He pressed send, then typed,Sry, that didn’t come out as suave as I meant it.
Then he waited, jiggling the phone in his hand, laughing to himself about the fact that if they were both standing around with their phones, surely they could just call each other. But this was more fun, and yes, that was the point, wasn’t it?
That was the way it was when he was with Clay. Fun, easy, a genuine pleasure. Surely being in bed with this man would be, really, more of the same? And who didn’t want that? Not him, that’s who.
His phone beeped, and he opened the text messenger and readSnds like a porno if you ask me.
Shuddering, knowing that was the last kind of message he wanted to send, Austin gave in and dialed Clay’s number. Clay picked up right away.
“Hello, there,” Clay said, and it was easy to hear the smile in his voice. “I’m here with a pile of horse shit if you want to meet me now. Or, you can wait till after dinner, when I’ve had a chance to take a shower and spruce myself up.”
“I’ll take you any way I can get you,” said Austin before he could think it through. “Oh man, that came out wrong, too.”
“It came out fine,” said Clay. “You’re going to be fine. How about this? I’ll shower when I’m done for the day, and I’ll meet you at the main lodge for an early dinner, and we can go from there. Hold hands and stuff. Maybe make out, like we did before, only this time on your couch. It doesn’t have to be more than that, right?”
“Right,” said Austin, though he kind of felt it had to be more than that. Why was he making this good man wait? “That sounds good to me.”
“All right then,” said Clay. “Just be prepared. I have the nicest ass in the tri-state area.”
Then with a laugh, Clay hung up, leaving Austin staring at the phone, a goofy smile on his face and a pleasant anticipation of how it would go. Them making eyes at each other, flirting at dinner. Making out in the light of the ruby-colored table lamps. And then to the couch, when they’d get each other all hot and bothered. What could be more natural than that? Nothing.
Sticking his phone in his back pocket, Austin glanced up at the bluest sky, then slipped into the shade of the porch with a sigh before going back into the office. There, he made himself work hard, not letting himself be distracted.
Yes, Clay texted him every hour on the hour with funny emojis and misspelled commentary about how much horse shit there was and how Brody seemed to prefer a horse’s company to Clay’s. Dutifully laughing under his breath, Austin replied to each and every text.
By the time Maddy wanted to shut the office for the evening, Austin was more than ready to bid her goodnight before walking back to the cabin, where he took a shower, shaved, applied too much cologne, then hopped in the shower again. Luckily there was plenty of hot water and towels, and soon he dressed in his newest blue jeans, his cowboy boots polished, his nicest snap-button shirt tucked in beneath his belt, and off he went to dinner, whistling.
As he mounted the wooden steps to the main lodge, he looked up and there was Clay, dressed for a night on the town, wearing his newest blue jeans, and a snap-button shirt of the palest gray that brought out the blue in his eyes. The overhead light shone on his blond hair, and he was as bright as a new nickel.
“Man, I love you in that shirt,” said Clay as they got in line. “Gah. How am I supposed to wait till we start making out?”
“We could skip dinner,” said Austin, squawking a bit at the last word when he realized what he’d just said.
“No,” said Clay, tugging on Austin’s belt as they moved forward. “You need at least some toast in your belly, or you’ll be all in knots and that’s no fun.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” said Austin. He shook his head, and scuffed his cowboy boots along the wooden floor as he wished he had more guts and that he’d quit acting like a twelve-year-old boy about all of this. “I’m normally not this timid.”
“You’re a—” Clay leaned close, his mouth brushing against Austin’s ear. “You’re a virgin in these woods, and I mean to treat you like bone china.”
“You said bone,” said Austin in his best Beevus and Butt-head voice, sniggering, in spite of the cape of nerves that seemed to rise and fall all around him.
Clay laughed hard at this, tears squirting from his eyes, and it seemed all he could do to muffle himself with his hand over his mouth, out of courtesy for all the guests in line for dinner.
“You’re the best, bruh,” said Clay, still laughing. “Just the best.”
They were still jocular as they reached the buffet, and though Austin knew he needed to eat, he couldn’t focus on anything in any of the warming trays. In the end, he got what Clay got, which was lasagna dripping with cheese and sauce, and a little bit of salad, to keep things healthy.
As they sat at their favorite spot, a table just for two, it felt so normal, so much a part of his everyday life, that Austin felt he could take a breath. Could eat his dinner, and look at Clay and smile and not feel like he was marching to his own doom. Because he wasn’t. This was Clay, sweet, adorable, good-looking Clay who always looked at Austin like he was everything Clay ever wanted.
The cape of anxiety lifted from him, finally, as they bussed their trays and headed out of the dining hall and down the wooden steps. They weren’t walking hand in hand, as it seemed important to be more discreet than that, but they both paused at the same time to look up at the coming sunset, dusk dropping down in shades of violet, a faraway cloud on the horizon, dark and dangerous, flickering silent lightning amidst the virga.
“Man,” said Clay. “I bet you could paint the hell out of that.” He bumped his shoulder against Austin’s.
“I can try,” said Austin, leaning into the bump. “I’m going to stay and try.”
Gently, Clay took Austin’s hand and led him along the path and through the glade of trees, a soft sigh of a breeze pattering across the leaves of the cottonwoods as they shook themselves into the cool of the evening.
At the steps of the third manager’s cabin, Clay paused, looking up at Austin, waiting, it seemed. Then Austin figured it out.
