Page 65 of Free Fall
I roll my eyes. “Right, sure, ‘just kiss me’.”
“Feel free to put me to the test.”
“I don’t think your sleeping bag will hold us both.”
“Feel free to putthatto the test too.”
It turns out I fit, but barely, and kissing Dan until we’re both panting, rutting fully clothed together and dying to come, is an intoxicating way to spend the night.
In the end, Ibeghim to let us get off, and he denies me. I’m not sure how I feel about that—orgasm denial isn’t a kink of mine. But I’m too exhausted, wound up, and spun out to protest much, or to do more than cuddle in next to him throbbing with desire, tired, and finally I drift off to sleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I feel him leave the bag, and I wake up enough to watch him climb into mine. I’m too drowsy to ask if everything’s all right, and instead simply stretch into the room he’s left behind.
I have a moment’s wonder if that’s what he means when he says everyone moves on. He leaves, and the space is filled, and no one misses him. I open my mouth to ask him to come back over, but I’m so tired and warm now that dreams jerk me back under before I can.
We sleep separately the rest of the night, and I wake in the morning with a strange, wild feeling in my heart. I want to sleep next to him. I want to feel his skin on my skin. And I want it for a long time.
I want it today, tomorrow, and the next day.
And we’ve only just met.
Oh, God. What ifI’mthe seahorse?
*
Dan
Sunrise crests overthe eastern view of the meadows and Tioga Pass. It’s egg-yolk yellow and eye-wateringly bright as I blink awake. Sejin is already up, singing softly to himself with earbudsin as he dances to music I can’t hear. He looks like a dream outlined by the morning sun, long hair blowing in the wind, and his limber arms and legs making angles and arcs. He’s so beautiful.
I know he thinks I’m beautiful too. I’m not sure why because, objectively, I’m a little goofy-looking, but there’s just something about how he gazes at me that lets me know he sees something he likes in my features.
Not long ago, I thought he’d never gift me with that smile I crave, and last night…well, last night I think I came close to seeing it. It was dark, though, and I can’t be sure. But I do know he’s starting to care for me. I mean, we both said things about feelings that we can’t exactly take back, even if they’re embarrassing in the light of day.
I hoist myself up and onto my feet. I need to piss, and I don’t want to think about all the confessions we made last night. Sejin’s so absorbed in the sunrise and his music, that he doesn’t notice me urinating off the cliffs behind us. My mouth tastes disgusting, so I fetch the small mouthwash bottle from the bag and take a swig before swishing and spitting.
When I’m done, I approach Sejin cautiously because I don’t want to startle him. He’s dancing fairly close to the edge—though not too close. He’s being careful.
He must see me out of his peripheral vision because he turns, rips his earbuds out, and grins. “Look! The sunrise is amazing! I was afraid you were going to miss it.”
Holding out the mouthwash, my offer is met with a fist pump, a cute habit of his when he’s excited, and he takes it from me. He swishes too, and then spits over the side of the drop-off. “Hope no one’s down there.”
A quick glance shows us that the meadows are empty, and we’re alone here in the morning light. I grab the speaker fromour camping area, and when he sees what I’ve got in my hand, he connects his phone.
A piano-based KPop track wafts from the speaker, and Sejin takes my hand, leading me into an easy dance on the top of the rock. I’m grateful for the first time in my life for the ballroom dance portion of gym class in middle school. At least I can follow as he steps me through the movements. The sun rises higher, and the yellow breaks into a coral along the path of the mountains. Eventually he drags me close and, as the song changes to another equally appropriate for a breaking dawn, he presses his lips to mine in a soft kiss.
Some part of me is aware this is absurd and romantic, and that I should, by all rights, be alone in my van resting for Monday’s training climb. But I’m swept up by the moment, charmed by the way his hair spills around his face and flies in the breeze and how his smile turns his eyes into those shimmery half-moons, and the way he somehow still smells appealing after a night roughing it.
I’m a little ripe myself, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he presses against me, dotting kisses on my stubbly jaw and back to my lips. He’s singing softly now with emotion and intonation, as if he knows what he’s saying, though we both know he doesn’t. Not entirely anyway. The gist of it, maybe, which makes me curious…
“This song, what’s it about?”
“A once-beautiful thing that lives on only in memory.”
“Ah.”
“Sad, huh?”
But it’s not that sad. I like the concept. Everything passes. Hard things, pretty things. Happiness and suffering. It all slides away like a river rushing downstream. You can’t catch any of it. Memory is the one place those things can live. And beautifulmemories—which are few and far between in my life—are the best, of course.