Chapter 30 #2
“That was Finn’s idea. When we were seventeen, we camped near the Russian River during a spawning season. The first time, he nearly speared his foot. After that, we tried to live off what we caught as much as possible.”
Alec’s pain for his friendship with Finn is nearly palpable.
It’s clear that he loves him, and although I’ve only met Finn briefly, the look on his face when he saw Alec was one of adoration.
There’s no way they’ll stop being friends, even if Alec decides to keep climbing.
Even after only a month, I can’t see Alec as someone you just move on from.
Every time he opens up to me, I feel as if I’ve found a four-leaf clover growing in the subway system.
I smile and take another bite, deeply curious about the man in front of me. “Did you two have any other traditions?”
“We used to share a Toblerone at the top of every peak.” He shrugs, but I see a shadow tug at him. “What about you and Yura?”
“We played Fire and Ice,” I say. “Kind of like Truth or Dare, except no dares. If you didn’t want to answer, you had to pick Fire and tell an embarrassingly personal story instead.”
“Well, go ahead then.”
“You ask first.”
His muscular, tattooed arms are braced on his knees, and I trace the art with my eyes as he thinks. “When’s your birthday?”
“May tenth. What about yours?”
“September twenty-second.”
“This month!” I smile. “You being a Virgo explains everything.”
“A Virgo?”
“Of course you don’t follow astrology.” I chuckle, knowing I’ll check our compatibility the moment we get service.
“Never really liked celebrating my birthday. It’s just another day.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re so predictable, but I love birthdays, so just know I’m going to throw you a party.”
“Don’t.”
“You like pie or cake?”
“I think it’s my question.”
“Then I’ll just have to get you both,” I tease.
“Changing the subject now.” He pauses. “What was your first job?”
“I drove the carpool for younger dancers at my school in Concord. We choreographed ridiculous routines in the car, and they’d raid my makeup bag. My car was always covered in glitter.”
“No glitter in my truck.”
“Now that you said it, I’m gonna have to find some.” He glares at me, and I can’t help but giggle.
“Figures you’d be good at that, though. You have a knack for making things fun.”
“Did you just admit I make things fun?” I elbow him.
“You do.” Heat blooms across my cheeks at his easy admission.
“What about you?” I ask.
“Guide at the indoor climbing gym.”
“Wow. I could have guessed that. My turn?” He shrugs, so I continue, “You go to prom?”
“Took Finn.”
“Shut up.”
“We went to different schools. He had a date for his, I didn’t have one for mine and didn’t really want to go. But my mom insisted. It was at the San Francisco aquarium. We ditched after the first two songs to play arcade games on the pier.”
“Surprised you didn’t try climbing into the fish tanks or something.”
“And be ripped to pieces by sharks? No thank you.”
“You’re no fun,” I tease, batting his chest. “I never went to my prom. Booked a session with a Bolshoi master in some basement. So romantic.”
“I think I would have preferred that.”
“Tell that to the giant bruises I had on my knees for weeks.”
“Try wearing a bow tie, it’s suffocating.”
“You in a suit…now that is something I’d pay to see.”
He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Okay, make the next one juicy,” I say. I’ve nearly forgotten this is a game. Now it’s just curiosity, peeling each other apart layer by layer.
The fire pops, and the wind picks up around us, blowing my hair straight into my mouth. He tucks it behind my ear before asking, “What’s something you’re afraid of?”
His voice is soft, and I’m not yet used to a soft Alec, but I like it.
Which probably makes my answer slip out a tad too truthfully. “The future.”
He tilts toward me, knees touching mine as he sets his plate on the ground. His full attention is on me.
“I gave up my career on such a silly whim, and I don’t know if I’ll ever go back. Or how. But there are other options. Teaching. Choreographing. I just don’t know what next month or even next week will look like.” My shoulders lift helplessly. “I don’t know, you know? And I hate that.”
“You’ve got time. You’re only twenty-four.” His voice is certain. “Whatever you set your mind to, you’ll kill it. And if you wanna teach, maybe I’ll let you give me a dance lesson.”
“I’d like that,” I say, imagining being pressed up against him, his hand on the small of my back.
“I imagine you’ve had other male dance partners?”
“Yep. But if you squeeze into a pair of tights, you might be my favorite.”
“Damn right.” His hand lands on my thigh, and I bite my lips to hide the smile that wants to creep across my face.
