by Laura Stone
He propped himself up on the bar, his chin on his hand, and made a “go on” gesture with the other.
“The last thing you’d want to do is make a spectacle. Forget what the movies want you to believe; we hate that sort of thing. Sweet and heartfelt: that’s the way to a person’s heart. And when you’ve been wounded…” She looked off at the crowd, shaking her head a bit as she absentmindedly patted Oliver’s knee. “You just want to hear that the other person was sorry. Even if they weren’t fully in the wrong. You can’t beat yourself up for wanting a proper education, Ollie. And if this Seth is as wonderful as you’re painting him to be, and if he’s an adult, he’ll know it. It might take a lot of talk on your part for him to see it, but he’ll know it.”
“So, what? I just corner him and say I’m sorry over and over until he finally falls into my arms? You’re a terrible planner.” Oliver blinked a little. He was starting to feel the effects of the beer.
“Pfft, shut your hole, I’m not finished yet. No mind for romance, this one.” Moira rolled her eyes at the bartender, who nodded briefly and moseyed to the other side of the bar. “Write him a letter. Use your best paper, your best penmanship, and tell him just what you told me. You’d make the devil himself choke up, you would. Have it delivered to him at the theater and be sure to leave him a way to contact you, but don’t make it seem like he must.”
Oliver stared at her for a long moment. “I am so sorry I told you that you were a bad planner. You are a really, really good planner.”
“This is why I keep you. I love being showered with compliments. Give us another.”
Oliver grabbed her hand. She was so warm and nice. He was so glad they were good friends. “I’m so glad we’re good friends. You are so nice. You’re like my own personal fairy of awesomeness.”
She leaned back on the stool and laughed, giving his hand a squeeze. She had a nice laugh. “You’re my own personal awesome fairy too, lad.”
He laughed and then forced an angry look. “Hey, that’s offensive.” He leaned close to her and whispered, “You’re not supposed to call me that.”
Her face looked serious, and Oliver felt terrible for making his really good friend look serious. She was looking at him as if she was worried. No, that was wrong; he shouldn’t do that to his best friend.
“Oliver, darling… I think you might be quite drunk.”
“I am no-not,” he hiccupped.
“Oh really? Ollie, me love?” She leaned in close and cupped his cheek. “Fancy a snog? Or we could pop back to my place for a shag…”
“What? Moira! I just told you about the love of my life! And I thought you were a good Catholic g-girl,” he stammered, pulling back.
“Oh, good. I was worried you’d lost your tolerance. I don’t want to have to go trawling for a new drinking partner.” She ordered another round. “And as for the good Catholic girl, I am!” she said, playing at being affronted. “The Church says I must repent! So I’d better do something to repent for, aye? And why waste people’s time with something nonsensical, that’s how I see it. Give the priests something sexy to think about, and then I’m helping them follow the commandment to repent, too.” She tapped her temple and fixed him with a shrewd look. “I didn’t get into Cambridge just because of me looks, lad.”
“You could have, though. You’re really pretty for a girl.”
Moira gave his knee a squeeze. She muttered, “Heavens preserve us… Oliver, if you ever think you’d like to try the other side of the playing field, promise you’ll come to me first.”
He took both of her tiny hands in his, blinking owlishly, and said with all seriousness, “I promise.”
She howled with laughter, pushed a fresh beer toward him and held her glass in a toast. “Here’s to hoping. And here’s to me and here’s to you, and here’s to friendship and laughter. I’ll be true as long as you, and not one moment after.”
They clinked glasses again and drank. Moira pulled his arm down to keep him from drinking too much. “If the good Lord grants me wish, I’d rather not have the catch be you gacking all over me just when I get my knickers off.”
Oliver thought he understood most of that. He took a long drink of water. Where did that come from? Moira was petting his hair. God, he loved that. “I love that. I love you, too. You’re so nice.”
