Page 105 of Crossed Sticks

We ran farther out and dove into the water, and the exercise was the perfect remedy for the cold. I was so happy we’d finally made this trip, even if it was ten months late. We’d driven all day yesterday to get here. It was the first extended road trip we’d made together, and we turned out to be a perfect match, as we were in so many things. We traded off driving, and between talking about anything that came to mind, eating the worst kind of junk food, and snoring through short naps, we had a fantastic time. When we got bored somewhere in Massachusetts, Harp put on a playlist of classic rock Eckie had made for us, and we sang ourselves hoarse. Laughing hysterically, we decided neither of us should give up our day jobs.

And then there was the road head. We played with each other for at least an hour, starting with simple squeezes through our shorts. Before long, we had them open so we could get to our dicks. I was driving Harp’s SUV, and when he leaned across the console and took me into his mouth, I realized we needed to stop. We were off the interstate by then, so I pushed his head away and looked for a turnoff. It didn’t take long to find one, and when we were finally camouflaged by trees, he leaned back over. My eyes crossed with pleasure when I came in his mouth. Since it would have been evil to leave him hot and bothered, I returned the favor. His sighs and moans escalated into a loud cry when he came, and we shared a long kiss before getting back on the road. Our Maine vacation had definitely gotten off on the right foot.

An especially cold wave broke over my head, bringing me back to the present. Harper wasn’t far away, so we swam toward each other and treaded water while we indulged in another kiss.

“Race you back to shore,” he yelled, then took off before I could say anything.

“Cheating fucker!” I called after him, kicking with everything I had while I tried to catch up.

An amazing swimmer, Harp beat me back to the beach, where we wrapped up in our towels and headed back to the B&B. After a long, hot shower, we had breakfast and then walked around the village of Harbor Pointe. About five miles north of Bar Harbor, Harbor Pointe was a year-round residential town that catered to tourists during the summer.

Holding hands, we walked down the sidewalk past a row of businesses. When we reached a bookstore, Harp raised his eyebrows. “Want to go in? It’s not part of a chain, so it might be fun.”

“Let’s go for it. Maybe we’ll find something good.”

The store turned out to be larger than it appeared from the outside, with two stories and a basement packed with books, magazines, art prints, and hundreds of knickknacks. While we were in the basement, I found a carving of a famous starship. “Look at this,” I said, holding it up.

Harper came over from where he was examining a shelf of classic sci-fi books. “Wow.” He used a fingertip to examine the figure’s detail. “Is this soapstone?”

“I don’t know soapstone from a rock in the road, but it’s amazing.”

He looked at me, his hazel eyes amber in the fluorescent light. “Then consider it my gift to you.”

I turned it upside down and gasped at the price tag. “I can’t let you do that. It’s four hundred dollars.”

He took the carving from me. “Andyouare the man I’ve waited for all my life. I can afford it, and it’ll look great on our mantle.”

In the spring, we’d bought a nineteenth-century house in one of Buffalo’s historic districts. The previous owners had restored it, and we were scheduled to move in as soon as we returned home. I couldn’t keep a grin off my face. “Thanks, baby. It willlook terrific there.” I brushed my lips against his. “You’re the best.”

By the time we made it to the second floor, we’d picked out several books, plus the starship carving. “Ah,” Harp said, “fantasy at last.”

An entire wall was lined with fantasy books, while a nearby table offered games and memorabilia. Harp and I got to work—he started at one end of the wall, and I took the other. I was flipping through one of Garth Nix’s books when Harp called out, “Luca, come here!” The excitement in his voice had me hurrying to him.

“Look at these.” He pointed at a stack of books he’d moved to the table holding the games. “You’ll die.”

He’d found a collection of all the McKinleyDragons of the Shifting Starsbooks in hardback. I picked up the first one and examined it. “Gosh, it looks brand new.”

“They all do. Check out the inside.”

Reluctant to look away from his brilliant grin, I turned my attention back to the book and opened it. On the title page, an inscription was written in large, clear handwriting with black ink:

To my fellow star shifters, make the most of life!

Marshall McKinley

“It’s signed.” I glanced between the book and Harp. “This is beautiful.”

“They’re all signed first editions.”

One by one, Harp showed me the books, and I had to admit they were an amazing find. “You like them a lot, huh?”

“Yes. He did a book signing once in D.C., but the Cudas were on the road, so I couldn’t go.”

I picked up the stack of books and smiled. “Then these are my gift to you.”

His eyes widened. “No, Luca. These make that starship look cheap.”

“Like someone I know said, I can afford it, andyouare the man I’ve waited for allmylife.”

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