by A J Lange
He had to convince Gray not to climb over the bars that limited access at Newspaper Rock and hike down to the ancient monument; the petroglyphs were apparently too damn enticing and Gray complained loud and long about viewing them through the available telescope, its quality admittedly negligible.
“I’m a professional, Zane. I should have access.”
Zane secretly thought his annoyance was adorable, but he knew saying so wouldn’t necessarily win him any points. “Yeah, but if they allowed every ‘professional’ to have access, can’t you see the issues that might happen then?”
“I’m an archaeologist,” Gray sniffed indignantly. “And since when are you such a paragon of virtue?”
Zane, unable to keep his hands to himself any longer, bumped his fist lightly on Gray’s chin. “I’m going to ignore that, since you’re basing your opinion off my jumping into bed with you in the last twelve hours. And yes. You are. Now look through the telescope like a good little professor so we can move on. I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” Gray grumbled, but he hogged the telescope until a family of five made a show of clearing their throats impatiently behind him. When he finally turned, he smiled beatifically at the mother, who blushed bright pink (Zane felt her pain), and Zane had to pull Gray quickly away by the arm, the burly father scowling menacingly after them.
The Petrified Forest was less exciting. As they drove the winding road connecting the parks, Zane kept expecting a, well, forest. The closest he got was the Crystal Forest Trail, where there was at least one petrified log that he could tell had, at one point in time, been an actual tree.
“Finally. A tree.”
“Petrified log.” Gray snapped a photo of Zane standing beside it. Zane was almost positive his mouth had been hanging open awkwardly.
“If this was a forest, why aren’t there more of these lying around? Now that would be something to see.” Zane ran a finger along the smooth jewel-like surface where the log had split long ago.
“Well, not all trees became petrified. And before this area was claimed as a national park, people would take the pieces to sell, or keep.” Gray snapped another photo of Zane.
“Give me that,” Zane said, exasperated, wrestling the camera from Gray’s grasp.
“We need another one. There are only a few shots left.”
“And food. We need food.”
“Yes, Zane. I’ll feed you.” Gray pushed Zane forward on the trail, and Zane might have thrilled a little at the touch of his hand on his back; it was the first time he had voluntarily touched him since this morning when he seemingly had no problem whatsoever touching all parts of him.
Well, maybe not all parts.
They picked up brochures for other local monuments and parks at the visitor’s center and Gray nabbed a national parks passport book in the gift shop. He used the provided cancellation stamps to mark the appropriate pages for the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest.
Zane watched him fondly, waiting patiently even though his stomach really was growling ferociously now. Maybe he should have asked for something more substantial on the snack front than a sugary dessert pie.
The cashier watched Zane watch Gray, her eyes sliding between them. “Is this your first trip to Arizona?” She asked Zane. At his nod she smiled, gesturing to Gray. “You’ll be glad you bought that. There are tons of national parks and monuments here. It makes a nice souvenir.”
Zane narrowed his eyes slightly, but she seemed sincere. “Thanks. Do I pay you?”
“I can pay, Zane,” Gray said without looking up. He was carefully aligning the stamp so it didn’t transfer crookedly in the allotted box on the park’s page.
Zane opened his wallet and handed the girl a twenty, lifting his eyebrows as if to say, What are you gonna do?
She giggled and made his change before moving to help the next customer.
“I would have bought it,” Gray murmured when Zane leaned on the glass case holding the passport station.
“But you didn’t have to, because I bought it for you.” Zane spoke low enough he noted that Gray leaned ever so marginally closer, as if to hear him better. Zane thought he might start speaking really low all the time, to see just how far into his space Gray would travel. He liked the electric buzz that hummed to life between them when they got too close. Or not close enough.
When Gray looked at Zane from under his lashes, Zane was thrust nine months into the past in an instant and his heart dipped into his stomach.
“Hungry?”
Gray nodded and straightened, carefully returning the stamps to their tray and closing the provided inkpad.
“Let’s drive into Winslow. Then you can sing that song,” Gray said as they pushed open the glass entry door and stepped into the bright afternoon sun.
