38. Ozrik
Ozrik
Gale was at home in the woods. He shared everything he loved about camping in the wilderness.
We took long hikes and photographed nature.
Gale brought a second camera that was far more user-friendly than the one he favored.
It came with a view screen so I could accept or reject my pictures without having to print them and wait for the surprise unveiling.
He photographed wind and sunshine, stillness and shade. He captured beauty that my unartistic brain didn’t truly understand or recognize.
I poked an anthill and took a picture of its inhabitants scattering in fear.
Gale talked about his faith and his short stint in the seminary.
I listened and asked questions, intrigued by what made a person choose that path.
He shared about the difficulties he’d had walking away and his struggle to stay connected to God.
“Have you ever considered returning to church?” I asked.
“Some day.”
“You could go with my mom. She would love the company.”
“That would be nice.”
In the evening, we studied the ever-changing sky, discussing cloud formations and the weather. Gale, with his fancy degree, was a wealth of information, and I picked his brain for hours as we lay side by side, heads together.
“Will you stay with the show in the new season?” I asked. “You fought for us. Are you walking away?”
“I’ll stay. It’s the edgier photographs that are getting noticed. I can’t give it up.”
I weaved our fingers together and squeezed his hand.
Gale had outmaneuvered Charles, and though not all team members had been supportive, he’d fought for us to stay together.
Jazz and Elliott had decided to walk away, but the rest of us were thrilled and had spent time in group chat discussing changes we wanted to make for the following spring.
On our third day in the wilderness, we discovered a hidden lake and swam naked for hours under the brilliant and scorching sun.
It cooled our bodies but not our libidos.
Entangled in one another, we spent so long in the water getting each other off that we ended up with sunburned shoulders and noses.
Sprawled on the rocky shore in the shade of a prolific evergreen to dry and with the scent of pine and earth and ozone in our noses, I sighed.
Gale snoozed, his hair summer-lightened and his pale skin bronzed. He looked angelic lying beside me, and I couldn’t stop staring at his flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips.
I rolled to my side and propped on an elbow to look my fill. We hadn’t dressed, and his long, trim body was on full display.
I traced his warm skin, discovered a few pale freckles on his abdomen, and admired the nuances that made Gale who he was.
Not ordinary, but extraordinary. A gentle soul who had only ever wanted to be loved and accepted.
I pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his even breaths and the gentle thump of his heart. The storm that once raged inside him had passed.
He made a soft noise and squinted his eyes tighter for a second before opening them. He blinked a few times and mumbled, “You’re staring.”
“Can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re drunk on too much sun.”
I leaned over and kissed him softly. “Or maybe I’m drunk on you.”
He hummed, kissing me back, dragging his fingers through my hair, clinging and keeping me close.
“Gale,” I said against his mouth.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
I tasted his smile. “I love you.” He pulled back an inch and studied my face. “How is this real?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there was a shift in the cosmos that brought us together. Showed us we were fated mates.”
He snorted. “Or…” He held his pointer finger between us. “It was pure chemistry.”
I grinned and touched the tip of my finger to his.
“Zap,” we both said at the same time.