We pulled into the parking lot a little after 7:30. Waking Marcus up, we climbed out of the car and started unloading Sam and Marcus’s gear from the trunk. As the visitor, I’d have to rent my gear for the day, but luckily Sam had a connection.
“So how do you know this guy?” I asked as we entered the cramped shop.
“We met at this bouldering gym I used to go to.”
“I didn’t know you liked to boulder.”
“Oh yeah,” Sam scoffed. “Like every guy when he first moves to Denver, I got really into bouldering.”
“Fair enough,” I laughed.
“Samuel Holloway.” The guy behind the counter grinned as we approached. He was a skinny guy around our age, the epitome of someone one would expect to find working in a Colorado mountain town. He wore a colorful assortment of hemp clothes that threatened to swallow his slender frame. His hair was a long, tangled blond mess, but his face was bright and cheerful, complete with an eyebrow piercing that kept catching the overhead light. “My dude. How are you?”
“What up DJ?” Sam replied. “Good to see you, man.”
“Likewise. What can I do for you, brother?”
“My friend here needs some gear,” Sam answered, clapping me on the shoulder. “He’s going snowboarding with us today.”
“It would be my honor,” he bowed dramatically. Returning upright, he looked at me, his gaze surprisingly direct. “Right this way, my guy.”
DJ outfitted me with boots and a board, walked me through a refresher on the fundamentals of a good fit, the finer points strapping up, and – of course – how to bail if the terrain got too gnarly. He even slipped me a lift ticket as he rang me up at the counter.
“Whoa, you don’t have to do that,” I insisted, pushing it towards him.
“Nah, bro, I insist. I get a few of them as perks of the job, and Sam already bought this one off me.” He slid it back to my side of the counter. “This beauty is all yours. Treat her well.”
“Oh. Sweet. Thanks man.”
“Thank you,” he replied, though for what I had no idea. I figured he was probably just stoned.
As he should be, I thought.
“All set?” Marcus asked me as I joined them on the sidewalk.
“I think so!”
“Right on, let’s goooo!”
-- -- --
The slopes were already busy.
I wasn’t too surprised – it was a mild, sunny Saturday after a week of fresh snow, so the conditions were absolutely perfect. I’d almost forgotten how electrifying it felt to be on the mountain. The crowds, the energy, the sound of delighted squeals and laughter. The air around us pulsated as we made our way to the ski lift and started our ascent. We could all feel the anticipation, the excitement, the payoff of our early morning having finally arrived.
I sat on the gondola between them, of course, laughing a little at how this had become my designated spot. I thought back to Beckham’s wedding, sitting between them at the ceremony, how nervous and confused I’d been. But now the energy was different. Exciting but without all the freaked out undertones. I guess it was hard to be nervous around someone after they’d seen you naked enough times. After you’d cum across their chest. It was still a little strange to me, after the intensity of last night, the way we could sit here in our snowboarding gear like three ordinary dudes.
Just buddies.
Just bros.
I looked around us as we reached the top of the lift, eyeing the other clusters of guys out to enjoy the day. I noticed the way they stood, the way they spoke, the way they angled toward each other or nudged each other’s arm when cracking a stupid joke. I looked at Sam and Marcus, locking into their snowboards, trashtalking each other about who was going to wipe out first – we all knew I would, but they were nice enough not to say it – and for a moment I couldn’t tell a difference. Between us and the other guys. I’m not sure what difference I was looking for.
Did I expect Sam and Marcus to be more affectionate? More obvious?
Did I expect the other guys to keep their distance? To avoid all physical contact?
I wasn’t really sure why it mattered other than the fact that I was slowly losing track of where the line was. I mean, sure, having sex with another guy is still a noticeable line. But was it the line? Was that the only one or were there more? After all, I'd crossed it. So what did that make me? Was there something else? More to it that I didn't understand?
I guess whenever I’d imagined gay guys – which, before last summer, had been incredibly infrequent – I’d just pictured them having sex. I never thought about their relationship, about their life in normal, day-to-day moments. Things like going out to dinner or staying in on a Friday watching TV. I'd always just assumed that a gay couple was basically a straight couple with two guys, but I was learning that wasn't entirely the case. There was something different about it. Unique. The more time I spent with Sam and Marcus, the more that their relationship reflected the kinds of friendships I've had with plenty of guys over the years, a dynamic that wasn't just the same as boyfriend-girlfriend. They were just two best friends. Who also happened to occasionally tear each other's clothes off.
And if that was the criteria…that sounded a lot like I was meeting it.
“Yo, Drew! You coming?” Marcus called. I looked up to spot them about ten feet ahead of me, looking back over their shoulders.