“The Eagles? Dude. I’m impressed. Your music knowledge has always been sadly lacking.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Gray frowned. “I played Beethoven for you, don’t forget.”
Zane stopped.
Gray turned when he realized Zane was no longer walking beside him. “What?”
“Gray,” Zane breathed. “You remembered.”
Gray cocked his head, brow wrinkled, but then his eyes cleared and widened. “My apartment, we ate, we ate...” He frowned harder. “Fuck, I don’t remember what we ate. But I played Beethoven.”
Zane crossed the concrete sidewalk and grabbed his arms, his grip too tight but he couldn’t care. “I don’t remember what we ate,” he said laughing. He pulled Gray into an impromptu hug. “Wait! Yes I do! That was the night I met Harry-"
“Kobe burgers,” Gray said triumphantly, and Zane didn’t care if they were standing in front of a national park visitor center, teeming with families and retirees and bicyclists and hardcore hikers; he wanted to kiss Gray so badly it hurt.
They stood there on the hot, pale concrete sidewalk grinning at each other.
The moment passed when Zane’s stomach growled loudly.
Gray laughed “Let’s go find you something greasy and artery-hardening.”
◆◆◆
Zane snapped the last photo in the camera of Gray, standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona. Which made Zane exceptionally jovial, but he supposed part of his good cheer could also be attributed to the jumbo cheeseburger and homemade root beer he had just consumed at Darrel’s Root Beer Stand.
Gray made Zane stop at Meteor City, a geodesic domed trading post, where he bought another disposable camera and a pack of gum. Zane bought a postcard and a stamp, and hastily jotted down a note to Tanner and Lily on the back, and the girl at the desk put it in a basket of outgoing mail. Gray took the first picture in the camera of Zane in front of the world’s largest dreamcatcher, before they left to rejoin the lazy traffic moving west on I-40.
Zane put his foot down on driving out to the actual meteor crater.
“I don’t give two craps about seeing a giant hole in the ground.”
“It’s an important geological artifact!”
“So says the nerdy archaeology professor.”
“Well, I’d promise there would be beer, half-naked women, and monster trucks but I’d be lying.”
“Are you calling me a redneck?”
“If the thick skull fits.”
They drove in silence for a few more miles.
“I like volcanoes,” Zane said quietly.
Gray carefully unfolded the Arizona national parks guide in his lap. “Then we should head north in Flagstaff. Sunset Crater,” he looked quickly at Zane. “Which is a volcano, not a giant hole in the ground.”
Zane grinned at the implied air quotes. Asshole. He took Exit 201 to Flagstaff, and then continued north.
Chapter 21
Sunset Crater was, in fact, a volcano. It was small, breaking on the horizon when the Jeep rounded a corner. Zane had been surprised to see snow on the mountains in his rearview mirror, but it had gotten cooler as they climbed in elevation. As they neared the dormant volca
no, dark lava flow materialized on either side of the pavement. It looked fake, like something from a movie set. Zane was fascinated and kept stopping the car to get out and take another picture, or run his hands across the dark substance. In some places it was jagged, sharp, like the surface of a distant planet, burned up by the sun; in others it was smooth, molten liquid in appearance, and in still others, it was fine, black sand.
They parked in a small lot at the base and walked the short, guided hike. Zane was glad for the opportunity to stretch his legs; it was getting late in the day, or they might have had time to hike to the caldera.
“Next time,” Gray said casually, leaning against the hood of the Jeep as he read the brochure he had grabbed from a stand at the trailhead. It had an illustrated map of the park on the back.
Zane smiled at the words. Next time. “Okay, so where to now? Grand Canyon?” His face was eager, pleading, and Gray laughed, tilting his head.
“The Grand Canyon isn’t going anywhere, Zane. ”
Zane scowled and grabbed for the brochure. “Please don’t tell me you found an archaeology site out here. We didn’t come all this way for you to get your toothbrush out and start combing through a pile of dirt.”
