Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Alex

THE FIRST THING I can think to do is apologize.

"I'm sorry," I say, but it comes out more like a question.

Am I sorry? What would I be sorry for? I mostly didn't move away. That was my contribution to this. Was I leaning toward Henry or was he leaning toward me? All I remember is turning my head and finding him so, so close, the red in his hair more pronounced from that distance, the freckles scattered across his cheeks swimming before my eyes. Then he was closer still, and I … didn't move. Not when he leaned in. Not when his lips reached mine, surprisingly soft. I always thought a guy's lips would be harder, but Henry's were soft and warm and…

Henry leapt up from the rock after only a second. Now he stands a couple paces away covering his mouth and gaping at me.

"No," he says, voice muffled by his hands, "I'm the one who…"

He is, I guess, but I didn't exactly flee. I didn't do anything. I'm still not doing anything. My body is as motionless as the rock I sit on, but my mind and heart are racing.

I just kissed a guy.

The knowledge bats at my chest. I feel like I should be panicking more, but I'm strangely numb, strangely calm. Maybe it's the beautiful surroundings, the way real life feels so distant and small from this height. Maybe it all hasn't caught up to me yet, and when it does I'll melt down. But I don't think so. That sensation in my chest isn't fear. It's closer to surprise. Curiosity, perhaps. I'm standing at the top of the hike staring down at my emotions, distant and small beneath me. They aren't so scary from up here, but when I return to the ground, will I feel the same?

I rise. Henry waits, watching me warily, but I simply pack up my backpack and collect my trash from lunch.

"We should probably start heading back down," I say, and my voice is remarkably normal.

Henry gets his stuff as well, eyes sliding back toward me the whole time. They're even brighter up close, as I've learned today. I've also learned that I kind of like that knowledge. I keep it with me, tucking it away. For later? Will there be a later or has something happened between us that will tangle things beyond repair? I'll be here longer than I initially thought, and Henry has been the only bright spot in this miserable trip. The thought that I've pushed him away by allowing that kiss worries me far more than the kiss itself. It was only a kiss, right? A brief little kiss. It's not the end of the world.

For some reason, I can't stop thinking about it as we hike down to the car. The forest is silent, and so are we. Normally, this would be my happy place. Trees and nature and little, scurrying creatures and not a single other human in sight. I've always loved this stuff. I was running off to spend my entire day with trees since I was a kid. But somehow the serenity of nature isn't quite so serene right now.

We make it all the way back to the car without saying a single word. Henry's car is still the only one parked at the trailhead, which is lucky, I suppose. The one thing that could have made this more awkward is the presence of other people.

Not that getting back into the close confines of Henry's car isn't awkward.

It is.

It is extremely fucking awkward.

The quiet within the car makes my ears pop. I sit in the passenger seat with my hands on my knees, looking rigidly forward out of the window.

Henry fits his key into the ignition. "I'm glad we got such nice weather today."

"Yeah," I say after a moment.

I realize I'm supposed to follow that up with something. Henry is doing his best to be normal, but I can't find the right words to smooth over the fact that we kissed at the top of that trail. We kissed. I kissed a guy. And it felt kind of nice. And that guy is sitting next to me in his car being sweet and normal while I have a crisis about it. In my defense, he's the gay one. He's used to this, I assume. I've never done that before. I think I'm entitled to a little bit of freaking out.

Henry accepts my terse answer and starts driving us back toward town. As weird as it is, my dread of returning to Tripp Lake actually clears my head a little. I forget to wonder why Henry's lips didn't feel more strange, more wrong , and start wondering what my parents will have in store for me when I return. Being gone for most of the day was great, but I'm positive I'll pay for it. Dad is doing fine in his recovery, but they haven't forgiven me for his relapse. If I'm in their home, I'm never without a task, which is not what I thought I was signing up for when I came here. I should have known. I deluded myself by thinking I could show up, mow the lawn a couple times and get the hell out of here.

And now I've gone and complicated my only source of escape.

Surely, I won't be able to see Henry anymore after this. Surely, he hates me for being a straight guy messing with his head. I'd hate me if I was in his shoes. I should have pulled away. I should have said something. It was nice going to his cat café and his pizza place and getting away from everything. He has a calming presence. I can't help but relax around him. I'm an idiot for ruining that.

