Page 96 of The Aster Valley Collection, Vol. 2

BJ

If you asked my friends why I came to Aster Valley, Colorado, they’d probably say it was to find a hot skier or ten and get laid.

If you asked my social media followers, they’d tell you it was so I could develop fresh content and yoga flows for them.

If you asked my family—well, with the exception of my little sister—they’d say it was for the fresh air and beautiful scenery.

And none of them would have been wrong, exactly.

But there was another reason I’d come to Aster Valley. A reason I could never admit out loud to another human being.

Ever.

I mean, except if I was drunk, and alone at a bar, and it was Valentine’s Day, and the person I told was a total stranger, because then apparently I couldn’t shut up.

“Dude, like… all I know is that this random guy wrote a killer to-do list and musta… musta accidentally dropped it on the ground, and my—” I stopped to let out a discreet burp that tasted remarkably like the Red Hot Valentine shooters that were on special.

“My sister saw it on TikTok and sent it to me. And as soon as I read it, my heart did that epiphany thing where it, like, stopped beating for an entire second, and like…”

I lost my train of thought as a platter of loaded potato skins moved past me down the bar. Those looked amazing.

The woman on the stool next to me made a rolling gesture with her hand. “And then?”

I blinked at her. “And then what?”

“You started this story by saying the reason you came to Aster Valley was to fuck all the menfolk.”

I nodded. “Right. Exactly.”

Her grin was kinda cute. “But then you mentioned a to-do list.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah.” I sighed dreamily. “The best to-do list.”

“Either you’ve had too many shooters, or I haven’t had enough. What does a to-do list have to do with the fucking?”

“How else am I supposed to find him?” I asked incredulously.

“Find who?”

I threw up my hands, knocking over an empty shot glass and accidentally elbowing someone on the other side of me.

“Sorry,” I murmured before turning back to my stranger bestie.

“The to-do list guy! He’s perfect. For me.

I mean, he’s perfect for me. He obviously understands the connection to our collective life force through Kundalini meditation and body movement and he waxes.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone who gets me on multiple levels like that? ”

“Uh… no?”

“Well, it’s darn hard,” I assured her, raising my finger to get the bartender’s attention. “As in, impossible.”

The woman nodded. “And this to-do list went viral on TikTok?”

I looked at her in confusion. “It did?”

“That’s what you said,” she said with a laugh.

“Oh. No. See, my sister’s got this friend who’s always posting cute videos on TikTok.

Like there’s a video where this guy taught his dog how to bake cookies, except because of the whole ‘dogs being allergic to chocolate’ thing, he can only make—” I waved a hand.

“You know what? That’s not important right now.

The point is, my sister’s friend found this list on the ground in the Denver airport when she was flying back home for Christmas—she goes to school out east, I think—and posted it.

And my sister saw the video and sent it to me because, hello, I’m gay. ”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Anyway, she thought it was sweet, and she knows I’ve always been stupidly romantic and idealistic. But she also knows I don’t believe men like that actually exist in real life.”

“Men who make to-do lists?”

I sighed. “Not just any to-do list. This one was like… like perfect . He does the same kind of yoga I do. He’s on PrEP, which probsies means he’s into dudes.

Also? He sends flowers to his grandma. How sweet is that?

And he practices gratitude and random acts of kindness. And let’s not forget he waxes, m’kay?”

“Waxes?”

She was missing the point. “The point is, this list stuck in my craw. I kept asking my sister to ask her friend about it, and finally the friend just sent my sister the list to send to me. And ever since she gave it to me, I feel like one of those cheesy teens in a cheesy teen romance where I’m pining away for a Romeo who doesn’t actually exist. Except, this one does.

He’s here. In Aster Valley. I just need to find him. That’s why I’m here this week.”

“How do you know he’s here?”

She was kind of slow on the uptake, wasn’t she?

“It’s a to-do list on an Aster Valley Mountaintop Realty notepad page.”

She tapped her fingers on the bar. “Maybe he’s already in a relationship. With an Aster Valley hottie.”

I hated this woman with the fire of a thousand Taco Bell bean burritos.

“He’s not . He specifically mentions a roommate, not a partner.

And if he’s a queer, single man, I know exactly how to find him.

” I patted my phone lovingly, and it immediately lit up with a Grindr notification, which proved I was on the right track.