“Yep!” I assured him. “Just taking it all in!”
“God, you're such a romantic,” he teased.
“Fuck you,” I quipped, though I had a nagging feeling he might be kind of right.
-- -- --
We made it until a little after noon before my legs just couldn't take it anymore.
It was a blast. We spent hours traversing the mountainside, laughing together, racing each other, challenging each other, watching each other inevitably eat shit. It was the best kind of morning, the kind where the clock doesn't matter and the only question is “Where to next?” So I was a little bummed to have to pull the plug, but as I stood there at the bottom of the mountain, quads shaking like terrified chihuahuas, I wasn’t sure I had another in me.
Marcus, looking a little relieved at my confession, kindly offered to hang out with me if Sam wanted to squeeze in a few more runs.
“You guys sure?” Sam asked, clearly torn between wanting to be considerate and wanting to snowboard.
“Of course!” Marcus insisted. “We’ll be fine, you go have fun.”
“Okay! I’ll text you guys in a bit!” Sam called out, already halfway to the lift.
“Thank God you’re here or I would’ve had to go with him again,” Marcus joked as he brought over two pint glasses of bubbling, amber liquid. He handed me one and took a seat, propping his feet up on the large, circular fire pit in front of us. The ski lodge bar was cozy and not too crowded in the early afternoon.
“Are you as worn out as I am?” I joked.
“Dude, my legs are shot,” he admitted. “But I just can’t bear to make him leave early. I swear, he’s never as happy as when he’s out here on the mountain.”
“I don’t know, I’d say he’s never as happy as whenever he’s with you.”
“Well,” Marcus smirked and took a sip of beer. “That too.”
“It does feel good to sit. I knew if I tried to do another I was gonna wipe out. And, like, not a funny one this time.”
“Yeah, sometimes you gotta quit while you’re ahead!” A tired silence fell over us while we listened to the fire crackle. It was peaceful, hypnotic even, so I was startled when I heard Marcus speak again. “So I heard what you two said this morning. In the car.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“Yeah. I wasn’t totally asleep but…I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“I gotcha,” I nodded, unsure what to say.
“I…” Marcus began, uncharacteristically uncertain. “I know we never talked about last summer. I thought about bringing it up. Several times, actually. But I always got nervous.”
“Nervous? Why?”
“I guess I didn’t want you to feel like I was forcing it or anything,” he said coolly. “But I realize now I should’ve been a better friend and checked up on you after something like that.”
“That wasn’t –” I began unsteadily. I thought back to all the nights at home replaying the events of last summer, debating whether to text Marcus and ask if he could talk, convincing myself I didn’t need to bother him with my problems. I thought about what I would have done if he’d initiated that conversation, about the relief I would’ve felt. My stomach twisted uncomfortably. “Hey, I was just as hesitant to bring it up as you were. It’s not your fault.”
He smiled.
“How are you then? Really?”
I exhaled, a little melodramatically.
“I’m just confused, man.”
Marcus flashed a sympathetic smile.
“About any particular part?”
I thought of all my potential answers. About having sex with dudes. About liking it. About how the most intimate experiences I’ve ever had were with an old college buddy and his boyfriend. About the fact that, all day on the mountain, I kept thinking about what might happen tonight after we got home. About how nothing made sense anymore and everything I thought I knew about sex and romance had totally gone out the window.
“I just…for the first time, I realize I have no idea what I want my life to look like.” Marcus waited patiently for me to continue. “I used to think it was pretty straightforward, you know? Get a job. Find a girl. Get married. But now…I mean, I didn’t even think there were other possibilities. For me. And now I feel like –”
“Like maybe there are?” Marcus asked, completing my thought.
I nodded.
“What was it like? For you?” I asked quietly. “I mean, you still like girls right? Sam said you did, so I’ve just been…curious, I guess. Whether you still feel like this or not.”
“I used to,” he said plainly. “For a minute there, it was really confusing. I was still dating girls but sleeping with guys. And I liked both, but I felt like I had to pick one, and it was all very…a lot.”
“What changed?”
“I realized I was putting too much fucking pressure on myself,” he smiled. “Like, really! I was twenty-three! Why the hell was I supposed to have my entire identity figured out at twenty-three?”
I laughed. “Okay, fair enough.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Could you see yourself dating a guy? Like, blowjobs are one thing, but could you see yourself having an actual boyfriend?”
I paused, mulling his question over.
“Maybe,” I confessed. “I don’t know. Like, I look at you and Sam and…I want that. But I don’t know what that is. Is it a boyfriend? A healthy, adult relationship? Is it just you guys?” My eyes flickered up to Marcus on that last one. He stared back at me calmly, unflustered by my confusion.
