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“SO, HERE’S WHATI was thinking.” Avery smiled, while Ethan made what seemed like his tenth attempt at stuffing his tent into the much too small bag. Why the fuck did they always make the bags so damn small? It was the same with his sleeping bag. He didn’t get it.
“Fucking useless piece of crap!” Ethan yelled, kicking at the culprit—the waterproof, travel-size tent his parents had gifted him for Christmas last year. It’d been the only thing he’d asked for along with the backpack. He’d already saved for the sleeping bag and the pad himself.
“Here, let me do that.” Avery’s slender fingers grabbed the bag from out of Ethan’s hands and he skillfully managed to fold and pack the tent away without as much as breaking a sweat.
“Thanks,” Ethan mumbled, bending to retrieve his sleeping bag from the ground, handing it to Avery with a shy smile. “Wanna give this bad boy a try too?”
“Of course.” Avery winked at him and repeated the procedure, this time with the army green sleeping bag. “So, as I was saying before I was sorudelyinterrupted…” His voice had taken on a mock offended tone. “I’m going to Boston. You’re headed to Maine. Why don’t we go together?”
The words were casually spoken almost as if they’d known each other for years and not met only just yesterday. Then again, he’d seen Avery naked, knew he had a dead sister, and they’d exchanged saliva. That ought to count for something, right? And Avery for sure didn’t give off any Dahmer vibes. On the contrary. For some reason, Ethan felt more comfortable in this stranger’s company than he did at home with people his own age that he’d known all his life. Well, at least since Matty was gone.
“Uhm… Okay, but I’m not going in one stretch, you know? There are some places I wanna stop at.” Ethan scratched at the mosquito bite on his left wrist which he’d gotten yesterday when they’d stayed out until late.
“I’m in no hurry. I’m not starting work until September.” Avery’s voice came out forced, a distant look in his eyes.
“Yeah?” Ethan suddenly realized that he probably knew the most personal and intimate thing about Avery after their brief time together, but ironically enough, he didn’t know how old Avery was or what he did for a living. “What do you do?”
“I’m starting a position at Boston University. I have a degree in archeology and one in anthropology. But classes aren’t starting until September.” The last part ended on a question as he looked at Ethan.
“Shit, you have a degree? That’s cool man. You’re really smart, huh?” Ethan teased, biting at his bottom lip tauntingly. He’d never met anyone with a university degree before, let alone two. He’d had a feeling since they’d met the day before that Avery was educated. It was just an air the other man gave off. Not arrogant or overbearing. No, it wasn’t like that. Avery was enlightened about the world. And the way he spoke. It sounded knowledgeable. Sophisticated at times. Like one of those documentaries where a college professor would recount about the first pioneers or the Gold Rush.
“Maybe,” Avery smiled scrunching his nose, making his eyes wrinkle adorably.
He was exactly the type of guy that Ethan would usually go for. Everything about him screamed erotic masculinity at its best. Avery’s tall figure and lean build. Slender yet strong limbs. Golden skin splattered with the occasional freckle or birthmark, giving Ethan a constant urge to lick Avery’s long neck just where his blond curls met his square shoulders. The piercing blue eyes, which constantly seemed to change color. Sky-blue, at times almost ice blue like yesterday when the sun had been at its highest in the sky, and then a dark indigo at night. A dark pool of blue you could almost drown in if you weren’t careful. Yes, everything about Avery triggered Ethan’s own physical needs. Everything about him spoke to the blooming sexuality deep within himself. Images of fisting Avery’s hair at the back of his neck, black pupils blown wide with lust and anticipation, flashed momentarily through Ethan’s mind and the familiar tingle at the base of his spine spread slowly to the rest of his body. His own tanned hand wrapped tightly around Avery’s long, elegant neck while Ethan whispered filthy words into his ear, tugging warningly at the small, silver hoop in his left ear with his teeth.
“It’s nothing special, really,” Avery interrupted his heated daydream. “I’m not a genius like my father or a renowned literary scholar like my mother…” The bitterness clinging to the wordmotherwas tangible as it hovered in the space between them and dueled the indifference in his eyes.