Moira sighed. “Feckin’ luck of the Irish…”
* * *
Oliver smiled, shushing himself as he stumbled out of his pants, trying to pull them over his shoes and failing. He knew he was leaning against his bed, but when did his bed get so low? He reached with one hand and concentrated on pushing a shoe heel off of one foot, then the other. He leaned back on his hands and flapped his feet until his pants worked their way off his long legs. He raised his arms in a victorious cheer, falling back and sliding to the floor with a thump.
He put his fingers to his lips, shushing himself again. He felt so much better now. Everything was spinning but in a nice way, like those swings at the fair. There were stars at the corner of his vision, and that was nice, too. He liked stars. Seth was a star now; Oliver loved him. Seth was a star and Oliver loved him and Moira—gosh, how great was she? She was going to help him put his life together. That was a good friend.
He nodded to himself. She was. He was going to write a letter. He would say all the things he had in his heart and he would give it to someone who would give it to Seth and then Seth would find him and they’d be happy again and there would be kissing and touching and loving and they wouldn’t leave each other again and that was just the best idea ever.
Oliver knuckled away the tears under his eyes and exhaled slowly. “Okay. Okay.” He rolled to his hands and knees, clutching at the side of his bed as he tried to pull himself back up. The blanket started to slide off the mattress and Oliver was sliding down, too.
“No!” he cried softly as he fell to the floor, the blanket falling on top of him. This was okay. This floor had been here for centuries; it was good to sleep on. It was a good foundation. Just as he would have with Seth. He slapped blindly at the bed until he felt a pillow and pulled it down to the floor, curling up inside his blanket to make a cocoon of warmth.
Moira was a good friend. But she drank too much. Oliver thought he should mention that sometime. Maybe he should call her? No, she was… where did she go? Oliver blinked, trying to think. Enough light came from the streetlamp outside the window for him to see the dust bunnies under his bed. That was funny. Bunnies. And gross. He was being gross and unclean and Seth was so clean all the time and maybe he wouldn’t like Oliver being dirty, with dirty floors?
He thought about taking a shower, but he was so warm and he didn’t think he could stand up even if he wanted to. Also, he could hear the shower already. He looked down at himself. No, he was still on the floor. Moira! Moira came home with him. And Janos! Janos had come to the pub with his buddies. And they did shots because Janos was happy that Oliver didn’t love him. So dumb that not loving someone made him like you.
Oliver sat up, smacking his head on the edge of his table. “Ow.” Moira! She was here! With Janos! Oh, that was nice. He wanted his friend to be happy. She had been really happy when they left.
Sinking back down to the floor, Oliver smiled to himself. He was going to be happy and Seth would be happy and Moira was happy and he didn’t really care about Janos and was that mean? No, it was okay because he was just thinking it, not saying it to Janos’s face. That would be mean.
He pulled his pillow against the length of his body, wrapped his long limbs around it and smiled. Warmth in his core and hope in his heart, he fell deeply asleep.
* * *
WINTER, FIVE YEARS AGO
Dear Oliver,
I’m beginning to regret my previous stance on not being a stowaway in your parents’ luggage. I miss you terribly. I wish that Thanksgiving had worked out, but the Andrewses’ ski trip sort of ruined that. Not that I’m upset with you! Only that I had to wait longer. I just wanted to remind
you that I am looking forward to seeing you over the Christmas break.
Looking forward. That’s not right. I’m desperate to see you. God, I want to hold you and kiss every inch of you, and we need to be together as much as possible. I don’t care if it’s at my home, your parents’ house, in a car or on a haystack. Well, I do care about the haystack; that can’t be as fun as Hollywood would lead us to believe.
I just want to touch you, remind myself of how warm you are, the way your eyes flutter closed when I kiss you, your smell, the noises you make… God. I am going to need a new shirt of yours, babe, because the swim team shirt you sent me in October has lost its you-ness. It’s hard to go to sleep at night without that smell. (Baby, I fucking love how you smell. God, I am so lucky.)
The last letter you sent me… I swear, Oliver, I miss being with you so much it’s like a phantom limb or something. You know how hard it is for me to open up to people, but never to you. Not ever. Sometimes it’s still hard for me to believe that you care. Not because of anything you do, but because I’m still just not used to it. People caring.
