seeing so many well-built, incredibly good-looking boys dancing around me with their shirts off made me sweat even more. You almost have to pull yourself together a bit to keep yourself in check. You might know the feeling...
The song had just ended, and I was completely exhausted. Marco came up to me and handed me a bottle of Peroni, and I took a deep drag. I'd actually wanted to sit down for a moment, but then the DJ started playing "Around The World" by ATC, this year's absolute summer hit. Immediately, the dance floor was packed again. A few boys from our class grabbed each other's shoulders and formed a chain, and more and more joined them. Suddenly, someone nudged me from behind; I turned around and—looked into the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. It was the Italian boy I'd been watching at the table. He was dancing shirtless at one end of the chain and probably wanted me to join him. I must have stared at him, pretty bewildered, and before I could react, he pulled me closer and put his arm around my shoulder. It took a moment for me to regain control of my senses, then I put my arm around his bare shoulders, and more people joined us, so that we finally formed a circle.
My heart beat a little faster as I danced shoulder to shoulder with the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. He had his arm tightly around my shoulders, and I felt the warmth of his body. It seemed completely normal to him, but I felt like I was floating on air. I think it might have been the most beautiful dance of my life. When I turned slightly in his direction, I could smell his shower gel. I glanced at his face from the side, but then quickly looked straight ahead again.
The song ended far too quickly, and the circle dissolved. I wished I hadn't let go of him at all. It was as if I'd woken up from a dream. I turned to him briefly and looked into his beautiful black eyes for a moment. I wanted to say something else, but he had already disappeared into the hustle and bustle. My heart was pounding and I was sweating, so I slowly walked toward the bar. Jens was perched on a barstool, and I sat down next to him.
"Well, everything okay?" he asked hypocritically.
“Mhm,” I said, and Jens ordered us two Lambruscos.
"He must have done it to you, huh?"
I looked at him. "Huh? Who are you talking about?"
"Come on, it's obvious you've got your eye on that boy over there," he grinned.
Oh shit. "Well..." I mumbled, embarrassed. Jens didn't miss a thing either. Before I could say anything else, Mareike interrupted.
"Well, Jens, weren't you just about to ask me to dance?" They were now playing "Eternal Flame" on the dance floor. "Or should I wait until someone else asks me?"
Before Jens could respond, she dragged him onto the dance floor. He gave me an apologetic look. "I wish you the best of luck!" he called out before the two disappeared into the crowd.
"Yes, thanks," I mumbled and turned back to the bar. The waitress was just pushing two Lambrusco glasses across the counter, so I had no choice but to pay for Jens's. Then I took a sip and stared at the bar. Shit, I thought, if I don't finally manage to approach someone, I'll probably never meet anyone. But what can I say? "Hi, I'm gay, are you?" The odds of someone saying yes were about one in twenty against me, so not a great prospect.
So I sat at the bar for a while, lost in thought, and eventually the second glass was empty. Uh, I was starting to notice the Lambrusco. The bar stool suddenly wasn't quite as stable anymore. Behind me, the guys and girls were still dancing the blues, tightly embraced. My God, couldn't he finally play something else?
And then suddenly someone tapped me from behind. I turned my head, thinking the alcohol had finally confused my senses. Standing in front of me was the cute boy from before—it really was him, and he meant me!
"Hi, can I sit next to you?" he said in not-so-bad German. I was still staring at him.
"Uh, sure, yeah," I stammered, immediately blushing. The boy sat down on the empty bar stool next to me, where Jens had just been sitting, and called something to the waiter in Italian.
"Tiring, isn't it?" He probably meant the dancing.
“Yes,” was all I could manage.
»Where in Germany are you from?«
"We? From, uh... from Stade. Near Hamburg." I almost forgot where I lived. I still couldn't believe that this boy had just spoken to me like that, of all people. And I, the idiot I am, could barely manage a coherent sentence!
