Chapter 10
ISAK
In the evening, we gather at the wooden benches around the campfire and eat s’mores and sing goofy songs.
Well, some people sing. Others are too cool.
Beyond us are dark cabins and tall trees.
We’re done for the night, but people linger, enjoying the cool air, the quiet of the foothills, and the rowdy company.
A few people sneak off to go kiss in the woods or make plans for their roommates to stay out of their cabins so they can hook up.
Counselors and teachers are sitting nearby and talking, with reggae music playing from a portable speaker, but they mostly leave us alone.
Now I understand why everyone loves senior retreat. There’s a lot of freedom.
On the opposite side of the fire from me, Lachlan is sprawled on a bench, chatting with his jock and cheerleader friends.
His face, illuminated by dancing orange-yellow-red flames, is utter perfection.
He’s also flirting with literally everyone.
Lach laughs, touches people, makes them smile.
No wonder everyone thinks he’s interested in them.
He makes it seem that way … which makes my stomach hurt.
I only flirt with hot people. Like you.
I’m so happy, I could kiss you.
Those winks.
I remind myself: Don’t read too much into Lachlan being Lachlan. That’s just how he is. Flirty-friendly.
Even if I know it means nothing, I still feel a weird sense of satisfaction knowing that at the end of the day, he’ll be in my room—and we’ll likely be alone, since Josiah and Russ have been glued to their girlfriends every possible minute since we arrived.
Although “in my room” sounds much closer than the awkward cabinmates Lachlan and I really are.
Speaking of awkward, being around my crush the whole day and touching him in all those ways at the ropes course didn’t do my neglected cock any favors.
What would Lachlan do if I flirted back? Would he laugh it off?
Or would he … take me up on it?
Nah.
Except he’s been flirty all day …
Sheesh, my thoughts have left the camp. I refocus on what’s happening right now.
Zanita and I are sitting away from everyone else with a guy we know from theater productions, Malik, who edits the school’s literary magazine.
His curly dark brown hair is cropped close to his head, and his reddish-brown skin is flawless.
He’s wearing a Ben Davis jacket over utility jeans and looks cool AF.
The breeze sends the smoke from the fire our way fairly often, which is why it isn’t as crowded on this side of the circle as where Lachlan is, but it’s not that bad.
Since the day’s athletic events are over, I’ve changed into the kind of clothes I like to wear: a long gray cardigan that I knitted, a long black skirt, and boots.
As usual, Zanita and I are getting looks.
Especially from Daniel, Jacob, and Mike, the school’s loudest trio of bigots.
I notice that Lachlan doesn’t stare at us the same way his friends do.
The night is chilly. I wrap the cardigan tighter around my body and throw some dry leaves into the fire to watch them burn, trying not to choke whenever the smoke changes direction. Zanita is discussing Edgar Allan Poe’s poetry with Malik.
But it’s getting late, and eventually, Malik stands and looks at his phone. “I think I’m going to head in.”
“Good night,” I say.
“Good night,” Zanita says, and I don’t miss her look of disappointment. We watch him walk toward his cabin.
I nudge her shoulder and whisper, “It’s time to make your move, Queen of Darkness.”
She gives me a black-lipsticked smile. “Yeah?”
“Unless you’re too nervous,” I say under my breath.
Her expression turns determined. “I can do this.” Flouncing off into the dark, she calls, “Malik!”
And now I’m by myself. Jacob sneers at me from across the fire, and I look away.
But as I stay longer at the fire and get even more stares, I feel less surly and more … wrong being myself. Like there’s this part inside me that agrees with them. That asks why the hell I’m not like them. Why I can’t be normal.
That voice sucks. Fuck all those boring people. I’m allowed to wear what I want, just like they’re allowed to wear whatever they want. They can have fun with their boring-ass clothes and bowing to traditional society. I’m going to … be me. I gnaw on my lip and stare at my shoes.
It’s easier being me with friends close by. Maybe I should go back to the cabin. Though what would I do there? Jerk off to thoughts of Lachlan’s ass in a saddle?
I give myself a little shake as I listen to the conversations around me, which have mostly turned to who’s getting together with whom. People trickle off to bed.
Then I hear a snide comment about Becky Hansen’s viral post, and okay, that’s it. Time to go. I’m about to leave when there’s movement beside me and Lachlan sits down. Legs spread wide, baseball hat backward. Solid body blocking the slight breeze.
Well, damn. Okay. Hi.
“You good?” he asks, his arm brushing mine. A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the cool air.
“Yeah. Of course.”