Oh my God, I love you. Just… I’ll tell my dad you’re going to pick me up at the airport, and let’s just be somewhere, just the two of us. Can we? I’ll even make a point of wearing a very simple outfit, hint hint.
Eight more days. God, I love you and miss you so much,
Seth
Oliver held the letter to his face and smelled the faint scent of Seth’s cologne lingering on the paper. He checked his clock one more time, glad to see that it was finally time to head to the airport and pick Seth up. They had two whole weeks with nothing to do but enjoy each other. Seth’s dad hadn’t been too happy about missing the excitement of meeting him at the airport, but he’d relented after Seth had explained.
He wasn’t sure how he would look Mike Larsen in the eye after today, sure that he would know that Seth just needed to “be” with Oliver. Well, at least Big Mike knew Oliver’s intentions with his son were honorable. Maybe not for the next few hours, but big picture-wise he had nothing but the purest of intentions. He smiled to himself as he grabbed his coat and car keys. His parents were letting him take the big luxury sedan. He bit his lip and grinned as he thought about surprising Seth with the seat warmers.
At the terminal he tapped his fingers nervously against his leg and watched the doorway for any sign of perfectly coiffed brown hair. Seth had texted Oliver that they’d landed and to meet at baggage claim. Oliver read the message again, scrolling back up to make sure he’d not been mistaken about the carousel number. His phone buzzed with a new message. “Look up.”
Seth was standing a few feet away, grinning hugely. Oliver pocketed his phone, his own face breaking into a wide smile. They met in the middle and hugged tightly, letting go after a moment and shifting their bodies away from each other. Kansas was still Kansas. Oliver kept grinning at him, looking down at his shoes as Seth bumped his shoulder.
“Please tell me you didn’t check fourteen bags,” Oliver said. “I have got to get you out of here and give you a proper greeting.”
Seth hummed and tugged on his arm, leaning over to his ear to whisper, “Just the one. And I feel the same way.”
As the light flashed and bags began to slide down the conveyor belt, Seth walked briskly to the carousel. Oliver laughed at the sight of a large plaid bag that came bumping down, covered in brightly colored ribbons.
“What?” Seth asked. “I heard that it helps you find your bag more quickly!”
Oliver grabbed the handle and tugged it off the belt. “That’s only when it’s a black bag, silly.”
Seth laughed, practically bouncing on his toes as they wheeled the bag to the parking garage. Oliver got it situated in the trunk along with a carry-on bag as Seth climbed into the passenger seat. Before Oliver turned on the car, he checked to make sure the tinted windows were dark enough from the outside. He’d had the foresight to park the car facing the concrete wall so that the front windshield wouldn’t be visible to anyone else in the parking garage.
Oliver clicked open Seth’s seat belt and murmured, “Come here.” They met over the middle of the console, lips tentative at first, both smiling too hard to kiss properly, until Seth slipped his hand into Oliver’s artfully messy black hair and tugged a little.
“I missed this the most, I think,” he said, pulling Oliver back for a real kiss.
Oliver held Seth’s face in both hands, pressing their foreheads together gently. “I missed you the most. All of you.”
Seth whined a little in the back of his throat as they came together again, savoring every touch, taking their time to reacquaint themselves with one another. Oliver slid one hand to the small of Seth’s back and held their bodies as close as he could with the barrier between them. His mouth moved from Seth’s to his ear and he whispered, “Missed you. So, so much.”
Seth pulled back, a watery smile on his face. “Me, too. Please tell me you have a plan, or I’m going to tell you to just get in the back seat already, and damn the consequences.”
Oliver laughed, feeling light and happy for the first time in months. “Oh, I have plans,” he said, turning the car on. Seth settled back, squirming a bit to get comfortable in the deep leather bucket seat. He reached across and drew his fingers in patterns along Oliver’s neck and shoulder as they pulled out of the parking garage and headed home.
