Page 38 of The Falcon and the Foe

I dialed up my brother-in-law on Bluetooth. “Hey Ralph, I want to run a quick errand before I pick him up. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Is that okay?”

My quick errand consisted of driving home, running up to my bedroom, and jerking off—exactly like some horny teen. I leaned against my dresser, squeezed my eyes shut, and thought about an alternate universe where Cal and I kept going in the parking lot. My dick was hard instantly. I undid my pants and stroked my dick; in my head, Cal and I were on his car, and I was gripping both of our dicks in my hand, thrusting and grunting and exploring his mouth with my tongue. His smile tingled on my lips; his barrel chest pulsed under my fingers.

I swiped a box of tissues from my nightstand as fast as I could. Back at the car, I rubbed my dick on his beard, the wiry bristles hurling me to orgasm, and then plunged myself into his warm mouth.

“Fuck,” I whispered as I came. I savored the final moments of our car rendezvous before they faded away.

I washed my hands under the hottest water my sink could muster, then checked myself in the mirror to ensure there were no traces of masturbation. No errant stains, no flushed cheeks.

Twenty minutes on the dot later, I pulled into Ralph’s driveway. I glared at myself in the rearview mirror. This was the face I made when I reprimanded Quentin and seeing it turned on me, I realized how terrifying it could be. I pointed my finger at myself.

“Cool it.”

* * *

We didn’t speakto each other for the rest of the week. Cal made no drop-ins at my office. He sent no texts with meeting ideas. The message was loud and clear.

I had made a fool of myself.

I wondered if he and Josh would even show up for the next Falcons meeting. But they did. Twenty minutes early as expected.

That familiar sparkly feeling in my chest threatened to stage another coup when he entered the meeting room. His large chest and Pooh Bear stomach pulled against his freshly-pressed uniform. There was more of Cal to love. I wasn’t into guys who were all muscle and indistinguishable from the next.

But then again, I wasn’t into Cal, either.

Right?I warned myself.

“Hey, Josh!” We gave each other the Falcons salute, then followed it up with a hi-five. He and Quentin were becoming two peas in a pod, according to my school spy, Monica. I couldn’t make things awkward with Cal and risk ruining that friendship. What if Cal and Josh quit the Falcons altogether?

“Evening.” Cal carried a fistful of blindfolds, sending horny butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “Is it cool if we do the blindfolded compass walk? “I know we need to go over things for the camping trip, but it’s a fun—”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

They’re for the scouting activity. The scouting activity.

“It won’t take long. We can do it at the end.”

“I said that’s fine.”

“Okay. Right.” He carried the blindfolds to the table with the other materials for tonight’s meeting.

Cal dipped his hands in his pockets. We fell into a beat of uncomfortable silence. Things left unsaid threatened to bubble up to the surface.

“So…about—” Cal began.

But I nipped that in that bud. “We’ll start off the meeting with a quick game of Steal the Bacon and then transition into hiking and camping safety. I’m going to go over plants to avoid, like poison ivy and what berries you shouldn’t eat. We’re also going to practice what to do if we should come upon a bear.”

“Do you think that’s needed?” Cal asked. “I’ve never heard of a bear attack at the campgrounds. There are only one or two reports per decade from what I gathered on their website.”

“Better to be safe than sorry. We have small kids and coolers of food. There’s a small chance, but there’s still a chance.”

“I haven’t been attacked by a bear since I got drunk at my first pride parade.”

Cal fit the bear stereotype currently, but I suppressed all hopes of a bear attack from him.

Once the scouts came, we followed my agenda to a T. Steal the Bacon helped burn off their restless energy so they could concentrate on my talk about camping safety. The woods could be “fun,” but also dangerous. There’d been scouts in other troops who got injured on these excursions; the Sourwood Falcons troop had a clean record, and I wanted to keep it that way. I kept looking at Cal, waiting for him to interject with a sassy comment as I went over the packing list and then had kids practice playing dead if they saw a bear.

But he remained quiet.

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