Page 38 of Almost True
It feels like our secret is written all over my face, and I keep expecting someone to ask why I’m acting so strange, but everyone is wrapped up in their own lives. Cami found a decomposing moose in her yard when we got back from the fire and thinks someone put it there because they shot it illegally, Garret is having a fling with a girl he’s decided is his soulmate except that she’ll be leaving in a few days, and Brett is being headhunted for a job in aerospace engineering that would mean leaving before the end of the fire season.
It’s easy to just nod along and let them talk, and soon we move outside to resume our strength training regimen, which gives me an excuse to wallow in my own thoughts.
The thing is, I’m sure I’m straight. That hasn’t changed. But at the same time, another equally valid truth is taking up residencein my brain, and it’s that I’m starting to feel something real for Korren.
Is that even possible?
I’m not sure. I think the way my body is reacting to him is down to the fact that I’ve been deprived of physical affection for way too long, so I’ve latched onto the first warm body that’s come along and started sharing my living space. I could test that theory by finding some random girl to hook up with, just like I was thinking about while we were away at the fire, but after last night, that feels like it would be a betrayal.
I’m starting to get fucking attached to Korren, and that’s dangerous. Because whatever this is, it’s not a relationship.
The rest of the week is torture of the most delicious kind. I get to hold Korren’s hand and sleep with him in my arms all night, and when I wake up with a boner each morning, I can’t do anything about it, because what we have will fall apart if I dare him to let me fuck him.
Every touch sends fire dancing along my skin and has me craving more, so I manufacture reasons to put myself in his space as often as possible. When he’s washing dishes, I put my hands on his hips and nudge him aside so I can reach something under he sink. When he’s cuddling Charcoal on the couch, I sprawl beside him and take up so much space that our legs end up pressed together. When we pull up chairs at work to listen to Uncle Rhodes describing a new fire that we need to keep an eye on, I take a place right beside his and lean forward so my biceps brush against his arm.
I swear he’s doing it too. But maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
Soon enough, Friday night has arrived and we’re preparing for our fishing trip tomorrow.
Partway through my list of everything we need to bring, Korren interrupts me to ask, “Why did your friend invite me?”
“Because he would’ve looked like a dick if he didn’t? Don’t overthink this, Korren.”
“I know, I’m good at that,” Korren says with a shadow of a smile. “I just wondered if this was part of your scheme to sell me on the wonders of Copper Creek.”
“I promise I didn’t secretly plan this behind your back. But if you want to take it that way, sure.”
“Well, if you decide to do it intentionally someday, take me for a backpacking trip,” Korren says, his smile widening. “Preferably to one of those remote forest service cabins Cami mentioned.”
“Are you trying to get me alone?” I ask with a grin.
Korren is blushing, the beautiful man. “Fuck you. That wasn’t the point. I just like backpacking, and after having wet feet for ten days straight, I’d rather not camp.”
“Sure. I’ll keep that in mind.” I keep my voice casual with an effort.
Next time. That feels like a promise.
Chapter 27
Korren
We’re up early the next morning. Well-stocked with food and mosquito repellant, we make our way down to the harbor to meet Rowan. The town is quiet, the morning light glowing soft on the mountains, and I can’t think of a more beautiful place to live.
Rowan waves to us from the end of one of the crowded piers. His hair is tied back in a messy bun, as usual, and his well-used fishing gear is at odds with his polished appearance.
“I have fishing licenses for all of us,” Rowan says as we follow him past row after row of fishing dinghies. “My cousin isn’t a commercial fisher—he got his boat for birding expeditions into the Copper River Delta.”
“He guides tours, doesn’t he?” Dex asks.
“Yep, that’s the one.”
When we finally reach the boat, I’m surprised at how nice it is. Given where we are, I’d expected something a bit more rugged. But it’s a fancy jet-boat with a cockpit big enough to fit a small group—there are benches and chairs for us to sit on, with a table so we can eat our breakfast in comfort.
I claim the forward-facing bench at the table, and even though there are plenty of seats to choose from, Dex slides in opposite me, our legs tangling together.
“You were planning on feeding us, right?” Dex jokes.
“Now that you mention it, I might have raided the bakery on my way past…”
