Page 21 of One Hot Summer
We made our way back to the parking lot and drove into town, settling on a little diner with Formica tables and laminated menus. The place was packed with tourists, but the hostess seated us in a booth near the window. We ordered burgers and fries and milkshakes, because why the hell not. When the food came, we ate in companionable silence, the air between us lighter than before.
Halfway through our meal, Griffin set his glass down and looked at me seriously. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“What do you want? I mean, after school. What’s the dream?”
I hesitated, not sure how honest to be. “I want to work for one of the big tech companies, sure. But mostly, I just want to not have to worry so much all the time. About money, about where I’m going to be in a year. I want a home and some stability for once in my life.”
He nodded, like he understood. “I used to think that once I made enough money, I’d be happy. That I’d finally have what I needed to feel secure. But now, I’m not so sure. The last few years, I’ve started to wonder if maybe I missed the point.”
“What is the point, then?” I asked.
He looked out the window, a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. “Maybe it’s not about the next promotion, or the next deal. Maybe it’s about having someone to share it with.Someone who makes you feel like coming home is the best part of your day.”
The words hit me harder than I expected. I tried to cover by shoving another fry in my mouth, but I could feel my face going red. “I think that’s what everyone wants, in the end.”
He smiled, slow and warm. “Maybe you’re right.”
After lunch, we strolled the main street, poking around in shops selling homemade fudge and hand-carved knick knacks. Griffin even talked me into doing a moonshine tasting. The first two lit me on fire, burning their way down my esophagus, but the ones after were smooth and delicious, and I left with a warm, peaceful feeling—not quite a buzz, but certainly relaxed—and a new appreciation for Tennessee whiskey.
When we got back to the car, he opened the door for me like it was the most natural thing in the world. On the drive home, he put his hand on my knee and left it there, his thumb tracing lazy circles that made my dick twitch inside my cotton briefs. We didn’t say much, but we didn’t need to. The woods flashed by in streaks of sunlight, and every so often, he’d glance over at me and smile, like he couldn’t believe his luck. I felt the same way. This had been the best day, the best week of my life.
By the time we pulled into the driveway, I was so relaxed I almost didn’t want to get out of the car. Griffin put the car in Park and looked at me, a question in his eyes. I leaned over and kissed him, slow and sweet. He kissed me back, his hand cradling my face. Our movements were unhurried, savoring the moment.
“Ready to go inside?” he asked, voice rough.
I nodded. “Yeah. I am.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon in a quiet, happy bubble of our own making. Griffin sat in a chair in the living room and read the news on his laptop, bare feet propped on the coffee table, his expression soft and unreadable. I spread out on the couch with a book I had zero interest in, replaying the whole day in my head.
It was peaceful, each of us content to share the other’s company without needing to fill the silence with mindless chatter. Although, I did have questions. I wanted to ask if he was happy. I wanted to ask what happened now, what this meant, but every time I tried to form the words, they got lost somewhere between my brain and my mouth.
I must have dozed off at some point, waking to find Griffin out on the deck, leaning against the rail with a glass of wine in his hand. The sky was deep blue with soft swishes of violet seemingly painted on by an artist’s brush, the last bit of sunlight sinking behind the far ridge.
He turned at the sound of the door sliding open and smiled. “Hey, sleepy head. You’re awake!”
I ducked my head, embarrassment heating my face. “Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I was more tired than I realized.”
When I glanced up, I found him staring at me, a heated look in his eyes and I wondered if he was remembering the night before, the reason for my exhaustion. He cleared his throat. “Would you care for some wine?”
“Please.” Griffin reached for a second glass that was sitting on the table and poured it half full before handing it to me. My fingers grazed his as I took it, the touch burning me, making me want more.
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He stared out at the mountains, hands wrapped around his glass, like he was working up to something. I waited patiently, giving him space to organize his thoughts. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I should probably say something about last night. About this morning. About… all of it.”
“Okay,” I said, and then immediately wanted to take it back. Panic seized me. Was this what he’d been doing while I slept? Rethinking everything that had happened and regretting it? Was this where he told me it could never happen again?
“I’m not very good at talking about feelings,” he continued. “It’s easier for me to just do things and hope that covers the bases. But you deserve more than that. I don’t want you to think last night was a mistake.”
My breath rushed out in a relieved sigh. “It wasn’t. Not for me.”
He turned to look at me, really look at me, and for a second, I thought he might cry. “It wasn’t for me, either. I tried to convince myself it was, that it was just… a fluke. But it isn’t. I can’t stop thinking about you, Adam. Even when I know how complicated this is, even when I know I shouldn’t.”
I set our drinks down on the railing and took his hand. His fingers were cold from the glass but strong, steady. “I don’t care if it’s complicated,” I said. “I only care if it’s real.”
He squeezed my hand. “It is. I don’t know what to do with that yet, but it’s real. We’ll have to figure things out eventually. We have Dalton to consider and our lives back home, but for now…”
“What do you want for now?” I whispered.
