by Peter Styles
Angel glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Both of us?”
“Why not?” Chance said, trying to hide his unease. “You can do something fun and I can…do something new?”
The grin that spread across Angel’s face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “I can’t wait to hear you scream.”
Chance pressed his back against the seat as Angel pulled off to a side road to work their way back around to the jump. He had a feeling everyone in the whole state was going to be able to hear him screaming.
They parked and got out, and were greeted almost immediately by a man in his upper fifties who wore only a white tank top and pair of black shorts. “You guys feel like taking a jump?”
“Yes,” Angel said immediately.
And somehow that was it. Before Chance even knew what was happening, he was riding a rickety lift up to the top of a fenced-in platform that shook like a tree in a hurricane. A shut—but not locked—gate led out to a platform clearly meant for jumping, with a length of wound cable attached to the end.
Their “instructor” introduced himself but the name went in one ear and out the other. Chance’s teeth chattered. He could hardly breathe. His chest was tight, every nerve inside him rebelling against what he was about to do.
“Which one of you wants to go first, now?”
Never. I never do. Never.
But his voice betrayed him and he blurted out, “Me. I’ll do it first.”
Angel reached out and tapped him on the nose. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” He would never be able to go through this if he saw Angel do it first. That was too much time to overthink, to back out. It had to be done now.
“Right then,” the instructor said. “Sit on down and we’ll get you all set up!”
A little baffled by how all this was going to work, Chance sat down and stretched out his legs in front of him. The instructor’s joints creaked and groaned as he knelt down, wrapping a towel around Chance’s lower legs and ankles, which was then covered with a harness. Another harness was wrapped around his upper body, and both were then connected to the bungee cord.
“Now, I’m going to walk you out to the end of that ramp and you’re going to hop off with both feet like a little kid in a sack race. Easy as pie. Mike is down there waiting to unhook you and everything, and catch you if you fall.”
Mike?
Angel’s hand came out again, settling lightly on Chance’s ass where the instructor couldn’t see. “Still sure you want to do this?”
“I’m going to do it,” Chance said, which really wasn’t much of an answer at all.
With the old man holding tight to the back of his body harness, Chance shuffled forward towards the end of the platform one inch at a time until he was standing right on the edge with his toes dangling over. The view of the city wasn’t as impressive as it had been from up in the mountains, which didn’t do much to help his nervousness. Then, he made the mistake of looking down. His heart lurched in his chest. The drop was dizzying, miles long.
“Two…”
When had the countdown begun?
“One…”
He couldn’t do this.
“Jump!”
His feet wouldn’t move. But that didn’t matter, because a hand on his back gave him a very light shove. Off-balance, he hopped a little to try and regain his footing.
There was nowhere to hop. He fell.
Wind tore through his hair, swirled past his ears. He was in the midst of a screaming tornado, all the blood in his body rushing up to his head. His stomach was nowhere, and his heart was everywhere. He couldn’t see anything but a blur, green and silver. Then, a lurch like stomping on the brakes, and suddenly the blur went in the opposite direction. Up, and then down again. Over and over, gradually coming to a swaying halt almost entirely upside down. The world kept bouncing without him, and his whole body felt full of buzzing insects. The screaming wind continued, but only now did he realize that the sound came from his own throat.
Clamping his mouth shut, Chance stared nervously at a burly man standing only a few feet away with a bored expression on his face. He was a man who had seen too much of everything and way more than enough of this tourist crap.
Must be Mike.
“Hi,” he said weakly.
“Hey,” Mike said, and undid his harness.
Chance slid to the ground, legs too wobbly to support his own weight. The world still spun. His stomach was still falling, somewhere. He was sick and dizzy and stunned, and yet he also felt like his body had grown too large for his skin. And he had an erection from his rushing blood.
When he finally managed to get to his feet again and move out of the way so that Angel could have his turn, he thought that he understood why someone would want to feel this way. His body once again reassured it was on solid ground, he was left with that buzzing feeling, a pounding heart, and strange arousal.
It was stupid, and he would never think it wasn’t stupid, and he was never going to do something like that again for as long as he existed, but he did understand why someone like Angel might like it.
And as Angel jumped, he was grinning. When he dangled from the cord, face bright red and hair all over the place, Chance went over to him and leaned down for a kiss.
“What did you think?” Angel gasped out.
“I think you’re really stupid,” Chance whispered against his lips. “But you’re my stupid.”
Upside down, Angel pumped his fist. “Damn right I am. Mike, cut me down!”
Unflappable Mike did as was asked of him.
For the rest of their stay, Angel remained satisfied and didn’t seem interested in doing anything else that involved a risk. It was a marvel, what a bit of companionship could do for the soul. Chance thought he might not even mind if Angel continued to do things like this every once in a while, just as long as he was there with him. Maybe not participating—he didn’t think his heart would ever be the same—but at least there to watch the fall. Neither of them was going to fall alone again.
