Indigo Road

by RJ Jones

  I felt cold towels running over my limbs and chest, and every now and then a fresh one placed on my forehead. Alex would wake me up and spoon-feed me some soup, just like the doctor ordered, before making me swallow pills that hurt my throat going down.

  I don’t know how long I was asleep, but when I woke up next, I was hot, though I didn’t think it was from the fever. My head seemed relatively clear and I could breathe more easily. There was something heavy across my chest, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Alex curled up next to me with his arm around my waist, his hand resting on my upper body. His brow was furrowed in concern, even in sleep.

  It didn’t take me long to realize I liked seeing him there next to me, curled around me like a worried… lover? Boyfriend? This was what I wanted. I wanted my Alex to be… more. I didn’t have a clue about being gay or what to do when it came to another man’s body, but I didn’t care. No relationship I’d ever had felt as right as this one. And if Alex felt the same, then he could do to me whatever he wanted. Maybe the bout of flu had scrambled my brain… or made everything clear; I didn’t know which. I cared only that Alex was with me.

  I gently cupped his cheek with my hand, savoring the feel of his stubble against my fingers. But before I could place a kiss on the top of his head, he jerked awake and flew out of bed.

  “You’re awake? How are you feeling?” he asked urgently, his eyes shining with relief. But there was a look of discomfort there too. Didn’t he mean to fall asleep next to me, hold me? He fidgeted with the seam of his sleep pants and wouldn’t meet my gaze.

  I frowned. “Umm, better I think. Not fantastic, but… better.” My head wasn’t throbbing anymore at least.

  “Okay, good. That’s good.”

  “What time is it?”

  Alex looked at his watch. “Ten o’clockish. Wednesday.”

  “I’ve been out for two days?” I asked, bewildered. I didn’t think I had been that sick.

  “Yeah, I know. If you hadn’t improved by this morning, I was taking you to the hospital.” Alex looked at me with a small smile, relief etched on his features.

  “I’m sorry I made you worry,” I said, standing and testing my wobbly legs.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  My head swam a little, but not much. “Yeah, I am. Not at full strength yet and—” I sniffed. “I really need a shower.”

  Alex eyed the bathroom door. “Will you be okay in there by yourself?” he asked hesitantly, like he knew he should help me, but didn’t want to.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

  When I got out of the shower, Alex was still in his pajamas. He’d ordered room service for breakfast and was sitting at the small table drinking coffee. I wasn’t sure how much I would be able to eat, but it smelled heavenly.

  “Hey.” The tension in the room had eased some since I’d been in the bathroom.

  “Horse. Feel better after a wash?” Alex smiled, but I could still see the wariness in his eyes.

  “Oh yeah, it’s amazing what a long hot shower can do, especially in a place like this.” I looked around the hotel room. “Can we afford this?” I knew what Alex was like with his budgets and spreadsheets.

  “Even if we stayed here all week, we’re still okay. We were well paid for working at the Bar None, and we didn’t have any expenses over that time.” Alex grinned; he obviously liked being ahead of his self-imposed budget.

  “When do we have to check out?” Now that I took in my surroundings, I wanted to enjoy them a little before hitting the road again.

  “Not till Sunday if we don’t want to. We can relax, watch movies, swim, use the gym.” He patted his flat stomach. “Even order room service and watch movies in bed. Maybe pizza.” His eyes danced.

  “Now you’re talking.” My stomach rumbled uncomfortably as I took a seat opposite him. “Ugh, maybe no pizza till I’m one hundred percent. The last thing I want is to smell pepperoni and not be able to eat it.”

  THERE WERE two large beds in our hotel room, and although we’d been here for two days, it looked like only one had been slept in. That morning, since waking up, Alex had come and gone. He’d done the laundry using the hotel’s facilities, worked out at the gym, swam, and ran out to a deli for lunch.

