Page 36 of Off the Trail

Is it because I’m finally beginning to accept that my life isn’t only about baseball that I’m simply latching onto the first pretty face I see?

I force myself to think about Blaze’s sister Brooke, with her regular features, white teeth, and shiny hair. She’s nice-looking. Attractive, even. And she doesn’t make my heart speed up, or my stomach feel queasy in a good way.

Her brother, on the other hand…my dick chubs up thinking about yesterday in the cab of his truck. About how I wanted to push him against the seats and fog up the windows. I don’t exactly know what we’d do, but I know it would feel good to do it with him.

Oh hell. I’ve got my wires so crossed. There’s no reason this should be happening—yet I can’t stop it. I don’t want to.

I stroke myself lazily. They must have this place hooked up to an endless hot water supply because I haven’t run out yet. What might Blaze let me do? How might he let me touch him? How might he touch me? I get as far as imagining his hand on my dick and then I come my brains out, an absurd explosion when it should have been a simple shower beat off.

I let the spray wash everything down the drain, feeling wrung out and hungry. And a little guilty, too. Not for masturbating—I’m not that emotionally stunted. But because Blaze is my friend, and it doesn’t matter that he’d lend me his truck, he’s not exactly offering me a hand job along with it.

But he likes men, I remind myself as I scarf down the breakfast I discover on my porch. Another mushroom omelet and oatmeal I doctor with goodies someone in Nolan’s kitchen has doled out into little jars. I make myself a cup of coffee and pick up the paperback I started the other day. The dragon slayer guy and the elf prince are fucking in a cave after one of them was injured, and it’s so hot I’m considering jerking off again. I’m beginning to think this is less fantasy novel, more erotic romance, but it’s riveting either way, and more evidence that maybe it’s not so crazy I’m currently fantasizing about a man. I’ve read four more chapters when the phone rings, startling me out of a scene where the dragon slayer is leaving the elf prince for his own good, which is clearly the wrong move, but yelling at the character doesn’t seem to be changing his mind.

I have one second of being excited that maybe Blaze is the one calling me before I hear my mom’s voice in my ear, phoning to check in.

“I’m going to a woodworking class later,” I say, using my napkin as a bookmark. “It’s kind of random but cool.”

“Woodworking? Didn’t you do some of that in college? I still have the sweet little tea chest you made. I keep my perfume bottles in it.”

“Really?” I remember now how I labored over the hinges and the finish of the small, lidded box.

“Of course. I think of you every time I open it.”

I guess when you make something by hand, it has a value beyond its purpose.

“Well, I’m glad you’re keeping busy up there, but let us know when you’re back in Connecticut. We should figure out holiday plans pretty soon, too. We love you, sweetie.”

She always does that—includes my dad in the sentiment, even when he doesn’t say it for himself. My dad’s silence over the past few months speaks loudly. It’s small potatoes compared to Blaze’s situation, but this temporary abandonment still hurts. I temper my flare of anger. “Love you too, Mom.” It’s not her fault her husband and son can’t seem to communicate.

We hang up and I go back to the escape of reading.

I’ve finished the novel by the time Blaze rumbles up to the cabin in his truck. I was right—it turns out it was a softhearted romance dressed up like a fantasy, with a huge dose of smut to boot. I can’t believe how much I loved it. I’ll definitely be looking for another book by the author, CJ Finn. I open the door and greet Blaze with a smile, which I temper a little when I see Brooke and Misty hop out of the passenger side.

“Hello,” I say to the group.

Blaze stands next to the driver’s door and tosses me the keys. I catch them one-handed with ease. We grin at each other until Misty trots up the cabin steps to greet me by sniffing my shoes. I shut the cabin door behind me.

“Drive safe, now,” Blaze says sternly. “Remember what I said about moose.”

“I will. What are you all doing today?”

“I have some stuff to clean out at the boathouse, and Brooke said she’d give me a hand.”

“I’d have been happy to help you out,” I say. He’s been generous with his time; it’s only right I offer.

“Thanks, man. Maybe another day.”

“All right. I better get going.”

“You know how to get to the hardware store?”

“I’ll map it.” I hold up my phone. I’m not used to the way it feels in my hand. “There’s service in Laketon, right?”

“Should be. And if there isn’t, just go through town and head north. You’ll see it eventually.”

“It’s not hard to find,” Brooke puts in.

I glance at Blaze. If we didn’t have an audience, I might thank him again, maybe talk a little more. But his sister’s there and I feel self-conscious, as if my crush is obvious in the way I’m holding myself, the sound of my voice. “See ya,” I say, waving my hand holding the keys awkwardly.