“It’s the fear of discovery of your own sexuality due to perceived negative intolerance or stigma. I believe you’re suffering from it. By the sounds of it, you’ve gone your entire life trying to fit into thismold that society has constructed of what it means to be a man’s man. What if I told you that we men don’t have to be made of steel? We can enjoy things like cheerleading, going out and photographing things like butterflies and flowers,” I say, gesturing at my open computer screen, “and we can find attraction to other men as well. It shouldn’t be so taboo.”
He ponders that, I can practically see the gears turning in his mind.
“Let me be allshrinkyon you, and give you some homework,” I propose.
“And what would that be?” he scoffs.
“Be reckless with me. Just for tonight."
Chapter Fourteen
“Iwant a do-over. Only, this time, I want to do it better,” Brooks says, as I slide the backpack—which I practically had to pry out of his arms to carry for him—from my shoulders and let it hit the ground with athump.
His idea of beingrecklessapparently didn’t consist of more of what we were doing out in the lake tonight. Instead, he made us hike up to this damn stream again—the plunge pool where we let the raccoon go. The place where it became clear to me that the things I feel for Brooks aren’t just something I can ignore, despite trying desperately to do so.
That’s theinternalized homophobia, I guess.
From the backpack, he pulls out a very tiny tent bag. We’re definitely going to be stuffed in there like sausages, if he thinks we’re both fitting in whatever’s in that small sack. It’s probably one of those that’s labelled a two-person tent, but is hardly big enough for one decent-sized man, like Brooks, much less a second, much bigger guy—such as myself.
Not a brag, by any means. It’s just a fact. Though, my imposing size has proven itself useful a time or two—namely at breaking up bar fights when things have gotten a little rowdy at the pub.
“We’re both supposed to fit in that thing?” I ask him.
“It’s called forced proximity,” he says with a chuckle. “I want to get to know you better, Evan Waters. Maybe do whatever it is we’ve been doing the right way. What better way to do that, but in somereal closequarters?”
“I snore,” I tell him, still holding on to remnants of why we certainly can’t go sleeping together again tonight.
He doesn’t even balk at that. Instead, he replies, “See, I’ve already found something out about you. Although, I’m inclined to believe that’s a lie, since you already slept in my bed and never snored.”
I roll my eyes, failing to mention that I got zero sleep that night, because being truthful about the fact that I stayed up, just watchinghimsleep, seems far too fucking obsessive. I can’t help the fact that I truly am just a little obsessed with him. He’s magnetic, and I’m, as he put it, made of steel.
He expertly takes to work setting it up, like he’s been doing it blindfolded since before dinosaurs roamed the earth. Before I can even offer any assistance, he’s got the whole thing erected, with the bedroll spread out and self-inflating inside. On top of that, he tosses two more smaller sacks. Not sure how they’re even big enough to be sleeping bags, but he told me to trust the magic of goose-down bags.
I take that time to gaze up at the stars, searching for answers. How the fuck did I get myself into this mess, and how far do I let it go? How is it that strangers in Alder Notch already have seen more of the real me than anyone my entire lifetime in Ternbay?
Brooks crawls out of the tent and gives me a warm smile, something so genuine that I can’t ever look away when he gives me one. Thisattraction that I feel for him is insane, but I’ve always viewed my hidden sexuality as an anchor—relentlessly weighing me the fuck down. But what if this man’s warm smiles, soulful kisses, and tight embraces are life rafts that I need to keep me from drowning?
You sound like such a fairy, Waters. You’ll never be anything but a fucking fairy.
I shake my head, hoping to shake loose that nagging voice that lives there.
Words that have tormented me for years.
Then, Brooks silences them completely by stripping off his shirt, followed by him pulling down his pants. Tonight, I see, he’s wearing regular briefs. So much for that do-over done better, this time. Finally, he starts stripping out of those, too.
“Whoa,” I reply, halting him. “We’re not just gonna—I’m not ready for—”
“Relax,” Brooks tells me. “It’s muggy out after that storm. I don’t know about you, but a dip in the stream is looking mighty good.” He starts to pull his underwear back up. “I only packed this one pair, though. If this makes you too uncomfortable, I can leave them on,” he adds.
“It’s fine,” I tell him, not sure how fine it truly is.
It’s not watching him about to skinny-dip that’s not fine; it’sveryfucking fine, really. My mind is just at war with itself, as usual. It feels like that nasty voice is just barely being silenced, battering against the dam holding them back, trying to burst free. So instead, I let myself revel in the sight before me—replacing those thoughts. Allowing myself this; trying it on for size.
Being reckless.
“Okay then, time to go chunky-dunking,” he sighs, before disparagingly chuckling to himself.
He turns to face the water, perfectly round globes of his ass bunching and relaxing as he carefully steps down the banking barefoot. The muscles of the backs of his thighs ripple as he gets into a diver’s stance. Finally, with one good roll of his taut shoulders, he launches himself into the water head-first.