Chapter 16
The drive to Wyoming turned out to be far more enjoyable than the journey to Colorado. Nearly a straight shot north, they were in the presence of mountains from dawn to nearly dusk. Over eight hours of driving, which they accomplished in one day this time instead of splitting it into parts. Chance drove for two of those hours, giving Angel time to nap and rest his eyes.
Wyoming’s mountains were a different beast entirely, taller than tall and cold grey with a great deal more snow that covered not just their peaks but ran down much of their length. They weren’t so much inviting as imposing, not a place for two average men to go hiking. Angel could only imagine what it must have been like for the very first humans to set their eyes upon this place. And then to build homes not just in its peaceful valleys and along the lakes and streams, but to actually climb high into those stone fangs and carve out an existence there. It had to take a special kind of person, either fools or the very wise.
“Hey, Ghostie.”
Angel looked over at his boyfriend, at the man he knew he loved now but didn’t know how to speak those words. His notebook was growing fat with pathetic attempts at a song, lines crossed out and entire phrases rejected still; part of him didn’t even know why he tried at all, because who in the world possessed the talent to emulate the sound of that feeling?
Plus, he was aware that love songs were very cliché.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Do you think we’ll get to see a geyser going off?”
Part of him relaxed when the question was voiced. It seemed like something in his heart was always tense whenever they started out in a conversation now, as though he was waiting for something to go wrong. “I don’t know. They go off on a schedule, I think, but I don’t know how close you’re allowed to be to it.”
“I want to see one.”
“I’ll do my best,” he promised solemnly. And he would. He would give Chance anythin
g and everything he desired.
Cody, Wyoming was perched at the very foot of a snowy mountain. When they stepped out of their car to check out a motel, a bitter wind swept inside the vehicle the moment the door was open. Chance hurried around from his side, clamping an icy hand onto his and then pressing close. Angel wrapped an arm around his shoulders, turning his head to lightly kiss his cheek. “Might want to get your jacket later.”
“What about you?”
Even though he was already freezing, Angel said, “The cold is bracing.”
As they neared the doors, Chance muttered under his breath, “The cold will shrink your dick. And then what will I do?”
Angel laughed, holding the door open for him and stepping inside. The nerdy hostess at the front desk eyed up Chance, much to Angel’s annoyance. His boyfriend was way out of her league. Nevertheless, he bit his tongue around what he wanted to say and did his best to be polite.
They received their keys and headed back out to the car to fetch their belongings, and Chance slid into his coat with a shiver. Glancing over at him, Angel turned up the heat in their room and then went over to him. His eyes greedily roamed Chance’s body before the coat rendered him bulky and shapeless. Laying his hands on his body, Angel slid his hands inside the warmth of the garment and started to push it back off.
Chance scowled at him. “What are you doing, you naughty ghost?”
“Undressing you.”
“I don’t think so.” Chance planted his small hands on Angel’s chest, playfully holding him at bay. “I’m hungry, and you aren’t going to be the reason I starve. We can have fun later when I’m not in danger of passing away.”
Angel pouted and then raised his eyebrows hopefully, but Chance kept scowling at him. He gave up, smiling a little. “Fine. My dick is cold anyway. That wouldn’t be fun for either of us.”
Chance giggled. “Maybe I should rub it while you drive us to dinner?”
As they headed back out the door and down the long hallway, Angel smiled over at the man beside him. He was very aware, now more than ever, that their situation had no foreseeable end. He couldn’t imagine what they were going to do once their vacation was over. It was something he didn’t want to think about but which was going to be inevitable sooner or later. And how he dreaded that talk…he didn’t think his heart would be able to take it.
All at once, he had a craving. He didn’t want dinner. He wanted breakfast. The urge came without warning and without reason, water filling his mouth at the desire to sink into a plateful of pancakes the likes of which no grown man should ever eat. He wanted sugar, simple sweetness.
“I saw an IHOP a few streets back,” he said. “What do you say we go?”
Chance looked at him with an understandably perplexed expression. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
“It is.” Letting go of the steering wheel, he patted his stomach with one hand. “The baby wants it.”
A groan rolled over to him from the passenger seat. “I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility.”
“Neither am I,” Angel replied, and then winced. Why was he talking about kids? He sure as hell didn’t want one; they hadn’t even been dating that long, and their future together was uncertain. Something was wrong, making him antsy, but he couldn’t place his finger on the reason and talking about it wouldn’t help.
A smiling hostess seated them at the IHOP, and another arrived almost immediately. “What can I get you boys?” she asked, removing a pencil from behind her ear.
“Coffee,” Angel said. “Strong.”
“Sure, sure,” she said, completely unbothered by his attitude. “I’m going to guess you don’t want any cream.”
“Good guess.”
Chance flicked him a look, obviously reminding him to be nice. “I’ll have hot tea, if you’ve got it. And I’ll take that cream.”
“Coming right up!” She tucked her pencil back where it belonged and then went away again, humming to herself.
