Chapter Ten
Hunter
The whole drive to Studio City, my gaze flickers to Lucas in the passenger seat of my car.
This situation is incredibly fucked up. I hadn’t expected to see him in the gallery that night, but that’s less shocking than the fact that I just left his condo, where I had breakfast and chocolate cake with him and then invited him on a hike.
What I’d planned to say when I opened my mouth was, I should head home, but my brain had other ideas.
And the cake, what the fuck had that been? It’s not like I never indulge, but for some reason, it felt like more than simply eating cake.
“You like hiking,” I say, trying to shove those thoughts from my mind. Being with Lucas seems to make all the other shit in my head quieter, and I want to keep seeking that silence, no matter what truths and guilt I bury to do it.
“Fuck yes, but I have to be contrary. Come on, Hunt, you know this.”
I snicker because it’s true. Lucas does like to be contrary.
“Mostly so I can take photos,” he adds.
“You do a bit of everything, I’ve noticed.” I pull into the lot at the park. They have four trails to choose from, each with lookout points. It’s quieter at this location, and usually, no one notices me. Or if they do, they don’t care enough about me to say anything.
“Yep.” He gets out, and I grab the bag I keep in the back seat, which has a few bottles of water in it.
We pick a trail, heading toward the wooded canyons that feel like a whole other world.
“What’s your favorite?” I ask, unsure why I’m so curious about this man I’ve known for almost fifteen years.
“My favorite what?” He’s already pulling his camera from the bag on his arm.
“Thing to photograph—people, nature, sunsets?” I don’t know why, but I grin at the last one…and also, aren’t sunsets a part of nature? “That was really beautiful, by the way.”
“I know.”
“Cocky motherfucker.”
“Hey, I told you it was beautiful before you even saw it.”
He had, and he’d been right.
“Thank you, though, and…I don’t know that I have a favorite. I like taking photos of things that make me feel, and I never know what will do that.”
Lucas’s answer is both surprising and not. He thinks about the world so differently than anyone I know. He’s not strategizing to accomplish goals; he’s thinking about what would make him feel alive, and I envy him that.
He puts his hand on my arm, pulling me to a stop. I worry I did or said something wrong, but all he did was stop me from stepping on a yellow flower growing in the middle of the dirt path. One lone flower standing strong amid rocks, dry dirt, and footprints.
“Independent little thing, aren’t you?” Lucas says, kneeling, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s talking to the flower.
“Did it answer?”
He grins up at me before raising his camera. I expect him to take a photo of the flower, but he snaps a picture of me instead.
“I think the flower is much more photogenic.”
He shrugs. “Maybe you both are.” Lucas focuses the camera down and takes photos of the flower from different angles before standing and taking a few steps back.
I try to get out of the way, but he says, “No, no, step a little closer.”
I do as he says, and he takes another shot of what I think is only my feet and his tiny sign of independence.
He moves closer, and I watch from above him as he gets my foot and the flower in the same shot, watch him and think about him talking to the flower. I wouldn’t have done that. No one I know would have done that.
Lucas nods toward the trail, and I take that to mean he’s finished. As he passes the flower, Lucas says, “Good luck,” and my pulse speeds up. That was beautiful, and I think…I want to be the kind of man who talks to flowers.
“I’ve never known someone who talks to wildflowers before. Maybe a plant they own, but not that.”
“I’ve always been weird.”
“I don’t think you’re weird.”
He smirks. “Eccentric?”
“That’s closer. You’re simply…you. You’re also the only person I’ve ever known who doesn’t try to fit in with others, who doesn’t try to be what someone else wants them to be.”
He laughs, taking me by surprise. “You’re giving me too much credit.”
“I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit,” I counter. Lucas is strong and independent in a way that not enough people give him credit for, in a way I’ve never given him enough credit for.
“You keep being nice to me, and I’ll think you like me.”
“Oh God no. You’re an asshole. I won’t forget that.”
“Thank God. Being an asshole is my favorite thing about myself.”
We’re quiet for a while, Lucas stopping every now and then to take photos.
“What about you?” he asks.
“What about me what?”
“What’s your favorite thing—”
“About you?” I cut him off, and he chuckles.
“No, about you. I mean, I’m game if you want to give me a list of all my positive qualities, but that’s not what I was thinking.”
Does he know how many positive qualities he has? Because there are a lot of them, more than I ever took the time to see.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. My favorite things about myself have always been football and Ellis, but those answers feel wrong here.
“You’re not allowed to say football,” he adds.
“I figured that.” I chuckle. This comfort, this familiarity and friendship between us is such a surprise, and I don’t know what to make of it.
“So, you’ve got nothing for me?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s a shame, Hunter King.”
“What’s your favorite thing about me?” I ask before I can really contemplate what I’m saying. Why in the fuck am I asking Lucas that about myself?
“I’m not telling. Maybe one day.” He grins, lifts his camera, and takes another photo of me.
