Push & Pull (The Midwest Series Book 2)

by Brigham Vaughn

  “Ugh, yes. Gimme.” Lowell waggled his fingers. He made happy little sounds as he ate the s’more, and Brent had to look away when he licked his fingers clean after.

  They sat in silence for a while, the fire crackling as crickets and katydids chirped and droned in the background. There was even the quiet hoot of an owl in the distance. Brent let out a little sigh and tilted his head back to stare at the dark sky. This was the life.

  He wondered if Lowell had ever seen anything like the night sky along the lakeshore without the light pollution of Chicago. Probably not if he’d never been camping or hiking. Well, no time like the present. He lifted his head and stood. “C’mere. I want to show you something.”

  Lowell cracked one eye open and let out a little whine. “But I’m so comfy.”

  “This is worth it.” Brent turned and strode toward the drive, not looking behind him to see if Lowell would follow.

  “Is the fire going to be okay?” Lowell called out.

  “We’ll only be gone a few minutes,” Brent said. “It’s fine. Come on.”

  Lowell was a naturally curious person. Odds were he’d follow. Sure enough, a moment later, Brent heard light footfalls behind him, hurrying to catch up.

  “Where are we going?” Lowell asked in a hushed voice.

  “You’ll see.” Brent grinned and played the flashlight’s beam over the drive ahead of him. “Be patient.”

  “I’m not good at that,” Lowell muttered.

  “You don’t say?”

  When they reached the beach, Brent stopped and flicked out the flashlight. With a solid “whomp”, Lowell crashed into him.

  “Sorry,” they both muttered.

  “My fault,” Brent admitted. “I should have warned you. Your eyes will adjust in a minute.”

  “But what are we doing?”

  “Going to sit on that driftwood over there.”

  “Where? I can’t see anything!”

  “Grab my arm,” Brent said, feeling a little exasperated. Lowell did, and his grip was cool and strong as Brent led them across the sand. That was cool too, squishing into his sandals in damp clumps. “Give your eyes a chance to adjust.”

  When Lowell was settled on the log, Brent took a seat next to him, a little closer than was strictly necessary. They were both silent for a moment, and the crash of the nearby waves drowned out the other night sounds.

  The earthy scent of rotting seaweed drifted over to them, mingling with the scent of the campfire and pines. Brent closed his eyes for a moment, soaking in the damp air.

  He tilted his head back and opened his eyes again. “Look up,” he whispered.

  “Holy shit, I’ve never seen so many stars.” Lowell’s voice was hushed. “That’s amazing.”

  “Can you imagine what it was like five hundred years ago? With just the native Potawatomi and the Menominee tribes here? No light but a few campfires. It must have been incredible to see.”

  “It sounds incredible,” Lowell agreed.

  Brent leaned in, lightly resting his shoulder against Lowell’s. He half-expected Lowell to pull away, but he didn’t. In fact, he leaned in a little too. They spent the night together last night, but Lowell hadn’t initiated anything today, and Brent wondered if he was starting to have second thoughts. Would I be pushing my luck if I put my arm around Lowell?

  This was definitely one of the most romantic nights Brent had ever had, and he wondered if Lowell felt that too. He hoped so.

  He froze as he considered the idea. Was he ... starting to develop feelings for Lowell? He felt a lurch in his stomach.

  Bad idea. Oh, that could be a very bad idea. Brent liked Lowell a lot, but he knew damn well Lowell wasn’t a relationship kinda guy. This is just a trip with a friend, Brent reminded himself. A really fun interlude between college and the rest of his life. Once he had a better idea of what he was doing, he could actually start dating. Find someone who actually wanted a relationship. Lowell didn’t fit into that picture in any way.

  Brent stifled a sigh. That thought made him sad for some reason. Now that he’d gotten to know Lowell, he could see what a great guy he was.

  Oh well, this is nice too, right? He should just enjoy it for what it was for as long as it lasted. But the thought was depressing.

  They sat there watching the stars for a long time. Neither of them filled the silence with idle conversation, and it was the most still and quiet he had ever seen Lowell outside of sleep.

