The Mountain

Wesley

The mountain ridge ran for miles, cutting toward the northeast, like most of the others, ridges parallel dividing up the region more than any imaginary line demarking states or counties or private properties. Their weathered and worn slopes, covered in trees that gave the mountains their beautiful fall colors and bushes of rhododendron, laurel, holly, chokeberry and other plants providing more color and texture, woven around the rock outcroppings, the shear exposed faces and the meandering springs, creeks and streams that cascade down their slopes. Down in the valley the small towns slowly grew, a building at a time, desperately dependent on the tourist that came in summer and fall. On the slopes sat old dwellings, simple wood structures that housed generation after generation of the local folk, while some areas saw change, drastic dramatic changes of new roads, new houses, large and contemporary, most temporary dwellings for those who come to escape to the mountains for short periods of time.

For those who lived here, carved out a living, it was a struggle, most impoverished. Wesley understood his, although only eighteen, for he lived the life. His parent’s mobile home perched on block precariously on the sloping grade of the mountain side. Just to its side the old four room house of his grandparents. It was simple tough life.

Wesley knew he didn’t’ have much, wearing second hand clothes, sharing a bedroom with two other brothers but he felt like his life was good. His parents gave his brothers and he great freedom, and they roamed the mountain constantly, finding its secret places, the source of the creeks, small springs that seeped up through the rock or caves they only explored in a very limited manner, knowing too far in could spell trouble.  Wesley, the oldest, also loved to bike, having built a mountain bike from the used components of four others. He kept it simple and when completed painted it flat black to hide the mismatched components of its frame. He rode the old footpaths that lined their side of the mountain and over time he added his own trails. He grew most ambitious when he turned fifteen and constructed a trail that crested the ridge and worked its way down the other side in the adjacent county, till he got down to the small town that was nestled in the valley, one that no one on his side of the mountain bothered to travel to for the distance required to go around the mountain and back again on the other side. By the time he turned sixteen he found himself riding to the town more and more often, for it was a place no one knew him. He was just another teenager out riding his bike. No one had any prejudgments about him or his family, no one looked down on him, thought of him as some illiterate mountain folk.

He would ride over the mountain and spend hours riding along the valley roads, then rest in town, buying a soda at a small store, a few coins he usually managed to scavenge over the course of a week. Sitting in the small park in the middle of town, he would watch the locals as they went about their Saturday, shopping in the hardware or drug store, people arriving late morning at the diner till, by noon, it was full of customers, and he watched the men and boys come and go at the barber shop across the street. Especially the boys who looked close to his own age.

They didn’t seem especially different, really, but he considered them foreign, boys he didn’t know, and more importantly, they didn’t know him. There was the red head who rode through town on a road bike every Saturday sometime around ten; the black haired, dark skinned boy with the thick build who went into an antiques shop around noon and left around two; the blonde headed boy with the slight build who was always with two girls, the three of them window shopping along the street most Saturdays ending up at the ice cream parlor; and there was the brown headed boy who would ride into town some Saturdays around two or two thirty on a mountain bike, the frame covered in dirt and mud most of the time. It was this boy Wesley watched for the most intently, greatly disappointed when he didn’t show. The boy was tall with a lean build. Wesley thought of him as gangly but that wasn’t right for he was graceful in his movements. The way he could coast into town and step off his bike without a misstep, the way he strolled down the sidewalk as he headed to the diner, disappearing for the rest of the day. For the past two years Wesley rode over the mountain and disappeared in plain sight, enjoying the activity of the town, watching, especially the boy on the bike.

He saw him this afternoon, coast into town, lock up his bike and disappear inside diner. Wesley had ridden the trails more than usual that morning, for the fall day was perfect. Cool and dry, the atmosphere strong with the season. Brightly colored leaves blew across the ground, the last of the season’s leaves finally falling. He had started early and rode along his trail into town then down to a public trail that wound up the other side to a small park and back again. After getting a soda, he sat on a bench in the small park and watched people come and go. He saw the red head ride through town, his pace faster than usual. He saw the blonde with his two friends strolling along the street and finally, in the afternoon, after strolling up and down the street pushing his bike, for he didn’t have a lock, he saw the brown-haired boy. He watched him coast into town, pull up to his usual spot and dismount, lock up his bike and disappear into the diner. Wesley assumed he must work there, waiting tables or working in the kitchen. He never came back out while Wesley loitered in town. Knowing this he stood up, straddled his bike and headed back for home.

