Brandon scoffed. “Please. I couldn’t care less about that. Besides, I heard he’s broke as fuck. Something about a business manager who took off with suitcases full of cash.”
Silently, I stood from my camp chair and began collecting random bits of garbage to throw in the waste bin. We’d been assured that someone would do a sweep once we’d all gone to bed to make sure the campsite wouldn’t attract any curious wildlife visitors overnight, but I needed something to do something with my hands lest I introduce them to Brandon’s popped collar. “That’s Oliver’s business,” I said, crunching an empty can beneath my feet, “and it has absolutely nothing to do with you or me or why any of us are here. Show a little class, man.”
“You want to talk about class? How about the fact that he acts like all of this—all of us—are beneath him? If he’s so fucking special, what’s he doing coming on a show like this anyhow?”
I might have known the real answer to that question, but I wasn’t about to tell him—or anyone else. It was a secret I’d promised to take to my grave, and I had no intention of breaking any of the promises I made to Oliver. “I imagine the same as all of us—he’s looking for love.”
Brandon scoffed again, his words and mannerisms growing more belligerent with each passing minute. Briefly, I wondered if the reason we’d run out of beer so early in the night was because he’d managed to drink them all. He wasn’t yet slurring his words or swaying on his feet, but he’d become decidedly more animated the last twenty minutes or so, and his tongue had loosened to the point where he was saying things I wasn’t sure he would have had the courage to speak in front of Allie.
“What do you know about love, anyway? And why are you even here?” he spat, turning his venom on me. “Shouldn’t you be trolling some gay bars down in West Hollywood instead? Which reminds me. Are you a pitcher or a—”
Before he could ask if my preference was to fuck or be fucked, Matty shot to his feet. “Are you serious right now? Do you even hear yourself? What’s your goddamn problem?”
Brandon hopped up out of his chair, and this time he did stumble on his feet. Righting himself, he shoved a hand unsteadily through his hair. “Don’t tell me you guys haven’t wondered.”
“Not even for a minute,” Kwame said, his voice sounding bored. Then again, he was used to dealing with Brandon’s attitude—the two of them having traded barbs for weeks now—whereas I’d barely engaged with him until now.
“You’re drunk,” I said, tying off the ends of the black garbage bag. “And I’m going to bed.”
“Of course you are,” he sneered. “Can’t waste a single minute kissing our mighty football hero’s ass.” He barked out a note of laughter, the sound echoing in the surrounding trees like the call of a wild hyena. “God, you probably want to fuck him so bad. How many times have you begged him to let you suck him off?”
I caught Matty’s gaze over the plume of smoke from the fire, and he looked back at me with eyes that were filled with embarrassment, then horror, and finally fury. I shook my head briskly. I didn’t need him fighting my battles for me. After all, this wasn’t the first time some bigoted asshole had decided to use my sexuality as a weapon against me.
“For a straight guy, Brandon, you seem awfully interested in where I put my cock. Is there something you’d like to share with the group?”
He sputtered out a response, his words coming out as gibberish. Eventually, he settled on, “Fuck you, Elijah. You think you’re so much better than me.”
“I don’t think it. I know it.”
And with that, I made my way toward the tent I shared with Oliver so I could drop to my knees and beg him to let me suck his cock. After all, it was my turn.
19
Elijah
I heard the loud stomping of a pair of feet as they made their way toward our tent before I heard Brett’s voice alerting us to his presence. “Morning. You guys decent in there?”
No doubt about it then. He definitely knew Oliver and I were hooking up.
I told you so, I mouthed silently as I pulled a heather gray cashmere sweater out of my overnight bag and folded yesterday’s clothes to put them away. It might be the height of summer, but it was just after dawn, and out here in the mountains of Southern California, it was chilly as fuck in the mornings.
Oliver hadn’t been as prepared for the cold as me, and he stood there now harshly rubbing the exposed skin of his arms to try and bring some warmth to them. But how? he mouthed back.
I raised my eyes up from my belongings and took a moment to let my gaze simply drink him in, all the longing and desire I had for him making itself known in that long devouring glance. Yesterday morning aside, we’d been pretty careful about not getting caught with our tongues down each other’s throats, but lately, I’d find myself staring at him for longer than was safe given we weren’t supposed to be lovers. When that’d happen, I’d tear my eyes away to make sure no one had been watching me watch him. Once or twice, I thought I’d seen Brett’s eyes flick quickly away, but I’d told myself I’d imagined it. Turns out, I hadn’t.
Oliver chuckled. “Point taken,” he whispered. Then, “Morning, Brett. We’ll be out in a second.”
“Take your time,” he called back.
I hefted my bag onto my shoulder as Oliver slung his backpack on. I was stepping toward the zippered exit when he halted me with a hand on my shoulder. “When we get back home, can I take you camping for real?” He dropped his face forward and then flicked his eyes shyly up to meet mine.
I smiled fondly. “You live in the woods.”
“I know, but … well. There’s this place. It’s special to me, and you’re special to me. I want you to see it.”
I pressed up onto my toes and kissed him silently. “I’d like that,” I whispered in his ear before easing away.
His hand skated down my arm and squeezed my fingers before falling away to let me leave our tent.
“Morning,” I said, my breath leaving my mouth in thick, puffy clouds of white. I clasped my hands in front of my mouth and blew into them. “Damn, it’s cold.”
Oliver moved to my right, bouncing to keep some warmth in his body. “You didn’t bring a jacket?” Brett asked, taking in his t-shirt and shorts.
“It was 97 degrees when we left the house yesterday.”
“Come on then,” Brett said, gesturing for Oliver to follow him. “I’ve got a flannel you can borrow until we get back to the mansion.”
When they were several feet away, he turned back to me. “You should come, too, Elijah. Allie wants to talk to you.”
“She does? About what?”
He gave me a look that was impossible to misinterpret. “I think you know.”
I blew out a breath. “Yeah, okay.”
We made our way across the field in silence, but when we passed in front of the third tent, I realized it was quiet inside. “Lucky bastards,” I muttered, envious they’d all somehow managed to sleep in. We’d had a bit of a late night, what with trying to keep each other warm and all.