  I holed up in our room, still not feeling the greatest, watched in-house movies, and napped. After waking a second time, I walked around the room, checking out the facilities. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it was clean and comfortable, easily three stars, maybe four. Looking out the window, I tried to figure out what town we were in. I didn’t remember leaving the last RV site, but it didn’t take me long to see we were in Seattle. As I looked up and the down the street from my perch at the window, I saw Alex heading back toward the hotel, a plastic shopping bag in his hand as he was jostled by the city crowd. He was talking on the phone animatedly, and judging by his hand gestures as he swung the bag around, he was frustrated and angry—with the person he was talking to or himself, I couldn’t be sure. Pocketing his phone, he ran his hand over his head and looked up at the hotel. I quickly jumped back from the window before he could see me.

  Although I’d thought he was heading back, Alex didn’t show up for another hour. I wondered what he’d been doing, but when he entered the room, he seemed happy and himself again. Maybe I read his body language wrong when I saw him on the street. It wasn’t like I had a clear view and he was surrounded by other people.

  We ate dinner—I ate only a little since I still wasn’t feeling great—and watched a movie before Alex crawled into the other bed and said goodnight. Did I really expect him to share a bed with me?

  Yes, I did.

  I wanted to hold his hand.

  BOREDOM SET in and we left the hotel before the end of the week. It was a nice change, but the road had quickly become our home and we were eager to get to Northern California.

  We climbed into Maude after checking out of the hotel. There was a putrid smell coming from the back, but it was more pronounced on the passenger side. When I mentioned this, realization dawned on Alex’s face.

  “The fridge,” we said in unison.

  In the rush to get me medical help, we’d both forgotten about the food in the fridge and the fact that the battery needed charging every couple of days. We didn’t dare open it until we could get someplace to clean it out. I didn’t think the parking attendant at the hotel would appreciate the spoiled food in the basement parking lot.

  “I don’t want to open it,” Alex stated, parking Maude at the back of a group of shops where there were some dumpsters.

  “Well, I’m not. I’m still sick, remember? I can’t afford to get a whiff of that.” My excuse was lame and he knew it as much as I did.

  “Wait here. Open all the windows and the back door. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Where are you going?” I yelled after him, but he just waved and jogged down the street.

  He returned fifteen minutes later with a plastic shopping bag.

  “Here, put this on,” he said, handing me one of those cheap face masks you see painters wearing. He put one on also and started pulling out disinfectant, Febreze, and a multitude of other cleaning products, including gloves.

  After we put the rubber gloves on, Alex started with the instructions. “Okay, when I open the fridge, you pull everything out and put it in the bag. I’ll tie it off and throw it in the dumpster.” Alex’s voice was muffled behind the mask, and I stifled a laugh. We were two grown men, afraid of a little stink.

  Alex stood at the side door, holding the now empty bag open, waiting for my okay.

  “Okay.” Alex lifted the fridge lid, which was a little stuck because it hadn’t been running for a week, and the smell burned my eyes.

  “Holy shit,” I said, my voice just as muffled as Alex’s had been.

  “Hurry the fuck up, I can smell it from here.”

  “How do you think I’m doing, then, if you can smell it?”

  “Cut the whining and hurry up.”

  “How
’d I get this job, anyway? I’m the one who’s sick.”

  “Skill.” Alex winked.

  I threw the last of the fridge’s contents—green, slimy bacon—into the bag and slammed the lid shut. I watched Alex tie the bag with the fingers of a ninja and hurl it into the dumpster.

  I rolled onto the mattress and laughed so hard my ribs ached. Alex stood at the back of Maude, far away from the smell, and eyed me for a second before doubling over. “Next time you’re sick,” he said between big gulps of air, “you’re on your own.”

  His planned abandonment in my time of need made us laugh harder.

  AFTER THE fridge debacle, Alex and I slipped back into friend mode and things became normal once more, but the hand-holding/finger-touching had come to an end. We shared laughs by the campfire—snarky and sarcastic comments flying—sometimes with fellow travelers, but mostly just the two of us. Alex kept checking the books. It looked like he was trying to figure out something, but he never asked me for help or advice—which was fine, he was the economics major. We stopped at Starbucks, not only for coffee but to use their free WiFi and to charge the phones and laptop.

