by Mia Sheridan
"No rope and shovel in there, I hope," I said, my eyes moving to his backpack suspiciously.
He laughed. "No, Buttercup. Just some bottled water."
"Whew," I breathed out, teasingly.
He took my hand and we began walking toward one of the trail entrances.
The landscape was mountainous and rocky, the colors bursting all around me as the day grew lighter and lighter.
The rock formations in the distance were rusty red, the cacti vivid green, and the desert flowers on the sides of the trail all shades. The orangy-red, glowing sun in the distance was a backdrop for the beauty all around us.
We walked along in silence for a little while. I was fully awake now, watching the amazing view of Carson's muscular backside in a pair of khaki shorts moving up the trail in front of me. It was as awe-inspiring as the natural wonder around me.
After a little bit, we started chatting. I told him about my sisters, Julia and Audrey, both younger than me. I talked about my dad, how he was still a cop, but was planning on retiring in the next couple of years. I described what it had been like to grow up in the Midwest, in the same house all my life, and what it was like to leave Ohio for the first time at eighteen years old.
I told him about Abby and Brian and how Brian went to Georgetown with me, and that I had introduced them at a school function I had dragged Abby to.
He talked about what it had been like to grow up in Los Angeles, staying in the same city but moving around constantly. He told me about his best friend and roommate, Dylan, who was his snowboarding partner-in-crime and was finishing up his final semester at a computer programming, technical school. Carson said that Dylan was such a computer genius, that he could have taught the classes himself, but in order to get a decent-paying job, he needed the degree.
We talked about everything and nothing, filling each other in on our lives. There was something about talking as we walked, looking ahead at the trail, and not at each other, that made it feel like we could say anything. The boundaries naturally in place when looking someone in the eye were gone, and it seemed even easier to open up. To me, it felt like our own private place away from the world–there it was just me and him, our own stories, what we liked, what we felt, and absolutely nothing else.
I was shocked at how quickly time was going by as we walked and chatted. I glanced at my cell phone in the pocket of my sweatshirt, now tied around my waist, and it was already seven thirty. We stopped and he took a couple bottles of water out of the backpack he was carrying, and we took long drinks from them. He took a couple granola bars out too and offered one to me.
"Where'd you get these?" I asked.
"Vending machine when I woke up this morning," he said. "Always prepared, Buttercup."
I smiled. "Lucky for me," I said, eyeing him. "Why do you call me Buttercup?"
He smiled back. "Maybe because your skin is satiny like a flower petal," and he trailed his fingers up my arm, tickling me lightly. I laughed and shook my head slightly.
We ate and drank and then got back on the trail. We stopped again in another hour and after we drank more water, he leaned against a rock and pulled me against him, kissing the side of my neck. "Mmmm… I love the way you smell even more when you sweat. It's irresistible."
I laughed at the tickly feeling of his lips trailing lightly down my neck. "Is this where you turn into a desert hyena?"
"Probably. I feel him coming out. He's strong, baby. He's hard to contain. Ah!" He contorted his head in at an awkward angle and brought one arm out stiffly. "Run, Grace! Run!"
I laughed out loud as he grabbed me around the waist and brought me against him hard, growling into my face. "Too late, baby. You had your chance."
He nipped at my neck and ground up against me while I laughed and writhed in his arms.
After a few minutes, he turned serious and looked into my eyes, leaning into me and taking my mouth. He kissed me slowly and deeply, our tongues tangling, our breath mingling. He took my bottom lip into his mouth and sucked on it gently.
Finally, he broke away, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear that had come loose from my ponytail. "Feels good to be up here with you–I didn't know if I'd like company while hiking. Who knew it could be even better with the right person?" He smiled at me gently.
I smiled back and then cocked my head to the side. "Do you go hiking alone a lot?"
"Any chance I get, yeah. I love being outdoors."
"I can tell. Hiking, snowboarding, surfing. What don't you do?"
