Grand Adventures

by Dawn Kimberly Johnson

  Clenching his hands into fists, he tried desperately to send the commands to his legs to carry him outside. Stubbornly, they disobeyed.

  “That jogger needs me. Something is wrong. He could be hurt, dying. No one else knows, and no one else cares.”

  His feet still didn’t move.

  Then he imagined his day without seeing Raoul or Rex or Matty or Bernard. How unbearably lonely his day would be without that break in the monotony. Especially if something bad happened because he was too fucking scared to go outside.

  If he left now, he could easily search the nature trail and be back before nightfall.

  Nightfall. He couldn’t make the jogger wait that long. The temperature would only drop lower.

  Light-headed, trembling, and afraid he was going to heave any minute, Justin plodded, step after step, toward the nature trail.

  ON THE trail itself, Justin had to work harder to keep from running back to the safety of his home and to keep from falling flat on his face. The thaw and refreeze had made the trail treacherous and slippery. He had no trouble believing the jogger had gotten himself into trouble.

  Although he didn’t know the jogger’s name, he wanted to call out. Ask if anyone was out there. But terror had dried out his mouth and constricted his vocal cords.

  Over the crunch of dead, iced-over foliage, Justin heard it. A feeble cry for help. It was close, and that tangible sound gave him enough impetus to call out.

  “Where are you?”

  “Down here!”

  Justin peered around and saw a mark that might have been made from a body sliding over the side of the trail. Hanging on to a tree branch, he leaned over. Teal knit caught his eye first, and he shook from the relief and adrenaline coursing through his system.

  The jogger had slid down a steep hill, but fortunately they weren’t near the ravine. Justin spied another way down and made his way carefully to the jogger’s side.

  “Hey there. How are you? Where are you hurt?” Justin’s teeth were chattering, but he wasn’t cold. He was too fucking terrified of the steel gray sky pressing down from above to notice the temperature.

  “Oh thank God. My ankle. I think it’s busted.”

  Justin cuddled up close to the man, still gorgeous even though his brown skin was ashen and his red lips were closer to blue. He pulled the knapsack off his back and got out the thermal blanket.

  “Can you make it up with my help?” Justin didn’t know if he was going to be strong enough to help the jogger up the steep incline. After all, he hadn’t been strong enough to ward off his attacker. The memory of that night was enough to spur him on. Logically, he knew his mugger wasn’t waiting around in the wilderness for him to come back, but that didn’t change the fact that Justin was far, far away from his sanctuary and responsible for helping a guy who was clearly in trouble.

  “I don’t know. I can’t put any weight on it at all. Believe me, I tried.” The jogger’s voice was weak and breathy. Justin needed help.

  He pulled out his phone, hoping Mark would still be answering his calls.

  “Mark, help me.”

  “Jesus, Justin. It’s a madhouse here. I told you, go over to the guy’s house.”

  “I went out on the trail looking for him.”

  There was a pregnant pause as Mark digested that information. “You did? That’s… great. And your jogger?”

  Great. Yeah, if Justin didn’t think too hard about what being out there meant, maybe it would be great.

  “I found him. He’s freezing, and his ankle’s broken. I can’t get him out of here by myself.”

  “Okay, okay. Keep him warm and awake. I can’t get away from the accident site yet, but I’ll make some calls, get you some help.”

  Oh God. Justin hadn’t realized that finding the jogger wasn’t going to be the end. But he couldn’t leave the man there, cold, scared, and alone. Not just because Justin had been fucked in the head by some bitch of a mugger.

  Justin gave Mark details on where he was, but Mark had jogged the trail with him before and didn’t need a lot of information.

  “Help is on the way.”

  Tears of relief traced their way down the jogger’s face. “Thank you. I think I fell on my phone, because it cracked and wouldn’t make any calls. I thought I was going to die out here.”

  Justin wasn’t going to think about dying or the fact that the jogger could still do so—they both could—if help didn’t arrive soon.

  “What’s your name?” If he was going to keep the jogger awake, he might as well satisfy his curiosity and see if he could distract his own demons.

  “I’m Samuel. Samuel Lopez.”

