Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

cuddle me and you hug me and you touch me like it's nothing, like I'm another one of those women you flirt with! I live with you, Riley! We're friends!"
    "Are we?" Riley said quietly and West stopped ranting to stare at him. "You keep your distance like we're strangers. Every time I think you're warming up to me again you pull back. I thought I knew what you want from me but I don't and it's making me crazy ."
    "And your solution is to kiss me."
    "It usually helps to break the ice."
    "Break the ice," West repeated. " Break the ice. " He left the room so he didn't have to listen to any more, slamming the door behind him. Break the ice! Like he meant nothing, like he was a conquest, like he had no choice except to keep his distance!
    His bed, rumpled as it was, presented no sanctuary. West pulled on the first sweatshirt he grabbed as well as the first pair of boots he saw, grabbed his keys and went out into the night.
    When he was a kid he had gone to St. Francis's church, to Father Jackson's, every time he felt restless and angry, to climb the tree and sit in its top branches above the noise and hassle and pain of his everyday life. Even as a student he had sought out places on campus where he could do something like that, a staircase or tower or even a hillside where he could be away from it all. He'd always liked mountains for the same reason. They carried him away.
    He hadn't needed to do so for years, but tonight he was frantic with the need to climb, and it was no real surprise that his feet brought him to the old neighborhood where his parents still lived, and the little church with its pretty garden and the kind-faced statue. The oak tree stood by the rectory, its sturdy branches still spread protectively over the roof, though they all creaked in the stiff wind.
    Fearless, West caught hold of the lowest branch he could reach— much higher than the one he used to climb when he was twelve— and swung himself up. The bark was slippery from the rain, and West had to clutch with his fingernails and dig in with his feet, until he reached the broad branch that had been his seat and desk for so many years. He'd never climbed it in such a storm, though, and the swaying of the tree made his stomach churn.
    Or maybe it was grief that made him wrap his arms around the trunk and squeeze his eyes shut. He supposed Riley would move out, and since most of the friends they had in common had moved away and Riley hadn't kept in touch with West's parents, they wouldn't see each other except by accident.
    He placed a hand on the trunk to balance himself, and felt bare wood where the bark had been stripped away and then begun to regrow. Their initials were still there, not overgrown yet, RC and WC, inseparable.
    He didn't know how long he was in the tree when a car splashed down the street, its headlights sweeping over the church. It pulled to a stop in front of the church and the driver got out, the headlights still on. The driver walked into the garden and peered up into the tree. "Westie? Are you up there? I know you're up there. This is where you always came when things went bad. Come down, West."
    Riley. He'd know that voice anywhere. West climbed down, jumping from the last branch, and when he straightened up Riley was smiling at him sadly.
    "I came back to Seattle for you," he said. "I missed you. When you stopped answering my emails and stopped calling me I thought, okay, if he doesn't want to see me I won't bother him— but then I missed you. Don't you get it, West?" he said, his voice breaking. "I had to come back to you."
    "I don't know," West said. "I don't know how to make this work— I don't even know what this is."
    "I do," Riley said. "I want to live with you. I want to kiss you whenever I feel like and whenever you feel like kissing me. I want to feed you and play music for you and— and— be with you."
    West shivered. He blamed it on the rain dripping down his neck. "I don't know, Riley."
    Riley closed the space between them and wrapped his hands in West's sweatshirt. "May I kiss you?"
    West whispered, "Yes, yes," and Riley kissed him, warm and urgent and loving.
    As good as those first soft kisses had felt, this felt even better: tender and hungry at once, purposeful. It was a kiss with intent, as if Riley meant to convey what he felt and wanted for himself and imagined for the two of them. It said I want you , it said I'm yours , it might have even said I love you but West thought that might just be his own