"I'm good, I'm good," I said, righting myself. But my body was aglow where he'd touched me. I patted his shoulder—a gesture of thanks—but lingered a couple of seconds too long. Not longenough.
"Some species of firefly are dying out," Cole said. Apparently he didn't require full minutes to process my touch before forming words. Lucky Cole. "Skyglow, the phenomenon of constant brightness from cities, highways, and screens, interferes with their ecosystems. And I took a bunch of businesspeople—the kind who built their careers on technological advancement—into the Smoky Mountains to catch a look at somefireflies."
"Did that work out asintended?"
"Not at all," Cole said, laughing. "The researcher, she wouldn't allow us to bring any phones or tablets—like I said, screens are part of the problem—orflashlights."
His words hitched as he stumbled over an exposed tree root in the path. I dropped my hand onto his shoulder again, and kept it there thistime.
For safety. Ofcourse.
"There'd been a forest fire the previous season, and some of the trails were gone. We didn't get lost because this researcher knew the forest like the back of her hand, but the journey didn't go as planned. We didn't get to see any fireflies, not really. There was some twinkling in the distance, but the fire did a number on their population." He sighed, and I squeezed his shoulder in response. "They missed the point I was trying tomake."
"You're getting some fireflies now," Iwhispered.
Cole didn't respond. He was staring into the woods, pointing and murmuring in delight as he spotted another zip oflight.
"It really is something when you think about it," he said. "Adult fireflies are only active for about two weeks. They live for almost two years but they spend most of that time eating bugs and hanging around, not doing much of anything. Just waiting and waiting for that snap of time when they have to find a mate, and then they only have two weeks to get the jobdone."
"Seems like a lot of pressure," Isaid.
"But isn't that the way? You spend forever waiting for the right time, but then the right time is over before you know it." Cole shrugged, and I gulped down a groan at the feel of his muscles rising and falling beneath my touch. "That's probably why they have extremely active sexlives."
"Someone should have an extremely active sex life," Imuttered.
"Once they find a mate, it takes almost an hour to transfer the sperm," Cole said. It sounded like he was reading from a textbook. A sexy textbook about horny fireflies. Orsomething.
"Sounds good tome."
"Once it's done, the sperm transfer, the male stays around to ward off competitors. He doesn't want anyone else getting in there." He shrugged again, and if I was sober, I'd think he rubbed his cheek against my hand. Then again, if I was sober, I wouldn't be massaging his shoulder in the woods at night. I would've moved this conversation somewhere with beds. And lube. "They're territorialfuckers."
"Me too," I said. Not sober, notsorry.
Cole stopped, and pointed toward the woods. It was dark back here, completely hidden from the lighthouse's steady beacon, and that darkness awakened a whirl and flow of tiny stars. They blinked in the quiet beat of an ancient universe to which we were guests, voyeurs in a mating ritual that mirrored my ownwants.
"I get it," I said slowly. "The nostalgia. It feels pure. Or, as pure as any booty call canbe."
"That wasn't what I wanted my team to walk away with, but it's true," Cole replied. "I wanted them to think micro—the fireflies—and macro—us—but they weren't picking up on any ofthat."
He sighed and this time he definitely rubbed his cheek on my hand. That scruff.Ah.
"They're flashing us their happy little dick pics," Cole said. "This is just a whole lot of dick announcingI'm down tofuck."
"We're basically watching a glow-worm orgy," Isaid.
"I know," he whispered. "It's awesome until you really think aboutit."
"You should've told that team of yours about the sex. That got myattention."
"Should we give them some privacy?" Coleasked.
I started to respond but instead of speaking, I pressed my lips to his neck. My hand moved from his shoulder to his chest, and I dragged him closer to me. I should've stopped. Should've pushed him away, put this on hold, and figured out what the fuck we were doing because the heat between us was increasing by the second and I was a breath away from losing my thoughts—every one of my damn thoughts—and letting need guide the way. But I didn't dothat.
For once in my life—twice, if we were counting last night's indiscretions—I did what I wanted rather than thinking about the implications and repercussions. I brought my hand to Cole's face, turned him away from the glow-worm orgy, and kissedhim.
In the back of mind, I knew…one wrong move and this could end with some awkward moments and hard feelings, and I didn't want either for us. He was an unexpected friend, and one I wasn't ready tolose.
He twisted in my arms, his lips returning to mine, his hands shifting down to my waist, his knuckles stroking the small of my back in the most precious way, and I fell over the edge of reason. It was like those seconds between barreling over the bow and splashing down in the ocean, when all sense of balance and equilibrium went wild before recalibrating as the water tookover.
