Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

was officially awake.
    He rolled off his cot and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a fleece, leaving it purposefully unbuttoned. A gentle breeze ruffled through the tent windows and cut through the lingering humidity. When the Society had told him he would be staying in one of the park's tents, he had pictured sweltering his days away in a tiny vinyl structure held up by thin plastic poles that could easily be trampled by any animal larger than a cicada. If he'd been more awake last night when he arrived, the reality of his home for the next couple of months would have left him weeping in gratitude.
    The tent, if it could even be called that, was almost the size of his apartment back in Santa Barbara. The walls were a thick canvas, supported by sturdy wood poles around the four corners and in the center. There were windows that rolled up, screened to keep out the malaria-infested mosquitoes. A small table and chairs sat at the front of the tent, and as if it was the greatest invention since the breakfast burrito, there was (glory hallelujah!) a sink. He couldn't drink the water, but it would be enough to keep him cleaned up and sane on the hottest days.
    And it was going to be a warm day. February in the African plains was rainy and hot. Although slightly cooler, Santa Barbara wasn't that much different this time of year. Where he'd grown up in Montana would still be covered in feet of snow.
    He was flipping the tent flap open before he remembered he had wanted to make a dramatic entrance. At least he wanted to be less frantic than he felt—and probably looked—right now. But as soon as he was outside, he no longer cared about anything besides the man sitting back on his heels in front of the fire: six foot four, athletic, deceptively thin, and physically stronger than any other man he'd met. Smiling. Always that smile. He had an ear to ear grin that put shame to the phrase—that showcased his high, angular cheekbones and the sun-crinkled corners of his brown eyes. At twenty-five, his eyes looked wiser than they should have, yet they held no malice or sadness.
    Shon was Maasai, of the tribe which still resided in Tanzania in the Serengeti National Park. One of their fabled warriors, Shon had visited and lived in many other places besides Africa. Augie had met him in Germany, and yet Augie couldn't imagine him anywhere else. Augie's heart thudded and then forgot to beat for one long minute. He couldn't have visualized a more perfect moment in the eight months building up to this. The sky tinged gold and pink, a fine mist on the hills, footprints in the red dust where lions had investigated his arrival, a cool breeze skating over his skin raising goose bumps, this beautiful man stoking the fire... and those screeching water buffalo. Augie sighed. It was close enough.
    Shon wore the green uniform of the Serengeti park rangers, and the patch on his left shoulder identified him as a member of the elite Serengeti Rhino Protection Unit. Augie knew from a long-remembered touch that the uniform was cotton, but not the worn-in material he was used to. It was thicker, coarser, and the shade of green which said "authority figure" no matter where you were in the world. The lines of his pants were crisp, his shoes polished to a high shine, and his shirt was free of the red dust which seemed to cling to everything.
    Augie swallowed, very aware that how long he stayed in Tanzania depended on what happened right now. If Shon's smile was any indication, Augie was never going back to California. And yet they kept their distance, in matching guarded positions, studying each other. He knew seeing Shon for the first time since Germany would be complicated. There was no easy way to glaze over an eight month walk of shame. He had been ridden hard and was left bone-meltingly sated at the end of their summer fling, but afterwards there had been total radio silence. It was as if it was the 1800s and the Atlantic Ocean took months to cross instead of hours. He wished he'd had more time to prepare or at least more uninterrupted sleep so his sluggish brain had time to catch up.
    Despite the awkwardness, Augie couldn't resist the smile plastered across Shon's face. Augie grinned back and leaned against the tent pole, his hands in his pockets. He hoped he didn't look as teenage, high school crush as he felt. "Hey."
    Shon smiled wider if that was possible. "Hey." He motioned to a pot over the fire which definitely had not been there when Augie