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With a quiet gasp, Demmy came, semen coating his stomach and spiraling in ribbons down into the depths of the water. Demmy turned his head and Cody leaned forward to give him a quick kiss.
“I love you,” Cody said.
“I love you, too.”
Cody used his hand to wipe Demmy’s skin clean, then both of them ducked their heads under. They resurfaced and faced each other as they treaded water. Demmy moved in closer and took hold of Cody.
“How about you?”
“You know, I’m starting to lose feeling in my toes,” Cody said with a shivery laugh. “I can wait until we get back home.”
“Oh, good.” Demmy let out a relieved laugh. “Because I don’t think I could close my fingers tight enough right now anyway.”
They swam back to shore and sat on rocks in the sun to warm up and dry off, talking about the pond and the woods.
“Have you ever been to those logging cabins off the trail?” Demmy asked.
“My brothers and I broke into one or two and goofed around.”
“Hoodlums,” Demmy said.
“Bored kids.”
“I remember going out there for a field trip one time.”
Cody frowned. “We did?”
“Yeah, for American History, I think. It was a lesson about how the region was settled. It was kind of interesting, actually.”
“American History with Mr. Cabot?”
“Yeah, him.” Demmy plucked at some grass. “He was a good teacher.”
“You had a crush on him.”
“What? I was in sixth grade.”
“Right, that would prevent a crush. I didn’t have him for American History, I had Mrs. Parnack. But all the girls in my class kept talking about how cute Mr. Cabot was.”
“Well, I mean, he wasn’t unattractive,” Demmy said.
“Some of the girls said I looked like him. Guess you have a type.”
Demmy leaned over to kiss him. “I most definitely have a type.”
They dressed and held hands on the walk back to the truck. Cody felt relaxed and happy, the connection to Demmy strong, their life together good. The tailgate was still lowered as they approached, and Cody frowned as he saw movement in the carrier at the back of the truck bed.
“Did all the squirrels get out of the carrier?” he asked.
“Yeah, it was empty when we brought it back. Why?”
A rush of frustration and, oddly, guilt, went through him. “No way.”
They stood at the back of the truck, holding hands and looking at the furry, black-masked face peering out of the shadows of the carrier at them, wringing its nimble black hands.
“That’s… ” Demmy stopped, apparently at a loss for words.
“How does this raccoon keep showing up? Does he, like, sit on a tree branch waiting for one of our trucks to come by?”