I blink, and suddenly we're sitting in my parents' driveway. That vague sense of dread hardens into a stone plunking into my stomach. I have to go. It should be a relief, considering the tense silence in this car, but it's not. I hesitate, fumbling with the seatbelt and my backpack, which sits between my feet on the floor.

"Thanks for driving," I say, daring a glance at Henry.

He's smiling pleasantly, seemingly unperturbed by what happened at the top of the trail. To all appearances, he went on a completely normal hike today. That shouldn't disappoint me, yet here I am. Disappointed.

"Thanks for joining me," Henry says. "You'd think it'd be easy finding hiking partners in a town like this, but everyone is so used to it that it's hard to get them to hit the trails. I've been itching for a hike for a long time."

"Me too. San Francisco and all that."

"I'm sure there's nice hiking outside of the city."

"There is," I say. "I just don't have time for it."

"That's a shame."

Henry looks like he wants to say more, and I linger, hoping he will. What am I waiting for him to pronounce? What could he possibly have to say after this day? I don't know, yet I'm so eager to find out that I halt my clumsy attempt to get out of his car.

The silence stretches. It pushes at me until I can't ignore it any longer. Whatever Henry means to say, he's not saying it, and I can't sit in his car forever. I go for the door at last, but just when I stand in the driveway ready to close it, Henry finally speaks up, the words tumbling out of him in a rush.

"You can come back to the cat café any time you feel like it, by the way," he says. "I mean, since you'll be in town longer. Feel free to come by any time you want. I can get you a coffee. It's quiet in the middle of the day. Might be nice if you're looking for a place to work … or something."

He peters out toward the end, rapidly losing steam, like this little speech required all the breath he had available.

"Poppy likes you," he adds quietly.

"Poppy? You mean … that cat?"

"One of them, yes," Henry says. "The one who always seems to want to be on your lap. She'd probably be happy to see you again. If you wanted to come back."

"Well, I wouldn't want to let Poppy down," I say. "I guess I'll have to come back."

Tension melts out of Henry's face, leaving a smile in its wake. It's a much more natural expression on him than all that wariness and caution.

"I'm looking forward to it," he says. "I mean, Poppy's looking forward to it."

"Poppy. Yeah. Well … I'm looking forward to seeing her too."

I manage to smile in response. I linger at the door a moment longer than necessary before I manage to close it and step away. Even then, I stand there in the driveway and watch until Henry's car disappears around a turn down the street. Despite the awkwardness, I mean to keep my promise to return to the café.

I turn away, slouching toward my parents' house. When I step inside, they're both on the couch in the living room, the glow of the television limning them in electric blue light.

"Where have you been all day?" my father asks immediately.

I haven't even gotten my shoes off. I bend to do that, ignoring the question.

"Your father asked you something, Alexander," Mom speaks up.

I kick off my shoes and face them. "I was on a hike."

"A hike?" She spits the word as though she's never heard it before.

"Yes, Mother. A hike. That thing where you walk on a little trail through the woods and end up at a lake or an overlook or something." And then you kiss your weirdly cute tour guide even though he's a dude.

I keep that last part to myself.

"You didn't tell us where you were going," Mom says. "You were gone all day. Were you going to inform us of your plans?"

I could argue that I'm twenty-five and only visiting, but really, what's the point? It won't forestall the type of arguments we've been having almost since the moment I landed. Instead, I sigh and give in.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think a hike would be a big deal."

"We haven't even eaten yet," Mom says.

The implication hangs in the air. I don't have any fight left in me after this weird, long day.

"I'll make something after I shower," I say.

Thankfully, they let me escape to the bathroom. I'm tempted to lock myself in here and never leave, but failing that, I'll indulge in the longest shower I can.

I all but throw myself under the hot water, letting it hit my face and splash down my body. It's almost a shame to wash off the dirt and sweat. Sure, it's a little gross, but the forest smells nice. I don't mind having that scent sticking to me. It's better than the stale air of this claustrophobic home.

My mind wanders back to Henry, back to his offer to escape to the café while I'm here. He's being far more gracious than he needs to, and I'm scared my need to flee this house will have me taking advantage of that. But I can't stay here. I can't be in this house a second longer than necessary. And if Henry wants to be my escape, I may take him up on that.

Weird kiss or not.