23
Simon
Amitola Spring was located an hour outside Aurora, past Renata Hills, on the Amitola River. The spring was the fifth largest in the state—a fact Simon only knew because every year, without fail, his parents would bring him, Shep, and sometimes Jayne for a summer visit. The acreage around the spring had been turned into a public park and was partially used by the Department of Conservation as a trout hatchery and fishery. As a child, Simon’s favorite part about their hike through the trails had been seeing the huge brown-speckled fish clustered together so close through the crystalline water, their sleek bodies flashing in the sun while their mouths sucked at the point where stream met air. But now, as an adult, he found the company he kept more exciting than the abundance of fish or the idyllic scenery.
Harlow was here, in person, walking at his side. There was no universe in which it should have happened, and yet, here they were.
With a click of his key fob, Simon locked the old Biernacki minivan as they crossed the gravel parking lot. He blinked several times to re-center his contacts—with his nose still healing, they were a better alternative than glasses, even though he detested them—then set his gaze on the ground still left to cover. Evie and Shep forged ahead, the soles of their canvas shoes crunching pea-sized stones. Evie had put on a beanie, her signature blonde hair tucked into its floppy tip through some kind of magic involving pins and clips. Jayne, who’d helped her secure it so it wouldn’t fall off, had also helped her with her makeup, contouring her face in skillful ways to change its appearance. She wore sunglasses regardless, and had hidden herself in a baggy gray hoodie branded with a generic university crest. To Simon, she was indistinguishable from any other teenage girl. But then again, he hadn’t recognized her when she was sitting in plain sight in their own apartment until Jayne had pointed her out.
Harlow kept his gaze trained on her, but every now and then, Simon noticed him glance in his direction and smile. Every time he saw it, it made Simon’s heart go wild. While his heartbeat drummed in his ears and his cheeks turned pink, Simon and Harlow followed Shep and Evie from the parking lot to the garden bridge leading over a narrow part of the spring branch. Evie, all smiles, took off at a run for the bridge and came to a stop at its midpoint, where she whipped out her cell phone and waited for Shep to arrive. Shep, hands in his pockets, played it cool and followed her at a slower pace. When he was within arm’s length, she grabbed him and tugged him to her side.
“You’re such a goober,” Evie teased. She held her phone up and studied the screen, tilting her head this way and that as Shep raised a brow flirtatiously and smirked. They were taking a selfie, Simon realized—immortalizing their time together in a place Simon linked strongly with his childhood.
The same place he shared with Harlow.
“Shep, smile like a normal person!” Evie demanded. “Do you really want all of our pictures together to look like you’re a major player? Seriously uncool.”
Shep rolled his eyes playfully, which earned him an elbow to the ribs.
“Alright, alright!” He elbowed her back, grinning. “Here. I’m smiling. Happy now?”
“Yes,” Evie declared. She fussed with the neck of her hoodie to set it just right. “Very.”
While Evie and Shep posed for the camera, Simon tucked his hands into his back pockets and watched Harlow from the corner of his eye. He tapped the toe of his shoe on the ground, wanting to speak, but not knowing what to say. His heart was too full to risk words—he was afraid that if he spoke, it’d overflow and confuse his tongue.
Was this a date?
For Evie and Shep, it certainly was. Neither of them had attempted to hide their fledgling relationship, and while Simon didn’t agree with the lengths they’d gone to in order to be together, he understood what it was like to be impossibly head over heels for someone, but unable to do anything about it.
But for Harlow and Simon?
If Simon didn’t stop thinking about it, he was going to embarrass himself.
“I’ve never seen him like this,” Simon murmured in an attempt to distract himself, the sound of his voice carrying no farther than Harlow’s ear. The words came out without issue, thankfully. He figured as long as he kept the conversation about others, he’d be in the clear. “Not… not for the last few years, at least.”
Shep leaned toward Evie while he kept his eyes on the screen of Evie’s phone, sticking out his tongue and lifting an eyebrow. Evie rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek. They snapped another picture.
“I’ve never seen her like this, either,” Harlow replied. His hands were in his pockets, a faint smile on his face. Simon, hung up on how gentle such a powerful man could look, almost missed when Evie took Shep by the hand and led him across the bridge.
“Come on,” she said. “The fish should be close, right? I want to see them.”
“They’re just fish,” Shep grumbled, only to laugh when Evie glared at him.
“They’re fishout in nature,” Evie protested. “Not like goldfish or… what, guppies? Real, actual fish who get really, actually big.”
The chatter continued. Harlow tore his attention from the two of them to look in Simon’s direction. Simon, startled, looked away.
Harlow chuckled. “Looks like they’re ready to go. Are you ready, too?”
“Y-Yeah.” Simon smiled, and his heart smiled in turn. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Over the bridgeand down the left fork of a winding, paved path was the hatchery. Its multi-tiered water beds rippled as its trout flitted back and forth. Wooden walkways stretched over the water, offering visitors vantage points. A large brown sign posted at the entrance of the hatchery forbade touching the trout, although Simon was fairly sure that during his wild youth, he’d broken that rule more than once. Just seeing the water brought back tactile memories of cool, slippery slime beneath his fingertips.
Shep, no doubt, remembered too—he sprang across the walkway, dropped to his knees near one of the railings, and went to dip his fingers in the water.
“Shep!” Evie hissed. She caught his wrist and held it back. “Can you read? The sign said no touching.”
