Page 41 of Muscle Cub

“That’s very cool.”

“But the dude who was in this spot? Fuck. Yeah. His shit was trashed.”

“You’re telling me this now?”

“I knew you’d be okay. There wasn’t anything in the forecast. When you get lucky, it’s a sweet spot. You got lucky, Prof.”

I’d never felt luckier.

As we reached the pool complex on my last trip to the truck, Austin suddenly stopped walking. “Shit. We don’t even have each other’s phone numbers.”

“I wasn’t gonna leave here without exchanging details.”

“Fuck. I don’t even have my phone on me. I always leave it in the bunkhouse.”

“You can just give me your number. I promise I’ll text.”

“Hold on.” Austin ducked behind the cabana bar and returned with a permanent marker.

“Do you have a piece of paper or—”

“No.” He held out his arm. “Write it on me.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I don’t wanna keep up with a scrap of paper. I’m afraid I’d lose it.” He rotated the pale skin of his forearm toward the sun. “Brand me, Prof.”

I walked him into the shade of the bar so we could lay his arm on a stable surface. My hands trembled as I tried to figure out which direction to write and how big to print the numbers. I could read it from this angle, but could he? This was permanent ink. There was pressure to make it neat and legible. And as I was juggling all those thoughts, I had a flash of forgetting my number or writing it down wrong.

God, I was a mess.

He watched me, smiling as if he could hear my thoughts.

When I finished, he read my number back to me, then asked for my phone. Watching him create a new contact with his name and number, I felt a mixture of hope and relief. I wouldn’t be fully relieved until I’d heard from him, but for now, it was enough to believe it wasn’t over.

“Oh! Selfie.” Austin grabbed me and pulled me against him before I could think too much about it and snapped our picture together. I wished I’d had more time to prepare, to smile more, maybe even take a few alternates and keep the best one. But he handed the phone back to me.

“Text me whenever you can,” I said.

“I’ll hike out to the road this evening where I can get a good signal.” Austin took my hand and swung it between us as he walked me to my truck.

I tossed my backpack into the passenger seat and stood with the door open.

Austin squinted. “This part sucks.” The sun was in his eyes, so I couldn’t tell by his expression if he was frowning or wincing in pain.

How many times had he lived through a similar scene? It was entirely novel to me, but surely he’d had to say goodbye to other men he’d met and felt a connection with.

I didn’t know what to say. I had no words for this. “I didn’t expect much coming here. But it was better than I could’ve imagined… You were. You are.”

Austin nodded. His throat worked, but he didn’t say anything. Maybe he couldn’t.

I pressed my forehead to his. “Thank you.”

He stared at the ground, probably oblivious he was still wearing my shoes.

I didn’t say a word about it. I didn’t want him to take them off.

Austin took a deep breath. “Okay, I gotta dash.” He spared me a quick glance, and I saw the same panic I’d been feeling all morning reflected in his eyes—fear, that it felt wrong to leave, that something might happen and we’d never see each other again, that it was going to hurt. He kissed me hard. This was the last one. There was no good way to make it more special than the others. “Don’t be mad, but I’m gonna walk away really fast, and I’m not gonna look back because I will totally fucking boo hoo, okay?”