Elliot

Running late, Elliot had to rush to get to the diner. His mother had him help her with a yard sale that morning and he had stayed to help her pack up what had not sold and getting it back into the garage. After a quick shower, he threw on a pair of cargo shorts and a t-shirt and took off. His father expected him around two, ready to begin work at two thirty, washing dishes and pans, restocking the utensils and plates for the wait staff and sweeping up the floor of the kitchen from the chaos of lunch. It was his parent’s diner and he was their free help, for he thought of his allowance as small change compared to the work he had to do.

He was seventeen and had been working in the restaurant since he was thirteen, riding his bike down each Saturday afternoon. He initially worked only a few hours on Saturday but now he worked from two thirty till nine thirty, helping with the cleaning up after closing at nine. It was tiring work, on his feet the whole time and he looked forward to the day he graduated from high school and left for college.

The day was a perfect fall day and he wished he could spend it riding his bike instead of heading to the diner. He was able to coast most of the way, his home up on the side of the mountain, thus a steady downward incline to the town. Riding down Main Street he let his eyes cut over toward the park. He scanned the benches till he saw him sitting on the last bench with the black mountain bike lying at his feet. ‘Who was he’ he wondered, for he was not from the town or the outlying areas to the north or south. The boy was always dressed in old shorts and a t-shirt or some other pull over that was worn and stretched out of shape, which concealed his body. But Elliot could see his long lean arms and his legs, calves bulging with muscle with smooth bare skin. He wondered if the boy actually shaved his legs or if they were naturally that bare. He wondered where the boy was from, never seeing him on any of the trails he knew about. He wanted to know who was this boy, someone that seemed to be like himself, even though he never saw him up close, had never spoken to him. He only saw him in town riding that bike or sitting in the park with it at his feet.

Bike locked to the old rusting bike rack he stood and started toward the diner, cutting his eyes over to the boy and as usual the boy was watching him. It was so obvious in the way his head turned as Elliot moved down the walk. It made him smile each time, knowing this boy was watching him too.

Inside the diner he deliberately turned and closed the door slowly so he could look back across the street, down toward the park at the boy. He saw him stand up, lift-up that unusual bike, one Elliot could not identify, and head up the street. ‘Where does he go?’ he wondered as he made himself turn around and head to the kitchen where he knew his father awaited him.

Standing at the three-compartment sink, suds up to his elbows, Elliot was washing some pans, getting the kitchen ready for dinner. He turned to respond to one question or another, spoke to Sarah, one of the prep staff about the best trails to bike, her latest boyfriend wanting to know, and he talked with his dad about what would need to be done before dinner and what his responsibilities would be during. And in between each interruption he let his mind wander, the imaginings of a teenager feeling lonesome. He had no trouble making friends and even dated a couple of the girls in his class, but he knew it wasn’t what he wanted. He knew what he wanted. He knew they were out there, guys who were gay. All he had to do was find them. He looked online at Pride festivals and other events where guys were openly gay. The images were so alien to him, these multitudes of gay men gathering for one reason or another. It didn’t seem fair, he stuck here in this isolated valley where he was sure none of his male classmates were gay. It was a small school and it didn’t surprise him, but he had hoped. Then he noticed the guy with the odd bike. A stranger, someone he didn’t know and it gave him license to imagine him as gay, to be someone who might be available. It let him fantasize about some random encounter or maybe crossing paths on one of the trails, although he biked most of them in the valley and he never saw the guy on any of them. ‘Where did he come from and where did he ride that bike?’ Elliot asked himself, constantly trying to figure it out.

Wesley

The following Wednesday was a bright clear day. Wesley tried to concentrate in each of his classes but time and time again he found his attention drawn to the windows, eyes scanning the clear blue skies, the top of the trees nearly bare of leaves and the ridge of the mountain, the place of many bike trails, all calling to him, beckoning him to come out and play. As soon as the last bell rang he was quickly on his bike heading home. The ride up the side of the mountain would be a good warm up, something to really stretch his legs, and he pedaled furiously up the incline till he was skidding to a stop at the front of his home.