  We never missed a chance to charge the fridge.

  Alex eventually told me what he was thinking when he looked over our account.

  “We can afford one night in a cheapish motel once a week until we get home. Possibly with pizza,” he finished.

  “Seriously?”

  “No,” he quipped sarcastically.

  “We’ll be able to shower without spiders and the threat of snakes, and sleep in a real bed?” This excited me more than it should.

  I only hoped that the motels we stopped at had one bed as I couldn’t imagine not sleeping next to Alex.

  CHAPTER SIX

  October 22nd

  Bastendorf Beach, near Charleston, Oregon

  WE TOOK our time making our way south through Washington before heading east and spending a couple of weeks in Idaho. We eventually ventured west again into Oregon. Our friendship remained firm and as strong as ever, and although we weren’t touching anymore, there was an underlying intimacy between us that I didn’t understand. But as long as we were still friends and there was no weirdness between us, I could put those other feelings aside.

  We were heading toward the California state line along 101 and we stopped for the night in a secluded parking lot overlooking the ocean. The weather was calm that day, but the sky was full of ominous clouds and it was pretty cold. Oregon weather sucked. The waves crashing on the beach matched the color of the sky, and I wanted to head south sooner rather than later.

  When I awoke in the morning, I climbed out of bed and walked down to the sand without waking Alex. The sky had cleared from the previous day, but the ocean still churned and there was a chill in the air the sun hadn’t been able to chase away that early in the morning.

  There was a surfer cutting through the waves like a pro, a lone black dot in the ocean. I wondered where he had come from as there were no other cars in the lot and no homes close by.

  I sat on the sand, burying my feet while I watched him ride on the water. He was graceful, letting the waves take him where they wanted. When he tried to do something against the waves’ wishes, he was dumped violently. I held my breath until I saw his head pop up, and he climbed back onto his board, ready to start the process all over again.

  After he got dunked again, he straddled his board, raised one hand, and waved. I looked around, thinking maybe one of his fellow surfing buddies had come to join him, but there was no one else there.

  He continued surfing, and I continued watching him, mesmerized by his poise and how in-tune he appeared to be with the ocean. After long minutes, he rose out of the water and walked toward me with the same grace on land as he had in the sea. He shook his long blond hair out of his eyes and unzipped his wetsuit, pulling it off his torso to reveal a chiseled chest and defined arms. His suit hung limply off his lean hips.

  He headed straight for me, and I looked around again, thinking his friends were coming down the dunes, but there was still no one in sight.

  “G’day, I don’t normally see anyone here at this time. I’m Johnno.” He stood in front of me, hand extended while the board was tucked under his other arm.

  His arms and chest were covered with light blond hair that I hadn’t been able to see before. His light blue gaze held mine and I almost forgot my manners.

  I stood and shook his hand. “Josh. It’s nice to meet you,” I replied, stuttering a little.

  Johnno looked me up and down before placing his board in the sand, sitting on it, and encouraging me to sit with him.

  “You surf?” he asked, watching the waves crash against the shore. “It’s mad this morning, got wiped out heaps.” His accent confused me; clearly he was not a local.

  “No, I don’t. Looks great, though.” I had no idea what to say, and I was sure everything I did say was going to be lame.

  Johnno turned to me, grinning. “You live here and don’t surf? What’s up with that?”

  “Ah, no. We just parked here for the night before heading to California.”

  “You’re traveling? That’s so cool. Where’re you from?”

  “Indiana. Been on the road since early June.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Indiana? It’s east, borders Illinois.”

  “Any surf out that way?”

  “None.”

  “Bugger.”

  “Where are you from?” I asked him, keen to keep the conversation going.

  “Straya.”

  “Where?”

  “Australia,” he said more slowly. “I’m on a surfing holiday. Needed a break from the job, you know?”