“I’m sorry about them talking about that online crap—”
Ugh. Why is he so damn nice? “Yeah, well. You had nothing to do with it.”
“I still hate what it said. And it wasn’t true.”
My eyes feel hot. Must be irritated by the campfire smoke.
I scuff the dirt with my feet and talk to my lap rather than looking at him.
“It’s so funny. I’ll discount a dozen good reviews and a hundred nice things people say.
But one scathing post on Ad/VICE, saying how I ruined the show, and I decided I was never acting again.
” Heck, with how much it was reposted and quoted—and all the malicious comments—I don’t know how I ever showed up at school again.
“Yeah. Words have power to hurt, that’s for sure.”
He would know.
“But if you like acting, you should act, Isak,” Lachlan continues, his naivete bringing a smile to my face.
“It’s not that easy. And I get my fix with stagecraft. That’s enough, at least until I get out of here.”
Even though it’s not.
“Are you going to college next year?” he asks.
“Yeah. SBCC.” Santa Barbara Community College. “You?”
“Albrecht.” That’s also in Santa Barbara. “Early admission.”
“Cool.”
We sit in silence for a moment. Lachlan reaches down to the ground, picks up a twig, and throws it into the fire. We both watch it burn.
Then I tilt my head. Up above us, beyond the tips of the oak and pine trees, is the clear, starry sky. “I like it here,” I murmur.
“Me, too.” He pushes me with his shoulder.
I push him back. Something bubbles up inside me. A remembrance, like pulling my school photos out of a shoebox. This is the way we used to be, before … Well, before.
He looks up. “Hey!”
“What?”
“I saw a shooting star.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. Over there.” We both sit, looking at the stars, and then suddenly I see one: a little light in the distance moving quickly downward before burning up. “I saw that one!” I whisper excitedly.
He high-fives me.
“I usually like the beach, but these mountains are pretty.”
“I agree,” he says. “The beach is more my scene. I’d love to go to beaches all over the world.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
We settle next to each other, watching the sky.
Once we’re quiet, we can hear everyone else.
Mike is holding court across the way, talking in extreme detail about how last summer, he’d gone to Cozumel with his family and hooked up with a girl he met on the beach, and they banged all night in a cabana.
Then Daniel does the same. Only in his story, it was two girls in France.
Lachlan leans into me, smelling like soap. Yum. “Does all this sex talk weird you out?” His voice is gravelly low and oh so stimulating.
I shake my head. “Easier to listen to them talk about sex than about shitty things like Becky’s post.”
“Although the way they talk about having sex, it sounds kind of shitty.”
“You know what they say, sex is like pizza: Even when it’s kind of shitty, it’s good. Not that sex with me is ever shitty,” I blurt, then hide my wince. A-plus flirting, Isak. Good job.
Lachlan lowers his voice even more, although no one’s near us. “So you’re not a virgin?”
“Definitely not. Are you?”
“Nope.” Something about the way he says it is hot as hell.
“I love sex,” I admit. “Of all kinds. Well, all the kinds I’ve tried, anyway.”
He raises an eyebrow. “And what are those?”
DANGER.
PROCEED WITH CAUTION.
My chest heats up. “You really want to know?”
“It’s none of my business,” he says, holding up a hand. “I’m sorry—”
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “It feels kind of like when we were kids and could confess things to each other in the dark.”
A sexy grin crosses his face. “What would you confess to me now?”
“Uh, hmm. I don’t know. Maybe how much I love giving blow jobs,” I say. “For starters.”
I deserve an award for bravery. Or maybe brazenness. I’d accept either, but what I really want is him.
So I’m taking a chance.
Lachlan inhales sharply, and his eyes bug out. Do I see desire flicker in them?
No, no way. It’s just the firelight.
“So does that mean you’re gay?” He swallows hard. “Sorry, I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask you that.”
“Sure, you can ask. I’m open about my sexuality. No, I’m not gay. I would say I’m bisexual or pansexual. Gender doesn’t matter to me—I’m attracted to the person. Guys, girls. Nonbinary. Lots of people turn me on. Some in particular,” I add. Like you.
Is that a better attempt at flirting? I have no idea. I’ve said more to Lachlan today than I have in years.
“When did you figure that out?”
I lift my shoulders. “At some level, I’ve always known, but I think it crystallized when I was watching Scott Pilgrim vs.
the World and I wanted to be with Scott, Ramona, and all her evil exes.
I also wanted to dress like Scott … and Ramona.
” I glance down at my outfit. “I might’ve been trying to dress like her my whole life. With less color.”
