Page 27 of Off the Trail

He queues up the title, and I settle into the couch, resting my arm along the back. It’s way more comfortable than the undoubtedly more expensive one in the cabin. “You know, you don’t have to treat me like something fragile,” I say. “I’m not a guest today. Brooke told me it’s your day off, which means you’re not required to entertain me.”

He smiles. “I’m not mad about you being here, Shawn.”

“That’s good.”

We just look at each other for a second and again, I’m struck by this wave of…I don’t even know. The word comes to me in a flash. Longing. I want something, and I don’t know how to ask for it. I’m fumbling my way in the dark, having lost the trail long ago, on this bright sunny day in Blaze’s living room.

“Ready?” he asks.

I wish I was ready to act on what I’m feeling, but I barely have words for it, let alone a plan of action.

But he’s talking about the movie. “Sure. Go for it,” I say, still looking at him. Blaze has steadily led me since I got here. If he took the lead again, maybe reached out and touched me, I’d go with it.

But that’s not going to happen.

Chapter 11

Blaze

We’re four jump scares into the movie, which isn’t half bad, when the light shifts and we get a glare on the screen. I draw the curtains, dousing the room in darkness. When I sit down again, there’s little more than a couple of feet between me and Shawn. We’ve been watching in companionable silence, but now that it’s darker and the movie’s getting scarier, I realize what a cheesy setup this would be—if I were someone else.

If I were hoping he’d hide his head against my chest while the dumb college kid trapped in the haunted insane asylum gets slashed to bits, I’d be disappointed. He’s watching the screen without a hint of fear, while I’m the one jumping at every loud noise.

Good thing I’m not trying to get in his pants, because as cliché as this setup is, it clearly wouldn’t be working.

Then something truly deranged happens on screen, and I leap involuntarily. “Holy shit,” I say, laughing a little at my own reaction. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Yeah, right? Pretty inventive.” He smiles sideways at me. Somehow I’ve moved closer to him, or he’s moved closer to me, and we’re barely a foot away from each other now.

It makes it hard to concentrate on the movie when I can imagine feeling the heat coming off him. I can smell him underneath the scent of beer and chips.

He’s taken off his ball cap at some point, and I can see the fine short hairs on the back of his neck. I want to feel them, to cup the back of his head and stroke them. I’d bring his head to mine, lick his mouth, and see if he tastes salty like the chips or bitter like the beer.

And it’s all so pointless—he came over because we’re starting to be friends, and I don’t know what he thinks is happening, but I’m certain he doesn’t believe this is a date or anything.

That I have intentions.

That I’ve had a hard time not thinking about him for longer than a couple of minutes in a row. That every time we hang out, it’s better than the time before. That it’s getting harder and harder to remember that I’m not supposed to let myself feel this way about a guest.

When Shawn goes back to his real life, I’ll take a couple days off and go to Portland, get back on the apps. I’m clearly missing sex if that’s where my mind keeps heading when I’m around Shawn.

“Blaze?”

“Hmm?”

“Movie’s over,” he says, looking at me as if maybe he’s been trying to get my attention for a minute.

“Oh, right.” I guess I zoned out during the last part.

“So what did you think?”

“It was good,” I say, hoping like hell that’s the right answer. “Yeah. Really good.”

“You want to watch something else?” he asks.

Another two hours sitting next to Shawn without being able to touch him? Sounds like a very specific kind of torture. I look at him, scouring my mind for an alternative suggestion. It’s not like I want him to leave. But I don’t know how to get him to stay without showing my hand.

“We could…” I trail off as his green eyes lock onto mine. The color is familiar to me—it’s the particular green of the moss that grows on rocks on the north shore of the lake. Right now, his eyes are bright like the moss gets on a misty, gray morning—otherworldly and vibrant. It feels like they’re searching mine for something I’m scared for him to find.