Changed out of his better clothes and into shorts and a tank top, helmet back on, he was soon deep into the woods, slicing through the brush on the narrow trail, upward for a few hundred feet or more, then down, jumping over rocks and fallen trees. He rode hard for about thirty minutes till he was at a trail that led back down into the valley coming out at the back of the school near the football field. He’d not ridden it in months and decided to tackle it. The light of day was fading, the sun nearly below the ridge to the west. Darkness would descend on the valley soon, and he rode hard, bouncing over the rough terrain.

He came to the hard-right turn, knowing it crossed a spring and he got in position, dove into the turn and skidded around it, too fast to see the rock that had rolled out into the old path, a new one cutting up above it. No time to hit the brakes, he tried to turn, make his contact a glancing blow, but it was too late and the bike slide sideways into the rock and flipped. He came off the bike landing hard and the bike tumbled down on top of him.

Opening his eyes, he found himself looking up through the front wheel. A pedal was digging into his stomach and his left arm was lying through the frame. He tried to get up and found his left shoulder didn’t work, only from the elbow down was he able to move his arm. He tried not to panic, told himself it was probably a sprain, knowing it could be much worse. He got himself to his feet, and unable to ride began to push the bike down the trail.

By the time he came out of the woods at the edge of the school campus it was completely dark, the only light was the bright lights of the football field where the team was practicing. He pushed to the other side and to the gate, entering the field behind the coach who was directing some of the players.

“Coach…coach…could you give me some help?” Wesley asked as he came up behind Coach Butler.

Turning, Coach Butler started to ask what the interruption was all about but when he saw Wesley, the scratches and cuts on his arms and face and how the left arm just dangled at his side, he turned serious and moved quickly to Elliot taking the bike from him then gently lifting the left arm.

“You took a nasty spill on that bike, I see” he said, trying to sound normal but Wesley could sense the concern in his voice.

“Yeah, up the trial back there…clipped a rock sideways.”

“Can you move your arm?”

“Only at the elbow and down.”

An assistant coach took Wesley to the emergency clinic twenty miles away and Coach Butler called his parents. Before the night was over Wesley was in a sling with the knowledge he had torn his rotator cuff. He was going to be out of commission for months and worse yet, there was surgery to face. It would be next June before he would be able to ride again and he would have to endure the rest of the school year with his left arm in a sling for most of it.

He feared the surgery, felt frustration at his mistake that was going to prevent him from riding, but worse of all his rides over the mountain into the next valley were over for a long time.

Elliot

A few weeks went by and no sign of that boy. Not in the park across the street or anywhere else in town. Elliot wondered if maybe he was a tourist but that didn’t seem right for how long he had been seeing him. Nearly two years? Maybe his father had some short-term contract with a company nearby, here only a few months then gone. Whatever the reason, the boy had not been back in town and for Elliot it seemed like a missed opportunity. He knew that was just his daydreaming foolishness, but why not. Why not think it, have a bit of a fantasy. Didn’t everyone dream of some fantasy of one sort or another. The movies attested to this, did they not?

That winter was warmer than usual, very little snow during December and January, but in February they finally got a good snowfall, one that put nearly a foot on the ground. It allowed Elliot and his friends some time for skiing, but all too soon it was over and spring arrived, the trees slowly putting out leaves till the woods on the mountains were once again green.

Suddenly it was May, for Elliot had kept busy with his studies in school and helping with the diner. The first weekend, May 6, was his mother’s birthday and as usual his father was going all out, a large cake he decorated himself and plans for the diner to be decorated for that evening’s dinner when family and friends were to come help celebrate. Elliot arrived that morning, ready to help only to find his father on the phone, frustration evident on his face, then a smile.

“Oh great, you have everything…great…great. I’ll send my son over to get it. Please hold it till he gets there” Elliot’s father said into the phone then hung up. Turning to Elliot he pulled out his wallet, took out his credit card and handed it to Elliot. “The decorations I ordered are not going to get here in time but Simpson’s has everything we’ll need. Take my truck and go get it so we have time to get everything up this afternoon” he added as he reached into his pocket for the keys.

“Yes sir” Elliot replied taking the credit card and keys. He knew Simpson’s, knew it was over the mountain in the next valley in the town of Granite Springs, some twenty miles south. A round trip that would take easily an hour and half to make.