  “Ready to go back to the campsite?” Brent finally asked. They had been gone a lot longer than he’d planned.

  “I guess.” Lowell sounded a little reluctant. But he stood and brushed off the back of his pants. He followed Brent back down the path, and when they reached the clearing of their campsite, he laid a hand on Brent’s forearm. “Thanks. That was really nice.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Brent resisted the urge to pull Lowell in for a kiss. Don’t complicate things, he reminded himself. Let Lowell make the first move if he wants this to continue.

  He turned away and walked over to the campfire. While they were gone, it had burned down to coals. Perfect for roasting marshmallows now.

  Brent held up the bag. “Want any more?”

  “No, thanks. Have as many as you want though.”

  “Nah, I think I’m good too.”

  “Need some help cleaning up?”

  “Sure.”

  “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

  When the food was safely secured and the coals had been banked for the night, they retrieved their toiletries. They took a quick trip to the camp bathrooms and got ready for bed. But when they finally laid down to sleep, Lowell seemed restless, tossing and turning. Finally, Brent reached out and laid a hand on his arm. Lowell flinched. “You okay?”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re uncomfortable.” Brent was disbelieving. “You have what has to be the cushiest bedroll ever.” He had a top-of-the-line, brand-new one under his fancy new sleeping bag. “Or I’m going to start calling you the Princess and the Pea.”

  “I keep hearing noises,” Lowell said with a huff as he flopped onto his back. “Is it bears?”

  Is that it? Is Lowell nervous about sleeping in the tent because of what I said earlier? Shit. “Bears are way louder than that,” Brent reassured him.

  “Well, what do I know?” Lowell said. “The only bears I’ve spent any time with are big hairy dudes at clubs! And they’re not my type.”

  Brent snorted. “Well, you probably heard raccoons. Or possums. I bet you don’t run into those much in clubs. Unless that’s some gay term I’m not familiar with.”

  Lowell chuckled. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “We should make something up. Start a new one,” he joked.

  “I like that.” Lowell was beginning to sound more relaxed. “Raccoons could be short, pudgy nerdy guys. Ones who stay up too late playing video games so they have dark circles under their eyes.”

  “Don’t be mean!” Brent chastised. But the thought still made him smile.

  “I’m not! I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

  “Yeah, well, not everyone has the genes to look like you.”

  “Hey, I work at it.”

  “I know you do,” Brent said. “But, come on, lots of guys could work twice as hard and never be as good looking.”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  “Come on; you know I think you’re attractive.”

  “How would I know?” Lowell said primly. “You’ve never told me that.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Brent shifted until he laid next to Lowell, leaned in, and kissed him hard. He was breaking his own rule, but oh well. “Does that seem like I’m not attracted to you?”

  “It’s still nice to hear.” Now Lowell sounded a little breathless.

  “You’re the prettiest guy I’ve ever met,” Brent blurted out. “And, trust me, that’s definitely not an insult.”

  The tent was so s
ilent he could hear Lowell swallow. “Thanks,” he said softly.

  Lowell flipped on his side, and Brent scooted forward, molding his body around Lowell’s. He held his breath, expecting Lowell to roll away, but instead, he sank back against Brent with a little sigh of contentment. Brent draped an arm over him and pressed his palm against Lowell’s chest. He could feel his heartbeat, and he listened to Lowell’s breathing, light and ragged at first until it finally slowed and became even and steady.

  When it did, Brent closed his eyes and fell asleep too.

  ***

  Some time later, Brent was shaken awake.

  “I need to pee,” Lowell hissed.

  Brent groaned. “So go pee!”

  “I ... I’m afraid to go by myself,” Lowell admitted. “What if there are animals? Or I get lost?”

  “Jesus Christ, you’re the most competent guy in a city, but get you out of it and you’re fucking helpless,” Brent grumbled under his breath, grumpy from having been awoken from a deep sleep. But he threw back the top of the sleeping bag and crawled out, reaching for the flashlight next to him. “Fine. Come on. I’ll walk you there.”