They wrestled for control of the glossy paper, but Zane ultimately won, triumphantly holding the crumpled map overhead.
“Now I know how Tanner feels. He’s right, it is totally fair.”
“Oh shut up,” Gray muttered, then poked Zane hard in the ribs, forcing him to drop his arm.
“Ow, sore loser.”
“I think it’s pretty pathetic that you would take advantage of an injured person.”
Zane scoffed. “You’re not injured, you big baby.”
“I’m still on medication.”
Zane narrowed his eyes. “What kind?”
“None of your business.”
“Because you’re lying.”
“Prove it.”
Zane bit his lip to hold back a grin. “You name one medication that isn’t for migraines and I’ll let you drive.”
Their eyes met and held for a long moment, then Gray broke first, sighing dramatically. “Fine. You win.”
“Ha. That’s what I thought,” Zane smirked. “Don’t worry, baby,” he said, patting the Jeep's hood. “No big bad head case is going to drive you.”
“Oh my God. Just pick a spot on the damn map so we can get out of here before you two have to get a room.”
Zane thought if Gray’s eyes rolled any harder they might pop out of his skull.
“I’m just reassuring her. No one drives my baby.” But he wouldn’t look Gray in the eye as he said it and Gray pounced.
“Aha! You let me drive the Jeep."
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. I can tell by your shifty eyes.”
“I don’t have shifty eyes.”
“Yes you do.” Gray held out his hand. “Let me drive, Zane. ”
“No way.” Zane’s voice was firm.
“Why not?”
“Because you have a head injury,” Zane said stubbornly.
Gray grabbed the brochure from Zane’s hand in a flash. “Awesome. Now, let’s continue around the paved road east to the Wupatki pueblo site. It loops back out to the highway on the other side.”
Zane’s mouth worked.
Gray climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door.
“Damn, he’s good,” Zane muttered under his breath.
◆◆◆
The road, it turned out, was long, winding back through God’s country, the terrain so flat and expansive you could see for miles, distant buttes breaching the line between earth and sky. Rising from the desert floor, nestled in a valley, a large pueblo structure appeared, beautifully framed by the sinking sun. Gray began to fidget impatiently on the seat, and Zane laughed.
“Calm down, professor. I’ll get you there, I promise.”
Zane maneuvered the car into a slanted parking spot.
Gray threw off his seatbelt and was out of the car in flash.
“Hey, wait up,” Zane groused, fumbling for the keys. He caught up with him as Gray stood in a circular viewing platform overlooking the pueblo below. There were few cars in the lot behind them, so it was quiet and serene, the only sound the wind as it whistled across the valley, the sky pink with the impending sunset. Zane thought it was gorgeous, and also sort of sad. He imagined that he could feel the people who had lived here so long ago, that maybe their spirits stayed and still watched over their valley. It felt sacred, and Zane thought he might have a new appreciation for Gray’s vocation.
They took the paved staircase that led down to the monument and wandered around the site, stepping into the accessible rooms. Zane smiled as Gray flipped his professor switch, explaining the layout and each room’s intended usage. The round, almost amphitheater style pit was a ‘ball court’, Gray explained.
“Ball as in ballgame?”
Gray smiled at Zane’s enthusiasm. “Yes, Zane. Culturally speaking, in some ways we haven’t really changed that much.”
They climbed the staircase to the parking lot, and Zane was out of breath when they reached the top.
“I might need to lay off the pancakes for a few mornings.”
“It’s the elevation,” Gray said and Zane frowned when he noted the slighter man wasn’t even the least bit winded.
“Then why aren’t you huffing?” Zane actually was huffing; his heart was pounding like he’d just finished a sprint.
Gray studied Zane thoughtfully, eyes moving down his chest to hover at his waist. Zane’s heart fluttered, and it wasn’t just from exertion. “Maybe you should think about eating a piece of fruit now and then,” he finally said.
“Hey! Did you just call me fat?”
But Gray had already turned to open the car door, slipping behind it with a smirk.
