Page 3 of Beyond the Hedge Maze

“You never told us about that!” Rachel said, outraged.

Isaac gripped his shoulder in support. “And while we will undoubtedly unpack that trauma later, I was talking about the guy staring right at you.”

Oliver’s heart stopped.

Fuck.

Standing there, right at the edge of the bank, was Jesse Alvarez. Oliver’s eyes frantically latched on to every square inch of him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing; was unable to fathom just how much Jesse had changed since they were fifteen, lost and smitten in the maze.

Jesse looked equally shocked to see him. A light blue compression shirt stretched across his chest and biceps, his muscles beautifully on display under the Cambridge University logo. The spandex shorts he wore sat high up his thighs, and bordered on indecent.

When they had met as teenagers, Oliver had recently hit a growth spurt, making him tall and thin while Jesse was clinging to that last bit of baby fat with cheeks that rounded with each smile. Even from a distance, he could tell Jesse was now well over six feet tall, and all hints of youth had dissolved into a strong jaw and cheekbones covered in stubble. His nearly black hair still fell in effortless waves around his face, and while the traditional light blue colors of Cambridge washed out most other men, it only complimented the richness of his skin.

Oliver hadn’t thought about Jesse in years. When they first met, it was nothing more than a coincidence. A blip in time where strangers from different continents spent their days together. It was forced proximity; forced proximity and exploration. It was being young, and queer, and the experience of embracing who you were with the help of another person.

As a teen, Oliver didn’t have the perspective to understand what they were to each other. What they could have been.

What he did have then were glasses, gangly limbs, and huge, impossible feelings for a boy from Chicago who crashed into his life one summer before year eleven. And when Jesse left, he was heartbroken.

Rachel’s gaze darted between her friend and the handsome stranger standing on the bank. “Olive, who is that?” she asked, using the nickname she had given him the first day they met.

Oliver was tongue tied, unable to form any words that could adequately explain who Jesse was. A bead of sweat dripped down his spine under his jumper, and his breathing was labored. The ghost of summer’s past had graced Oliver with their presence, and he hadn’t been prepared.

He watched as Jesse lifted his hand; not so much in greeting, but simply in acknowledgement that he saw him, too. That he was real, that they were in the same space together, eight years later.

A large redheaded man approached Jesse with a grin, pulling his focus away from Oliver, and Oliver let out a shaky breath. A momentary reprieve from his panic.

He turned to his friends who wore matching faces of concern. “Um, let’s go.”

“What’s wrong?” Isaac asked.

“Nothing, everything’s fine. We’re going to have to catch the next bus if we want to make it to Barnes on time. That’s where we want to watch, right?”

The twins gave each other another worried look that Oliver ignored. He turned his back to them, aimlessly walking down the street in search of the closest bus stop. He didn’t have any idea if he was heading in the right direction, but he needed to move. Needed to silently process his emotions and regather himself.

Thirty minutes later, Rachel and Isaac were warm comforts at his back as Oliver stood on his toes to see over the crowds near the Barnes Bridge. His anxiety at seeing Jesse again after all these years had only heightened since they had left. The image of him standing there at the bank burned behind his eyelids.

The teams were entering their final stretch, the crowds pushing forward, and everyone was craning their necks to see which boat was in the lead. Rachel’s arm curved around his waist, her chin propped up on his shoulder as she whispered into his ear. “Do you see him?”

Oliver had long ago stopped wondering how she was able to read him so clearly. How she already knew from one look on his face that Jesse was, had been, someone important.

The boats were passing by at record speeds, so quick that Oliver couldn’t make out any one individual. But Oxford was slightly ahead as they approached the bridge. Suddenly, he wished they had picked a spot near the end of the course. Part of him wanted to be at the finish line, waiting in silent support, whether Jesse won or lost. Whether he cared to see Oliver again or not.

Chapter 2

Jesse

Two Years Ago

Even with the sun in his eyes, fighting against the glare that had settled over the crowd near the boathouses, it was impossible to miss Oliver. Jesse was fifteen all over again, his gaze naturally drawn to Oliver like a magnet. Just like it had been the first day they met.

In the back of his mind, Jesse had always wondered if there was a chance they would run into each other again. But the odds were low, and he certainly hadn’t anticipated seeing him today. Not amongst a crowd of over 200,000 spectators.

Oliver’s build hadn’t changed much since Jesse had last seen him; he had filled out some, but was still tall and lithe. However it was obvious Jesse was taller now. In the sunshine, his brown hair almost looked dark blond, and it was longer than he had worn it then. From this distance, he wasn’t sure if he could see any facial hair, and Jesse wondered if that was simply a personal choice or if he didn’t grow much.

He knew he looked ridiculous lifting his hand, but that was all he was able to do. He was rooted in his spot, bound by an obligation to his team, when all he wanted was to run to Oliver.

He wanted to drop everything and leave the embankment. Jesse was dying to see him up close, to run his fingertips across Oliver’s face.