Page 24 of Muscle Cub

I sent him off with one of his own lines, “I’ll catch you later.” Only I sincerely meant it.

10

Morning temperatures were still chilly at the end of May in the North Georgia mountains, so I pulled on an old hoodie, and, after casting a regretful look at the formerly white Vans I’d worn last night, I sighed and stomped into them.

As soon as I popped my head out of the tent, someone called my name.

Ben and Eric were coming up the trail, both of them sporting bedhead and matching blood-red lips. The expression good and fucked came to mind.

“Perfect timing!” Eric was happier than I’d ever seen him. It creeped me out a little.

“Coming to see if you want to grab breakfast with us,” Ben said.

“Sure. I was just heading up to the lodge in search of coffee.”

“I meant,” Eric said, “it was perfect timing to see who just left your tent. You’re looking a little mauled and red-faced this morning.”

“Um, don’t even start on me when you’ve yet to explain”—I gestured between them—“whatever the fuck has happened here in the last thirty-six hours.”

Eric sighed. “The long, slow hands of fate.” Ben only grinned down at the trail and said nothing. Behind his back, Eric mouthed, “I’ll fill you in later.”

We hiked for a bit, marveling at the dozens of campsites that seemed to have materialized overnight.

“So,” Eric said. “Everybody saw you guys leave the bar together last night. And it has been confirmed that neither of you came back.”

“Confirmed?” I scoffed. “By whom?”

“Sources,” Eric said. “Now stop stalling. We need details.”

“He needs details,” Ben muttered. Ben was the one I saw the most often, and if I hadn’t witnessed them together, it might have been weeks or even months before he brought it up. Ben traded in zero gossip; Eric, blow-by-blow accounts.

I teased Eric with a brief, intentionally maddening summary. “We hung out down here at the pool for a bit. Then we came back to my tent.”

“And?” Eric’s voice cracked.

I shrugged. “He spent the night.” And before Eric could grill me further, I turned the inquisition on him. “How do you know him again?”

“Everybody here knows Austin Fox.” He must have realized his tone carried a ton of innuendo because he quickly added, “He’s the reigning Best Cub of the annual Bear Mountain Lodge Bear Run.”

I carefully picked my way up a steep section of the trail where tree roots and rocks formed natural steps, waiting for the string of words to make sense to my uncaffeinated brain. “What the fuck is that?”

Eric hummed, searching for an explanation. “Think high school superlatives crossed with like International Mr. Leather. But way local.”

“So it’s a fucking beauty pageant?”

Eric nodded once. “It’s a fucking beauty pageant.” He held up a finger. “But butch.”

Ben snorted.

I rolled my eyes. “Of course.”

“Very, very butch.”

“I wouldn’t dare think otherwise.”

We reached the end of the trail and took our places on the lodge steps behind all the other men waiting to get in. There was a self-service coffee station set up out on the deck to appease us while we waited for breakfast to be served.

Eric took Ben’s hand, gazed lovingly at him, and something unspoken passed between them. When Eric saw me staring, he said, “We agreed it’s finally time for us to be together again. As more than friends.”