Talking always sounded easy. Talking has always been easy for me. Open my mouth and words came out, and yet, when returning to the hotel that night, I forgot the purpose and meaning of words. All became lodged in my throat the moment Beau’s gaze caught mine from where he sat on the bed, one leg dangling over the edge. The light of his phone illuminated his features, casting shadow beneath his chiseled jaw and brightening his pink lips. The ones that I vividly remembered the feeling of.

Anthony said to talk. I was too scared to talk, but Beau wasn’t.

“Where did you run off to all day?”

I took his question as an assault, snarling under my breath, “None of your damn business.”

Regret washed over me in an instant, crushing under Beau’s scrutiny.

“Whatever.” He huffed, returning to his phone.

Tension was not a foreign sensation between us, yet what hung in the air created chills that rippled down my spine. Even beneath the brutally heated water of the shower, a cold nip bit at my exposed skin. Skin that broke out in goosebumps when stepping out of the bathroom minutes later to, once again, find Beau peering my way. Only for a moment though.

He watched TV, not paying me any mind while I slid into my side of the bed. This wasn’t what I wanted, but I wasn’t all that certain what I wanted.

“Sorry,” I blurted out, refusing to face Beau even when the mattress creaked with his movements. “Earlier, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I, uh, I was at the courts, playing basketball.”

He hummed.

“What did you do...today?”

“Took pictures,” he answered.

“Ah, I guess...I guess that should have been obvious.”

“Yeah.”

My mouth ran off without my consent, speaking a truth that I had yet to admit even to myself; “I’ll miss you too.”

Beau was quiet. His actions were not. Moving over the bed so that he was next to me.

“When you go to school,” I explained as if I even needed to. “When we both go, I’ll miss you too.”

A gentle touch to my cheek and I was faced with the same green I had been trying to erase all day. Instead, I drowned in jade.

Beau’s lips met mine. Fingers ran through my hair, resting on the back of my neck when our chests met. I pulled him closer, clinging to his hips, fingers brushing beneath his shirt, testing the warm skin beneath.

Beau always drove me wild, but I never expected for that meaning to change. Or maybe I never wanted to admit that there was always more to that meaning to begin with.

My back met the mattress. Beau’s body slipped between my thighs, one hand resting on my tense muscles. We kissed like it was air and we had been drowning. From a gentle peck to desperate, breathy and fast. Every suppressed sensation through the years bubbled over, reminding me of every instance where my eyes lingered or my mind drifted.

Was Beau the same? Was this yet another thing we had in common?

I held him close, incapable of releasing his waist, incapable of thought. If I thought his smile made me greedy then there was no way to explain a kiss. Intoxicated. Addicted. Desperate for another moment, another brush of his lips, another slow caress of his fingers against my stomach.

A knock rattled the door, breaking us apart in a deep breath of panic. Beau practically threw himself out of the bed when his mom’s voice called out, “Boys, you awake?”

Awake was putting it lightly.

Beau fixed his shirt that I had unknowingly dragged up his back. I buried myself beneath the blankets, refusing to face Aunt Zoey when the door opened. Guilt and confusion bubbled in my chest.

“We just wanted to stop and remind you two that we have to check out of here at eleven tomorrow,” she said. “Make sure all your things are packed. We’ll put everything in the car, but we won’t leave the beach until probably two or three, ok?”

“Got it,” said Beau.

“Are you ok, sweetie? Your face is a little red.”

“Maybe I got a little burnt today,” he lied smoothly. “I’m fine, Mom.”

“Ok then, goodnight. Goodnight Devin!”

“Night,” I called, nearly biting through my bottom lip.

Aunt Zoey left. She took the moment with her.

We went to sleep acting as if earlier never happened. What a load of bullshit we were feeding to ourselves.

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Beau and I acted like our last night at Maine was a curse. Mention it and we’d all die. So we didn’t mention it, didn’t even talk. We silently got into the van when the time came to head for Connecticut. We’d reach the hotel around nightfall, so Uncle David claimed.

“Everyone ready to go?” Dad called from the front seat.

A series of nods and quiet “yeah’s” passed through the car. Then we were off, continuing our journey to the next destination. Supposedly another beach with a lot of seashells that our mom’s were super excited about.

The ride began much like our vacation did; Beau and I on opposite sides of the car, headphones in and gazes fixated out the window. But this ride differed in the sense that, it seemed, neither of us could keep our eyes to ourselves.

A brief glance where I caught Beau staring at me. Then minutes later he caught my staring. A game of tag where we continuously caught one another but never called the game off. Not until Beau’s hand grazed my own. Then my pinky linked with his. Then our fingers intertwined, hands clasped in the empty space between us while we both acted like nothing had changed. That our actions were completely normal and there wasn’t a spark on the verge of bursting into an inferno.

What were we doing? Where did we plan for this to go? Or was Anthony right, the best kind of plan was to have none at all? We would enjoy the journey while hoping for a pleasant destination, but hope was for children, wasn't it?

“That beach was lovely!” Aunt Zoey squealed, her voice carrying over the music drifting through my headphones. “We’ll have to visit again, what do you boys think?”

She threw a look over her shoulder. Our hands swiftly broke apart.

“Yeah, it was a lot of fun,” I admitted, almost ashamed that my thoughts were on anything but the beach. I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss or how badly I wanted to hold Beau’s hand.

“I’m so happy we made some great memories this summer,” said Mom, completely oblivious to what her words meant to me, or, apparently to us. When I looked at Beau, I found him staring right back at me.

Memories, yeah, those were certainly made. And they were going to continue to be made, seeing as the moment Aunt Zoey turned away, Beau’s hand swiftly took my own.

Did he feel my hand shaking? Or was I feeling his hands shake? I kind of hoped it was my imagination, or maybe a small earthquake.

The most exciting part of our travels was when we stopped for food prior to checking in at our next hotel. For thirty excruciating minutes, we were tormented by our parents arguing.

“We are here on vacation and you want to get the same damn thing as you get back home,” Mom argued, red-faced and agitated.

“You’re acting like we’ve gone to a different country. There’s nothing different here than back home,” Dad exclaimed, waving frantically to our surroundings that, honestly, were no different than home. Not that I would voice such an opinion, fearful of Mom’s wrath.

“There’s nothing special that I can find,” said Uncle David. His phone was out, scrolling through a search of local restaurants. “There’s an authentic chinese place, apparently, but the price is pretty high.”

“I’d rather go to someplace more casual,” Aunt Zoey chimed in, viewing the restaurant choices by glancing over Uncle David’s shoulder.

“Boys.” Mom turned. Beau and I separated once again, both of us blinking innocently at her. “What are you in the mood for?”

Beau shrugged, leaving our fate to me. What a jerk!

“Uh...I don’t really...care,” I answered honestly. At that point I was famished and just wanted some damn food. Of course, Mom didn’t take kindly to my lack of a response and, rather than notice that Beau was no help either, glared at only me.

“Fine, just stop somewhere, Martin.” Mom crossed her arms, ending the conversation.

Dad pulled into some chinese chain restaurant, a place that we also had back home, only the one back home had good food. The food there was absolute garbage, tasted like someone left it over hot coals until it burned the flavor out of it.

I inhaled it like a dehydrated fool escaping a desert. Beau curled his nose in disgust across from me.

“What?” I hissed the first words shared since the hotel.

“You’re disgusting,” he said.

A totally normal remark that I rebutted time and time again, but that day was different. That day the words sank deep, digging into my consciousness that was already berating me.

I pushed my meal aside. Disgusted. With myself, most of all.

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