“My communication skills could use work.”
“You’re twenty-four, of course they can. Mine too. We’re too young to have figured everything out. This is our journey. Our past will forever be woven into our story, but we get to control where it goes from here. We’re committed to doing our best to honor Fate.”
“Fate is important, but I’m more concerned with your feelings than paying tribute to the goddess that initially tied our souls together.”
“Good, that’s how I feel too.”
“Are we moving too fast?”
Pyxlevir took his gaze off the road and glanced at Gramlithyn’s profile. There was nothing in his voice to suggest Gramlithyn had asked anything but an academic question, so he opted to answer it at face value. “I guess it depends on how you look at it. As an elf, we’ve moved glacially slow. Evenif you negate the six years we were apart, we still should’ve combined our souls several times over by now. Perhaps that should be important to me, but it’s irrelevant. What concerns me is whether this is working for me and my partner. I’m happy. I’m comfortable and eager for the future. I’ll hazard a guess that you feel the same.”
Gramlithyn rested his hand on Pyxlevir’s. “I do. When we finally spoke again, I imagined a horrible uphill battle to convince you any of this was possible—”
“Because you foolishly thought I wasn’t into you. Silly man.”
“Sometimes it’s wonderful to be really fucking wrong. Now, turn up the radio, I love this song.”
Laughing, Pyxlevir did as he was told. It was a tune he fondly remembered from their teenage years, and they sang along loudly and off-key. As far as Pyxlevir was concerned, it had never sounded better. The miles sailed by, and soon they were scouring signs to find the place Gramlithyn had rented. Gramlithyn checked them in at the main lodge, then they drove a short distance to a private cabin with its own balcony.
After grabbing his suitcase, Pyxlevir followed Gramlithyn to the log cabin. It was nestled in a forest thick with trees, and the mountains loomed above them. Pyxlevir thought it was beautiful. Gramlithyn unlocked the door and shooed Pyxlevir inside what was essentially a single room with an attached bathroom.
As Gramlithyn had advertised, there were two beds. There was also a fireplace and a kitchenette. The furnishings were homey and charming.
“This is lovely,” Pyxlevir said, resting his bag on a nearby chair.
“Yeah, nicer than it was online. I’m impressed. What do you want to do first?”
Pyxlevir crossed the space so he was standing in front of his other half. “Kiss.”
With a smile, Gramlithyn pressed his lips to Pyxlevir’s forehead. “Are you hungry?”
“If that little peck wasn’t so sweet, I’d bitch about you missing my lips.”
“We’ll make out later, I promise. But we both know if we start necking now, we’ll spend the rest of our stay in this cabin.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“So, answer my question, Pyx. Are you hungry?”
“Just for your sexy carrot. But since that has to wait until later, let’s go find that shifting area.”
“I both love and hate that you’ve started calling my dick a carrot. Change into your sneakers so you don’t ruin your shoes. Did you bring a jacket? I have a hoodie you can borrow if you didn’t. I should’ve mentioned it before we left, but I forgot.”
Pyxlevir unzipped his bag and pulled out his sneakers along with a pair of socks. The bed was high enough that he didn’t bother trying to balance himself on the mattress to switch shoes. Instead, he picked one of the two chairs in the cabin to sit in. He slid off his sandals and tugged on his socks.
“I didn’t think about it being cooler up here, so I didn’t grab a coat. In my defense, though, you didn’t tell me where I was going,” Pyxlevir said.
“My hoodie it is. Thankfully, it’s black, so it doesn’t clash with your outfit.”
Pyxlevir’s cotton options were fewer than his silk ones, but nearly everything he owned was in his favored colors of blue, purple, and black. He’d selected a dark outfit that reminded him of his father’s centaur with subtle embroidery in the same azure as Pyxlevir’s eyes. The lone pair of sneakers he owned were black, and he kept them around for the occasional long walk or family sporting events.
Once Pyxlevir had tied his laces, Gramlithyn grabbed a refillable bottle of water, took his hand, and they walked out of the cabin.
“I can carry the hoodie,” Pyxlevir offered. Gramlithyn had tossed the garment over his shoulder.
“I’ve got it, don’t worry. You’ll get custody of it when we get to the changing station at the shifting area unless you get cold before then.”
“It’s nice out, I’m good. What’s the plan for dinner tonight?”
