by Cate Ashwood
And then Asher’s mouth was on mine, kissing me into the mattress and soothing away the ragged desperation that clung to me like sweat on a blistering hot day.
“I got you,” he said, his voice raw. I trembled at the roughness of it, and my eyes drifted shut. He had me. I was okay. I breathed in, filling my lungs with the scent of him—a scent I didn’t think I could ever get enough of. I pressed closer, wanting to inhale all of him, to take him in as deep as I could.
I startled awake, panting, chasing the aroma of wood and something I couldn’t put a name to. My heart raced and my head swirled with the tattered remnants of the dream I’d left behind. I rubbed the heel of my hand against my eyes.
It was just a dream. It didn’t have to mean anything.
A terrified little piece of me worried that maybe it did, and it didn’t take an expert knowledge of dream analysis to parse out the meaning behind it.
Asher arrived at my place at nine o’clock precisely. The moment I laid eyes on him, my face flooded with heat. All I could think about was the way he’d looked in my head the night before—unconscious images of his body, naked and sweaty and pinning me down. I could barely swallow around the knot in my throat.
It was a dream, I reminded myself. You can do this. Just be a normal person.
“Hi.” I forced myself to smile at him, hoping I didn’t look like a total idiot, and then I realized he was standing there in a pair of well-worn jeans and a soft navy blue Henley. I looked down at my own outfit—slacks and a button-up shirt.
I should have called Calvin to ask what I should wear. It’s not like this was a date. Two guys hanging out usually didn’t require a collar. I didn’t want to look too closely at the reasons why this mattered to me now. It never had before; when I was out with everyone from work, I was always dressed more formally than the rest and I’d never thought much of it. But now, when it was the two of us, it felt more significant.
Resisting the urge to change, I put my shoes on. He waited, standing in a way that exuded effortless confidence. As I tied my laces, I wondered how he pulled that off.
Being such a neurotic mess all the time, his relaxed self-assurance was a completely foreign concept to me. I tucked away those errant thoughts and stood. None of that mattered. Asher wanted to spend time with me, and we were going to have a nice evening. Letting my insecurities creep in now would only ruin the night.
“Where are we headed this time? Are we going to flip a coin again?”
“We could,” Asher said. “But since you and I both live in this neighborhood, we’ve probably seen most of what there is to see around here. I thought we could check out something a little outside our area.”
I didn’t bother to correct him on that. In reality, chances were good that even if something was located in my neighborhood, I hadn’t been there. We left my house and climbed into Asher’s car. It smelled like coconut and reminded me of the party Megan dragged me to after finals our first semester. It was luau themed. In the middle of winter. Most of the girls were in bikinis, most of the guys were shirtless, and me? I was out of place.
I felt out of place here, too.
We pulled out and Asher drove, the traffic still moderately heavy, despite the fact that rush hour had been over for hours. The car felt small, almost cramped with Asher’s large frame taking up such a significant portion of the front half. I tamped down the urge to squirm in my seat.
We drove for what felt like hours, covering easy topics like how work had been that week. I liked listening to Asher talk about the rec center. His passion for his job was evident in the way he became so much more dynamic when he spoke about it.
I watched him as he told me about the new program they were putting in place for the preschoolers in the fall. With one hand on the steering wheel, he gestured animatedly with the other, and since his eyes never left the road, I was able to observe him without the threat of eye contact.
He was charming and engaging, and I imagined how my students would react to him in a lecture theater. Most days I did all right, but the occasional student nodded off from time to time. I always assured myself it was because they’d likely pulled an all-nighter the evening before to finish a paper or study for an exam rather than the alternative—that I was literally boring them to sleep. I couldn’t imagine anyone falling asleep in Asher’s presence, though. I could barely take my eyes off him.
We’d been in the car for ages, and downtown Seattle was getting farther and farther away. “How far out of the area are we going?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise, but I think you’ll like it.”
“Okay.” I said the word confidently, like I could easily bestow all my trust in him. In reality, I was a bit unsure, but I tried to quell the little niggle of anxiety in my head. It was going to be fine.
God, I hated surprises.
Almost an hour later, Asher exited the highway, and with the help of the GPS on his phone, he navigated us down a quiet road. The trees were thicker here, forest on one side, farmland on the other, until he took a left onto a dirt road and the forest enveloped both sides of the narrow lane.
“You sure you don’t want to tell me where we’re going?”
“We’re almost there,” he assured me. “It’ll be worth it. I promise.”
The depth and sureness of his voice lulled me into calm. I trusted him. He’d pushed me far beyond the boundaries of where I was comfortable the last time I’d been with him, and I’d genuinely had a good time.
A few minutes later, he pulled off into a clearing and parked. When he killed the engine and the headlights went out, I realized how dark it was. In fact, I didn’t think I’d ever experienced such complete darkness. The only light came from the moon overhead, and I could scarcely see my hand in front of my face.
I felt Asher’s arm brush against my leg and I let out a muted yelp, surprised at the sudden contact.