“I get it. And you dress very cool. Cooler than me.” Now it’s his turn to look at his feet. Then he turns to me, his eyes locking on mine. “So, are you really good at, um …”
“Giving blow jobs?” I whisper with a grin.
“Yeah.” His voice cracks.
I run my tongue in front of my teeth. “No one’s complained.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” he says wryly.
Wait. What does that mean? I stare into his eyes. The air between us feels charged.
I don’t know how I got to talking with Lachlan about sex, but I’m not going to stop unless he makes me.
Again, silence falls between us, only now I think his cheeks are flushing in the firelight.
“Do you, um, receive them, too?” he asks.
“Mm-hmm.” I suck on my lower lip. “And I do more adventurous things.”
“Like what?” Then he quickly adds, “You know what, never mind.”
If we’re going to keep up this conversation, I might as well not dance around the topic. I can use the cover of night or the magic of the campfire as my excuse. And if this all goes to hell, I can spend the week in Zanita’s cabin or something.
I straighten my shoulders but then try to act casual. “Lachlan, if you want my mouth, all you need to do is ask.” I wink at him.
He stiffens. Shit, did I go too far? “Um, yeah. That’s okay. I was only talking.”
Well, that answers that question: He’s not interested. I convinced myself he maybe wasn’t straight, but it’s just that he’s so flirty. Dammit, I went too far. I rub my chest. “Sorry,” I mumble. “Didn’t mean to make it weird.”
He stands, resting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing. It feels really good. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t make anything weird. I just need to ask Vince something.”
“Yeah. Okay.” I totally made it weird.
Lachlan looks at me. Really looks at me. “Isak, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Another lingering glance, and he says, “See you in the cabin.” Then he takes off back to his friends, leaving me alone and cold in the dimming firelight.
After a few more minutes, I confirm that no one’s paying attention to me. I stand, turn on my flashlight, and head for the cabin.
I shouldn’t have come on to Lachlan. He doesn’t want me like that. He’s friendly, and I mistook his kindness for interest.
I’m dusty and sweaty from the day’s activities, so I strip and get into the shower. I stay under the spray long enough to hold my hard cock and stroke myself.
Lachlan’s hazel eyes.
I only flirt with hot people. Like you.
I’m so happy, I could kiss you.
Those winks.
I’ll take that under advisement.
In my imagination, he can be interested in me. It doesn’t take me long to come, and then I hurriedly finish cleaning myself off. I get out, put on boxers and a T-shirt, and stare into the mirror as I brush my teeth.
Same dark hair. Same freckles. Same face.
Lachlan still isn’t back in the cabin, so I’m all alone. Maybe he’s found a girl to hook up with.
I climb into my sleeping bag, which is cool at first but warms up quickly. The nylon or whatever synthetic material it’s made of sounds funny when I shift against it.
Before long I start flopping. My pillow’s too flat. I fold it in half, and then it’s too high.
The forest is quiet, except when it’s not. Leaves rustle, branches break. Groups of kids whisper and laugh as they walk past. Pine-filtered moonlight comes in through the window, casting a pale glow over the room.
Where’s Lachlan?
Finally, I flip onto my stomach and spread out, trying to sleep.
The door to the cabin opens a few minutes later. Lachlan goes into the restroom, and I hear him brushing his teeth and so on. Having him be so domestic so close to me feels both weird and natural.
He moves to his bed, and my pulse ratchets up.
First, his shoes come off, and his pants hit the floor. He unzips his sleeping bag. The bed creaks as he climbs in.
I do my best to stay still, pretending that I’m asleep.
But Lachlan Doyle is right next to me. He’s fucking right next to me, maybe six feet away.
We’re all alone in a cabin.
Now Lach sounds the way I did earlier. He turns onto one side and then the other. He fluffs up his pillow and sticks a leg out of his sleeping bag, then pulls it back in, because it’s too cold for that.
I think I start to doze.
But as I drift, I hear Lachlan’s breath get heavier and heavier. He’s inhaling sharply over and over again.
Trying not to move, I shift my eyes toward him, and I can see the material of his sleeping bag moving, about halfway down. The fabric rustles, and I hear skin on skin.
Lachlan is jerking off.
I freeze, not sure what to do. I’m getting totally turned on, and I want to watch him. Unlike when I watched him from my house, he’s so close I could almost touch him.
But I should let him know he has a witness.
I clear my throat, and he lets out a loud groan of embarrassment or annoyance. “Fuuuuuck,” he whispers. “Are you awake?”
I stifle a giggle. “Yeah, man.” I hold out my hand and make a “continue” motion. “Carry on. We’re all friends here.”