“I might have to fuck a few frogs first, but my Romeo is waiting for me. I just know it. Some things are meant to be.”

Or maybe they weren’t.

By the time Wednesday rolled around, I’d either been fucked or rejected by half the valley, and I still hadn’t found anyone who could possibly be my dream guy. I was running out of condoms and patience.

“I’m starting to think you might be giving yourself a sex addiction,” my friend Rocco said calmly Wednesday morning over coffee.

I shifted uncomfortably on my chair. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

He took another sip and stretched his legs out before crossing them at the ankles. “How do you mean?”

We were sitting in the small kitchen of the vacation home we’d rented halfway up the ski mountain.

Rocco had a coffee, a store-bought danish, a dish of almonds, and the remnants of three pieces of fruit in front of him.

I had one small bowl of greek yogurt and muesli, but I was eyeballing the danish like a slavering wolfhound.

“All I want is a real relationship. The big love. Someone who shares my passion for movement and meditation, helping others, enjoying the outdoors. I want someone who’s kind and caring, gentle, understanding.

” I sighed and stabbed my spoon into the yogurt in dissatisfaction. “But it’s impossible to find.”

And time was running out.

Rocco nodded and set down his mug. “Babe, and I mean this with all due respect, it is impossible to find when you’re only looking for it on Grindr.”

I hadn’t told him about the to-do list or my plan. That would have been humiliating. But he knew I was looking for love, and it was becoming clear to both of us I was looking in all the wrong places.

“Yeah. I just thought… maybe there’d be somebody else on there who was like me, you know? Someone who was looking for the same things I’m looking for.”

“Enlightenment and incredible head?”

“No!” I grabbed an almond from Rocco’s bowl and threw it at him.

He caught it with annoyingly quick reflexes and popped it in his mouth with a grin.

I plunked my elbows on the table. “Actually… Yeah. That’s exactly what I want.

I want to root out the one gay guy in Aster Valley who has a giant heart…

and, let’s be honest, a giant dick wouldn’t go amiss. ”

He laughed and tossed a handful of almonds in his mouth, crunching happily before responding. “Now we’re talking. You want a guy who has it all. The heart and the bedroom skills.”

I shot him a grin. “Bingo. Is that too much to ask?”

He stood up and shoved a big hunk of the pastry into his mouth. If only he didn’t live in Alaska, I’d consider him seriously despite his “no coworker hookups” rule. But he was married to his hometown, and I was married to never moving to small-town Alaska.

“Not too much to ask in general. In fact, you shouldn’t settle for less.

But why the rush to find Mr. Perfect this week?

Just relax and enjoy yourself while you’re here.

Plenty of time for true love once you get home,” he advised.

“Your chances have to be better there than in a small town like this anyway.”

I nodded half-heartedly. Rocco meant well, but he was wrong. And he clearly hadn’t spent much time in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

I knew for a fact that the guy with the to-do list lived in Aster Valley. If I couldn’t manage to find him this week, I had no hope of finding him later. It was enough to make me feel a little bit panicked.

“Help me on the slopes today,” Rocco said around a mouthful of delicious trans fats. “I need an experienced videographer getting B-roll. Give your ass a break, and come with me.”

I sighed and stood up. “Fine. But I’m not an expert skier.”

“You live in Jackson. You teach yoga at a ski resort.”

“I can ski, okay? I just said I’m not an expert. I don’t ski backwards and do trick shit like that. But I’ll do my best.”

Rocco handed me the last piece of his danish. “That’s all I ask. I’ve got a pro skier to do the backwards skiing. I just need you to get wider angles and pretty views. I’ll pay you in junk food.”

I winked at him. “Man after my own cholesterol-compromised heart.”

When we got to the mountain, I had to admit Rocco was right. I’d needed to get outside. The sun was shining, and the cold air was fresh and clean. It felt good to stretch my muscles. To clear my head and regain some perspective.

When Rocco had originally posted in our SocialAdrenaline content creator forum that he was going to be in Aster Valley filming classes on the mountain, I’d seen it as a sign.

I’d told Rocco I’d split the cost of the rental and help him shoot his classes if he’d help me shoot mine, but the trip had mostly been an excuse to go to Aster Valley and sniff around for my mysterious list writer.

I’d scoped out a meadow on the backside of the mountain, and Rocco had already helped get permission from the mountain owner to let me access it to film a sunrise yoga class; I just hadn’t actually done it yet.