He followed the road in the valley till he came to Highway 15 that cut up the side of the mountain at the lowest point of the ridgeline. It was one switchback after the next and he eased along in the truck, windows down, music playing. He arrived in Granite Springs just after eleven and eased down Main Street till he came to Simpson’s, an old hardware store that sold just about everything a person could want. It was three levels and a maze of rooms where the original two buildings had been connected and then an addition added on back, many, many years ago.

The interior was as he remembered it, last visiting some four or five years previous. Dark woods, low light, shelves crammed with merchandise, aisle so narrow two people had trouble passing one another. But there was something comforting about the old place, something familiar. He roamed down one aisle heading toward the back where there was a customer service counter, one where the store still did lay-a-ways. He saw an older man behind the counter stacking some boxes and recognized him as the owner.

“Excuse me, I’m Elliot Murphy. My father sent me…”

“Oh yes, the birthday decorations. I’ve got them right here” the owner replied. “Here is the receipt from your father paying over the phone; just need you to sign this”, a receipt referencing he pick up was done.

There were too many boxes to carry at once so he lifted what he could and headed toward the front. As he approached the door he heard the bell ring signaling someone was entering. Looking up he saw a man come in, dressed in old clothes, the shirt wrinkled and patched on the front, and behind him the boy, the one he had seen back home, the one he had not seen since last fall. The boy was dressed the same, old clothes that didn’t fit well and most noticeable was his left arm in a sling. ‘That explains why I’ve not seen him for a long time’ Elliot thought as he watched them turn and move off to the right. Elliot went out, put the boxes in the seat of the truck and headed back in to retrieve the others.

At the customer service counter, stacking the remainder of the boxes, he motioned toward the man and boy. “Who’s that over there?”

“Where…oh, that is Harim Bryson and his boy….Rusty…no, that isn’t right. William…no, it’s Wesley.” The owner shook his head and laughed, “that boy like to have killed himself last fall. Took a nasty fall on his bike coming down the trial behind the school. Surprised he didn’t break his neck.”

Elliot picked up the boxes and made his way toward the front, looking for the boy, eyes scanning across the store and down each aisle but he had lost sight of him for just a moment and now he didn’t see him. At the front door, his arms loaded up more than last time, he tried to reach for the pull, then heard the bell ring as the door opened. Looking around the boxes he saw the boy holding the door open for him.

“Hey….uh…thanks” Elliot stammered.

“No problem” Wesley replied, looking at Elliot like he recognized him but wasn’t sure.

“How’s the shoulder?”

“Not bad. Nearly healed up. The sling is just a precaution when I’m out in public.”

“And the bike?”

“My bike? How did you know I crashed on my bike?” Wesley asked then looked harder at Elliot. “You…you live over in the next valley…work at that diner?”

“Yeah, and how did you know that?” Elliot asked smiling.

“I remember seeing you going in on Saturdays.”

“You were riding over the mountain…what trail were you using?”

Wesley smiled then leaned closer lowering his voice, “one of my own, at least till I got over the mountain and down to that trail that is about half way down, and taking it the rest of the way.”

“You have trails on the mountain?”

“Yeah” Wesley replied then stood in awkward silence. What else to say he wondered, not wanting to end this chance encounter, but both seemed at a loss for words.

“I should get this loaded up” said Elliot, breaking the silence. Wesley held the door and watched him walk over to the truck. Boxes down in the foot well he closed and locked the passenger door, trying to think of an excuse to go back inside one more time. ‘I’ll just double check that I got everything’ he thought as he headed back inside.

He saw Wesley at the front window where he appeared to be browsing the different displays and he fought the urge to go over to him as he made his way back to the customer service counter.

“I just wanted to make sure I got everything” Elliot stated as he came up to the counter. The owner looked around the floor and under the counter.

“I do believe you have all the boxes” the owner replied and Elliot nodded his head and headed for the front door.

He saw Wesley near the door and realized he was waiting on him to come back. He moved over to him where he knew the best topic of conversation was biking.

“How long till you can ride again?”

“Doctor supposedly will turn me loose the middle of June.”

“Call me when you can ride and I’ll come over and we can ride some of your trails together” said Elliot as he pulled out his cell phone.

“I don’t have a cell” said Wesley as he saw Elliot pull up his contact information.

“Oh…well, let’s get some paper and you can take my number and call me.”