"Nothing I won't do, Buttercup. I thought you knew that." He winked.
I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, though, what do you love so much about it all?"
He looked over my shoulder and was quiet for a minute, biting his bottom lip. "I love the challenge of it. I love the fact that if you do something enough, you can be great at it. It has nothing to do with who you are, how you look, nothing superficial. It's all about accomplishing something that you can take credit for." He was quiet again, his brow now furrowed. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. "Huh. Never actually thought about it until I just said that out loud." His smile was startling in its intensity, that dimple doing its worst.
I grinned right back at him.
He pulled me closer to him. "Know what else I really like?"
I shook my head. "What?" I asked quietly.
"You." He grinned.
"Yeah? And what exactly do you like about me?"
He tilted his head, looking into my eyes. "I like the look on your face when you're seeing or doing something new–almost like it's a religious experience." He grinned at me and I smiled back. I liked that.
"And I like how you let me see beneath that perfect exterior, because it turns out that what you were hiding was even more stunning, Fragglerock hair and all." I laughed. He grinned back and kept looking into my eyes. I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest.
"And I really, really like how you make me feel–like if you looked at me every day, the way you're looking at me right now, I could do anything, be anything, be more." He ended on a whisper, his face serious.
I blinked and reached up and touched his cheek. No one had ever complimented me quite like that. I wasn't sure how to respond except by saying, "I like you too, Carson."
"Yeah? What do you like about me?" he asked, a smile on his face, but I caught the look of vulnerability that skated across his features.
"I like how you make me want to be brave like you, listen to my own desires and make my own happiness." He smiled, but then furrowed his brow slightly as if he wasn't sure if what I said was completely accurate.
I kissed his nose. "I like how you let me see beneath your sex-on-a-stick exterior, because as unbelievably amazing as you are in that respect," I smiled and winked, but then went serious, "as it turns out, that's the least of what you have to offer." He laughed and pulled me in to him, kissing me on the top of the head.
"And," I went on, "I like how you make me feel, how you make me laugh and have fun, and feel more alive than I've ever felt before." I raised my head and looked up at him and he was gazing at me intensely.
"I think you should know something," he said.
"What?" I asked.
"In the tradition of the Native American people who lived in this desert ten thousand years ago, we just got married, baby."
I burst out laughing. "Vows at the top of the mountain?" I asked.
"Exactly," he said, laughing too.
After a minute or two, we joined hands and moved on.
At a little before ten a.m. we returned to the car and got inside, sinking into our seats and turning up the air conditioner to high.
"Wanna go see the Visitor Center before we get back on the road?" Carson asked.
"Okay," I said, glancing over at the outdoor, shaded center.
We walked over hand in hand and then spent a half an hour looking at the four themed areas; earth, air, fire and water. Carson came over and stood next to me and put his a
rm around my shoulder as I read about agave roasting pits. I nuzzled into him and kissed the side of his neck.
We drove back to town and stopped at a small burrito bar and sat on the outdoor picnic benches as we ate. Carson pulled me on to his lap halfway through, and it felt normal and natural to continue eating sprawled across him as we reminisced about the things we had seen on our hike.
I looked back at him. "Thank you for showing me my first sunrise. Thank you for the whole morning. It was one of the coolest things I've ever done."
He nodded his head, his mouth full of burrito. After a minute, he swallowed and said, "My pleasure, Buttercup. And by the way, a sunrise will always remind me of you too." He smiled.
We drove back to the hotel, and I reminded him that I was going to the seminar presentation and wanted to get there a little early. We stopped by my room so I could grab some clothes and then went up to his room to each take a quick shower.
I came out in my bra and panties and Carson was drawing the curtains so the room was dark and cool. "Nap?" he smiled.
"God, that sounds so good," I sighed.
