He kisses me, and then I do exactly what I promised: I get him naked and take him upstairs and seduce the hell out of him, and afterward we lie curled together in his bed and say nothing.
My story in The Atlantic didn’t say anything about this part. Levi is in it, of course, but the story is about old trees and forest crimes and early American brigands, not about how I fell in love with the man who introduced me to all this.
That part of it doesn’t belong in some article, written down for the world. I don’t think I could ever do it justice. That story belongs here, in the quiet spaces where we’re together, where our hearts beat in harmony and I can feel our lives intertwining into weeks, months, years.
“You dazzle me,” I say quietly, not even sure that Levi’s awake.
He says nothing, just gently kisses the top of my head, and I listen to his silence like I’ve learned to do.
In it, he says everything.
The End