Page 11 of One Hot Summer
He bent to retie his shoe, and when he straightened, our eyes met again. Something passed between us in that moment, something that made me feel warm all over. I thought of all the things I wanted to say: how I admired his drive, how I envied his optimism, how I wanted to see if that mouth tasted as good as it looked—but I said nothing.
We continued our hike, the trail narrowing as we neared the falls. The sun broke through the canopy in stabbing columns, the light slanting hot across Adam’s cheekbones and making the sweat there glisten. It should have been exhausting, but I felt lighter than I had in months. Maybe years.
We reached the final stretch, where the trail turned to loose rock and the ground dropped off sharply on one side. Adam led, his pace quickening with the promise of cold water at the top.
That’s when it happened.
He hit a patch of unstable rock, his foot skidding out from under him. For a split second he hovered, all wild limbs andmomentum, and I barely had time to think before I lunged forward, catching him around the waist. Our bodies collided, hard and sudden. I locked my arms around him, muscles tensing as I braced us both against the slide. For a moment neither of us moved. We just hung there, breathlessly, my heart pounding wildly against his back.
“You okay?” I said, voice a little too tight.
He nodded but didn’t let go. “Yeah,” he said. His voice was soft, almost shy. “Thanks.”
We stood like that, pressed together on the narrow ledge, until the world came rushing back in: the sound of the falls ahead, the smell of sweat and crushed leaves, the blinding awareness of my arms around him and my lips mere inches from his neck.
I could feel the heat radiating off him, could smell the salt and sharp citrus of his deodorant and the undertone that was all him, alive and young and impossibly close. He shifted a little, and I forced myself to let go. But not before I felt the shiver that ran through him, but not before I caught the way his eyes searched mine as he looked over his shoulder, hungry for something he couldn’t say.
We separated, both pretending it hadn’t meant anything, but the energy between us snapped and crackled all the way up the last climb. He was blushing, and not just from the sun. I was too, though I tried to play it cool, keeping my gaze locked on the trail and not on the way his shorts curved over his butt, every line and contour impossible to ignore.
We crested the hill and the falls came into view, roaring over a ledge of shale into a pool below. The air was cooler here, mist rising off the water in translucent curtains. Adam whistled, genuinely impressed. “That’s… amazing,” he said, turning to me with a grin.
I nodded, too keyed up to trust my voice. Instead, I shrugged off my backpack, dropped it to the ground, and walked out to the edge of the overlook. The drop wasn’t deadly, but it was enough to get the blood racing. Adam followed, standing close enough that our arms brushed.
For a while, we simply watched the water. Neither of us spoke about what had just happened, but I could feel it, burning in the space between our shoulders. I wanted to touch him again. I was starting to want a lot of things. But I couldn’t have them for several reasons, not the least of which was the fact that he was my son’s best friend. Instead, I said, “Ready to get wet?”
He arched an eyebrow in a look that was pure challenge. “Last one in has to cook dinner.”
Then he was running down the side trail to the pool, and I chased after him, the confusion and the longing and the guilt all tangled up with the joy of being alive.The scramble down to the pool was mostly loose rock and dirt, and I half-expected Adam to slip again, but he picked his way down with the quick, sure feet of someone who’d spent years dodging people on the crowded city sidewalks.
We reached the bottom in no time, skidding to a stop above the main pool where the water thundered off the cliff and exploded into a cloud of white spray. There were a couple of other hikers on the far side, but they weren’t paying us any attention, too absorbed in taking selfies and eating protein bars. The rest of the place belonged to us.
I looked over at Adam. He was already pulling off his shoes, socks tucked into them, hands moving with the impatience of a kid on Christmas morning. He peeled his shirt over his head in a single motion, shaking out his hair. Drenched with sweat, it clung to his temples. His chest was lean, defined, the ridges of his abs visible even in the shade. I tried not to stare but failed.
He eyed me, grinning, and I realized I was still fully clothed. “Better hurry up or you’ll be cooking again.”
I grinned back and stripped down to my shorts, acutely aware of his eyes on me as I pulled my own shirt off. I wasn’t ashamed of my body—forty was treating me well, and I hit the gym enough to keep everything more or less in order—but there was still a hitch in my chest at the way he watched me, bold and unblinking. Like he’d never seen a man before. Or maybe just not like this.
He turned and began wading out first, gasping at the cold. “Holy shit, it’s freezing!” he yelled.
“Don’t be a baby,” I called, but as soon as I hit the water, every muscle in my body seized up. I bit back a curse and forced myself to keep going, fighting the urge to retreat. It was so cold it actually hurt, like a thousand tiny needles pricking every inch of skin, but after a moment, the shock faded, and my brain adjusted to the new normal.
Adam was already chest-deep, arms folded tight to his body, shivering dramatically. He caught me looking and stuck out his tongue. “Still think I’m a baby?”
I splashed water at him, and he let out a mock yelp, ducking under and coming up laughing. He retaliated with a slap that caught me right across the chest. Before I knew it, we were in a full-blown splash war, both of us grinning like idiots and making way too much noise for the otherwise peaceful surroundings.
He was relentless, darting in close to catch me off guard, then retreating to deeper water. I had the advantage in reach, so I waited for him to come within arm’s length before grabbing him around the middle and hoisting him up, his feet kicking and water flying everywhere.
“Unfair!” he yelled, but he was laughing so hard he couldn’t get free.
“Say uncle,” I demanded, tightening my grip.
He twisted in my arms, water cascading off his shoulders and back, and suddenly we were face to face, inches apart, both gasping for breath and blinking spray from our eyes. The world narrowed to the feel of his skin sliding against mine, the warmth of his body shockingly alive in the cold water.
I realized, all at once, that I didn’t want to let go. However, I forced myself to, afraid if I didn’t, I’d end up doing something I couldn’t take back. I released him, stepping back and dunking myself under the water to cool the fever building inside my veins.
When I surfaced, he was still watching me, lips parted, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You’re stronger than you look,” he said, the compliment landing somewhere between teasing and serious.
“I look plenty strong,” I replied, flexing for effect. He rolled his eyes, but I could tell he liked it.
