Ok, I've got part II ready for y'all here on the blog. Bear in mind, this is a framed triple-narration, with the main voice of reflection being in normal text, the story of the last day together in italics in present tense, and the stories being told about what happened before being in bold text in the past tense. If you have any questions, just ask. Happy reading,
It’s close to two in the morning, and about a half-mile walk from the docks to my cabin. Pete reaches out for my hand as we walk, but I pretend to stumble and then casually switch my flashlight to my left hand. He puts his hands in his pockets. We walk in silence, until I can’t take any more.
“What?” Pete asks as I stop walking.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what? Have hot, passionate sex? Because I know I’ve never had a problem…”
“Just stop! For the love of God, Pete, just shut the fuck up! I can’t do this tonight, or ever again, until I get some answers. It hurts too much, dude.”
“Why? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Iloveyou.” There. I manage somehow to spit out the words that have been lodged in my throat for weeks. I feel the adrenaline coursing, and I can’t hear the crickets over the noise of the blood in my ears. It’s out there now. There’s no going back.
How do you know when you’re in love? When you’re thinking with the big head and not the little one? For me, it was that first night. He looked down at me, sweat-dampened hair mottled all over his forehead, eyes relaxed and mouth shaped in a tiny smile. My smile. He whispered in my ear, telling me I was amazing and that we were going to have an awesome summer. He fell asleep on my shoulder, and I just lay awake praying that the sun would never rise.
But everything changed that morning. We woke up to blinding sunlight filtering in through the screened windows and heavy pounding on the cabin door…
“Cole! Cole! Get up! It’s an emergency – there’s a missing person! Wake up!” The pounding was accompanied by one of our coworkers shouting through the door. Pete sat bolt upright, and I groggily tried to get my bearings.
“I’ll be right out,” Pete shouted back. Disentangling himself from me, he grabbed his clothes from the floor from last night and started pulling them on.
“What’s going on?” I asked, grabbing my own clothes.
“There’s a missing person, or something. Come on, hurry up! We gotta get you out of here. No one can see you!”
“Why? It’s not like I’m the first person to ever spend the night in someone else’s cabin.”
“Not with me, you didn’t. This doesn’t happen again – understand? And don’t hang around me, either. No one ever finds out about this, or I swear I’ll fucking kill you, got it? Now go, out the back. Go!”
He practically shoved me out the door. I stand outside for a minute and ask, “When will I get to see you again?”
“I’ll find you when I’m interested. Now get the fuck out of here!”
I trudged back, alone.
“Whoa, dude. Time out. You love me? Since when? I know you’re a homo, but damn. That sucks.”
“What do you mean, “You’re a homo”? Last time I checked, sex with another guy is pretty gay.”
“Damn it, I just explained all that. You’ve been convenient. Sex with you beats the hell out of six weeks with no company other than myself,” Pete mimes a pumping motion with his fist. “There’s never been anything more than that.”
“How can you say that! Do you even believe it! What about last week, out on the ridge? You said…”
“Oh come off it, already! You can’t hold a guy responsible for what he says in bed. We’ll say anything to keep it coming.”
I want to hit him. I want to hit him so hard that he bleeds and cries. Then I want to kiss his tears and make it all better. I want him.
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