Page 2 of Free Fall #1

When I was younger, I mapped out my own career based on his. I’ve already done most of his documented North American climbs except for some of his harder free solos. I’m not sure why I feel the need to best him at least once, to do something even he hasn’t tried.

But I do.

Peggy Jo sighs. “Lowell isn’t a friend; he’s a search and rescue ranger who helped you when you got hurt.”

“He gets coffee with me sometimes.”

“And Rye isn’t at your level.”

“He doesn’t need to be. He’s a good belayer.”

Rye has a lot of room to grow as a climber, sure, but Peggy Jo shouldn’t be so hard on him.

I hope she isn’t coming down on Rye for the reason most people judge him, because I really want to think better of my mother-figure and mentor.

But old people are set in their ways, including ignorant ones and, as I’ve mentioned, Peggy Jo is getting old. There’s no ignoring that fact.

“You’re so alone, and you don’t even know it.” She sounds sad, and I don’t get it. If I want to be alone, why does it bother her? “When’s the last time you were with someone? Someone you cared about?”

I snort. “Uh, never? I never care about the people I get with.”

I say people because, technically, I’m bisexual, but really, at this point, functionally, it’s just men. I avoid sleeping with women because…

Well, there are a lot of reasons.

One, I live out of my converted van, and most women lose interest in even a quick screw as soon as they figure that out. Two, it’s not fair—or even true, maybe—but I assume women are looking for a relationship, and I’m not interested in one. Three, women are…well…

Peggy Jo will say I need therapy if she ever finds out, which she won’t, but fucking women makes me feel sad inside.

I can’t explain it. When it’s over and done with, I just feel like weeping, and I hate that.

Maybe it’s because of my childhood and how messed up it was.

I really can’t say. But anticipating the post-coital fallout is a real mood-killer every damn time.

Also, women don’t like it when you cry after screwing them.

Men probably don’t either, but it doesn’t happen with them.

Besides, I really like how men fuck. It’s hard, fast, and there’s almost no expectations built in around it.

It’s typically good enough, even when it’s bad, and hardly any guys want to stick around after.

It’s just golden gravy on top of delicious biscuits that I never find myself crying afterward or lying there with a grinding pit in my stomach and a hole burning in my heart.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think it’s women who are the problem. Women are great. Obviously, the problem is me.

“Hookups can only go so far in building a life, Dan.”

“I don’t want to build a life. I want to free solo Heart Route.”

Peggy Jo takes a swig from her water. “Until you complete that, nothing else matters to you, does it? Much less a relationship.”

“Exactly.”

But she doesn’t let it go. “Humans need other humans, and I hate to break it to you, kid, but you’re human. You need relationships.”

“I like getting off sometimes with a hot person, but otherwise, no. I don’t need anyone.”

I hold back from saying I don’t even need you because it seems hurtful, even if it’s true. See? Peggy Jo has taught me some social niceties.

“Dan, I don’t even know what to say to you.”

“Say it’s time to head down,” I reply, kneeling up to gather our things. “I’m ready.”

Peggy Jo doesn’t argue and by the time we’ve rapped the wall and are at the base again, I can tell she’s done with me for the day.

I’m an acquired taste, and Peggy Jo is probably the only person on earth who’s had the chance to really acquire it.

But even she gets quickly weary of what she sees as my “bullshit.” I’m hard to like, impossible to love.

I’m fine with that.

I prefer it that way.

*

Sejin

“Guys, c’mon,” I call into the café’s break area without looking in.

Lord knows I don’t want to see anything if I can help it.

I saw way more than I wanted to a few days ago.

Still, Celli and Gage are good co-workers when they aren’t in the back making out, leaving me to fend for myself with a shop full of customers.

Like now.

New love is cool and all, and one day I hope to experience it again for myself, but it’s also annoying to literally everyone else in the lovebirds’ lives. It must be, right? I can’t be the exception.