He set the alarm and we snuggled together under the blankets, skin to skin. It felt warm and cozy and his smell was intoxicating me again. But my body must have needed sleep more because before I knew it, the alarm was going off. Carson untangled himself from me and rolled over to shut it off. We snuggled for a few more minutes, waking up slowly.
"Meet me back in my room at four o'clock?" he asked. "It's our last night, I want to do something special."
I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Four o'clock."
I got up and went to the bathroom to freshen up and pull on my black slacks and black cami under a black and white polka dotted sheer blouse. I slipped on my shoes and leaned over Carson, still lying in bed. "Four o'clock," I repeated.
He looked at me seriously. "Okay. See you then. Oh, take the extra key card on the desk so you can let yourself in."
"Okay," I said. Then I kissed him softly, grabbed the key card and left the room.
As I walked down the hall, a melancholy swept over me, and it occurred to me that this was the first time Carson and I would be apart for longer than fifteen minutes since we had first stepped onto that elevator.
**********
Carson
I lazed around for a little while, flipping on the television and watching "Die Hard" for half an hour or so when I found it on a movie channel. Finally, I shut it off and pulled on some clothes. I couldn't help the feeling of melancholy that had washed over me when Grace closed the door behind her. I was going to see her in a couple hours and yet I was already missing her. This wasn't good. I suspected that I was somewhat fucked when it came to Grace, but I didn't want to think about it. It was going to suck to watch her walk away tomorrow morning. I stood at the bathroom sink looking at myself in the mirror. "You are such a dumb motherfucker," I said to my reflection. Maybe we could keep in touch. Maybe I could fly her out to L.A. We needed to talk–I couldn't let her go permanently. It was suddenly an impossibility for me. I had no idea what we'd do, but we had to do something. I tried to work through it in my mind for a few minutes but couldn't come up with a solution. "Fuck!" I yelled to no one.
I decided I needed to get out of my hotel room while she was gone. I'd come back up and meet her at four and we'd talk, figure something out, but to sit and drive myself crazy for the next hour didn't sound appealing. I headed to the lobby and decided to stop by the end of the expo, probably just finishing up about now.
I walked into the conference room and it was still crowded with fans, lines formed at tables where the most popular performers sat signing anything from photos to body parts. I shook my head on a smile when I saw one woman bent over, as a male performer I didn't know signed her bare ass.
"Carson!" I heard shouted and looked over to see Bobby Prince, another male performer who worked for Courtney at ArtLove.com.
"Hey, man." I turned and walked over. Bobby was just packing his stuff up and so we stood and shot the shit for a little while before his girlfriend, who was in the business too, came over and put her hand around his waist asking, "Ready, baby?" We shook hands and he took off. I looked around and saw a grandma who must have been ninety years old having her saggy cleavage signed by a woman I didn't know in a short red, leather dress with a zipper up the front. I decided I'd had enough. This was not my scene and exactly why I had told Tim that I wasn't doing this type of stuff anymore. Why I thought it'd be a good idea even to walk through, I didn't know.
I made my way to the conference room doors and just as I was almost there, I heard my name shrieked. I turned around and there was a twenty-something blonde jumping up and down and pulling her friend's arm. "Oh my God!" she yelled. "Carson Stinger, I LOVE you!" Then she ran over to me and pulled her shirt all the way up, exposing her tits. "Sign me!" she demanded, sticking a sharpie pen in my face.
I managed a smile and took the pen from her. I scrawled my name across her breasts and handed the pen back. "Thanks for the support." I smiled and started to walk off.
"Wait!" she yelled. "Will you take a picture with me?"
I sighed. "Sure," I said, walking back to her and putting my arm around her shoulders. She pulled her shirt back up to expose my signature, as her friend snapped a picture.
I nodded and smiled at them both again and as I turned, I heard her friend whisper to her, "Grab his dick so you can say you felt up Carson Stinger."