* * *
“Oliver…”
Oliver mouthed along Seth’s neck, his hands working at tugging up Seth’s sweater so he could feel the soft skin stretched over taut muscle. “Mm, yeah…”
“No, Oliver. Oliver.”
Oliver pulled back, hazy with lust. He was straddling Seth in the passenger seat, which was pushed back as far as it would go. They were parked in a secluded area of a state park campground. “What?”
Seth closed his eyes and laughed. “God, I missed you.” He tugged on Oliver’s hair, already going wild from being handled roughly. “My ass is on fire. The seat warmers were nice for a while, but I feel like I’m being charbroiled here.”
“Oh! Oh, right.” Oliver blinked, trying to remember what to do that didn’t involve his lips on Seth. He twisted back to the dashboard and pushed at a few buttons.
“Thank you. Now get back here and show me how much you missed me.”
Oliver grinned. “Yes, sir.” He ran a hand through Seth’s hair, relishing how thick and soft it was. How long it had been since he’d had the opportunity. Seth inhaled sharply, smiling at Oliver with nothing but love in his expression. Taking Seth’s hand in his, Oliver curled their entwined hands up to his chest as he leaned down to press their lips together again. His lips parted when Seth moaned and ground his hips up against him, using the opportunity to slide his in tongue.
Seth pulled his hand away, still kissing him. As Oliver moved his mouth along Seth’s jaw-line and down to his neck, he shivered briefly. He realized that Seth wasn’t touching him. Seth was still smiling serenely, but was pulling back. He had nowhere to pull back to, Oliver thought, but that wasn’t true. They were standing outside in the woods. That was why he was shivering; they were outside by the lake in December. He reached out—how had Seth moved so far away?—and the smile on his face wavered as Seth moved farther and farther into the distance.
Seth was calling to him, but Oliver couldn’t hear what he was saying. The wind had picked up—because it was winter and it was cold; why weren’t they inside where it was warm?—and it blew away Seth’s words. He cried out, but Seth shook his head. He couldn’t hear, either.
Oliver was shaking with cold and dread. Seth looked as though he was shouting. The wind picked up, and Oliver strained with everything in him to hear what Seth was trying to say.
“Don’t leave me here—”
“Seth! I’m not!”
But Seth was practically disappearing into the background, and why the hell did they ever get out of the car? Oliver was beginning to panic. He couldn’t see how to get to Seth, and now Seth was t
urning away and Oliver could barely see him anymore and he was so cold.
“Seth!” He was practically shrieking, trying to get Seth to listen, to stop, to come back. Oliver looked around, trying to find a way to him. There was nothing, no bridge, no ground, just Oliver and the car, and Seth was on the other side of the lake, and the wind whipped through and slammed the door shut—
Oliver jerked awake. He rubbed at his face. He felt like death warmed over. His bedroom door had slammed shut, waking him from his dream. But it wasn’t just a dream; it was a memory, too. That day still clung to him, how much he’d just needed to hold Seth after being apart for so many months. But they hadn’t gotten out of the car; they’d kissed and touched and brought each other off so quickly it would have been embarrassing if they weren’t both so needy.
He lay back, shivering as he tried to push away the dread of the nightmare. “What the…?” He looked around and saw that he was tangled up in a blanket on the cold floor, only wearing briefs. He sat up and regretted it immediately. He grabbed his head, pressing at his temples to keep his skull from flying apart.
The wind blew through his window, ruffling the cover on his lap. A memory of prying open the window in case he needed to throw up—stupid drunk logic—came back to him. He crawled to the window on all fours and pushed until he could force the old thing to shut completely. He slumped back against the wall and breathed through his nose until the nausea wound down.
That day—that visit—was the last time they’d been together without the worry of the future pressing in on them. The plan for Oliver to join Seth in New York after graduation was still the intention. Their families had given them the space to be together during the break, understanding that they were older and smart about their relationship. They hadn’t given them the all-clear to be intimate in their respective houses, nothing like that, but they didn’t harp on them to pay attention to the time or to leave doors open, just gave them room to love each other, whatever that meant.