Take Me With You

Prologue

Two men sit in the shade of a blue lifeguard tower staring out at the Pacific. They met only moments ago when they collided on the beach’s bike path. They’re under strict orders from the lifeguard to sit. Within the hour they will have sex.

The younger of the two, boyish, twenty-two maybe, sand stuck to his skin, smelling of sandalwood and sweat.

He is tall, noticeably so, even sitting, and is just growing into his good looks; he wears athletic socks but no shoes.

The older one, nearing thirty, sports bent sunglasses that sit below prominent eyebrows.

There is sand in his hair (and some premature salt), which, thanks to the ocean breeze, is handsomely mussed.

The taller man leans in and rests his head on the older man’s shoulder.

The older rests his cheek against the taller man’s head.

“My aunt and uncle had a small cottage in Maine, and I would spend the summers with them near Blue Hill,” the taller man says.

“Maine.” The older man is impressed. “What’s that like?”

Laughter. “Like this. There’s an ocean, except over there.” He points behind them. “My aunt would make us this soup called Chicken his dark eyes are kind.

The taller one continues reluctantly, his gaze focused on the paper wrapper in his hands.

“After lunch, whatever soup we didn’t eat would get poured down the drain because it wasn’t much worth reheating.

Only, the pipes under the sink were not connected to anything.

It was an old cabin—we were lucky there was a proper toilet.

Anyhow, the pipes, they just ran twenty or so feet from the house before emptying in a ditch filled with pine needles.

My cousins and I, we would burst through the door and race alongside that pipe to see if we could beat the stars, racing faster and faster each time.

And sure enough, one summer my legs had grown long enough, I got fast enough, and I reached the end of the pipe just as the last of the soup reappeared. ”

The older man is enthralled. He could only imagine how gangly the taller man, at least six foot five, must have been as a child.

“I would watch as star-shaped noodles made constellations in the mud and give them names I already knew, like Hercules and Orion. And one I called Billy for some reason. I don’t know, I think I had a boyhood crush or some—” He cuts himself off and turns a deep shade of red.

“Oh god,” he moans before burying his face in his hands, the straw wrapper brushing his forehead.

“I just now realized when you asked if I saw stars, you wanted to see if I had a concussion.”

The older man reaches for the taller one’s hands, taking them in his own and holding them until they each feel the perfect warmth of the other.

The young man is uneasy at first, he’s never held hands with a man so publicly.

But only at first, as the lifeguard tower, then the gulls, then the kids flying a kite, then the entire beach falls away and they become the only two people on earth.

“This is much better,” the older one says, genuinely impressed. “You raced the stars.” The connection between them, a small atom when they collided, is now ignited by an unknowable heat, millions and billions of degrees, causing an explosion that will grow and expand the rest of their lives.

“I raced the stars and I won.”

The lifeguard interrupts, his shorts red, the hair on his tanned legs blond, his build like a college water polo player.

An hour ago both men would have stared agog, but now he doesn’t exist. The lifeguard shields his eyes to examine the taller one’s pupils.

“I think we’re good here. Just be careful out there on the bike path.

And maybe invest in some helmets.” He hands them each a bottle of ice-cold water and then he is gone, yelling at some kids with an inflatable raft.

The older man stands and extends his arm for the taking. He nods toward his bike and the tall stranger’s Rollerblades, which lie abandoned nearby in the sand. “Are you coming?” he asks.

The taller one needs only a split second to answer. “Where you go, I go,” he says as he grabs his new friend’s arm and pulls himself up to full height, blocking the sun.

“Where you go, I go,” the older man repeats with a devilish grin. “C’mon. I promise it will be an adventure.”