“I do get that. Before Sam, I hadn’t actually dated another guy. I wasn’t sure how I was going to feel about it.”
“But you guys are perfect together.”
“We are!” He beamed. “But man, I was terrified when he first asked me to go to dinner.”
“Really?”
“Of course. I mean, fooling around with him was fine. That didn’t change anything for me. But…I’d just discovered I liked taking a dick up the ass, and now this kind, put-together, gorgeous hunk of man wanted to go out with me? It felt like way too much too soon.”
I thought for a second, trying to imagine what those first interactions must have looked like – shy, unsteady, unsure. I tried to imagine a moment when Marcus was ever uncertain about anything. But it made sense. I felt a little silly, expecting that somehow their relationship had begun differently from any other. Sure, it began in the bedroom, but maybe that didn’t connect to real intimacy like I’d assumed. It certainly didn’t for me back home.
“But you went for it,” I observed, speaking more to myself than to him.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “And God, I’m glad I did. But you’ve gone for it, too, man.”
I looked up at him, brow furrowed.
“Before Mackinac, were you planning on sleeping with guys?”
I laughed humorlessly. “No.”
“But somehow an opportunity presented itself and…you went for it. Right now I feel like you’re trying to anticipate how you’re going to feel about things you’ve never experienced. And I just don’t think those things – the things that really matter – can be known until you go out there and do it for yourself.”
I sat there, letting his words wash over me.
There was a seriousness, a thoughtfulness to him that I often forgot was down in there. Beneath the charisma and the sarcasm and the endless energy was a guy who felt things deeply, who loved hard, who saw the world for what it is and still offered himself up to make things better. Looking at him, it was like I saw him across time – as a dumbass kid in college, as himself right now with me, as an aging man with a husband and a family and kids. I felt a tightness in my chest and took a long drink of my beer to try and flush it out.
“You know,” he continued, “sometimes I think this whole thing – being queer, dating guys, fooling around with your friend – it’s just about being honest. Being honest with yourself. Being honest with the guys around you. I think if a lot more guys were honest then guys like you and me would feel a little less unique. But, I don’t know, we’re not afraid to look at what the world tells us we should be and say, ‘No thanks, I’ll figure it out for myself’. And I think that’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice thick. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
-- -- --
The ride home was quiet. Restful. After Sam's return, we found a little pizza joint and promptly stuffed our faces, sending ourselves into a bit of a food coma for most of the drive. I sat in the back this time, listening to the drone of the road and the music on the radio and the occasional comments from Sam or Marcus.
When we got back to the apartment, we all decided we could use a nap if there was any chance of us trying to go out later. I collapsed onto the couch as Marcus asked if I'd been serious about the gay bar plan. I told him I was.
“Right on,” he smiled. “What kind of vibe are you wanting? Dance-y? Dive-y? All of the above?”
“Maybe dive-y,” I answered. “Pretty sure if I tried to dance my legs would crumble.”
“We could take him to Charlie’s,” Sam suggested from the kitchen.
“Oh, Charlie’s is fun,” Marcus agreed.
“Sounds good to me,” I said lazily, eyes already closing.
I must have dozed off fast, because when I woke up the room was quiet and the apartment was getting dark. I sat up and stretched, working out my stiff back and legs. I was still in my ski clothes, and I could smell myself through my long-sleeve tee. I pulled it off, threw it into the corner of the room near my suitcase, and shuffled to the bathroom.
The bathroom opened to the hall and the bedroom, so as I entered I could see Sam and Marcus asleep in bed. Sam was on his back, hand draped across his stomach, chest rising and falling gently. Marcus was curled on his side, facing away from me. I had forgotten how small he could look when he slept.
I turned on the shower, letting the water warm while I stepped out of my pants. The bathroom filled slowly with steam as the water heated. I leaned against the counter for a moment, watching the mirror begin to cloud over. My legs still hummed from the mountain, that pleasant soreness that reminded me I’d actually used my body for something.
When the water finally warmed, I stepped under the spray and let it run over my shoulders. The heat seeped in almost immediately, loosening the tightness in my back and hips. For a minute I didn’t move at all. Just stood there and breathed while the water rinsed the salt and sweat from the day.
The shower was one of those glass walk-in numbers, open and bright. Through the fogged panes I could see the open door to the bedroom, just make out the shape of bodies on the bed. I reached for the soap, working it slowly across my arms and chest. My skin was flushed from the heat, sensitive in a way that made every pass of my hands feel deliberate. I noticed things I might not have before—the line of muscle along my ribs, the texture of chest hair under my palms, the way the warmth pooled at the back of my neck. As I turned to rinse my back, a figure appeared in the doorway.