I cover my face with my hand but only hear more click, click, click. I don’t like or dislike having my photo taken, never gave it much thought, but I find myself being playful about it with Lucas. “No photos, Mr. Paparazzi.” I teasingly grab his arm as he keeps snapping.
Lucas laughs, pulling away, taking more, dancing around me.
Before I realize what’s happening, I wrap my arms around his waist from behind, so he can’t aim at me.
His body is warm, slightly sweaty as he presses against me, trying to break free.
I don’t loosen my hold, though, continuing this game I started out of nowhere.
Lucas’s foot hits something, or hell, maybe our feet get tangled together, and we’re stumbling off the trail, until my back hits a tree.
Somehow, in the midst of us almost falling, Lucas got turned around, and now his chest is against mine, groin against mine, quick puffs of his breath in my face like he’s slightly winded from our wrestling match.
Then…we both stop breathing. Neither of us moves.
My arms are around his waist. I can smell sea salt on his skin, and something else…
apples, maybe. My heart slams against my chest, and for a second, I worry he can feel it, that he can feel my heart beating, seconds from breaking through my chest. He’s so close, and he smells so good, and it’s wrong, wrong, wrong…
Lucas pulls away first. “Shit. I’m sorry. I don’t know how I lost my balance.”
I clear my throat. “It’s fine. No worries.”
But it’s not fine. It’s not fine at all. If we had stayed there a second longer, I might have kissed my late boyfriend’s brother. Best friend’s brother? All are wrong.
I should leave right now. We should go back to the car, I’ll drop Lucas off, and then we’ll go back to the way things used to be, go back to not talking…
“You’re not going to quit on me now?” he asks, taking a few steps away from me, in the direction we were going. “You’re the one who wanted to go on this hike. Don’t give up on me.”
Does he know I almost kissed him? That I almost betrayed his brother by kissing him, and that my lips feel lonely not getting to know what he tastes like?
“Hunt? You giving up?” he presses.
I haven’t moved from my spot, as if his body had stuck me to the tree. But he’s giving me an excuse to keep going, to not walk away. Maybe it’s on purpose, maybe it’s not, but regardless, I’m going to grab it.
“Fuck no, I don’t give up.” And then I’m walking with him again, deeper into the canyon.
Lucas doesn’t take any more photos of me, only of our surroundings.
“Is that a film camera?” I ask, surprised.
“It is.”
“I didn’t realize that’s a thing people still used.” He flips me off as if I’m talking shit, but I’m being serious. “For real.”
“I mostly use a digital. I still enjoy film, though, and I develop them myself. The photos I take with this are mostly for me.”
You took photos of me. Are those for you?
Why?
“I remember when you used to develop photos when we were kids.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot you would know that.”
“I’d like to see your darkroom sometime.
” It’s not something I would have ever asked him back then.
While Lucas was like family to me the way the rest of them were, and I did try to be nice to him, I didn’t really show interest in him or the things he liked.
I don’t know if that’s because he was my best friend’s—and then my boyfriend’s—little brother, or if I did it because I’m more of an asshole than I want to admit and didn’t want to frustrate Coach Blake.
“Hmm… I don’t know if I trust you enough to show you that.”
“You’ve known me most of your life, and you don’t trust me to see you develop photos?
” Maybe what he really means is he doesn’t think we should hang out again.
Is that what he’s trying to say? The thought leaves me feeling empty, like the world around me got a little dimmer, which makes absolutely no sense. This is Lucas.
“Only special people get to see me develop. You have to earn it.” And then the motherfucker winks at me, making my stomach feel light. Still, to save face, I flip him off.
“Fine. I don’t want to see your photos anyway.”
“Tell yourself that all you want. I know the truth.”
We stay out there for a couple of hours, hiking and finding lookout points, Lucas taking photos, and me watching him do it like it’s this foreign subject I’ve never learned about but am suddenly fascinated by.
He’s both serious and silly, one minute sarcastic, the next saying something profound or talking to flowers or ladybugs.
It feels like no time has passed at all, and then we’re in my car and I’m making the drive back to West Hollywood. I don’t park, instead pulling up in front of the building. I feel his eyes on me, but he doesn’t say anything, and then he’s unlocking his seat belt.
“I’m not sure if I should thank you for getting me out of the house or if I’m annoyed.”
“You had fun.”
“I thought I was supposed to be the one showing you how to have fun?” he questions.
He is, and I’m still working through how to feel about that. “Looks like I’m better at it than you,” I tease.
“Or maybe you get lucky once in a while. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go inside to eat chocolate cake and smoke ten cigarettes to counter the healthy activity of the day.”
I roll my eyes. “You should stop smoking.”
“But then what would you have to give me shit about?”
“Oh, I’m sure I can think of other things.”
Lucas laughs as he opens the door. “Goodbye, Hunter.”
“Goodbye, Lucas.”
I watch him until he disappears inside his building…and maybe I sit there a little longer afterward.