“I only have two hands and feet, and the place is packed. Put your lips away and help me.”

The only reason I refrain from telling them Pete doesn’t pay them to kiss and play doctor is because there’s yet another bearded, marginally dirty man standing by the counter looking greedy for caffeine.

The summer tourist season is wrapping up, and soon the autumn sports season is starting.

The place is jammed with folks in from the campgrounds and freshly down from the granite walls of the valley.

Chalk-dusted, calloused fingers distinguish the climbers from hikers usually, but so does the vibrant look in their eyes—an almost holy radiance like they saw God up there on the wall, and they’re giddy from the vision.

Celli exits first, with pink cheeks and eyes that shine almost as much as the climbers’ do.

She’s four years younger than me, short as can be, with curly, sun-streaked brown hair and a smile that crinkles her nose.

I get what Gage sees in her, though I don’t get it, being gay and all, but I can still fathom the appeal of her twinkling adorableness.

Gage, for his part, looks like a model or something, all cut cheekbones and dark, brooding eyes.

His hair swoops down over his forehead, and he spends a lot of time tossing it back off his face.

He moves like everyone wants him and if he were into me, I certainly would be open to a little bed-wrestling.

But alas. Apparently, straight really is a rating on the Kinsey scale.

Still, he’s a good guy, and he’s good to Celli.

They make each other happy, that’s for certain, and that’s sweet.

But it’s also sweet when they do their jobs, and there’s no time like the present.

I give Celli a scolding shake of my finger.

She smiles sheepishly and takes over the counter, freeing me up to make drinks until Gage comes out to deliver them to tables—which he does after a few minutes spent calming down his dick.

We work hard for about two hours and then things slow enough for us to get a break.

Sitting out on the patio together, waiting for the next influx of customers, we sip iced coffees and eat yesterday’s stale cinnamon rolls.

We’re allowed to grab them from where Pete tucks them away in the freezer when he closes the place at night.

They’re still tasty, and I love the texture of the icing when it’s congealed.

“Y’all are gross,” I tease as they steal a sticky smooch. “One day, I’ll find a man, and what a glorious day that’ll be!” I laugh. “Just wait. I’ll give as good as I got with you two. I’ll bring him to work, and you’ll both see so much . You’ll gag daily.”

“She already does,” Gage says with a snide eyebrow lift.

“Ugh!” Celli whaps his arm, and I do too, because seriously ugh . “And just for that, see if I ‘gag’ today.”

Gage chuckles, unrepentant.

“You’re nasty,” I say and pull my long hair up into a fresh ponytail, enjoying the light breeze on the back of my neck. “I’ll make you both pay.”

“Just as soon as you get a boyfriend,” Celli says on a laugh.

So much easier said than done. And maybe, just maybe, I don’t even want one. I mean, the fall season is about to begin after all. Shortly there will be a flood of hot guys, some of whom will want to get busy with me after a day on the rocks. Why lock myself down?

Who am I kidding? I’d love a boyfriend. But I’ll settle for hookups if I must.

“When are you going to download that app I was telling you about?” Celli asks, nudging me with her shoulder. “It isn’t just for sex, but for, like, you know, people looking for real relationships.”

“I already did. Set up the account a month ago.” I grimace. “It’s been useless. Maybe the het side of things is different, but for the gay side, it’s just a bunch of locals getting into things I don’t want to know about.”

Gage pretends to puke, summing up my feelings eloquently.

Celli’s eyes gleam. “Oh, yeah? Who?”

I shake my head. I’m not gonna out people who aren’t ready. Not even when they’re gross guys into skeevy stuff or married men who should know better.

“You’re just in a lull right now. Summer tourists are leaving, but hey, climbing season’s starting,” Gage says, nodding his head toward the forest across the street. “Some new guys should be coming through soon.”

“Thank God.” Though I know it won’t be much more than a series of hookups.

I do really miss being in a relationship.

