Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume

to me with a grin. I put it through my ATC in proper belay method, clipped rope and belay plate to my harness and tested the friction. Alan looked up at the cliff face while he chalked his hands then took a deep breath.
    "On belay?" he asked.
    I took my own deep breath, forced myself to focus past the argument not far away. Alan and the rope. That was it. Nothing else mattered.
    "Belay is on," I said.
    "Climbing," he said.
    "Climb on."
    After his annoyance with my caution, I'd half-expected he would show off despite what he'd said about it being stupid, but he didn't. Alan climbed at a careful, steady pace, placing protection almost exactly where I would have, and testing holds before he moved even though he wasn't all that high yet. I paid out the rope and watched him move and, now that Janelle and Brad had settled their issue, let the peace of the wild park seep into me.
    Two-Face overlooked a lazy loop of the river, and backed the state route that led to the park entrance. Though I didn't look around, I knew that I couldn't see any cars from where I stood, not even miles away. Within sight of Two-Face no bridges crossed the river, and no homes had been built on its shores. But for the denim-clad backside above me, I might have been alone in a pre-Columbian forest.
    And except for Janelle, jangling her way up the Rat Bastard route with Brad holding her line and paying attention as I should be. I raised my eyes to Alan.
    Note to self: when trying not to lust after someone, do not watch them climb a cliff, clearly having a great time sharing one of your passions, especially as the most noticeable focal point will be a fine and moving ass.
    I focused instead on his moves. I had Alan's life in my hands, metaphorically and also almost literally. Getting distracted by his ass would be a betrayal.
    Belaying someone is both easy and not. Easy, because all you have to do is pay attention. Pick up on your partner's rhythm, give him rope as he needs it, and you're doing fine. Get distracted, give him too much or too little, and you're screwing up, either inhibiting his climb or endangering his life, both of which are frowned on in the climbing world. The one only a little bit more than the other.
    The first pitch was seventy-five feet. At about fifty, Alan paused. I knew what he was looking at— I'd had the same thought when I went up. But it was an illusion. "To your right!" I called, because though the move to the left was a treat and led to a fun span, it also led to a dead-end. Alan lifted a hand to flip me off, and went for the handhold to the left. I sighed and set my feet and made doubly certain I was ready to catch him.
    He made it farther than I had, but after several minutes of looking for holds that just weren't there, Alan shook his head and started back. I took the rope in an inch at a time, wishing I'd just kept my mouth shut. The result would have been the same, only probably he'd be less irritated—
    Right at the bulge, where the only holds were a sloper and a crack big enough for one edge of a pinky toe, Alan slipped. "Falling!"
    I dropped my hand, locking the belay plate. "Got you!"
    He fell maybe ten feet before the last pro he'd set caught him. "I'm flying!" he whooped, doing a Superman pose pointed up the wall. From above Janelle gave a caustic laugh.
    "Supposed to stay on the wall, Lacroix."
    "Damn it, Janet, I love you!"
    "My name is Janelle. And ew."
    Alan pulled himself back to the rock and climbed, this time choosing the holds to the right. Soon he was hauling himself onto the rock spike that marked the end of the first pitch. I was happy to see he didn't assume safety— he tugged and shoved at the spike, testing its stability, before he threw a sling around it.
    "Anchored!" he called a moment later. "Off belay!"
    "Off belay!" I called back, pulling the rope from my ATC. I clipped the device on my hip then tied the rope to my harness. Figure eight, double back, I tested it with a few yanks… "Want a rest?" I called, even if it would irritate him. That first pitch could be rough.
    "Fuck no! Get up here, Lukas!"
    "On belay?"
    "Belay is on , baby!"
    "Climbing."
    "Get your climb on, Smells like Mountain Goat!"
    I grinned at the wall and started climbing.
    The first pitch was more fun and less stress than I'd worried. I hadn't lost too much skill in the months since I'd climbed. The second went even faster, both for Alan and me. By the end of the third, we were ready to un-rope for a bit and sit in