“I do.” I give him a look of sincerity, trying to really make him understand how special he is to me. And how I wantthismoment between us to be special, too. Quick, fine, but not rushed. Not forced because we’re both horny and alone together for the first time in weeks and working through a rough patch. I need him to know I want to, but not now, like this.
He looks more hurt than understanding, and unlatches his legsfrom my hips. “You’re right. Sorry.” He grabs his shirt and starts to pull it back on.
“Well, I didn’t say you had to get dressed,” I say, trying to sound playful and putting my hands back to his sides where I know he likes. He squirms and grabs my wrists. He gives me a light kiss, but this time there’s no passion in it.
“They’re going to worry where we are. And, honestly, if they’re going to think we’re having sex, I’d feel even worse that we didn’t.”
“I don’t want you to feel bad.” I hold his hands, squeezing them gently. “I want you. Ireallydo. I—”
“No, I know, I get it. I’m sorry, I don’t mean that I feel bad. I feel slightly wounded because it does feel like rejection even though you’re right. Does that make sense?”
“Not really?”
“I know. But I can’t help it.”
“I’m not rejecting you.” I hold his gaze. “You’re beautiful. And you’re my favorite person and I always want you. But I want our first time we have sex to be... you know.”
He sighs. “It’s not going to be. How can anything be perfect anymore? The world is dead and we’re on the fucking roadagain! There will never be a perfect moment. The two of us together—that’s what’s supposed to make it perfect. Nothing else.”
“I—I know that, and it will be, you’re right, I know. But there can be a better place and time when we don’t have to rush through it.”
“Like when we were in the Keys?”
I flinch. “I never said I didn’t want to.”
“I know you didn’t! I... ugh!” He puts his face in his hands andgroans in frustration. “We can talk about this later, okay? Let’s get the water for the kids and go back before people start to worry.”
He grabs the water jugs and stands, walking to the edge of the dock and lying on his stomach to fill the jugs one by one. When I reach him with mine, he hands a full jug back to me and takes an empty one.
We fill them in silence, then walk back to the camp.
The next day Daphne is telling a couple of the kids the story of one of the romance novels she wrote calledLate Bottle Vintage—a love story between a Portuguese port shipper and a sommelier in their fifties who try to create a successful port production company. It was her first book and, according to her, much tamer than the others. I’m walking next to Rocky Horror while the Kid uses my arm like a swing set.
Ahead of us, Andrew and Taylor are distracting a few of the orphans who are getting cranky about all the walking again. He and I haven’t talked about the moment of horniness I ruined by the river last night. Of course.
“I can’t believe I went from the pinnacle of postapocalyptic bachelorhood,” Rocky Horror says, “to being fucking Mary Poppins.” One of the younger orphans is asleep in his arms.
“Come on, RH. You love us.” I laugh as the Kid swings on my arm one last time and then runs to Daphne.
Rocky Horror grunts, like he doesn’t—but he does.
I lower my voice. “Can I ask you something?”
He takes the cue and slows his steps, letting the others get a fewmore feet ahead of us. I watch the Kid, waiting for him to notice I’m not next to him, but he keeps his eyes on the road, swinging his stuffed hippo by the arm.
“Sorry if you don’t want to hear this, but I feel like the others are too young, and I know Cara doesn’t want to talk about it. And Daphne’s wonderful, but I think she’s a little too optimistic and also I don’t know her that well. Honestly, it’s not like I knowyouall that well either, but you’re the only other openly queer person here. And, I mean, usually I could look it up myself, but it’s not like I can do that anymo—”
“Jamie, at the start of this, it felt like you had a question. I was getting big into the process of port making, so if you could focus back on that so I can finish listening to Daphne talk about this book of hers, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Sorry, right.” But just then the Kid sees that we’ve fallen behind and runs back to take my hand. Great, now I have to figure out how to say this so it’s child friendly. “I... before...” I look up at Daphne talking about port. “Okay, I never had port before. And I’m assuming you have.”
He scrunches up his face. “I mean, yeah. It’s fine.”
“No, RH, I mean, like, you’vehad port.” I open my eyes wide and look down at the Kid.
Rocky Horror’s confused face follows my gaze down to the Kid, and I’m about to give up when he scoffs and shakes his head. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”
“Jesus Christ,” the Kid repeats.
