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“Yeah, okay.” Cass swallowed and nodded. “Good, good.”

He cleared his throat and began preparing their sandwiches—a bit of a challenge in the darkness—as he told the story of why he wasn’t a huge fan of swimming in deep water. It really wasn’t anything that had seemed traumatic at the time—just an incident one summer out on the lake where one of his cousins, who was ten years older than him, had been goofing around on the boat and had fallen into the water. Nothing else had happened; his cousin had been wearing a life vest, and they’d pulled him back up, and everything had been fine.

The bad part was what his brain had concocted afterward, making him imagine all the things that could have happened.

His cousin could have hit his head on the way down.

He could have not been wearing the life vest.

He could have drowned.

No one else had even thought twice about it. Cass, however, had been reluctant to go out on the boat every summer after that and had eventually started staying on shore with his mom while the rest of the family went out.

“It’s not a debilitating fear or anything, either,” Cass clarified. “Just an unease, I guess.” He set Ash’s plate with his chicken salad sandwich in front of him. “Whenever the water is deep enough that I can’t touch the ground standing up or if it’s dark or murky, I’m just kinda uncomfortable enough that I don’t have fun. I’m good watching other people swim, or when I’m swimming in a shallow pool or very close to the shore, where it’s not deep.”

Ash shifted a little to face Cass and then picked up his sandwich. “So,” he said with a smirk, “when you come visit me up in Seattle, I should not plan for us to go out kayaking.”

The realization that Ash was already thinking about next time, when Cass might come visit him in Seattle again, caught Cass off guard. He tried to ignore the little flutter of hope and happiness that rolled through him, but his grin grew wider nonetheless.

“Ahh, it would definitely be preferable for us to stay on the shore,” he admitted. Then he distracted himself by setting the top of his croissant on his own sandwich, closing the containers, and starting to put them back into the cooler. “But,” he continued, “if it’s something you really want to do, like I said, it’s not awful for me. Just uncomfortable.”

“Can you go in a pool if you stay in the shallow end? Without feeling uncomfortable, I mean?”

“Yeah, that’s really not too much of a problem.”

“Alright, cool.” When Cass narrowed his eyes at Ash, Ash just shrugged. “Just cataloguing for later.”

“Later?”

“Yeah.” Ash grinned again but didn’t say anything else, and that feeling of hope burst to life in Cass’s chest again.

Later.

Later also implied next time, which further confirmed Ash was already thinking about the future. And Cass really, really hoped that was true.

Cass quickly looked down at his sandwich, overwhelmed by everything he was feeling and had been feeling all weekend so far, and he distracted himself, again, by copying Ash and digging into dinner.

The sandwiches were perfect, and Ash made sure to let Cass know that several times. They chatted, jumping from topic to topic as they tended to do. They talked a lot about their childhoods and how they’d grown up. They talked about good memories and steered away from the not-so-good ones. And when they’d finished eating, Cass packed their used plates and the extra food back up in the cooler, moved the cooler out of the way, and cautiously but eagerly scooted closer to Ash in the bed of the truck.

Ash didn’t even seem to hesitate at all. He shifted over to close the remaining distance between them and then took Cass’s hand and lifted Cass’s arm up behind him to rest on his shoulders.

They were both quiet for a bit after that, just staring up at the stars.

“There are so many,” Ash said a few minutes later, the awe in his voice clear. “And that’s gotta be a planet there, right?” He pointed to the east, toward a particularly bright, orangish-colored dot in the sky.

“Yeah. That’s Mars, and I think . . .” Cass scanned the sky and then nodded. “Yeah, so there”—he lifted his free hand to point to the south—“is Jupiter. The really bright one. And then I think we’re supposed to be able to see Saturn near the horizon, too, but maybe it’s not dark enough yet.”

Ash leaned closer to him as though trying to follow the direct line of Cass’s arm, but he said nothing and then let his head fall to rest against Cass’s. It was perfect. All of it. The closeness and intimacy, the softness.

It was what he’d wanted, what he’d been searching for. But he’d never come even close to finding this before. Not until now. Not until Ash.

He breathed a soft sigh and closed his eyes, letting himself relax. Ash’s warm body stayed pressed up against his, and when Ash’s hand settled on his thigh under the blanket, Cass felt something else that’d always been lacking too.

Arousal.

He didn’t fight it, though he also didn’t act on it. He just closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and let himself feel the growing ache and longing building up low in his body.

Ash’s hand shifted, pressing into his thigh a bit more. Cass had to hold back a groan.