“I could never do that. I mean, go to college or university. It’s not that I wasn’t good in school or anything. I kinda was. It was just never in the cards for me. It’s okay, though.” Ethan shrugged, feeling anything but okay with the prospects for his future. He knew that working at the Peterson farm was a cop out. A way of avoiding being honest with himself about what he really wanted out of life. So instead, he continued to lie to himself and the people around him. “I mean, it’s not like I’d know what to study anyway. So, it’s a good thing that it’s not part of the plan, right?” Ethan attempted a casual smile, but it died prematurely at the corner of his mouth, before vanishing entirely.
“Don’t do that,” Avery spoke softly, reaching for Ethan’s left hand. “Don’t make yourself out to be anything less than you are. Don’t ever think that you wouldn’t have what it takes to claim your place in the world.” His grip tightened on Ethan’s wrist, grounding him. “You’re what? Eighteen? Nineteen?”
“Nineteen,” Ethan swallowed, his voice quiet as he looked down at his dusty sneakers, the tips scoffed from wear.
“Nineteen, huh?” Avery circled his thumb around the mosquito bite. “You don’t need to know what you want to do with your life when your nineteen, Ethan. Jesus, I’m twenty-eight and I’m still not sure if taking this teaching position in Boston will turn out to be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I just spent nine months digging in the ground and documenting Native art and now I’m supposed to spend most of my day behind a desk or in an auditorium…” He released Ethan’s wrist and held up both of his hands, the cuticles torn, nails cracked and the dark stain on his right thumb and index finger still visible.
“Why were you digging in the ground?” Ethan looked directly into Avery’s eyes.
“I was part of an excavation at Big Bend. That’s where I’ve been up until we met.” Avery had lowered his hands, fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white against his otherwise tanned skin.
“Sounds fun.” Ethan smiled hesitantly, scratching at the bite. He had a vague idea what an excavation was. He’d never been to Big Bend, though.
“It was. It was amazing. That’s why I studied archeology in the first place.” A light had appeared in Avery’s eyes and his shoulders seemed to relax once again.
“So why don’t you just do it again?”
Avoiding his gaze, Avery nodded at Ethan’s wrist, an angry red around the center of the mosquito bite.
“Don’t scratch at it. It’ll only make it worse. I’ve got some balm in my bag.” In a swift move, Avery turned around. Walking to the large tree where his hammock had hung unused the entire night, Avery bent over his bag, providing Ethan with a spectacular view of his tight ass. The denim material clung to his narrow hips and firm cheeks like a second skin, making Ethan think all sorts of inappropriate thoughts. Like what it would be like to take Avery up against a large trunk of a tree. Or on a bed of pine needles and multicolored leaves in the woods. Avery’s lean toned legs wrapping around his own hips while they moved simultaneously. Feeling himself harden behind his shorts, Ethan quickly pushed the image of a debauched Avery away even though he had a vague idea that a thoroughly fucked version of Avery would look even hotter than he already did.
The jeans were worn but definitely not the inexpensive no-brand kind his mom used to buy at Walmart. He couldn’t see the tag from here, but he had a feeling that Avery was a Levi’s kinda guy. There was something casual and real about him which felt disarming. So disarming in fact that Avery had ended up spending the night in Ethan’s tent.
They hadn’t done anything. Sure, they’d kissed a bit before they’d both collapsed on top of their sleeping bags, hot and exhausted from the hike and the swim. They hadn’t spoken about it this morning—if it had just been a one off after Avery had shared his story about his sister Mattie or if it could potentially happen again. Ethan hoped that it would. It had felt like more than just Avery seeking comfort. There’d been this magnetic pull between them, making them gravitate towards each other. Ethan didn’t have much to compare it to but it sure as shit felt different from tongue-fucking Jimmy Harrow’s spearmint-flavored mouth during recess.
Returning, Avery took hold of Ethan’s wrist and inspected the bite. It wasn’t too bad. Still a bit reddish around the center but he was used to the mosquitos back home. Squeezing some of the balm on the tip of his right index finger, Avery began rubbing it onto Ethan’s skin meticulously. With soothing, circular movements, his slender finger traced the outline of the bite and then continued further up along Ethan’s arm, making it tickle deliciously.
“Anywhere else?” Avery asked, his deep voice coming out breathily, stirring Ethan’s dormant dick back to life behind his loose cargo shorts.
“Maybe.” Ethan almost didn’t recognize his own voice. It sounded labored as if something was obstructing his airways. He swallowed deeply. “Could be spreading to other parts of my body. Could be serious.”
