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“Doesn’t mean I can’t do math,” June replied, keeping the smugness in her tone just to toy with him. “Plus, I’ve worked enough shitty waitressing jobs in college that I can calculate a tip like that.” June snapped her fingers.
“Math is my weakness,” Colin admitted. “I skated by in like, applied math for scientists and then tried to fit as many fieldwork classes in.”
“Hah, didn’t have to take any college math,” June added. “Tested out with an AP score and then focused on English and Spanish classes to get out in three and a half years so I could study abroad in Spain for the last semester.”
“Do you miss it?” Colin asked. “Being abroad?”
“Sometimes,” June said, thoughtfully. “I guess I thought I was spending the last decade putting down roots in Vanberg, but the last few years threw everything into chaos and I’m not sure anymore. I’ve kicked around the idea of teaching internationally, but I also think I’m too old for that. I’m too old to join the Peace Corps - no one is taking a chance on a woman in their mid-thirties whose back hurts when she sleeps wrong and hasn’t run more than a 5k since COVID.”
“I highly doubt that,” Colin said, standing up from where he was organizing the kindling pile. June snorted her disapproval, to which Colin replied with a light brush of his lips against her temple. June leaned into him, feeling a bit like the cats she’d met in her life, trying to brush off some of her own scent on his. A contented rumble emerged from Colin’s chest as he wrapped his arms around her, but made no move to kiss her again or move his hands in any type of manner that would get her riled up. No, he simply held her and June tucked her face into his shoulder and breathed in deeply. He smelled like pine and some other scent she couldn’t quite place. She sniffed again, now intent on figuring it out.
“Are you smelling me?” He pulled her back from his body and looked down at her quizzically. June laughed - sniffing was never questioned in the books she read.
“I’m trying to figure out your soap,” she replied, leaning in and giving an over dramatic sniff. “It’s something common, but I haven’t smelled it in a long time.”
“Irish Spring,” Colin admitted. “My dad used it growing up and I always wanted to be just like him. I never really gave it a thought - it was just soap and it was cheap - but then when he died when I was in high school, it became a way to remember him in a really small way each day.”
“What made you want to be like him?”
“He was kind,” Colin replied immediately. “He was a bit older than all the other dads, but never let that slow him down. He was always there for me, at swim meets or for camping weekends, and, looking back, I appreciated his consistent presence.” Colin took a deep breath and June felt his chest rise and fall. “I know it’s just a soap, but it feels like having him with me a little every day. It’s silly, but I love it.”
“Not silly,” June said, her voice softening. She leaned in and pressed her nose right between the small rise of his pecs, took a deep breath then pressed a kiss to his chest, through the thin layer of his t-shirt. “It’s sweet.” She rested her cheek against his chest and took a moment, then said, "My mom died my freshman year of college. I get it."
"That fucking sucks," Colin said and June couldn't help but laugh. So many people would have said that they were sorry or expressed some kind of saccharine sympathy. Colin just spoke his mind, admitted the blunt truth of the matter. She appreciated that so much more than false praise and pity. His arms hugged her against him, a firm and tight embrace that communicated more than his simple three words, his palms curling around the swell of her hips in her leggings.
"You're one hundred percent correct," she said into his t-shirt. "It sucked. She had just been voted teacher of the year when they found the cancer. She passed before the next school year."
"Is that why you went into teaching?" Colin asked calmly. June felt the slight reverberation of his voice in his chest against her cheek.
"I think so," she replied, her hands snaking down to rest on his slight hip bones, just above the curve of his ass. "I had just always assumed she would be there and guide me through things, and then, just as I was on this precipice, she was gone." She sighed. "I wish I could talk to her about teaching right now."
"I know what you mean," Colin said, tilting her chin up so he could look at her. "My dad was always out in nature and I wanted nothing more than to tag along with him. He died at 15 while I was away at summer camp in a freak work accident. Something about being out here -" he took one arm off of June's hips and indicated the trees surrounding them - "Reminds me of him. I think he'd be proud."
"You seem like someone that would be easy to be proud of," June said, her honesty shocking her. "I don't think my mom would be very proud of how I've been as a teacher these past few years."
"You can't know that, June."
"I can guess."
"And it can be something else." June opened her mouth to reply, to retort, to shut him down. You don't know shit about me, would have been her normal instinct, but something stopped her.
"Nothing like sharing traumas, am I right?" June joked, attempting to break the solemn curtain that had fallen over the two of them. Colin laughed dryly, the light puff of air warm against June's forehead, her hair moving slightly.
"I like sharing things with you," Colin said vaguely. "And I'd like to share this fire and dinner if you don't mind." June released her grip on him and opened her arms, indicating that he could proceed with his preparations.
He walked over to the wood stack and Colin’s muscles flexed and stretched as he piled pieces of wood on his arms and brought it back, though it was the dexterity of his fingers that really captured June’s attention. He pulled a pocket knife from his back pocket, deftly flicked it open, and began to carve curls down the sides of a smaller stick to catch fire. He moved quickly, his fingers getting out of the way of the blade just in the knick of time. Her thoughts, recently occupied with Colin’s relationship with his dad and wondering what type of man he thought himself to be, what type of masculinity he aspired to, turned dirty in just a few seconds. With how quickly he moved his fingers, June imagined how he could unsnap her bra in just a second, how rapidly his fingers could move between her legs.
Colin flicked a lighter that he pulled out of his pocket and coaxed the small flame. He leaned over and gently blew on the fire, causing it to grow and catch on more of the tinder.
June crossed her legs, pressing her thighs together. The fire wasn’t the only thing that was catching. June’s gaze focused on Colin’s lips, pursed and blowing a stream of air to continue to fan the flames. June’s mind immediately jumped to how it would feel to have him blow that same stream of air over her body, especially after his mouth had moved over her skin. She pulled her fleece around her, shivering.
“Are you cold?” Colin asked, looking up concerned.
“Not - not exactly,” June said, blushing.
“What? Oh - aaah,” Colin said, a sly grin sneaking over his face as he realized June’s chills were not from the slowly fading sun.
“Stop,” she said, covering her face. “You’re just, god - you’re really attractive.” June surprised herself with her boldness.