I pretend to think for a moment, chewing on a bite of salmon, then ask the question that’s been buzzing in my mind for weeks. “How many tentmates have you had?”
“Over thirty at once, probably.”
Probably. Alec doesn’t do probably. This is a man who remembers rope brands from climbs that took place a decade ago. He’s counted. He’s logged.
“A thirty-some? Isn’t that practically an orgy?” My jaw drops, and I glance at him, waiting for the smirk.
“No. We were all just sleeping. Big tent for all the river counselors. Though I’m pretty sure Finn was not just…sleeping.” He chuckles. “One time Finn hooked up with three people at base camp. We sprinted up the mountain just to avoid the fallout.”
“I guess that’s why they call you Two Men On Top,” I shoot back.
“At base camp, there’s not much else to do. Drink or fuck. Unless you’re puking your guts out from altitude sickness.”
“Sounds romantic.”
“Hooking up when you haven’t had a proper shower in a month is…anything but romantic.”
“Dancers are just as feral, hooking up after hour-long practices. I once walked in on two roommates going at it on a foam roller.”
“I don’t even want to know the mechanics of that.”
“Motion of the ocean.” I roll my hips for emphasis, and his nostrils flare.
“Finn and I had a system. Sock on the tentpole.”
“Ew.” I giggle. “So…you’re definitely tent-experienced.”
“I’m all about specifics, Clem. If you want to know something, just gotta use that pretty mouth of yours to ask.”
“So, you think I’m pretty,” I tease, melting into him. He chuckles, and it vibrates down to my core. It really doesn’t matter how many people he’s had sex with. Sex can just be bodies and flesh, no intimacy, no feelings, no love. Another question burns my lips. “You know what I wanted to ask. So?”
“Sorry, isn’t it my turn?” Alec jokes. I reach down and throw a small pebble at him, which he catches. Damn climber reflexes. “How many dancers borrowed your foam roller?”
The firelight softens his face, pooling in the hollow of his throat. “A handful,” I say, wobbly. “But they didn’t always know how to make it worthwhile. If you know what I mean.”
And I hope he does catch my meaning, because I really don’t want to outright admit that I’ve never had a man-made orgasm. It’s embarrassing.
That gets him quiet. The vein in his temple throbs. “Lack of skills or tools?”
“Both. Or maybe it’s me—”
“No.” The word is clipped, absolute.
“My turn.” My cheeks flush, and I drastically want to change the subject. “You ever been in love?”
“No.” His answer is immediate, and my chest deflates. “Relationships are hard when you do what I do. They feel like something that could clip my wings.”
“Relationships should feel like flying beside someone,” I blurt before slapping my hand over my mouth. “God, that was cheesy. Sorry.”
“Not cheesy. It’s sweet.”
“And now?” I ask, discarding my plate on top of his, folding one knee into my thigh so I can face him.
He rakes a hand over his jaw, mouth pressing flat. “Don’t know. You’ve got me rethinking a lot of shit.”
I want to grab his shoulder and scream, What the hell does that mean? I wonder if Finn has a dictionary to decode these cryptic answers Alec loves to give.
“Alright,” he says, shaking it off, “last question before we head in. What’s your most memorable part of our training?”
“Besides your stellar personality?”
“That’s a given. Okay, let’s clean up.” He stands, but my hand lands on his forearm, pulling him back down.
“Wait, no…let me think of a serious answer,” I say, wanting a real answer from him too.
I sift through memories: his hand on my calf as he patched up my blisters, the adrenaline spike of the kayak, dinners at Daisy’s, him picking me up from work with classical music playing, him sucking a literal splinter out of my hand, or giving me the leaf tulip that sits on my dresser.
But my brain stops at the hot spring—the kiss. Our skin through wet fabric.
A closeness I don’t want to come back from.
“You first,” I say, needing to know he feels all of this too.
“It was you,” he says, no hesitation. “You’ve been my favorite part of this.”
My breath stumbles. “Me too.”
His jaw tightens, like he’s holding himself back by sheer will. I look sideways at the tent. Every nerve is alive under my skin, every thought screaming, Don’t touch! while another part of me wants to press every inch of my body against him, memorize the way his hands feel against me.
The universe seems to answer my pleas, because the rain starts again, harder this time, hissing against the fire.
“We should go to bed.”
“We should.” Alec breaks first, already moving, dousing our plates in the river and then putting out the flames. “Inside. Now.”
There’s no room for argument, not with the storm pounding so hard.