casually against a ponderosa pine, his back to the creek.
I examined the rock shelf across the clear water, trying to find something interesting about the grey stone, but it was remarkably drab. “Um, sooo...how do I smell?” There wasn’t even a fern clinging to the granite. Damn.
He laughed, pulling my eyes to him for a moment, before I glanced sheepishly away again. Why in the world had I asked him that? I wasn’t normally a bashful person around girls, but Zane—he seemed to have a line directly to the parts of me I’d never known existed, or hadn’t really gotten along with, like that thing down below that usually just hung there, disinterested most of the time. Now it wanted to shake hands and get cozy with whatever part of Zane it could reach, and it had been reaching out a lot whenever Zane was around. I knew what that probably meant, but it didn’t stop me from being nervous—and fairly terrified.
A shadow blanketed me, and I turned to find Zane standing so close I could feel his body heat, see the indigo flecks in his blue eyes. I swallowed, and concentrated on his shoulder, the faint lines in the leather of his jacket.
He tipped his head down, resting his forearm on my shoulder, and holding his smoke behind me. “You smell like dust, and sweat, and rain. There’s something different about you...”
“You sound awfully surprised by that.” Jesus, I sounded as if I’d just run a mile. His hair brushed my cheek, and I fought to stay where I was, refusing to be afraid or intimidated by having him so close. “So what exactly does that mean? Me being different?”
“You don’t smell like the average teenage boy—all juiced up, with that nervous tang.” The words tickled my neck, sending a shiver down my back. That quiver triggered an overall awareness of him, his warmth, his scent, the brush of his hair, his lips so close to my skin.
I chuckled nervously. “I just haven’t met anyone that excites me, is all.” That didn’t appear to be true anymore though.
His smile seared my neck, and my insides rioted. Who ever thought feeling a smile against your skin could cause such a violent reaction. Every part of me was straining to meet him, making me uncomfortable, but I couldn’t move away. Shockingly I found I didn’t want to.
“It’s okay, cowboy,” he whispered.
A juddering breath escaped, and I discovered my forehead resting on his shoulder, my hands gripping his slim waist, and his hand stroking my back. An icy tremor shuffled between my shoulder blades, while a knot grew in my throat. Oh hell no . Crying was not happening. Pushing on his hips, I set him away from me, keeping my head bowed until I had myself under control again. Would it be so bad if I were gay?
“Come, be a gentleman and help me across the creek.” Flipping the cherry off his cig, he stepped it out then put the butt in his pocket. I smiled over the fact he didn’t drop it on the ground, and maybe a little over how he chose to ignore my near meltdown.
“I saw that,” he exclaimed lightly.
“What?”
“A smile.”
“Shut up.” The smile widened, pulling at my cheeks.
He took my hand, and we made our way to the creek bank. As we grew closer, his grip tightened with each step until my hand pulsed with the effort to push blood through the vice, and into my fingertips.
He stopped about six feet away. “I need you to drag me across.”
I looked curiously at him. “What?” His eyes squeeze shut three times in succession, before he managed to glance at me.
Taking a deep breath, he admitted, “I can’t swim, and...I...uh...I’m afraid of water.”
“You never learned how to swim?” I asked appalled. I didn’t know anyone over the age of ten who couldn’t swim. But then, you hear about people drowning all the time, and some in fairly shallow rivers with life vests on.
He pointed at his chest. “City boy remember?”
“But didn’t you have swimming lessons in school?”
“Yes, and I can give
I examined the rock shelf across the clear water, trying to find something interesting about the grey stone, but it was remarkably drab. “Um, sooo...how do I smell?” There wasn’t even a fern clinging to the granite. Damn.
He laughed, pulling my eyes to him for a moment, before I glanced sheepishly away again. Why in the world had I asked him that? I wasn’t normally a bashful person around girls, but Zane—he seemed to have a line directly to the parts of me I’d never known existed, or hadn’t really gotten along with, like that thing down below that usually just hung there, disinterested most of the time. Now it wanted to shake hands and get cozy with whatever part of Zane it could reach, and it had been reaching out a lot whenever Zane was around. I knew what that probably meant, but it didn’t stop me from being nervous—and fairly terrified.
A shadow blanketed me, and I turned to find Zane standing so close I could feel his body heat, see the indigo flecks in his blue eyes. I swallowed, and concentrated on his shoulder, the faint lines in the leather of his jacket.
He tipped his head down, resting his forearm on my shoulder, and holding his smoke behind me. “You smell like dust, and sweat, and rain. There’s something different about you...”
“You sound awfully surprised by that.” Jesus, I sounded as if I’d just run a mile. His hair brushed my cheek, and I fought to stay where I was, refusing to be afraid or intimidated by having him so close. “So what exactly does that mean? Me being different?”
“You don’t smell like the average teenage boy—all juiced up, with that nervous tang.” The words tickled my neck, sending a shiver down my back. That quiver triggered an overall awareness of him, his warmth, his scent, the brush of his hair, his lips so close to my skin.
I chuckled nervously. “I just haven’t met anyone that excites me, is all.” That didn’t appear to be true anymore though.
His smile seared my neck, and my insides rioted. Who ever thought feeling a smile against your skin could cause such a violent reaction. Every part of me was straining to meet him, making me uncomfortable, but I couldn’t move away. Shockingly I found I didn’t want to.
“It’s okay, cowboy,” he whispered.
A juddering breath escaped, and I discovered my forehead resting on his shoulder, my hands gripping his slim waist, and his hand stroking my back. An icy tremor shuffled between my shoulder blades, while a knot grew in my throat. Oh hell no . Crying was not happening. Pushing on his hips, I set him away from me, keeping my head bowed until I had myself under control again. Would it be so bad if I were gay?
“Come, be a gentleman and help me across the creek.” Flipping the cherry off his cig, he stepped it out then put the butt in his pocket. I smiled over the fact he didn’t drop it on the ground, and maybe a little over how he chose to ignore my near meltdown.
“I saw that,” he exclaimed lightly.
“What?”
“A smile.”
“Shut up.” The smile widened, pulling at my cheeks.
He took my hand, and we made our way to the creek bank. As we grew closer, his grip tightened with each step until my hand pulsed with the effort to push blood through the vice, and into my fingertips.
He stopped about six feet away. “I need you to drag me across.”
I looked curiously at him. “What?” His eyes squeeze shut three times in succession, before he managed to glance at me.
Taking a deep breath, he admitted, “I can’t swim, and...I...uh...I’m afraid of water.”
“You never learned how to swim?” I asked appalled. I didn’t know anyone over the age of ten who couldn’t swim. But then, you hear about people drowning all the time, and some in fairly shallow rivers with life vests on.
He pointed at his chest. “City boy remember?”
“But didn’t you have swimming lessons in school?”
“Yes, and I can give
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