  Samuel. Not a name he’d dreamed up yet, and Justin was glad.

  “Nice to meet you, Samuel Lopez.”

  They shook hands.

  “Who are you? How did you find me?”

  Justin didn’t want to answer those questions—but they were stuck there, and he was supposed to keep Samuel alert.

  “Uh, I’m Justin McCarthy. I live at number twenty-two.”

  Samuel’s dark brown eyes widened. “Twenty-two? You’re the shut-in? But you’re young and hot!”

  Justin chose to be pleased at the compliment rather than be annoyed by the disbelief in Samuel’s tone.

  “Uh, thanks.” He hoped Samuel had forgotten about the “how” part of his previous questions, because as harmless as Justin was, the reason he’d found Samuel really did sound stalkerish.

  “What do you do for a living, Samuel?”

  “Computer programmer. I like it because I can work from home. Like you do, I guess.”

  Samuel shifted a little so he could rest his head in Justin’s lap, wincing a bit as his ankle moved.

  Computer programmer. Justin had come up with that as a possible profession for his fantasy jogger. Who now had a name.

  “I’m a boring accountant. What sort of programming do you do?”

  Justin was genuinely interested, and it was better for Samuel to keep talking, even though he was clearly uncomfortable and in pain. And listening to Samuel’s deep voice gave Justin an anchor to focus on, so he didn’t sprint back to the safety of his own house.

  Less than fifteen minutes later, two male voices called out for Justin. When the men scrambled down the incline, he recognized them as cops he’d met at Mark’s poker games. When he’d still gone to Mark’s poker games. Judging by their lack of uniform, he assumed they weren’t working today.

  In fairly short order, Justin had been returned to the haven of his home, and Samuel had been driven to the hospital.

  After he’d thrown up and the shaking had stopped, Justin stepped into a scorching-hot shower. If he hadn’t been afraid to leave the house, if he hadn’t become entranced by Samuel, Samuel might be dead. Yes, his reluctance to leave the house had been a good thing, but considering how long it had taken him to overcome it, how close he’d come to ignoring those instincts that told him Samuel was in danger… that couldn’t continue. What if his house caught fire? Would he have trouble leaving even then? Although less important in the grand scheme of things, but high on his personal list of priorities, he didn’t think Samuel would be interested in dating someone who was unable to leave his fucking house. Which meant, as his friends had told him all along, things had to change.

  Clean and dry, Justin marched back to his office and picked up his phone, leaving a message for the psychiatrist Mark had recommended.

  SIX WEEKS later, Justin stared out of his office window. Spring had come, the street was greener, and he’d been making slow but steady progress with his therapist. He’d had visits from Mark, and even the two guys who’d come to rescue both him and Samuel had stopped by. He was slowly piecing his life back together, because that mugger had taken his money, but he didn’t get to strip him of everything else as well.

  But holy hell, did he miss seeing his jogger sprint down the street with a ready smile. He picked up the thank-you card Samuel had sent him days after his “rescue,�
�� tracing the ink where Samuel had signed his name, the edges of the card already becoming ragged.

  One day, he’d be ready to march up to Samuel’s house and talk to the man. Hopefully one day soon.

  The doorbell rang, startling Justin out of yet another fantasy. He wasn’t expecting a delivery, but answering the door would be a welcome change from his monotony.

  “Oh. Hi.”

  Samuel stood on his doorstep, looking as delicious as ever, a gray plastic walking cast encasing his lower right leg and a large bag in one hand.

  “Hi.”

  “How’s the leg?”

  “Better. Can I come in?”

  “Oh yeah, sure.” Justin backed away from the door. He had no idea what Samuel was doing there.

  “I brought lunch. Since we both work from home, I thought maybe some company might be nice.”

  Justin frowned. “It would be, but….”

  Samuel gave him a little smile. “I had been hoping you’d come visit me in the hospital. Or maybe stop by my house. But when I was back for some outpatient physiotherapy, I ran into a paramedic friend of yours. He explained what a huge deal it was for you to come and help me. He also explained a little bit about how you knew I needed help and why you hadn’t visited.”