  Silently, Lowell followed him out of the tent, and they put on their shoes. Brent was grateful for the mud flap in front. “Zip it shut,” Brent muttered when Lowell made no move to do so. “We don’t want to get back and discover that something has wandered into our tent.”

  Lowell zipped it closed a little more quickly and firmly than necessary, and Brent smiled in the darkness.

  It was nice to be on the other side of things for once. He’d felt like an idiot at the start of this trip, but now things were balancing out a little. By the end of it, we’ll have actually learned from each other, Brent thought drily. Imagine that.

  Lowell’s flip-flops made quiet slapping sounds on the hard packed dirt of their campsite. The sounds from cicadas and the other night insects filled the air, even louder now. Everyone else in the campsite seemed to be asleep, and it was otherwise quiet and peaceful.

  Brent stifled a yawn as they reached the main drive and turned left toward the bathrooms. The air was cool and crisp, richly scented with pine and dirt. Motion-activated lights kicked on as they approached the bathrooms. In moments, insects were circling it.

  “There you go,” he said quietly.

  “Thanks.” Lowell reached for the door.

  “I’ll be here, unless you need me to hold it, too.”

  Lowell stuck out his tongue. “No, I think I can manage on my own, thanks.”

  Brent heard a quiet buzzing sound before something landed on his arm. He slapped at it, the sound loud in the quiet night air.

  “Hurry up! I’m getting eaten alive by mosquitos,” Brent called softly. He paced a little as he waited, occasionally slapping away the biting insects. It seemed to take Lowell forever, but he eventually heard the sound of liquid hitting water, then the toilet flushing. And running water as Lowell presumably washed his hands.

  He emerged a few minutes later, shaking them dry.

  “You know, if you just had to pee, you could have gotten out of the tent and gone in the bushes,” Brent pointed out as they walked back to the campsite.

  “You can do that?” Lowell sounded scandalized.

  “Have you never peed outside?” Brent was amused.

  Lowell was silent for a moment. “No?”

  “You really have been sheltered.”

  Lowell made a soft sound of protest. “I grew up in an urban, upper-class bubble, but I wasn’t sheltered.”

  “Fair enough. But just so you know, peeing outside is totally acceptable while camping or hiking. Just keep it off the trails or where people are likely to step. And for God’s sake, be sure you don’t flash anyone. Especially kids.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” Lowell said scathingly.

  “Just making sure.”

  They walked back to the campsite in silence. Lowell quickly unzipped the tent, and dove in, burrowing under the covers. “Fuck. I’m freezing! I didn’t expect the temperature to drop so much at night.”

  “It’s like sixty-five degrees out right now.”

  “It was almost ninety earlier today!”

  “Well, temps tend to drop at night around here.”

  The tent was silent except for their breathing for a few minutes.

  “Thanks for walking with me, by the way.” Lowell’s voice was small, and it occurred to Brent how hard it must have been for Lowell to ask for help.

  “You’re welcome.” Brent kept his tone soft. He could feel Lowell trembling next to him, and he remembered that Lowell was probably extra-cold because of the anemia. He stripped off his shirt, then handed it to Lowell. “Here’s my sweatshirt, if you need it.”

  “Thanks.” Lowell slipped it on, then burrowed into the pile of bedding again. They lay there in silence for a few minutes.

  “Better?” Brent asked.

  “Still a little cold. Maybe you could warm me up?”

  Brent smiled. “Sure, I could do that.”

  He held an arm out, and Lowell nestled against him. Brent wrapped him up tightly, trapping Lowell’s icy feet between his own. Lowell let out a contented little sigh that made Brent’s chest feel suspiciously warm.

  Despite the questions and doubts swirling through his mind, this time, Brent fell asleep first.

  Chapter Nineteen

  June 9, 2013 – Door Peninsula, Wisconsin

  Lowell

  The sun was rising over the water, and it was cool and misty as Lowell inhaled, straightened his arms, and swept his chest forward into upward facing dog. He could hear the quiet noises of animals and people waking up around the campground, but it was the sound of the tent being unzipped that made him look around.

  Brent stood and stretched, his long-sleeved T-shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of tanned bare skin above his shorts. “I really liked the outfit yesterday morning, but you look good in my sweatshirt too,” he said, his voice sounding a little rough from sleep.

