Page 55 of Beyond the Hedge Maze

Oliver shrugged. “No, not at home. We can’t go out and buy it, but this is fine.”

“Cheers then.” Jesse clinked his bottle against Oliver’s, and they both took a drink of the crisp cider. “I was wondering, and you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but why do you live with your grandfather?”

Oliver set his bottle down and carefully thought about what he wanted to reveal. There was no big drama to unload. He’d had a wonderful childhood at Chapman, and he hadn’t suffered a loss like Jesse had. It was trite to even remotely compare their situations.

“What you said about your father earlier,” Oliver started, “how you don’t know if he cares? My parents are the same.”

“So they’re not…”

Oliver quickly took Jesse’s hand. “No, they’re alive. It’s a rather boring story. I wasn’t doing well in school. My parents had an active social life, and it wasn’t very stable for me. My grandfather suggested I move here, and that’s the end of that.”

There were things that Oliver had left out. How they would host parties until the early hours of the morning, keeping him awake through the night. Or how they’d leave him with nannies for days, sometimes weeks at a time, who wouldn’t speak a word to him.

“How old were you when you moved here?” Jesse asked.

“Six. It’s quieter here. The primary school in the village was a better fit until I went to Eton. I was encouraged to be myself. It all worked out.”

Oliver was knocked sideways as Jesse tackled him in a hug, the air leaving his lungs in a whoosh as both bottles of cider tipped over onto the blanket and grass. Oliver was flat on his back as Jesse peppered kisses all over his face. He laughed, the warm air pleasantly filling his lungs as he forgot about the seriousness of the past few minutes.

Jesse placed two final kisses to each of Oliver’s dimples and returned to a sitting position, pulling Oliver with him as he leaned into his side.

“You should have brought your sketch pad,” Jesse said, pointing between the willow and the lake, “to draw this.”

“Maybe one day.” Oliver wiped a hand across his brow. “Fuck, it’s hot.”

“Let’s do something about that then.” Jesse lightly smacked a hand on Oliver’s thigh before he ripped off his socks and stood.

When Jesse reached for the hem of his shirt, Oliver turned his head away. It was less out of respect for Jesse’s privacy and more because he knew he was blushing from his ears all the way down his neck. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Jesse’s gym shorts hit the blanket, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking. He let his eyes wander up Jesse’s calves and thighs to where his boxers began.

Oliver swallowed, trying to keep his composure. “What are you doing?”

“Going swimming.”

“What—”

Jesse took off sprinting across the grass to the dock. It wobbled beneath his feet, and Oliver held his breath, waiting for it to splinter—but it held. Jesse fearlessly jumped off the edge, splashing into the lake as Oliver sat there with his mouth open in disbelief.

Jesse surfaced, shaking his hair away from his face as he treaded water. “Come on!”

Oliver counted each inhale and exhale as his shaky hands undressed himself. His whole body buzzed with nerves and excitement, at the feeling of being carefree and reckless. Not once in his life had he swam in that lake, and why did it take this American boy to question why he hadn’t?

Once he finished undressing, Oliver took off his glasses and laid them on top of his pile of clothes. The world blurred, and somehow that helped. It was easier to navigate his feelings without the clarity of the space around him. Calmly, he bypassed the dock and instead walked into the water from the edge of the bank.

The water was an instant relief to his burning skin, even as the mud at the bottom of the lake squelched disgustingly between his toes. He grimaced through the discomfort until the water was up to his chest and he started swimming over to Jesse.

Jesse reached for him when he was within arm’s length. When they were close enough, Jesse grabbed the back of Oliver’s thighs, encouraging him to wrap them around his waist.

“I’m going to drown you,” Oliver said, looking down at Jesse who was wearing a shit-eating grin, water dripping down his face.

“You’re not giving me enough credit. I’m an excellent swimmer, I’ll have you know.”

Oliver ran his fingers through Jesse’s wet hair, combing it out of his face. “Whatever you say.”

Jesse’s eyelashes were so dark, framing his hazel eyes. “So are you going to kiss me or not?”

There was a long period of them staring at each other, existing in this one moment in time together. Jesse’s arms supported him while Oliver traced invisible maps across Jesse’s face with the pads of his thumbs.

America, to England, and back.