With miles passing beneath the wheels of the truck, the sun made its own trek across the sky. Just before the light began to dim, they reached the coast. A glistering solar veil wove into the dark waves of the Pacific. Cradled by an even mat of sand, the horizon settled for another ocean sunset. Only Robin and Dusty would not bear witness as the highway snaked into dunes and hills. The landscape hid its natural treasures from those committed to the road.

Having skipped lunch, they retired early to stop at an inn with an attached restaurant. Along the coastal highway, respite was scarce if not found in a tent and brought by one’s own hands. Outside of the truck, the pair stood for a moment, letting the ocean air wash them of the stale cab’s embrace. A band of rose was all that was left of the sun’s presence on the sea’s bosom. 

The inn’s wooden dining room was festooned with blue gingham and plastic life-casts of sea creatures. They shared a quiet meal only disrupted by occasional bursts from the bar in a connected room, and their hefty portions went unwasted. Dusty devoured his steak and clam chowder. Robin, too, took delight in his order of fish and chips. Crunching, slurps, and squeaks of cutlery supplanted the murmurs of the elderly couple sitting a few tables away.

The bill split between the two and Robin was happy to collect the complimentary mints offered on the tray with their receipts. Sated, the pair lumbered outside to gather their belongings. Robin collected his pack as Dusty curled toward the back of his truck. From the bed he pulled out a hard-shell luggage case. Robin watched in awe as the older man deftly hoisted it to the ground with ease.

Dusty caught his stare. “There’s no traveling light when you gotta bring all your earthly belongings with you.”

Puffing out his cheeks, Robin turned toward the entrance of the inn. “Must be hard to pare down mementos and possessions to live like that.”

“I have a few things stored up at the mine, but nothing I’d truly miss if they got weather-beaten.”

The inn offered basic amenities, from the dated floral wallpaper to the scent of old musty wooden furniture. Through the lobby, they passed beneath an arrangement of dried flowers into a hall. Dusty hummed at the memories stirring up of his grandmother’s house the one time he visited her in Arkansas.

“Hey, thanks for not insisting on having your own room, though,” said Robin with a smirk as they came to their door. “Can’t run the risk of you bringing someone over and getting us behind schedule.”

“Who says I won’t bring anyone to our shared room?”

Robin cackled and playfully punched the older man’s arm. A chunky brass doorknob unlocked with a manual key granted them entry to their evening’s rest. Robin stepped inside, making a straight line toward the luggage rack. He placed his backpack there and commenced an inspection for bedbugs.

Dusty raised a brow but minded his own needs. He wheeled his case beside the rack and proceeded to the bathroom. The sweet touch of cold water kissed his face as he ran the sink and wiped the oil from his cheeks. He was accustomed to driving long hours, but having a passenger for all those miles was unprecedented. And yet, it was not disagreeable. Several feet away were those curious eyes that had regarded him for much of their acquaintance. Deep brown, full of wonder, framed in gold. Dusty shook his head. 

“Hey, are you all done in there? Gotta pee.”

“Sorry,” said Dusty, leaving the bathroom. He skirted around Robin carrying a change of clothes and toiletries. While the young man prepared for an early night behind the closed bathroom door, Dusty stripped down to his boxers and undershirt.

After a little while, Robin emerged in an oversized fraying T-shirt and thin flannel pants. He paused, not expecting to see Dusty’s boxers. “It’s all yours again,” he said, tossing a thumb back at the bathroom.

“Thanks.”

Robin politely placed his hands behind his back and strolled over to the window. Their room faced inland and while he could not see the ocean, the sound of breaking waves still reached his ears through the glass. He sat down upon the nearest bed, chest rising with a deep breath. 

The room melted away and left him to the coast under the survey of winking stars. Hundreds of miles north, Seattle awaited. Something inside him stirred, itching to go back south. However, he had enlisted Dusty’s help, and as much as he was Robin’s deliverer, he was also his current purpose to stay the course.

With a grunt, Dusty sat down on the other bed. Robin stifled a giggle at the old man noises, though it was not without some guilt. He had dragged Dusty into this ordeal. The least he owed him was to not flippantly change plans. Tucking himself into bed, Robin’s attention wandered from the window to his traveling companion.

The older man tried the remote only to find the TV unresponsive. Cursing, he got up and checked the manual buttons on the set and that the unit was plugged in tightly. However, the solution eluded him. Robin watched silently with the covers pulled to his neck.

Dusty sighed. “Goddammit.” He crossed his arms. “When we check out in the morning, I’m gonna ask for a partial refund.”

It was nearly amusing enough to stir a laugh from Robin, but he suppressed it. He wanted to stay in the older man’s good graces.

“I’m going out for a walk.”

“Whoa, right now?”

Dusty peered at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s only eight. I’ll come back in a while.”