  Justin’s face flamed in embarrassment. How could Mark tell a virtual stranger all about that?

  “Don’t be embarrassed. I mean, I knew you were watching me, and Jane Willett told me you were a shut-in. That’s why I smiled at your window every day. I didn’t realize what had happened to you, and I was—am—grateful you helped me. But I wanted to get to know you better, and as soon as I was off the crutches, well, here I am.”

  Justin was still confused, but Samuel stepped closer. “And if you aren’t going to come to me, I’ll come to you.” Samuel dropped the bag on the floor before capturing Justin’s lips in the sweetest, hottest kiss he’d ever experienced.

  He didn’t know how long they kissed in his hallway, but eventually Samuel drew back. “Hungry?”

  How was he supposed to answer that? He was starved—starved for Samuel.

  Then his stomach rumbled.

  Samuel laughed. “Maybe we’ll start with lunch.”

  “Okay.”

  Samuel looked around for the first time. “You’ve got a nice place here. Which is good. Since I hope to be spending a lot of time here.”

  “You do?” The hope battering at his chest was painful. Was Samuel saying what he thought?

  “Well, you don’t leave here, right?” There was no judgment in Samuel’s tone, and Justin thought he maybe fell in love right then and there.

  “No, but….” Justin took a deep breath. “Maybe one day soon.”

  Samuel’s eyes sparkled. “Yeah? I look forward to that. But until then, this is good, right?” He hefted the bag that Justin now realized smelled heavenly.

  “Yes. This is good.”

  Kid Confusion

  MADISON PARKER

  I discovered Eric Arvin via an article he wrote in 2012 titled “A Conversation with Myself About GRL,” wherein he referenced his love affair with a chocolate muffin, used words like “douche-dangle,” talked about himself in the third person, and admitted how much he was looking forward to meeting his archenemy, TJ Klune.

  TJ responded with “I don’t think he’s ready for this jelly.” Their humor instantly won me over, and I’ve been a fan ever since.

  I don’t remember if TJ led me to Eric or vice versa. It’s difficult to imagine one without the other. It’s been a privilege getting to know them and a delight reading their novels. They are each talented storytellers who write with great depth of emotion. Oh, the tears of laughter from reading TJ Klune’s Bear, Otter, and the Kid and Eric Arvin’s Kid Christmas Rides Again! And the tears of grief from TJ’s Into this River I Drown and Eric’s Woke Up in a Strange Place! The list goes on….

  It’s no wonder their stories make me feel so much. Eric and TJ continually inspire me with their courage, their love and commitment, and their strength and determination in facing the horrific obstacles real life has thrown their way. Even under dire circumstances, Eric is able to offer up a smile, that infectious smile of his that is pure joy to behold. May they always be able to see the good and feel the love as they continue on their journey together.

  “YOU WANT me to do what?” Lucas asked, his voice rising an octave above normal. His best friend Trish had roped him into some uncomfortable situations in the past, but this sounded downright torturous. Spending the day alone with Donovan? Ugh.

  “Please, please, pleeeeeease, Lucas.”

  He held the phone farther away from his ear to dampen the sound.

  “I know how you feel about Donovan,” she continued, “but I don’t have anyone else to ask. He was counting on me and Alex to help him with the party.”

  “Oh, right,” Lucas said in a flat voice. “The one I wasn’t invited to.”

  “The one you said you didn’t want to attend. I still don’t understand why you don’t want to celebrate Pride now that you’re out.”

  He heard the frustration in her voice. No sense in agitating her any further. She was in a hospital, after all, waiting for her boyfriend to come out of surgery. Perhaps if he changed the subject…. “Are you sure Alex is gonna be okay?”

  “There’s risk involved with any surgery, but appendectomies are fairly common. Even if they release him tonight, though, there’s no way we’re making the party tomorrow, let alone helping with the setup.”

  Lucas sighed and resigned himself to his fate. “Okay, what exactly do you need me to do?”

  “Help him get everything ready. D’s putting on a skit during the party. I’m supposed to handle stage crew, and Alex is supposed to play one of the characters. D will need to find replacements.”

