Page 66 of Beyond the Hedge Maze

Along with the dimming light, the temperature had started to cool, but Jesse was warm with Oliver’s head resting in his lap. He was wearing a long sleeved zip-up jacket, and Jesse wondered if there was a way he could steal it straight off Oliver’s back to take with him when he left that evening. It would make an excellent pillowcase.

Oliver had been drawing the hydrangeas behind them, but with Jesse’s hands running through his hair, he was starting to fall asleep. He lightly scratched Oliver’s scalp and watched as the pencil in Oliver’s hand tipped sideways, a faint line crossing through the flower’s petals.

The night before, Jesse’s father had offhandedly mentioned that they would only be there for a few more weeks, and it sent Jesse into a tailspin. He woke up before the sun, and his feet propelled him towards the estate even though he knew Oliver wouldn’t be awake yet.

Once he arrived, he sat outside the entrance to the maze and tried to calm his racing thoughts.

He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

There were things that they hadn’t done together.

There were things that Jesse didn’t know about Oliver.

He hadn’t told Oliver that he loved him.

“Cariño?” Jesse suddenly asked, pulled back to the present.

Oliver sucked in a deep breath as he woke back up. “Hmm?”

“What’s your middle name?”

The sketchpad fell against Oliver’s chest as he awkwardly looked up at Jesse. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know it, that’s why.” Jesse lightly tugged at the ends of Oliver’s hair before he continued running his fingers through it.

Oliver groaned and turned onto his side, nuzzling his face into Jesse’s lower stomach. “It’s embarrassing.”

Jesse forced out a laugh, because that’s what he was expected to do. But the feeling of panic that he had successfully suppressed from the morning was threatening to rise. Of course didn’t need to know, but he’d latched onto the fact that he didn’t. He was leaving in a few weeks, and he didn’t know. He had to know. He couldn’t leave without knowing.

“Just tell me.”

Oliver sat up, and Jesse immediately missed his warmth. He turned to face Jesse and cupped his face, like he could sense the humor was fake and something was wrong. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t laugh at me.”

Jesse lightly gripped Oliver’s wrist in his hand, holding it into place against his face. “I promise I won’t laugh.”

Oliver sighed, resigned. “It’s…Edgar.”

Jesse grinned and bit his lip. He was so happy he asked. How wonderful was it knowing this artistic punky boy had such a silly middle name. He mentally checked another thing off his list of the things he previously didn’t know about Oliver.

“You told me you wouldn’t laugh!” Oliver tried to move his hand off Jesse’s face, but Jesse only tightened his hold. He pulled Oliver closer until they tumbled backwards.

Oliver’s full weight rested on top of Jesse, and the golden hour light cast a warm glow across Olver’s face. Jesse never wanted to leave. He wanted to live the rest of his life in the maze and study how the light changed across Oliver’s skin from hour to hour.

Jesse held Oliver's face between his hands. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Oliver smiled, both dimples centered perfectly in his cheeks, before he leaned down to kiss Jesse. Jesse surged up to meet him, pushing his hands further into Oliver’s hair until they settled at the base of his neck.

He poured every ounce of himself into the kiss. Every bit of love that he knew he felt for Oliver. It wasn’t abstract any more, it was real and wild, flooding his veins.

He started to pull away. He needed to tell him now. “Oliver, I—”

“Oh! I completely forgot.” Oliver scrambled off of him, and Jesse’s hands unceremoniously slapped against the gravel. He watched Oliver pick back up his sketchpad and flip through the pages. Once he found what he was looking for, he held it out to Jesse. “I finally finished this.”

“Holy shit.” Jesse’s heart felt impossibly full as he stared down at the portrait of himself. Nothing was missing. There was the tiny mole on his right cheek, and the little scar on his chin from when he fell off his bike onto the gravel when he was eight. There was the one clump of hair that always waved in a different pattern than the others, and he even included the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

Oliver hadn’t missed a single detail. It was all right there. Every pencil stroke, a masterclass in Jesse Alvarez.

“So what do you think? Did I capture the true essence of your left eyebrow?”