Robin tugged at his blanket. “If you’re sure.”

Pulling on his jeans and denim jacket, the older man barely gave Robin another regard before he left the room. A bit of disbelief feathered through the young man’s veins as he sprawled on his bed. It was too early for his own bedtime, so he chose to look through his phone.

As he scrolled past dozens of images and sentences barely registering in his brain, the center of his chest bowed. Worry dripped and pooled, weighing heavier and heavier. To be abandoned right now would usher more of a panic than the bus station effected. Robin lifted his phone closer, straining the charging cable plugged into the wall outlet. The worry soon became infected with anger.

He thought he had a companion in Dusty. Then again, he must be kidding himself with their short acquaintance. Still, he deemed it rather rude. Irritated further by inane posts, Robin set his phone down and curled into the bed. Butting against the pillow, his glasses shifted focus to the edge of the nightstand. Peeking past the alarm clock was Dusty’s set of keys.

Robin sat up, quickly taking inventory. On the carabiner was a key to the truck. A deep sigh escaped him. Dusty had only taken the room key out. With a bit of ease flowing back into his body, Robin settled once more.

It was a brisk evening, and Dusty almost regretted not taking the time to put on a shirt before going out. He wiped the bottle of soda he had gotten from a machine in the inn’s lobby with his thin tank top. The cap hissed a satisfied gasp as it came off. The older man watched the waves from a distance, his boots padding along the crumbling asphalt edge. He wasn’t equipped to take on the sand, so he remained on the border between nature and civilization.

There wasn’t a thought about where he was going, he simply walked straight. As he left the last lamp post on the perimeter of the inn’s property, his eyes adjusted. A monochrome painting of the coast in blue appeared before him. The drink fizzed along his tongue as he transposed images of waves crashing over pocked rocks to his mouth.

With the buzzing soda and low roar of the ocean, his thoughts unwound. His mind never stopped working, supplying memories, dreams, what-ifs, and possibilities. He was used to it, but he savored the quiet moments when his consciousness would simmer into a rolling stream of his environment. A pelagic bouquet swept in with the wind and his mind narrowed into a staticky line curving with the rhythm of distant waves.

About an hour later, the door clicked open. Robin jolted up in bed. Dusty returned to the haven with a nearly finished bottle in his hand.

“Where did you go?”

“Just walked along the beach.” Slipping off his jacket, Dusty snatched Robin’s gaze. “Were you worried about me? I can take care of myself.”

Robin raised his hands. “Just didn’t want you getting into trouble.”

Dusty’s lips pulled into a line. “Right.”

Robin eased back into the covers. As the older man went into the bathroom, he pictured him shifting to do heck all along the beach. Or if he stayed in his full human form, doing heck all as far as a man was capable. His clothes did not suggest anything wild, free of sand and water. Perhaps he was forthcoming with the truth after all.

Reinstated in his undershirt and boxers, Dusty stepped to his bed and pulled back the blanket. He lay there open to the air for a spell, fisting his hand around the hem of his top, scratching his belly. Exposed, a trail of graphite sprouted from creamy skin down past elastic waistband. Robin’s eyes narrowed. He took off his glasses with resolve. 

“Well, the sooner we sleep, the sooner we can check out,” said the young man as he switched off the bedside lamp between them.

Nestled atop their box spring islands, the two settled for the night. As much as Robin wished for sleep, he could not rest his head. Thoughts continued to pester and inflame his curiosity. He peeked over the duvet to see that Dusty had his back toward him. Robin stared at the dark lump. His body stiffened with dread as he imagined the man turning into a beast while they slept.

Though Robin held some confidence that Dusty meant him no harm, he couldn’t help thinking about the older man’s words about the wolf fighting to take over. Should the wolf accomplish that, Robin wondered what it would mean for him. He could not say that Dusty would maintain his mind and not go absolutely feral. A picture of his body mangled and half-eaten flashed through his head. He gulped.

Minutes passed and Robin remained unmoved in bed. His limbs began to hum, preparing for their own sleep, but Robin refused any big movements. He imagined the beast inside the man on alert for any danger. One loud shift of dry, starched fabric and he could awaken the wolf.

As the moon traveled across the sky, the strip of window peeking between the curtains limned the man across the worn patch of carpet. Though Robin’s myopia obscured the shape, it most definitely was still human, a human calm in sleep. Short of a full snore, a thin whistle announced the older man’s even breaths. Dusty was deep in his dreams. Perhaps the wolf, too, was resting.

For a brief moment, the muted roar of the ocean became the dissonance of LA streets, sending Robin back to his apartment. Then Dusty’s nose whistled and the young man could relax once more. Without intention, Robin’s lungs synced with the older man’s. Latching onto the steady rhythm, he followed Dusty to slumber.