13. A Dream That’s Not A Dream

He bounded up to Olson two days after his sixteenth birthday, grinning so wide that the gap in his teeth was showing. “Olson, Olson! Guess what, guess what, guess what?”

Olson couldn’t help but grin. George’s excitement was infectious. “What?”

“I got my license. And my dad’s keys.” George held up the Jeep keys, his entire body trembling. “Let’s go!”

“Where?”

“Out there.” George beamed. “The high desert.”

“Right now? Really?”

It was something they’d been talking about; George had shown him several pictures of the nature preserves, but they hadn’t had the chance to go alone. Not until now.

“It’s 9PM,” Olson said.

“Yeah! We’ll camp overnight. And take pictures in the morning. I’ll set an alarm and everything.”

Olson shivered. “You’ll make me look pretty?”

“Yes.”

They scrambled to pack, first at Olson’s house, then at George’s. When the Jeep was filled with food, water, and blankets, they piled into it, Olson catching George’s hand. “Do we have enough for gas?”

George nodded. “I brought some cash. I don’t think we’ll get stranded.”

Olson stared him down. “Are yousure? Your mom’s going to whip your ass if you get us stranded out here. Remember the time we went to the lake—”

“We’refine.”

Olson huffed. “All right.”

They drove out. The streets were fairly empty because it was so late, although there were cars on the highway that wove between the lanes like their drivers were drunk.

They made it past the county line. Then they stopped for gas and found a quiet spot on a side road to camp for the night.

The next morning, Olson woke to the Jeep rumbling around him.

They were on the road again.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” George said from the front of the Jeep—Jeeps were not‘cars’, George had said several times. “I’m surprised you woke. It’s not even sunrise yet.”

Olson crawled out of their blanket nest, climbing awkwardly into the front passenger seat. His ass bumped George in the side of his head.

George laughed. “You should put some clothes on.”

“It’s dark out. No one’s going to see.”

“I heard that Border Patrol keeps an eye out here. They’re going to think I kidnapped you.”

Olson snorted. “Maybe we should elope.”

George sent him a sidelong glance. “All our parents are gonna be mad if we elope. They want to see the babies.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Olson was too young to think about children. He was sixteen! He wanted more time alone with his alpha. More time spent lounging around, George taking pretty pictures of him.

“Your grandma kept looking at us during dinner last weekend,” George said.

“We’resixteen. We’re not even married yet!”

“We could get married,” George said lightly, glancing over again.

“I want a full-time job first. I don’t want to be married straight out of school and have no place to call our home.”

A small smile curved George’s lips. “Jobs first. Then we marry.”

“Okay. Wait. You haven’t even proposed!”

“I already did. When we were ten.”

Olson rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t count. You gave me a twist-tie for a ring.”

“You still have that ring.”

“I want a proper proposal!”

“What kind of proper proposal?”

“I don’t know! You were supposed to surprise me.” Olson rolled his eyes, but he turned in his seat and threw his legs across George’s lap. “Something small. Don’t blow a ton of money on it.”

“All right. I wasn’t planning on it.”

At that, Olson grinned. “I should be offended.”

“You said you wanted it to be small.”

“Small but big. I want to be wooed by yourfeelings.”

George laughed, the sound low and throaty. “All right.”

They turned off the highway and took a side road, then a dirt road. Then, George parked. “The GPS says it should be around here somewhere. But it’s cold out. Wait here while I scope out the place.”

It was close to sunrise; the sky had brightened to a purple-grey-pink. All around, the landscape was awash in a watery sort of light.

Everything was so still. No birds. No insects. Just the vast sky above them, low hills in the distance, and a quiet sort of beauty that couldn’t be found in civilization.

Olson opened his door and kicked his legs in the air. George was right; it was cold. But it was a bracing sort of cold that put a smile on his face.

After a while, footsteps crunched. George rounded the back of the Jeep and stopped in front of Olson’s open door, leaning in to press a slow kiss to his lips. “I found the rock. It looks good. But there’s teddybear cacti around. Be careful.”

Olson shoved his feet into his shoes and shivered at the cold air on his skin. George pulled a blanket from their nest, wrapping it around him.

Hand in hand, they walked slowly to George’s rock, Olson with his eyes glued to the ground. He wasnot about to step on a spiny cactus from Hell.

When they reached the rock, Olson saw why George was so excited about it. The rock was low to the ground, smooth like a stage and wide enough to be one. Several deep cracks ran across it, their edges weathered smooth.

“It looks like a dance floor,” Olson said.

“We could dance on it later.” George grinned.

On the rock, Olson stepped out of his shoes. George hid the shoes under a different rock. Then he pulled his camera off his shoulder, and took a few photos of Olson’s smiling face.

“You must have, what, a thousand pictures of my face by this point?”

“You’re always so beautiful,” George murmured.

“I’m also cold.”

George came closer, rubbing his large hands down Olson’s sides—all Olson had on was the blanket. “Sunrise is soon. It’ll warm you up.”

He stood with Olson, keeping him warm until the sun peeked over the hills. Golden sunlight touched Olson’s forehead first, then slowly crept down his body, throwing long shadows all over the ground.

Olson slid the blanket off; it went over George’s shoulder.

“Gorgeous,” George growled.

He stepped back; the shutter clicked. It kept clicking as George moved around, finding different angles. Olson arranged his limbs into the most graceful poses he could, marveling at the play of light and shadow over his body.

“Beautiful,” George murmured.

He laid Olson down on the smooth rock and stood over him, taking more pictures. He made Olson sit up; Olson parted his legs, arching his spine and pointing his toes.

He didn’t miss the hard line in George’s pants. But George held off, licking his lips as he captured yet more photos.

Olson couldn’t help himself, though. Posing for his alpha made him want more.

He turned over onto all fours and raised his hips. George hissed.

“Fuck, Olson.”

“Take my picture,” Olson whispered.

George took his picture. Several of them. Then he set his camera gently on the wadded-up blanket, and pinned Olson.

They made slow, sweet love under the brightening sky, whispered promises on their lips.