“Flashlights,” he said. “In the glove box.”
“Right. Sorry.” I was a moron. “Just out of my element out here, and still figuratively—and literally—in the dark about why we drove an hour out of Seattle to the middle of an uninhabited spot in the middle of the forest.”
He clicked on the flashlight and handed it to me. “C’mon. There’s a blanket in the trunk.”
As far as answers went, that really fell short, but I got out of the car and rounded the back, holding the light so Asher could see what he was doing. He found what he was looking for, then slammed the trunk shut and nodded toward the field to our left.
“C’mon,” he repeated. “Over here.”
He found a spot and spread the blanket out before lying down on one side, his hands behind his head. He looked so relaxed, so open, like this slice of insanity was the most ordinary thing in the world. Maybe it was, to him, or to other people, but I was left swimming through my confusion, trying to keep up with the expectation of being normal.
I set the flashlight down on the edge of the blanket and lay down next to him.
Asher looked over at me, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Turn off the light and look up.”
The sky was awash with stars, more than I’d ever seen in my life.
“Oh my god.” That didn’t begin to cover it. I’d never seen anything quite so beautiful… and then the stars began to fall.
“The meteor shower is happening all weekend, but tonight is supposed to be the best views. There’s too much light pollution in the city to get a good look, though.”
“This is incredible.” I was in total awe. It looked like something from the glossy pages of one of the National Geographic magazines I’d hoarded in my room as a child. Only this was better. So much better.
Any reservations I’d held on to about Asher shattered apart with each streak of light through the sky until there was nothing left but the glowing of gratitude and amazement.
We lay there in the darkness, watching the sky filled with hundreds of thousands of tiny pinpricks of light, Asher's soft
breathing a cadence next to me.
"Do you come up here a lot?” I asked, keeping my voice hushed. It felt somehow irreverent to speak above a whisper.
When Asher answered back, his voice was quiet, too. "Not so much anymore. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about it, but when I was a kid, I used to go camping near here every summer."
"With your family?"
"No. My dad had left by then, and my mom isn't much for the great outdoors. I tagged along with a friend from school and his family." He laughed. “I think my mom was grateful to get rid of me for a few days every summer, and I loved it up here. It was the highlight of the year for me. Sunshine and swimming at the lake and sleeping outside. It was the best.”
Listening to him talk about his childhood, I wanted to know so much more. I wanted to know everything. I had so many questions I didn’t know how to put into words, so instead I asked, “Are you still friends?”
“Not anymore. We had a falling-out when we were fourteen. I told him I was gay and he asked me if I had a thing for him. My little hormone-addled heart thought he was giving me an opening, and when I admitted I did, he punched me in the face. Never spoke to me again after that.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, imagining the bruised ego and hurt feelings fourteen-year-old Asher must have felt. “It must have been difficult.”
“At first, yeah. I was that awkward teenager still figuring things out, and it probably would have been easier to do that if my best friend didn’t hate me, but we both moved on and things eventually got easier. I don’t think high school’s a walk in the park for anyone.”
I shook my head, forgetting he couldn’t see me in the dark. "I hated school.”
“You must have done well, though. You’re brilliant.”
I waved off the compliment. “My grades were decent, but good grades weren't enough to make up for everything else." I sighed, remembering being such an outsider. “It took some convincing from my father before I would apply for college. By the time I’d graduated, I never wanted to see the inside of another classroom again.”
“So, what changed? You spend nearly every day in one now, and you did how many years of college?”
“Eight.”
“Eight,” he repeated, as though that were some unbelievable number.
“I fell in love with psychology. The first class of the first day of my freshman year and it was like everything clicked into focus. Suddenly the interactions with people I’d struggled to have my whole life, people’s behaviors and responses that had baffled me for so many years, could all be explained. It was clinical. Scientific. It could be observed and measured, and that appealed to me.”
I had no idea what brought on my unanticipated confession. I don’t think I’d ever even told Calvin why I’d ultimately chosen a career in psychology—that my own shortcomings led me to try to better understand the world around me.
“Do you feel differently now?”
“About what?”
“People.”
I thought about it, considering his question until the silence became awkward. “Not as much as I did before. College was a turning point. I made a couple of friends who had more in common with me than any of the kids in high school. Although that never would have happened if I hadn’t met Megan.”
“Megan?”
“My ex. She and I were put together for a group project the first week of Psych 101, and despite my ineptitude with conversation, she decided she liked me.”
“It’s not that hard to imagine,” Asher said quietly.
I felt heat creep into my cheeks, and I was grateful he couldn’t see me. I blushed more than most people in normal circumstances, but with Asher, my autonomic nervous system seemed to be operating at higher levels than usual, vasodilation triggered over seemingly nothing. I was unsure of how to respond to his comment, and so I pretended he hadn’t spoken and kept talking.
“I didn’t even realize we were dating until she answered her phone our second time out and told her friend she’d call her back because she was on a date.”
“Hmm… So accidental dates seem to be your MO.”
