Page 12 of Free Fall #1

Dan

“Y ou blew it back there,” Rye says as soon as his ex, Andrew, pulled out of the Papa Bear parking lot with Jeanie in the back of his Subaru.

There’d been sticky, little kid kisses back and forth as Rye and Jeanie said goodbye, and Rye had teared up knowing he wouldn’t see Jeanie again until Andrew needed childcare out of him.

But today’s separation hadn’t been nearly as heart-wrenching as when Rye first lost custody to Andrew and was forced to make peace with not seeing his baby every day.

I was there that first week, helping Rye set up his semi-permanent site at Upper Pines Campground.

It isn’t that Rye disagrees with the court that a tent isn’t a suitable home for a small child, but the fact that Andrew insisted on making his full custody legal and permanent , instead of just working with Rye until he could get back on his feet again, had been a betrayal of the worst sort.

And, of course, Rye’s family refused to help him keep Jeanie, saying it was exactly what they’d warned him would happen when he decided to transition.

I know how much it sucks to be alone in the world without any people to call your own or have your back.

It’s been sad to see the far-reaching effects of Rye’s family’s transphobia after he came out to them.

Even his grandparents have abandoned him although he’d been their favorite grandchild before.

“Did you hear me?” Rye asks. “You blew it.”

“Blew what?”

“Blew it! With Sejin!”

I grimace, shaking my head. “There’s nothing to blow but his dick, and I’ll do that this weekend. He’s already agreed to it.”

Rye crosses his arms over his chest, a frown on his face. “You are so short-sighted.”

I frown too. This is bordering on a topic of conversation which Rye has already made clear upsets him—my plans to free solo Heart Route and what that means for my possible life expectancy. Why be long-sighted until I see if there’s going to be a future to see into? It really is as simple as that.

“I live for the moment.”

Rye quirks a brow. “Oh? Do you? Then what’s with these dumb rules?”

“Like what?”

“Like ‘I don’t sleep with friends.’ If you’re really living for the moment, then shouldn’t you be enjoying every last one of them as much as possible?

And if you like someone—and you could like Sejin, he’s very likable—then you should allow yourself to enjoy those people in as many ways as possible, right? To maximize the moment.”

I contemplate that. It’s not like he’s wrong. It’s just that it feels a little dangerous for him to be right. But danger isn’t something I necessarily lean away from, if that isn’t clear by now. Especially not when someone else shoves a challenge in my face and basically dares me to do it.

“Double-dog dare” is a taunt that got me into a ton of trouble in my foster homes as a kid.

Apparently, it’s still a call I can’t resist because Rye’s comments, along with his pointed tone, are making me feel like I need to either defend my cowardice in this regard or rise to the challenge. One or the other.

I decide to try a defense first, though, just to see how it sounds. Because the idea of fucking someone I actually know and care about scares me. Maybe just as much as free soloing Heart Route scares me. Which is, of course, a kind of fear I like a little too much.

“It’s dangerous to care like that about men I have sex with.

Or women,” I tack on, though they are few and far between.

“It’s a distraction from the pleasure, a distraction from my goals both in bed and out.

” Deciding to bring back that early conversation about the dangers of my free soloing plan, I go on, “I think we can both agree the last thing I need is a distraction of any kind.”

Rye chooses to play dumb. “What’s distracting about it?”

I snort. “That’s pretty obvious.”

“No, it’s not. Spell it out.”

I can tell Rye knows exactly why caring about someone I fuck is a distraction, and he’s just making me say it.

Why, I’m not sure yet, but fine . I’ll spell it out like he’s asked.

“I don’t need any more attachments to the ground when I’m free soloing up a wall.

Fucking someone I like enough to call a friend could become a slippery slope to… ”

I swallow, feeling sick.

“Something deeper.” I put my hand over my heart like I’m trying to block any sort of wily, human attachment from hooking into me there. “The last thing I need is to get up there and feel held back by someone waiting down here for me.”

“What if that’s exactly what you need?” Rye insists. “What if you get up there and instead of doing something stupid, you play it safe because there’s someone you care about, and you want to get back down to them?”

“I’m always considering safety when I’m on the wall.”

Rye huffs. “Look, jackass, there are so many good things that come out of having friends, and if you insist that free soloing Heart Route is your ultimate goal in life, then we have to accept there’s a decent probability you’ll die going for it.

So, before you go out, don’t you owe it to yourself to truly enjoy all the time you have left by spending it with people who make you feel good? ”

“He can make me feel good without being friends with me. He already did.”

Rye eyes me for a long moment. “Mm, okay, well…” He shrugs. “I can see there’s no reasoning with you. As usual.”

“I’m an incredibly reasonable person, and what you’re talking about just isn’t logical or judicious. What you’re talking about is all feelings and emotions. Those get you killed when you’re free soloing.”

“Or they protect you. They can tell you ‘No, this isn’t worth it,’ or ‘This is too scary,’ or ‘This doesn’t feel right.’ Feelings and emotions can save your life, Dan.”

I think about that and reluctantly agree. “I don’t see why that means I have to be friends with a guy I fuck.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Rye says. “Forget I brought it up.”

“I will.”

“Fine.”

“It’s forgotten.”

“Liar.”

I am a liar, because that mocking call of double-dog dare is in the back of my mind, as is my still unfulfilled desire to see Sejin’s real, genuine, happiest of smiles directed at me .

And despite telling myself enough orgasms will earn it for me, I’m not actually sure of that.

The photo was taken outside, wading in a creek, and there’s no indication that sex was in any way involved in the photographer capturing that look.

For whatever reason, I really don’t want to die on Heart Route without having seen that smile. Just once.

Or twice.

Or a million times.

Fuck. See? Emotions really are dangerous, and I haven’t even tried being friends with the guy yet.

Yet?

Oh, Rye, you asshole. What have you done?