  “The job?” It sounded like the mafia, and I instantly wished I hadn’t asked in case there was an Australian branch I hadn’t heard of.

  “I’m a sparky by trade, but I’d rather surf, you know?”

  He wasn’t a redhead and I had no idea what he was talking about, but my curiosity got the better of me again and I asked him.

  “I’m an electrician. Wiring houses and stuff.”

  “Oh, I get it.”

  “You ’mericans are a weird bunch.” He laughed and shook his head before nudging my thigh with his.

  He’s the one who implied he’s a redheaded hitman, and he thinks we’re weird?

  We talked easily for a while, just watching the surf. Johnno was big on ocean conservation and he wanted to be part of the crew of the Sea Shepherd, a large environmental ship determined to stop the Japanese whalers from killing in the name of ‘science.’ He was quite passionate when he spoke and I found myself staring at his lips. They were pink and plump, surrounded by dark blond stubble, just like Alex’s. I wondered briefly what they would feel like against mine. His eyes flashed with enthusiasm when he spoke; they were a familiar color, but they lacked the exuberance of Alex’s.

  He talked and I half listened, my mind in a whirl, comparing the blond of Johnno’s long hair and Alex’s where it was now growing out. I remembered when Alex asked me to shave his head the day before leaving home and the soft moans he made. I wanted to hear them again.

  Johnno smiled at me every now and then before winking at me and continuing his story.

  “C’mon, mate. I’ll give you a surfin’ lesson.” Johnno stood, but not before squeezing my knee.

  “What, out there?” I pointed toward the huge waves. I stood and Johnno picked up his board and started walking toward the water.

  “Not yet, country boy. I’ll give you the basics on dry land first. I’ll take you out to the wet stuff later if you want,” he said over his shoulder. Johnno’s smile was contagious and I jogged down toward the ‘wet stuff,’ following his footsteps in the sand.

  My new surfing instructor gave me the rundown, showing me first how to lie on my stomach and paddle, which I thought was fairly obvious.

  “Okay, now imagine you’re just in front of a wave. Jump to your feet and bend at your knees
, keeping a low center of gravity. You need to tighten these,” he said, patting my abs, his fingers lingering near my waistline a little longer than necessary, sending a tingling sensation through my spine. His other hand was on the small of my back, encouraging me to keep my spine straight and fixing my posture to get the right balance on the board. I was glad we were on the sand because it was harder than it looked. It was also difficult to concentrate with Johnno standing so close.

  “If you don’t use your abs, you’ll overbalance and wipe out.” Johnno rubbed gently over my stomach again. I looked at his hand, then looked at him, a question on my lips that refused to come out.

  His gaze met mine as we both straightened from our half-crouch position. I stepped off the board as he rested his hands on my waist, squeezing slightly, and I watched his lips part on a soft breath. The air stuck in my throat as I thought of Alex and his blond stubble. If Johnno kissed me, which looked likely, would he kiss the same as Alex? Did all men kiss the same? I wanted to kiss my best friend, but over the last few weeks since leaving Montana, it had begun to seem less and less likely.

  Although it wasn’t Johnno I wanted to kiss, I knew I needed to kiss a man to make sense of the feelings I had for Alex.

  Johnno searched my eyes, watching for my reaction. His gaze dropped to my lips, and he leaned in, brushing his mouth gently over mine. His lips were soft, yet firm, similar to a girl’s, but there was a roughness that no female I’d dated possessed. The scrape of his stubble against mine made my blood hum, my skin prickling with heat that made its way to my cock. One hand cupped the back of my neck, fingers playing in my hair. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss and I opened for him, seeking more of this familiar, yet newish feeling. I remembered the one time I’d kissed Alex, which we’d never spoken about, and Johnno’s kiss was similar. I knew I wasn’t kissing a girl, there was much more to kissing a man. More roughness, possession, heat. Just more. Johnno delved his tongue deep into my mouth, searching, exploring everywhere. Soft noises were coming from his throat and I suspected from mine as well.