I felt them both come up behind me and turned toward them saying, "Whoa, ladies, I appreciate your fan support, but no one's grabbing my junk." I tried to laugh it off, shooting them both my most charming smile, that one that always got me what I wanted with women.
They weren't listening to me though, their eyes cast down to my crotch, their hands reaching forward.
"Back off!" I yelled deeply, making them startle and halt their movement and drawing eyes from those standing nearby.
I turned back around and started walking as the blonde yelled after me, "What the hell? You fuck for a living and your dick's suddenly off limits? Whatever asshole!"
I clenched my jaw and kept walking. When I got out into the hall, I kicked a plant over, dirt spraying over the carpet. I left it there.
I made my way back up to my hotel room and slammed the door behind me and kicked it for good measure, and then sat down on the corner of the bed staring blankly at the wall. I was pissed and I couldn't figure out exactly why. Those girls were bitches, but who fucking cared? Who cared what they thought? Who cared what anyone thought?
A minute later, I heard a click and the room door opened. Grace came in and smiled big at me, her blue eyes softening when she saw me. "Hi, handsome," she said. "Miss me?"
I looked up at her, so beautiful and so sweet, still feeling anger and something like shame swirling through my chest over my "fan" run-in downstairs.
I opened my mouth to say something full of sexual innuendo about exactly what I missed about her, but I snapped my mouth closed. It was like a reflex, but Grace would see right through it so why bother? So what should I do instead? I frowned.
Her face went serious. "Carson? What's wrong?" She came over to me and tilted my chin up with her finger and looked into my face, her eyes searching mine. I didn't answer but wrapped my arms around her and lay my head on her belly, taking in long inhales of her soothing scent.
After a couple seconds, she started running her hands through my hair gently, soothing me further. "Talk to me. What happened?" she asked quietly.
I took in a deep breath and pulled back from her. "Nothing, Grace. I just ran into some bitchy fans from the expo. Just a hazard of the job," I said.
When her eyes skittered away from mine, I knew that she didn't know what to say–my job was probably something she really didn't want to think about. Frankly, it was something I really didn't want to think about either.
"I'm gonna take a quick shower, okay? Then we can get ready for dinner?"
She smiled
a small smile at me and nodded. "Okay." She took her hand and brushed a piece of hair off my forehead and then brought her hand to my face and looked into my eyes, telling me everything was okay. I leaned into her and closed my eyes. I didn't really need a shower, but it would give me the time to get into a better head space and let the run-in roll off my back. It was my last night with Grace. I'd be damned if anything was going to ruin it. Plus, we needed to talk. We needed to figure something out. I couldn't let her go.
CHAPTER 12
Grace
I heard the shower turn on and sat down in the chair at the desk to check my phone and shoot Abby another quick text. I had been sending them to her since I had talked to her and told her about staying with Carson. She wanted to know that I was okay. I didn't blame her–if the positions had been reversed and she was spending the weekend with a stranger, I'd want her to check in frequently too.
Carson hadn't told me exactly what happened with his fans, but he looked disturbed. And truthfully, just hearing about them had me a little disturbed too. I needed to shake it off. This was our last night together and I wanted to enjoy it. I sat biting my lip for a minute. I had enjoyed the presentation downstairs, but my mind had continually wandered to Carson and the fact that we were going to be saying goodbye in the morning. Maybe we could keep in touch somehow? Was that completely stupid and unrealistic? We needed to talk about this, and in a way I looked forward to it, to potentially figuring out a way not to have to say goodbye forever. God, but in a way I dreaded it. I was pretty sure he'd tell me he felt the same way, but what if he didn't? What if he was still planning on the quick, permanent break we had arranged? He had called us "friends." Did he want to remain "friends?" Or did he–
A knock sounded at the door and interrupted my thoughts. The shower was still going so I walked over to it and pulled it open. A middle aged, short, balding man in khakis and a sport coat was standing on the other side. He looked surprised to see me. "Carson here?" he asked, furrowing his brow.