  Lowell’s cheeks heated at the praise and tried to ignore it. But he didn’t take the shirt off. He probably looked ridiculous, actually. It was baggy and an unflattering shade of brown that had always been atrocious on him, but it pleased him to know Brent liked him wearing it. And it was comfortable. Warm in the cool morning air and it still smelled of Brent’s cologne. It felt a little bit like wearing a hug, which was surprisingly nice. Ugh, you’re getting sappy, Lowell.

  A tiny part of him wanted to freak out. To bolt. To refuse to acknowledge that he was feeling things he’d been terrified to ever feel again. And this was so much more than it had ever been with Micah.

  Instead, he smiled when Brent walked over and bent down to give him a brief kiss on the lips. Brent walked away and did a few things around the campsite while Lowell continued his sun salutations.

  “Hey.” Lowell—in mountain pose now—looked over. “Will you teach me how to do yoga?”

  “Sure. Now?”

  “If that’s okay with you.”

  “I don’t mind. Grab a beach towel.” Lowell broke the pose and waited while Brent rummaged around in the trunk of the car for a moment. He laid the towel down on the ground near Lowell’s.

  “Ready when you are.”

  “I like to start off my morning with a series of ten postures called sun salutations. It warms up the body and gets the blood flowing.”

  Brent nodded.

  “We’ll begin with mountain pose. Stand with your feet slightly apart and parallel with your palms pressed together at the level of your heart. Close your eyes and focus on your breathing for a few minutes. Just slow and steady. In through your nose, out through your nose.”

  Lowell snuck a peek at Brent out of the corner of his eye to see if he was following. His eyes were closed, and there was a little furrow between his brows like he was concentrating very hard. It made Lowell smile.

  “Stretch your arms down alongside your torso, palms turned out, shoulders relaxed.”

  Lowe
ll slowly walked him through the sequence, but after four minutes in plank pose, Brent’s arms began to shake. “Oh, fuck. This is a lot harder than it looks.”

  “Yoga isn’t for wusses,” Lowell agreed.

  Brent collapsed onto the beach towel. “Holy fuck. You aren’t even breaking a sweat. How do you do that?”

  “How did you run drills in hockey?” Lowell said, amused. “Practice.”

  ***

  After they finished yoga, Brent shook out the towels and hung them off the line. “We’re hiking today, so I’m going to make scrambled eggs and sausage for breakfast. You need the protein.”

  Lowell opened his mouth to protest, remembered Brent had bought turkey sausage just for him, and shut it. “Thanks,” he said. “What can I do to help?”

  A flicker of surprise crossed Brent’s face, but he merely pointed toward the car. “Get the stove and tote with kitchen stuff out of the trunk while I lower the cooler.”

  “Okay.”

  Brent had to show him how to set up the stove for a second time. Lowell was vaguely annoyed with himself. He really needed to pay more attention from here on out so he didn’t look like an idiot, but it didn’t take long before there was sausage sizzling in a pan.

  “Those smell really good,” Lowell said, his mouth watering.

  “Good. I thought you’d like them.” Brent poured some water out of a pan and into a stainless steel carafe. The scent of coffee rose in the air.

  “Is that a French press?” Lowell asked, delighted. “I was afraid we’d be drinking instant or, worse, have no coffee at all.”

  “Fuck, no,” Brent said. “Give me a good cup of coffee any day. And the French press is light and doesn’t create any waste. I wouldn’t use this one for back country hiking and camping, but it’s great for a site like this.” He slowly pushed the plunger in, then poured the dark brown liquid into their mugs.

  “I could kiss you,” Lowell said.

  “What’s stopping you?” Brent asked with a wink. Lowell leaned in and pressed their lips together in what he intended to be a brief kiss, but Brent held him close, deepening it.

  “I haven’t even brushed my teeth,” Lowell muttered against Brent’s lips.

  “Does it seem like I care?” Brent asked, but he let go and dropped his hand. “Want to put some sugar and cream in my coffee while I get the eggs started?” He gestured toward them.