Marcus, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Hey,” I called out casually. “Sorry, hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Nah, you’re good,” he mumbled. “Figured it was time to get up anyways.”
“I’m almost done,” I said, leaning down to scrub my calves. “All yours in a second.”
He waved a hand lazily.
“No rush.”
Marcus pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto the counter. Jeans followed, kicked into a loose pile on the floor. Briefs next. He stretched, raising onto his toes, arms lifting overhead in a long, sleepy arc. A yawn escaped his lips. Through the glass, I studied his silhouette, slender and graceful. Something about it reminded me of art.
By the time I shut off the water he was standing at the sink in nothing but his skin, staring at the fogged mirror like he was trying to remember what day it was. I peeked my head out of the shower, grabbed my towel from the rack. I watched him for a second, noticing how the light fell over the planes and curves of his body.
“God, I look destroyed,” he muttered.
“You look like you just spent a day on the mountain.”
“Fair point.”
I stepped out of the shower, dripping onto the bath mat as I slung the towels around my shoulders. Marcus turned towards me, resting back against the counter. His eyes flicked down for a second, studying my body the way I’d studied his. I expected to feel self-conscious, with my chest open and my damp skin glimmering in the light, but the feeling never came. I just felt open. Honest. Present.
I leaned down, started toweling off my legs.
“How are the thighs?” Marcus asked. “Still functioning?”
“Debatable,” I answered, standing up again. I thought about wrapping myself with the towel but decided to toss it over my shoulder instead. “If Charlie’s has stairs I might be in trouble.”
Marcus laughed.
“No stairs, thankfully.”
“Thank God,” I smirked.
We traded places – he stepped into the shower as I took his post at the sink. The water started, the glass door closed behind him. I glanced over curiously. I could see him through the pane, head tipped forward under the spray while his arms hung heavily at his sides. His body looked small in the spacious shower, but strong.
I dropped my towel on the counter, wiped a patch of fog from the mirror so I could see myself. Last summer I probably would’ve started cataloging flaws — stomach, shoulders, posture. But standing there now, skin still warm from the shower and the room humming quietly around me, I didn’t feel the same urge to dissect anything. I looked strong and confident and healthy. Like a guy who gave a shit.
“What’s the dress code for this place? I asked, looking towards the shower.
Marcus looked back at me. I could feel his eyes glancing up and down.
“What you’re wearing is fine,” he said flatly.
I stared back at my naked body in the mirror and snorted.
“Ha ha, funny. For real though.”
“It’s pretty casual.”
“Okay, good. I still need to figure something out.”
“Take your time,” he said. “Sam’s still unconscious.”
Almost on cue, Sam shuffled in, hair rumpled, eyes half-closed like he’d only barely surfaced from sleep. He paused when he saw the two of us – Marcus in the shower, me naked by the sink.
“Wow,” he muttered hoarsely. “Didn’t know I was missing the post-mountain spa.”
“You’re welcome to join,” Marcus said from behind the fogged glass.
Sam snorted and leaned against the doorframe, watching Marcus rinse the shampoo from his hair. His eyes flickered to me, one eyebrow subtly arching up.
“May as well,” I shrugged. “I still need to figure out what I’m wearing.”
“Fair,” Sam smiled, pulling off his t-shirt and shorts. He stepped into the shower while I went down the hall to rummage through my suitcase. I hadn’t packed anything too flashy, but I had some options that felt dive-bar approved. I pulled out a pair of dark jeans and a gray-blue t-shirt, one of those tailored brands I found on Instagram – and carried them back to the bathroom.
As I dressed, I eyed Sam and Marcus in the shower. Sam was washing his hair while Marcus gently soaped Sam’s shoulder blades. There was something oddly…wholesome about it. Amidst everything that had happened over the past day – the mountain, the deep talk, the electrifying sex – it was easy to overlook the quieter ways they showed their affection. I realized that, beyond the hot and heavy bedroom scenes, their life together probably looked a lot more like this. Quiet afternoons. Shared naps. Someone to wash your back in the shower.
I smiled, feeling a little envious but mostly feeling like they’d given me the opportunity to witness something special. Something few people probably ever saw.
The water shut off and the two of them stepped out, drying themselves while I worked a little product through my damp hair. I sculpted the front into place, catching Sam’s reflection in the mirror.
“Damn Drew,” he said, dragging the towel along his chest. “You clean up nice.”
“Yeah?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Huge improvement from last summer,” Marcus chimed in.
“I try,” I shrugged, feeling a smile tug at the corner of my mouth. “Now let’s see if it holds up after a couple of beers.”
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