Page 53 of The Falcon and the Foe

“Cal.” I shoved his hand away, and I could hear the bottom half of my body cry out in protest. “What the hell. Get off.”

Cal snored in a sharp sound as he woke up. “Shit,” he said groggily. He dragged his hand back, his eyes half-closed. “Sorry,” he mumbled, turned onto his back, and fell back asleep.

17

CAL

Iwoke up the next morning to birds chirping, a light wind rattling the leaves, and the memory of last night’s dream racing to the forefront of my mind.

I had a sex dream about Russ.

A very vivid sex dream about Russ.

Besides it being a sign that I didn’t jerk off nearly enough, I couldn’t shake how real it felt. I usually didn’t remember my dreams, but I could still hear Russ whispering for me to get off.

What the hell. Get off.

I clamped a hand over my mouth. This...might not...have been a dream.

I sat up, stiffness coming for my back. Russ wasn’t in his sleeping bag.

Did he run away? Call the cops on the scoutmaster who potentially molested him in his sleep?

“Russ,” I whispered out weakly. Where was he?

Nope. No way did I grope him last night. That was a dream.

That had to be.

I had to find him. I had to be sure.

I climbed out of my sleeping bag, which was a tough job considering the tight quarters and my morning stiffness.

Outside, the cool air bit at my legs. I was warm when I slept, but that was in a climate-controlled bedroom. The hairs on my legs stood on end as fresh air whisked through them. The other scouts weren’t up yet, thank goodness. The first swaths of red and orange painted the sky, and for a moment, I thought about waking everyone up to check out the sunrise.

No. First, I had to find Russ.

In the Falcons handbook, they talked about looking for tracks in the dirt when searching for people or animals. Fresh, and quite large, shoeprints mashed into the dirt. That sent my mind down a dirty, curious path for a beat before I slipped on my sandals and followed them into the woods.

Thickets of bushes and trees scratched my skin. I made sure not to step hard and crunch fallen leaves. Behind me, the campsite was quiet, and the scouts seemed to be asleep. They’d be okay for a few minutes. I needed to make sure Russ was okay and not eaten by a bear. After being groped by one last night, allegedly.

The shoeprints led to a clearing with a river that cut through giant rock walls. Trees sprouted up along the edges. Water gurgled over rocks but filtered to a bend that seemed deep. I walked along the riverbank and found Russ’s brown uniform and a towel placed atop a smooth rock.

“Shit.” Russ jumped up from the water when he saw me. His hands dove to cover himself.

“Russ, are you skinny dipping?” His broad chest and shoulders bobbed in the water, droplets on his pecs. He gave off mountain man vibes. His hair was slicked back, making him seem stronger. Sexier.

“Good morning, Cal.”

And in that moment, judging by his extra friendly smile, I knew.

Last night wasn’t a dream.

I groped Russ in my sleep.

Since running away screaming was not a viable option, I waved hello. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Russ swam in place. I caught blurry glimpses of more skin under the water.

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