“We had good times, didn’t we?” Lane said when I didn’t respond.
“We did.”
The rest of the hike went much like the first part—moments of silence, then times when we talked about anything and everything. Luckily, the medium trail was easy, so neither of us struggled. It was fairly quiet out. Every now and again, we saw someone or heard a voice in the distance.
We just enjoyed each other’s company until we found a spot that looked good and Lane asked, “Should we stop and eat?”
“Sounds good to me. I’ve been craving bacon.”
“Will you ever let me live that down?”
“Nope. Since when has that ever been how I roll?”
He laughed, pulling the backpack off. We made our way off the trail to a grassy area within the trees. It was clear other people stopped there to eat, but it was empty at the moment. We sat down, and Lane pulled the food from the backpack. Some of his curls were damp with sweat, one sticking to his forehead, another twisting around his ear.
We were about halfway through the meal when he said, “Can I ask you something?”
“I’d prefer you didn’t,” I teased, only I wasn’t sure how much I was really joking.
“Too bad.” He winked, played with a blade of grass, then asked, “Have you ever had a serious relationship?”
I stopped chewing with a big bite in my mouth. Where the fuck had that come from? Why did he want to know? I finished, swallowed, but there was still a lump in my throat left behind. “No. Never. Not my thing.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, Lane. Because it’s not. I just can’t see myself…”
“Trusting someone like that? Giving yourself to them?”
“There was a farmer who had a dog,” I replied.
“B-I-N-G-O.”
“Why?” I asked again. Because there had to be a reason he would want to know, a reason that specific question came into his head.
Lane shrugged. “I’ve just been thinking about it lately. Maybe because of all the guys.”
I rolled my eyes. This was about sex? “I didn’t mean to insult your delicate sensibilities by fucking,” I snapped. Plus, I’d stopped that.
“Why are you pissed at me again? Jesus, we never used to fight this much. I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I don’t want you to be alone, is all.”
I wouldn’t be if I had him. “I’m not alone. I have my family, friends, a career I love. And when I want to fuck, I fuck. It’s basically the perfect life.” And it would be the perfect existence if it wasn’t for how I felt about him.
“It’s another way we’re different, I guess. I want that…what my dad and mom had, what our parents have together. I’m not gonna pretend I never hook up for the sake of getting off because I do, but I want more. I was with Alana for two years. With Megan for ten months. Mario and I dated for a year, and fuck, there was Jayden, of course.”
Each name he said, each relationship he spoke about, was a dagger to my already tender heart that was only soft when it came to him. “You were in love with them? Or at least some of them?”
Lane hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I wasn’t. None of them. They’re all great people—”
“Not Jayden.”
Lane rolled his eyes. “He’s not a bad guy. None of them were. They were funny and smart and treated me well—though Jayden less than the rest. We had things in common, and loved art, and knew a lot of the same people, but I just…didn’t fall in love with them. And I don’t understand why. Because I want that, to have a person, my person, and I just keep thinking I’m fucking broken or something. Like there’s something wrong with me because I can’t fall in love with any of them.”
I didn’t know what came over me then. It was the stupidest thing I could have done, but it was as if I’d lost control over my own body, like my limbs and my mouth had a mind of their own. One minute I was sitting there listening to him, this quiet voice in my head saying, Love me, choose me, and then I was leaning forward, my body disobeying my commands when I tried to stop, when the voice changed to, Don’t do this. You’re going to fuck it all up.
Lane’s eyes went wide, and then my lips were on his. He sucked in a sharp breath, less than a beat passing before he was kissing me back. Lane’s tongue swiped at my lips, and my hands automatically went to his hair, tangling in the mess. I loved the way it felt entwined around my fingers, the softness, the damp sweat. I loved the taste of him, like if happiness and comfort had a flavor, it would be Lane.