  “Don’t look at me. You and Donovan are the theater geeks.”

  “Alex only has a small part. Just one line, I think.”

  Lucas groaned and slipped on his shoes. “I don’t know, Trish. I’m not good at acting, and I don’t know anything about stage crew. Why are you behind the scenes, anyway? Didn’t you want to play the lead?”

  “My lady bits weren’t wanted in this one.”

  That didn’t sound promising. A skit at a Pride after party with an all-male cast, put on by a horny teenager? “What kind of play is it?”

  “I can’t remember the name. It’s from that gay book he won’t shut up about—you know, the one with the Kid in it.”

  Lucas glanced at the poster of Bear, Otter, and the Kid hanging on his wall. It was his favorite book. His boyfriend had given the book to him as a gift a few months earlier. “Really? That doesn’t seem like Donovan’s sort of thing.”

  “Are you kidding me? He’s been quoting it nonstop for weeks. He seriously thinks it’s the funniest thing ever.”

  “Wow. I had no idea. We might actually have something to talk about now.”

  “So you’ll do it? He’ll need help setting everything up and decorating the set, and if you could run lines with him, that would be awesome. Oh my God, Lucas, you’re the best. I’ll make this up to you, I promise. I’ll call D right now and tell him you’re on your way over.”

  “He’ll be thrilled, I’m sure,” he mumbled under his breath before saying good-bye.

  So Donovan was a fan of BOATK? Weird. Donovan didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. Or did he? He certainly hadn’t shown any signs of romance when he and Lucas dated. If what they’d done together could even be called dating.

  Which of the characters would Donovan play? Surely not Otter. Donovan wasn’t butch enough to make a convincing Otter. Not unless Otter was rewritten as a tall, slender fashionista. The thought made him giggle. No, Donovan would have to play Bear, but that didn’t seem fitting either. Bear was too… good.

  He should have asked Trish what character Alex had been assigned to play. The only role Lucas would be remotely suited for was the Kid. His slight build and delicate features made him l
ook much younger than his actual age of eighteen. That might work. As much as he balked at the idea of being in Donovan’s skit, the chance to play the Kid—his all-time favorite fictional character—gave him a little thrill.

  Lucas grabbed his car keys and cell phone and set out for what was sure to be, for better or worse, a memorable day.

  LUCAS RANG Donovan’s doorbell and braced himself for a snarky greeting. Be cool, he told himself. Don’t let him get to you.

  Donovan opened the door with a smirk on his face and gave Lucas a once-over. “No presents for Papa this time?”

  The comment was, of course, meant to be a jab. The last time Lucas had shown up on Donovan’s doorstep, it was to return a highly inappropriate gift, and he didn’t appreciate the reminder. The last thing he wanted to think about right now was Donovan’s collection of sex toys.

  Instead, he focused on Donovan’s appearance. Although he usually looked like he’d just stepped off a fashion runway, he was now completely disheveled. A plain, faded black T-shirt and gray sweat shorts hung off his tall frame, and his hands and bare feet were splotched with blue-and-white paint. He almost looked like a real human being.

  Donovan stepped aside and motioned Lucas into the house. “Well, what are you waiting for? Bring your booty in here, Bear Cub.”

  Lucas inwardly groaned at the nickname, yet another reminder of his brief tryst with Donovan. Why was he here again? Right. For Trish. Despite Lucas’s feelings toward the guy, Donovan was Trish’s best friend. Lucas took a deep breath and stepped into the foyer. “What’s with the alliteration?”

  “Nice, you noticed. Must be all that poetry you piddle with.” Donovan waved what appeared to be a script back and forth. “Just trying to get into character.”

  “Oh. Did Bear use a lot of alliteration?”

  “Bear? I’m talking about the Kid. He uses a litany of alliteration.”

  “Really? I never noticed.” He knew the Kid wrote poetry. It was something they had in common, though Lucas liked to think he was the better poet of the two. The Kid’s bad poetry was one of the things Lucas found most endearing about him. But he’d never picked up on alliteration. “So you’re playing the Kid, then?”