I laughed. “I told you I’m not great at social cues.”
“The fault for that one lies completely with me,” Asher said sincerely. “I misread both the situation and your signals. I still feel shitty about it. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s not only your fault. I should have realized long before the end of the night how you were interpreting things, but I don’t have much experience with dating. I understand the psychological triggers to attraction and pair-bonding, but real-world experience isn’t something I’ve had a lot of.”
“For what it’s worth, it was a good night, date or not, or I wouldn’t have tracked you down and risked utter humiliation by showing up unannounced at your office.”
“I’m glad you did.” I was being genuine. Even the last hour we’d spent together was worth all the anxiety leading up to it. I’d been nervous and worried about how the night would go, and if things would be awkward after what had taken place the last time.
I needn’t have been so concerned. Asher had a way of making me feel at ease, even in situations where previous experience dictated I be uncomfortable. I let myself relax into the blanket, my eyes tracing the pathways of light streaking across the sky. I reveled in the quiet and solitude, just Asher and me. My mind wandered to all the uncertainties I’d had earlier, the unspoken questions that danced around my head the night after the market.
I breathed in, traces of earth and pine filling my lungs. Beyond it, I could smell Asher’s cologne. It fit with the scent of the forest, as though he’d been born in these woods and carried the aroma of the trees on his skin.
“Can I ask you a question?” I was emboldened by the darkness. Anticipation thrummed through my veins, and I needed to know.
“Shoot.”
"When did you know you were gay?" The question was personal—too personal—but the trees that surrounded us created a wall of protection from the outside world. Social mores weren’t imposed upon me here. Not now.
Asher hummed quietly next to me for a moment so brief I almost didn’t register it.
"I always knew I wasn't like the other guys. All my friends had serious crushes on Topanga, but I was more interested in watching the friend and the brother. They both had great hair. What were their names again?”
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Eric and Shawn, I think? I can’t remember. In any case, it wasn't until I was older that I had a name for the way I felt."
I processed that. He’d always known. I wondered idly if it was like that for everyone.
The conversation fell silent then, and my mind began to wander. I thought about what it would have been like for him growing up knowing he was different from most other people. Unbidden, my mind returned to the way I’d reacted when Asher had kissed me.
I remembered the softness of his mouth on mine and the way it felt to have his hands touching me. Reflecting on it now, with some time and space having lapsed between, I realized that there wasn’t anything I hadn’t liked about it. He’d tasted good. It had felt good to have him touch me.
If he touched me again, would I feel the same?
He was right next to me, but the distance between us felt expansive. I inched my hand closer to his, my palm sliding slowly against the soft fabric of the blanket. The urge to touch him, a simple brush of my fingers against his, overtook me. My skin tingled and I shifted, the last of the distance between our hands erased. My knuckles grazed his, tentative at first, and barely palpable.
I did it again, more insistently this time.
My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest. My mouth was dry, my stomach clenched. How was it possible a simple touch of fingers in the dark could feel like the most exciting thing I’d ever done?
Asher moved his hand, turning it palm up. I slid my fingers between his and closed my ey
es as he mirrored the motion. Everything focused on that one point, the small space where we touched. It was so simple, so innocent, and yet it felt as though I’d crossed a line I couldn’t uncross.
I was grateful for the darkness. If I’d been able to see him, I’d have lost my nerve. Emboldened, I turned on my side to face him. I let my fingers see for me, tracing his palm, then up over the smooth skin of the inside of his forearm. I felt his breath hitch as I skimmed my palm across his chest, along the buttery-soft fabric of his shirt stretched across his body.
I paused for a moment, feeling the rise and fall as he breathed. Time stretched, and I could feel the faint beating of his heart. Matching my breathing to his, I continued to move, marking out the line of his sternum to his collarbones, then along the slope of his throat.
Smooth skin became rough where his stubble started, and he turned his head toward me as I slid my hand along his jaw and ran my thumb across his cheekbone, then his lips. Pausing again, I imagined what he looked like.
I’d come this far, acting on a whim based in god only knew what, and now I had a choice to make. Indecision gripped me momentarily as my brain argued the possible outcomes. I could pull my hand back and pretend none of this had ever happened. The car ride home would likely be awkward, but that wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to.
Or I could do what my whole body was screaming at me to do.
His breath ghosted across my lips as I eased forward, erasing the last of the space between us. Even though my eyes had now adjusted to the dark, Asher was still shadows in the blackness, so with only touch as my guide, I leaned in and pressed my mouth to his.
A little sound escaped Asher’s throat as he kissed me. It was hungry and needy, but he kept his hands to himself. I controlled the kiss, starting slow at first, tentative, a simple press of my lips to his, but in the span of a heartbeat it became something more.
The scent of wood surrounded me, and when he opened for me, letting me stroke my tongue against his, I lost myself in him. I shifted, needing to be closer to him, and deepened the kiss. He tasted good, like coffee, but sweeter, and I didn’t know if I’d be able to walk past the café near the college without remembering this moment.