Pleasure pulses through me as I climax, thrusting into my slicked hand. An embarrassingly loud moan rips from my throat as I cover my fingers and stomach with my release.
I stare up at the ceiling for a few minutes, catching my breath. Holy shit. That was… intense.
Mason:just came so hard. thank u for that. goodnight hunter <3
I stare at the heart emoticon for a few seconds longer than I’d like to admit. I know it doesn’t mean anything. He’s just being nice. But it still makes my stomach flutter as I type out a shaky response.
Hunter:Me too. Goodnight.<3
***
The early morning sun slips through the blinds, leaving stripes of golden light on the hardwood floor. I putter through the house with my misting bottle and watering can, tending to my plants. In the kitchen, I pluck a wilted frond off my fern—named Fernie Sanders—and drop it in the trash.
When I turn away, the calendar magnetized on the fridge catches my eye. My stomach sinks when I notice today’s date.
Father’s Day.
I plop onto one of the barstools, phone in hand. I stare at the screen longer than I should before pulling up dad’s contact. My thumb hovers over the call button. I suck in a deep breath before pressing it.
It rings four times before he picks up.
“Hunter.” His voice is stiff. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Hey, Dad. Happy Father’s Day.”
“Thanks, son. I appreciate it.” There’s a pause. “How are things going? With your… plant research thing?”
Plant research thing. I wonder how he’d feel if I referred to his orthopedic surgeon career as hisbroken bone fixing thing?
I tell him it’s fine, that I’ve gathered some interesting data so far, that the weather’s been good. He makes polite noises in all the right places, and for a few seconds, it almost feels normal.
“Are you coming out here for your birthday next month?” he asks suddenly. “Your mom’s been asking.”
I fiddle with my fingers, chipping at the purple polish. “Uh… I don’t know yet. Things are kind of… busy here.”
“Yeah, Landon told me you’d say that,” he says, just enough edge in his voice to sting.
I shut my eyes and exhale a quiet huff of frustration. Of course Landon’s been talking to them about me. He’s their perfect doting son.
“I’ll let you know when I decide, okay?” I say, a little too quickly.
There’s another pause. “Listen, son, whatever’s going on between you and Landon–”
“It’s nothing, Dad. We’re fine.”
He ignores me, like always, and talks right over me. “Does it have anything to do with Travis? You know, he was Landon’s friend first. It’s not fair to expect him to drop the guy just because you two… you know.”
“It’s complicated, Dad.”
He gives me a skeptical grunt. “Alright. Well. I gotta go. Good luck with your plant stuff.”
“Yeah, thanks. Have a good day.”
We hang up without the usual “love you,” and I slide my phone back into my pocket. I grab my backpack and head out for the beach,trying to shake the heaviness before it follows me all day.
***
Measuring pollination frequency is boring, tedious work. It’s me, a clipboard, and a stopwatch, baking in the sun while marking a tally every time a pollinator decides to grace a flower with its presence. The data sheet is neatly split into categories: bumblebees, honeybees, flies, butterflies, and moths.
