22. MAX

Chapter twenty-two

MAX

I didn't actually know at that moment what I wanted from him. I certainly didn't know what he wanted from me. But as I asked him to kiss me, and he did, even though it only lasted a few seconds, I knew then that this was not nothing. I knew it was something. Some feeling of hope blossomed within me, some optimism that dared to believe in that same something.

I navigated familiar streets leading me home. Finally, I turned my corner and glided along the road to my house, parking under the soft glow of the streetlights.

As I arrived home, I began to unpack my belongings, laughing as I saw quite how disastrously Jared had rearranged things. I pulled out the tent and rolled it up on the ground, and then the same with the inflatable beds. I pulled everything to the garage, popped it open, and just left it in there for another day.

Inside the house, I made my way upstairs to the bathroom in eager anticipation of a hot shower. Stripping naked and turning on the faucets, I caught my own reflection in the bathroom mirror and smiled. I felt good. Happy.

I stepped into the shower cubicle. Warm water cascaded over my skin, washing away the fatigue of our journey and the grime you get lying in meadows and swimming in rivers.

As I lathered soap onto my skin, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to be transported back to the nighttime serenity of the river, the cool embrace of the water, of our bodies touching, of him touching mine, me touching his, of our kiss.

I relished the sensation of the water against my skin, each droplet turning into a caress. As I stood under that warm cascade, my thoughts focused on the turn our friendship had taken.

For fifteen years or more, I had viewed Eddie through the lens of friendship, sometimes real, live friendship or the memory of it, in all the years we were apart. I thought of all our shared experiences and our mutual trust, which was born in the kindness and faith he had shown me as a kid when no one else would.

Now, as I allowed myself to explore the depths of those emotions, those connections, I was seeing him in this new, sensual way. I was understanding the possibility of our connection.

The idea of crossing the threshold into a more intimate relationship didn't seem to frighten me at all. It was uncharted territory, but it was something I was sure I wanted to explore.

I had known that looking at him under the streetlight, beside my car, asking him for a kiss good night.

Now, though, under the shower, I thought of the idea that one afternoon that week, we would lie together in his bed, naked, touching, connected by our mouths. The thought of sharing something so personal and intimate with Eddie was intoxicating.

In prison, lots of guys had fleeting encounters with other men, but they had been devoid of any emotional connection. It was functional, disconnected. Even my relationships with women had had an edge of that, or became that way, as my initial interest faded.

But this felt so different. It felt new.

But the camping trip had shown me it wasn't just emotional connection; it was also physical desire.

There was a real magnetic pull between us, our bodies. And with that, I realized that I wanted to be inside him. I wanted to feel myself inside him and see him looking at me, in the same moment, the two of us properly, fully connected.

As I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off, I stood before the mirror again, my reflection staring back at me: my chest and shoulder muscles, my legs, all of me. My skin glistened with droplets of water. I looked like I must have as we had stepped out of the river.

This was who I was, then: a man who wanted another man, and I had no doubts that whatever else this was going to be, that that much was true.