Page 21 of Every November

“Sure.”

I flip through channels until I land on a nature documentary, snowcapped mountains filling the screen. “This look familiar?” I ask.

“Can’t say I’ve seen that particular mountain,” he jokes.

“Wow, some mountain guy you are, huh?”

“You don’t even know if I spend time in the mountains.”

“Do you?”

“Well, yeah. It’s kind of my job.” He takes a sip of water, shifting under the blanket. “I’m a design engineer for an outdoor company. I design gear, so I spend a lot of time in the mountains testing it.”

I stare at him. “So you are a mountain guy.”

“I’m a mountain professional. Totally different.”

His comment catches me off guard, and I laugh. Fully laugh, which almost never happens. It makes my chest feel warm, especially when he grins at me like he’s proud of himself.

“This is weird, right?” Evan says after a while. “Like… good weird. But weird.”

“Yeah.” I glance at him. “Good weird.”

He smiles again. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad our friends became friends, and that we ran into each other again tonight.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

And I mean it.

CHAPTER 10

Evan

Iwake up, and for a second, I don’t remember where I am until my eyes land on the trophies in my childhood bedroom.

My body is sore in all the right places—a deep ache in my ass and thighs that reminds me exactly what Marcus and I did last night. I stretch, and it pulls in a way that makes me grin at the ceiling like an idiot. Worth every second.

Marcus is unlike anyone I’ve hooked up with before. It’s not just that he’s ridiculously good in bed—though he is—it’s that he knows exactly what he’s doing with his hands, his mouth, and that low, commanding voice. I don’t bottom for just anyone. It requires a level of trust I don't hand out casually, and for some reason, I was willing. No, not just willing, begging for it.

Despite what I said last night about it being a good weird, it was actually really nice. Instead of him bolting or kicking me out, we talked. It wasn’t about anything deep or overly personal, but he laughed at something I’d said, and it almost looked as though he surprised himself. I liked that, liked being the one who got that reaction out of him.

It sucks that he goes back to Chicago today. Not that I’d have seen him regardless, but I would’ve liked the option to maybe sneak away and get lunch with him. Maybe swap another blowjob in his car. I’m sure we could’ve this morning if I’d stayed, but while we were watching TV, he started to doze off, and he didn’t ask me to stay or even reach for me, so leaving seemed like the safer option. I don’t know the etiquette for that since I don’t usually do sleepovers, or want to. Do you wake a guy up? Stay the night and hope he doesn’t wake up wondering why you’re there in the morning? I figured dipping out would be better, so I called a ride and let myself out without waking him.

The whole way home, I kept turning the night over in my head, less “what does this mean” and more just… replaying the night. I wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime, geography permitting.

Maybe next year, because whenever we happen to be home at the same time, we have a great time together.

Reaching for my phone, I open the text thread with the hotel link he’d sent last night. There’s nothing else there, and we didn’t make any promises. We could keep it that way—should keep it that way—but I entertain the thought of texting him later.

Or now.

I type out, Hope you slept well. Then delete it. A morning after text seems a little desperate.

Instead, I save his contact as “Marcus” and lock my phone.

He goes back to Chicago today, and I go back to Seattle tomorrow. And who knows, maybe next Thanksgiving we’ll do it all over again. Or maybe I’ll eventually text him before then and see what happens. No harm in that.

Right now, though, I should get up. Shower, change, go downstairs, and be present. Eat breakfast with my niece and nephew, help my parents with whatever they need, and soak in my last day at home. Maybe grab lunch with Derek since I’ve kind of blown him off two years in a row for Marcus. Though, I don’t regret that at all.