Chance turned to him, and he buried his face in the menu to hide. “You’re really tense. Is everything okay?”
“Nothing a good case of diabetes won’t fix.”
That earned him a frown, but Chance dropped the subject. Angel wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
A moment later, the waitress came over with a pot of coffee and a cup of hot water and a tea bag for Chance. “Are you ready to order?”
Chance spoke first, but Angel didn’t really hear his order. His ears were buzzing, the low murmurs of other patrons slowly morphing into a white noise.
“And for you, hon?”
He only just realized she spoke to him, coming back to himself with a slight shake of the head. “The cupcake pancakes. Side of sausage.”
The waitress laughed and smiled at him, her gaze warming slightly. “Black coffee and cupcake pancakes. You’re a bit of a conundrum there, sir.”
Still smiling, she went away to go place their orders.
Angel risked a glance up at Chance, who was also smiling at him. “Real tough guy image you’ve got there,” Chance teased.
Angel smiled, but he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. Something was wrong. Something bad was going to happen. He could feel it. Maybe not now, but something was going to happen. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he went to take another sip of pretty bad coffee.
Over the rim of the mug, he saw Chance suddenly glance at something over his shoulder. A tingle ran down his spine, and he slowly set the mug back down. It thumped against the table, the sound far louder than it should have been.
He turned, but he didn’t have to turn very far before catching sight of a very rotund side, a bulge of fat connected to a portly man with bad hair and a sour grimace.
I know where this is going. I know.
“Do you need something?” Angel asked, keeping his voice calm and amiable.
The fat man said nothing, only narrowed his eyes and moved off past them in the direction of the bathroom.
Chance shivered and leaned over the table, dropping his voice down to a whisper. “That was really weird.”
“You’re telling me,” Angel said. “Weird but normal.”
His boyfriend nodded, fussing with the tea bag in his cup before removing it and dumping in the contents of a creamer, followed by half a sugar.
“Is that it?” he teased. “Live a little, baby.”
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up slightly, as if someone was watching him. When he looked around, there was no one but their waitress heading out of the kitchen in their direction.
And then, there was someone else. A heavy presence right behind him, moving around to stand in front of their table. It was the same man, but this time he held a glass of something red—probably a soda—in one pudgy hand.
“You again?” Angel said, and now he made no attempt to sound friendly at all. Chance’s hand shot out to grab his arm, to stop him, but it was far too late for that.
The waitress stood awkwardly off to the side, eyes wary and wrist trembling under the strain of carrying a heavy tray. “Excuse me, sir. I just need to reach past you. Will you be joining these two?”
The man’s eyes slid in her direction, with the rest of his face unmoving. His hand turned. Angel saw it but there was no time to react, no time to do anything before a full sixteen ounces of chilled soda and ice splattered onto his lap and down the front of his shirt.
His vision filled with red. He struggled, biting his lip hard, vying for self-control as their waitress let out an upset gasp.
We’re in public. Someone else can deal with this. We’re not in the wrong. I didn’t do anything.
His teeth sank into the sensitive flesh of his bottom lip, drawing blood. The taste of copper filled his mouth, caught in his nostrils. The red fog over his eyes closed in entirely. Slamming one hand down on the table, knocking over his coffee, Angel lurched to his feet. He towered over the fat man, leaning down close to stare hard into those hateful eyes.
The man leaned his head back slightly, a hoarse sound pulling up from deep in his throat. Then, he spit. A glob of warm, sticky wetness slapped against Angel’s cheek and then hung there swinging like a pendulum. “Filthy fa—”
He never finished what he was about to say.
Angel shoved him, but he didn’t go anywhere. There must have been a good three-hundred-and-fifty pounds of flesh beneath his hands, and the man was going nowhere because of it.
Then, slowly, the fat man raised his own hands and shoved back.
Bright lights exploded in front of Angel’s eyes and he rolled over onto his side, only dimly aware that the cold beneath him was the floor. Stars danced in his vision, replacing the red momentarily.
“Hey!” Chance yelped. “You ass, that’s my boyfriend!”
No, dummy, Angel groaned. Words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. They were locked inside his head by the pain. That’s exactly the reason he did this.
Someone grunted, and he heard a thump. Other voices rose up around them now, and through it all he heard their waitress drop her tray down on a nearby table and run off, calling for a manager. Blinking rapidly, Angel planted his palms against the floor and pushed himself up.
Chance sat on the ground rubbing the back of his head, clearly having been pushed.
Red roared back in over Angel’s vision. The breath tore from his lungs and he staggered to his feet, reeling and grabbing a table to keep himself standing. The fat man was moving, facing Angel but also looking past him. Clearly, he was done here. He had done what he came to do.
Angel reared back his fist and threw it forward as hard as he could. He had been in plenty of fights before, but never had he actually punched someone. His hands were important to him and he couldn’t afford to damage them. Plus, drunken bar fights normally included a lot more kicking, shoving, and bluffing than actual fighting.