It’s been three years since I walked away from the mess that was my first love, but I still miss the way it felt to rest in Baylor’s arms or to kiss his hair and feel that he was mine.

I want that again but, you know, not toxic.

I want something healthy and fun, like what Celli and Gage are growing between them, or what my parents had before…

I shut that thought off.

But whatever. If I can’t have that, then I’ll have to settle for a casual screw.

It’s been almost three months since the last time anyone touched me with intent, and my entire body is ready for some mindless sex with any number of the rough and ready men passing through Yosemite Valley. Never let it be said that I’m not easy.

“But hookups won’t get you what you really want,” Celli says, frowning so earnestly that the lines in her forehead cut deep grooves.

“You need to find someone who wants to be serious. Someone who wants to date you, and love you, and treat you right. Not just”—she glances toward Gage—“gag you and move on.”

“I gag a few of them too,” I say. “Don’t think I do all the work, and I hope you’re not doing all the work either.” I narrow my eyes at Gage. “She’s not, is she?”

He smirks. “I put in my time, don’t worry.”

“Good.”

Celli rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Sejin, I just want you to be happy. I can see in your eyes how much you need a man who gets you.”

“Really? In my eyes?” I chuckle. Truly, she’s so cute.

“Yes. You’re desperate for it, and—”

I blow a small raspberry, dismissing her claims. I mean, she’s right, but how embarrassing to have her point it out like that.

Am I that transparent and pitiable? “Don’t worry so much, Celli.

As soon as a few queer climbers show up on the scene, I’ll be too worn out from all the athletic bedroom shenanigans to want a relationship. ”

I press my middle fingers and thumbs together, closing my eyes dramatically and take a deep breath. Laughing on the exhale, I say, “Until then, I just need more practice with patience.”

“And your hand.”

“I wish I had enough privacy to even make good use of that.” I groan and eye the van pulling into the parking lot.

A man and a woman climb out first, and I wonder if they’re part of the Quiverfull movement because they’re certainly dedicated to popping out children if the eight exiting the vehicle are any indication.

Another van pulls up, this one full of Boy Scouts. And then a camper van, followed by a handful of trail hikers.

“This is it!” I announce, swallowing the last of my iced coffee. “Go time!”

“Promise me you’ll give that app another try,” Celli says, as we head into the coffee shop to take our positions before the next onslaught. “It’s supposed to be for people looking for relationships. Not just sex.”

I hate to burst her bubble by telling her that typically gay men don’t use apps to find relationships; they use apps to fuck. Then, if the sex is good, maybe something else comes of it, but typically not. That’s just the way things are. Especially here in Mariposa County.

“It’s not like I deleted it,” I reassure her. “I’m just waiting for someone to reach out to me first.”

“But why? There are so many fish in the sea, Sejin. You just need to cast your line.”

“Then there’s no reason not to wait until the tide turns,” I chirp.

“I know, it’s just—”

The door bursts open, and the afternoon washes in a load of families and a handful of sweaty hikers. It’s busy enough to keep my mind and body occupied until evening when I head out to my car, take out my phone, and to my surprise, discover there’s a new notification.

Someone’s messaged me on Celli’s damn app.

Lo, has my tide turned?

Because from the looks of this guy’s rather spartan profile, he is fine . Wide hazel eyes. Brown hair cut in close curls around his face. Smoking body. He sent a lame opening line, but that’s common enough.

New in town? I respond.

My stomach twists with anticipation. Sex with strangers is always a little dangerous, but that just adds to the excitement. I hope he tops. No, I really hope he tops. Because I’m dying to be plowed hard by someone who knows what they’re doing. It’s been too long.

I rub my cock through my jeans and stare at the screen, willing his response to be not-creepy or otherwise full of red flags.

“Please let me get laid today; please let me get laid today,” I whisper, relief flooding me at the entirely normal reply that flashes onto my screen. “Yes!”

Celli’s right. I am desperate for it. But it’s not a relationship I want right this minute. It’s dick.