The Italian waiter brought a large beer and placed it in front of the boy. I watched him raise the glass to his mouth and take several deep sips. Then, slowly, I found my voice again.
"How do you speak German so well?" I asked him. At least I know a little.
"I lived with my parents in Germany for 14 years. In Munich. Then I came back here three years ago."
He took another sip. I frantically thought about what else I could ask him, but he got there first.
“And you’re here on a school trip?” he asked me.
"Yes, our graduation trip. School's over for us this summer."
Well, and so it went on for a while, slowly we got into conversation, talking about this and that, the things you usually talk about. I told him about our school trip, our excursions to Rome and other destinations, and of course about the big and small disasters that had occurred during the trip. Then I talked about my friends, Marco, Jens, and Mareike, and what we do together. Only afterwards did I realize that it was mostly him who was asking questions; I hardly learned anything about him in the conversation. When I mentioned Jens and Mareike, he asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I said no. Then he pointed to the dance floor and said:
"A lot of nice girls here, huh?"
“Mhm,” I just said.
"Not the right one for you?"
"Oh, well... I'm not that interested in girls..." I mumbled, and then choked. Shit, what did I just say? I could have slapped myself! I hoped he hadn't misunderstood, I mean, understood correctly. But he didn't pursue it any further, and we changed the subject.
During the conversation, I couldn't take my eyes off him. His body, now covered by a shirt again, was well-built, his skin a dark tan. Around his neck he wore a silver chain with a small pendant dangling from it. But the most handsome thing was his face. When our eyes met and I looked into his black eyes, a shiver ran through my entire body. Sometimes he smiled briefly, and it was the sweetest smile I had ever seen.
"Okay, I need to go," he said at some point with a wink. I watched him as he got up and walked down the stairs to the beach to relieve himself.
"Hey, are you coming?" I suddenly heard Marco's voice. "We want to walk down the beach again, maybe we'll find a bar or something..."
"Just a minute," I called back. I couldn't leave now; I had to at least wait until he came back. But I didn't want to stay here alone either.
"The others are leaving, hurry up!" There was still no sign of the Italian boy, and finally I got up and ran after Marco.
The alcohol had obviously already taken its toll on some of the people in our class; they were supporting each other, beer cans in hand, as they staggered along the beach in a not-quite-straight direction. A small group led the way, including Ben and two other boys.
When I caught up with Marco and Jens, they couldn't help but grin. Of course, they had been watching the conversation at the bar, and they probably hadn't missed my glances at the boy either.
"Don't say anything wrong," I grumbled, whereupon my grin grew even wider and Marco had to ask innocently, "Why, I don't even know what you mean..."
At least they didn't make any more stupid comments after that. Instead, Marco took off his sandals and let the surf wash around his calves; a few others did the same. We walked a little further until Ben and the others stopped in a small, rocky cove. Apparently, they had some kind of idea again.
“What’s going on?” Marco called as we got closer.
"Hey, who's coming swimming with me?" Ben called back.
"Now?!" Jens asked, aghast. Most of the others were immediately fired up and disappeared behind a rock. Marco ran after them, too.
“Do you want to swim too?” I asked Jens.
He shook his head, and I also preferred to stay on dry land, so we sat down on the rocks a few meters from the water. I was already a little tired, and just watching the others swim was enough for me.
Suddenly, we heard voices coming from the direction we'd come from. I turned around and recognized the young Italians from the beach bar. Apparently, they had been following us. Naturally, I immediately looked for the boy who had been dancing next to me.
Marco immediately yelled, "Hey, come with me!" He had stripped completely naked and ran into the surf. The locals said something in Italian, then came running up, yelling, took off their clothes, and rushed after him. Now I recognized the cute boy from the bar.
They swam further out, squealing with delight. Shit, maybe I should have gone with them after all. The thought of swimming stark naked in the ocean with these cute boys made my heart race.
“So, is he gay too?” Jens pulled me out of my fantasies.
"What? Who?"