Page 9 of After Hours

It didn’t take long to reach our destination. Zane pulled into an empty parking lot. A cement path with railings separated us from the lake, and a few picnic tables sat on a wide lawn. A single tree rained golden leaves on the grass. On the far side of the lot, an impressive castle-style playground rose from the sand, but no kids clambered over it. We were alone.

We got out, he fetched a soft-sided cooler from the back and led the way over to the picnic table near the pretty golden tree. “This okay? I didn’t expect it to be quite so deserted. If you’d rather go somewhere else, that’s fine.”

I shook my head, smiled, and sat down, completely lost about what to say or do.

Zane didn’t waste any time or let things get awkward. “I hope you’re not a vegetarian. Not because I mind if you are – to each their own – but because I made turkey sandwiches. I should have asked you first.” He smiled when I shook my head. “I’m not much of a cook, but I manage not to starve, you know? And I do a lot of rock climbing, so I try to eat pretty healthy.”

The memory of his trim, sculpted body revealed after I ripped his t-shirt off swam through my mind. I shifted on the bench as I helped him pull two water bottles out of the cooler and placed them near our plates. “I can’t imagine climbing up cliffs and dangling from tiny ropes. I’m not very adventurous.”

He tipped his head at me, the bruise lurid in the fading light of late afternoon. “I’m sure you’ve done something adventurous at one time or another. You did take a three AM swim in the lake that night I met you.” His smile appeared right before he took a bite of the sandwich.

“Don’t remind me. That was so embarrassing.” Maybe I could blame the blush on the chilly wind coming off the lake. I should’ve worn a jacket. It just didn’t get that cold back home. “The most adventurous thing I’ve probably done is move here. I grew up in Washington state, lived with my family still. I worked for the family business before I left.” The sandwich had a piece of frilly lettuce, a thin slice of avocado, and a zingy, herby sauce. It was delicious.

“Wow. That’s a big move. You came here because of your uncle?”

How was I supposed to answer that? This didn’t seem like good first-date conversation. “Um.” I took another bite of the sandwich to give myself time to think.

Zane didn’t let me off the hook. He sipped his water and folded his long fingers on the rough boards of the table, his gaze never leaving my face.

“My family’s not very open-minded. Old-school Catholics.” I shrugged as if that explained everything. Maybe it did to another member of the rainbow family as Zane had called LGBTQ+ folks. “I thought it was time to head out on my own.”

“They kicked you out?” His warm hazel eyes took on a harder look as he squinted at me.

“I’m twenty-two. I shouldn’t have lived at home anymore anyway.”

He shook his head and reached across the table to wrap his hand around mine. “Bullshit. Family is supposed to be forever.” Some shadow crossed his features before he offered another smile. “Their loss, you know? If they’re going to toss you outor make you feel uncomfortable because of who you are… who you’re attracted to… they’re not worth your time.”

Feeling bolder than I ever had, even more so than when I popped the button on my jeans and let Sam do what he wanted in my childhood bedroom, I turned my hand in Zane’s grip and threaded our fingers together. Something warm and electric coursed up my arm from that simple touch. “Yeah. Their loss.”

His sandy brows arced up his forehead a second before he cringed and relaxed his face. He huffed out a laugh. “I forgot to be careful with my face. Doesn’t bode well for any kissing later on.” With that thought lingering in the crisp air, he drew his hand back and picked up his sandwich again. “Their loss. My gain.” He nodded once before taking another bite.

Between finishing sandwiches and the tiny tangerines Zane had packed, we talked about all the usual first date stuff. At least, I assumed music, movies, and siblings covered the basics. He mentioned a brother and parents who lived down in Florida, and raised his eyebrows again when I said I was the second youngest of six. “Catholics,” we said in unison, and this time I could laugh about it.

The sun began to sink over the far side of the lake, and the chilly breeze picked up. My sweater was no match for the drop in temperature, and I couldn’t fight the shivers anymore.

Zane finished sticking the empty bottles back in the cooler and then frowned at me. “You’re cold.” He looked around, and I assumed he’d suggest we get back in the car and leave. Instead, he stood up, slung the bag over his shoulder, and reached for my hand. “Come on.”

He stuck the cooler in the back of his car but didn’t move toward the driver seat like I assumed. Instead, he flashed me another of his careful smiles and led me over to the playground. “Back when I was young enough to play here, they had a basic metal and plastic set that burned your skin in the summermonths.” He let go of my hand to climb up a wide log ladder toward the main castle section. “I always wanted to explore this.”

Nothing about climbing into a child’s play set said ‘adventure,’ but I felt pretty daring following him up the ladder into the dim confines of the structure. His hoodie rode up as he reached the top and crawled inside. Watching his butt muscles flex under his jeans made me feel something even better.

“There. That blocks the wind.” We settled next to each other in the tight confines of the castle at the top of the play set. The space was no more than four feet wide and had an open space under the roof that let in the cold. At least the walls blocked most of the breezes.

I still shivered as I pressed against his side. The proximity sure heated some things up, but I tugged my sleeves over my hands anyway.

Zane leaned into me for a moment before lifting his arm. “Let me…” We shifted comfortably until his arm circled my shoulders. “That’s better.”

In most of my wild imaginings and jerk-off fantasies, I pictured a tall, broad man holding me close. My cheek would rest on his chest, and I would look up into his eyes before we kissed. Zane had maybe an inch or two on me, and I had to lean my head on his shoulder instead, but it still felt so right. “How tall are you?” I hadn’t meant to ask the question.

His low chuckle warmed me up even more. “You’re not one of those ‘must be six-foot-plus for me’ guys, are you? I’m five-ten… and a half.”

Shifting to meet his gaze, I shook my head. “No. You’re perfect.” I hadn’t meant to say that either, and I felt my cheeks blaze. Maybe my blush could warm me up.

Zane just laughed again and reached up to cup his hand over my jaw. “Can I kiss you, Oscar? I really want to.”

All I could do was nod before he pulled me closer, and our lips met for the first time. What started out soft and gentle quickly ramped up in intensity. Cold? Who was cold? A fire burned through me, starting at my mouth and surging down below my waist. Zane’s tongue traced over my lower lip and, when I opened to him eagerly, slipped inside to stroke against mine. My hand landed on his chest, firm muscle obvious under the bulky sweatshirt, and—

“Shit!” Zane pulled back, and his hand flew to the corner of his mouth. “I forgot my lip.”

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