◆◆◆
It was dark when they arrived at Tusayan, just outside the south rim gate of the Grand Canyon.
“I propose we sleep tonight and then get up early tomorrow.”
“You want to get up early,” Zane teased, but he pulled into a Best Western. “Um,” he hesitated, parked under the awning. “One room or two?” He could feel his face flush, and he avoided looking at the passenger seat.
“Oh.” Gray was quiet and when Zane snuck a peek, he had turned his head to study the motel. “Two, I guess.” He dug in his pocket and handed Zane his wallet, blue eyes glowing in the dashboard lights.
“I’ve got it, Gray,” Zane said gruffly, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. Dammit. He left Gray’s wallet hanging in mid-air and scrambled from the car, escaping the sudden tension.
They were silent as they waited for the elevator, each holding a duffle bag and a room key. Zane’s cheeks still felt too warm.
Gray shifted his feet nervously.
Because fate liked to kick Zane when he was down, just in case he got too complacent, Gray’s room was a floor above his. The elevator dinged and the door slid open. Zane hesitated on the threshold.
“Uh, I guess this is good night then.”
Gray’s expression was unreadable. “Good night, Zane. ” He reached over and pressed the button to close the door.
Well, all right then, Zane thought, hackles rising. So Gray was pissed. He didn’t have to say two rooms. Zane didn’t force him to say two rooms.
After all, Zane wasn’t the one who was being coy and adorable and not sharing anything remotely personal or vital to the questions that were tearing Zane up inside.
Nevermind that Zane didn’t have the guts to ask the questions.
Zane threw his duffle bag into the corner with more force than necessary and it bounced off the wall. He winced, hoping the room next door was unoccupied.
He showered, taking a little personal ‘me’ time while he stood under the pounding hot water, anger and frustration fueling his hand as much as hot blue eyes and dark stubbled jaw. He didn’t really feel any better afterward.
; He lay on top of the covers in his boxers and watched SportsCenter.
And an episode of Friends.
And Iron Chef.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, pulling his jeans back on. He was buttoning his fly when there was a sharp rap on the door. Gray stood in the hall in a pair of flannel pants and Zane’s t-shirt.
“I can’t sleep,” Gray said.
Zane stepped aside to let him in. Gray stood at the foot of the bed, looking at the TV. “You watch the Food Network.”
Zane shrugged. “Sometimes. I like food.”
Gray’s mouth lifted and he bit into his cheek, but he didn’t say anything.
Zane pointed at him. “And don’t you dare go saying I’m fat again.”
Gray lifted his hands in surrender, but he was grinning. “I didn’t say you were fat.”
“That’s not what it sounded like to me,” Zane mumbled, sitting back on the bed and leaning against the headboard. Gray still hadn’t moved. “Are you going to sit down?”
Gray frowned and rubbed his temple with one hand. Zane leaned forward, concerned. “Headache?” When Gray nodded, Zane held out a hand and sighed. “Come here.”
He scooted over to make room and Gray sat next to him, but Zane pushed him down. “Lie down on your stomach,” he said quietly. Gray hesitated, meeting Zane’s gaze. One beat, two. Three. Then he turned and lay down on the bed, and Zane could breathe again, exhaling silently through his nose.
He carded his fingers gently through Gray’s hair, using the tips to massage his scalp lightly. He moved very lightly over the part that had been shaved, feeling the narrow, raised areas of scar tissue under the regrown hair. Gray relaxed against the pillows, his eyes fluttering closed. Zane continued to stroke his head, massaging his temple lightly, back across his crown, down to the nape where he used more force, pushing with more pressure against the tight tendons.
Gray’s breathing evened out until Zane knew he was asleep, but he didn’t stop touching him. He had missed this, for so long, craved it. He massaged the knots he felt in Gray’s back, where he had always held too much tension, between his shoulder blades and low, along the edge of his spine. Zane yawned and glanced at the bedside clock. One a.m. He should really get some sleep; he didn’t want to fall over the edge of the canyon tomorrow because he was too tired to mind his step.