At the sales counter, number written down Elliot held it out to Wesley then pulled it back. “I’m going to put my address on here too. If you want, write me and let me know how it’s going in the meantime.” He knew it seemed odd, this suggestion to actually write a letter, but he sensed it was the best means of staying in touch. Wesley seemed reluctant at first then smiled, as he folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

“I’ve never written a letter to anyone before” Wesley stated, laughing at the thought.

“Me neither, but if you don’t have a cell phone, why not?”

Wesley

It seemed like such an odd thing, writing a letter, but when he had watched Elliot leave the store, driving off to the other side of the mountain, there was a feeling, something within himself, that felt as if he lost something. An opportunity gone, then the idea of maintaining contact through a letter didn’t seem so strange. His grandmother did it to keep in touch with her sisters, and he could do the same to keep in contact with this boy from the other side of the mountain.

He began a letter that night, trying to tell Elliot he was glad they ran into each other and he looked forward to riding. But it seemed silly and he tossed it in the trash. It would be a week before he put the first letter in the mailbox. It was short, barely a half page long; he looked forward to riding bikes and would call when he was able to ride. He had to get a stamp from his grandmother and then not wanting anyone in the family to see it was a letter to another boy, walked down the mountain into town and slipped it in the slot at the post office located in the back of the hardware store.

Elliot replied right away having gotten his address from the envelop. It was three pages long, telling about the trails he rode in his area and looking forward to riding new trails in Wesley’s area. Then there was all the preparations Elliot’s family had done for his mother’s birthday party and the work in the restaurant. Wesley read it three times, amazed at how easily it seemed for Elliot to write.

Three days went by before he started a reply, and the first two pages came easily with him describing the trails he had built and what they were like, then he laid it aside trying to decide what else to write about, and what to avoid. In the end, the letter became something of a confession, a way to express things he normally would not. He admitted how tough it was being so poor, how he had built his own bike and at first was ashamed of it. Only when some other bikers saw it and complimented him on it did he realize it wasn’t a bad bike. It was actually a good one.

For the remainder of the school year Wesley wrote letters, each one a little longer than the last and each time, within a day or so, Elliot would respond. Wesley found them comforting, this exchange of letters, even though it seemed such an odd thing, something he kept from his parents, sneaking off with each letter from Elliot to read it in private. There was nothing in the letters that was deeply personal. Wesley, for all his confessions, never broached the subject of dating, nothing to indicate how he struggled with it, not interested in any of the girls who had shown interest. Being a Bryson, poor white trash to many in his school, made keeping to himself far too easy. And he noticed that in each reply Elliot had done the same, not once did he mention girls.

Elliot

It was late June, the temperature down in the valley nearly ninety degrees, and Elliot found himself in the kitchen at the diner up to his elbows in hot water washing dishes. The kitchen was hot with the gas range going and he sweated till his clothes clung to his body. Wiping a pan clean then running it under hot water he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. It’d take too long to get his hands dry and he was due a break as soon as he finished the few pans in the sink, so he let it go to voicemail. But curiosity of who called, and if it could be Wesley caused him to rush, to get the last pans washed, rinsed and in the drying rack. He yelled out he was taking his break and went out the back door. Leaning against the rear wall he pulled out his phone and saw it was a number he didn’t recognize. When the voicemail started he recognized the voice. It was Wesley.

‘Hey…I…well I have healed up and can ride anytime now. I’m going out this afternoon just to work on getting my stamina back.  This is my grandmother’s phone so don’t call me back at this number. I’ll call you later.  Think about when you might want to ride. Maybe this weekend? I…uh…call you later.”

Elliot smiled thinking about Wesley ready to ride and now they could ride together as early as this weekend. Going back in he told his father he may ride bikes with a friend over the weekend and could they get one of the others to cover for him. Having worked every weekend for weeks his father just smiled and nodded his head.

Wesley called later in the day, just as the sun was getting ready to drop below the mountains and cast the valleys in shadow. They made plans to meet in the park on Saturday morning. Wesley would ride over the mountain and meet him there ready to ride.

Saturday arrived with low cloud cover, a storm to the south causing it, and the day was not as hot but very humid. Elliot was at the park early, going through his small backpack, checking to make sure he had his extra water, some trail mix and the small first aid kit that came in handy far too often. He was going to put his cell phone in a padded compartment once Wesley arrived. Leaning over he saw one shoe was coming untied and he undid it. As he was retying it a bike slid up and a shadow fell over him.

“Hey” Wesley said, almost out of breath.

“Hey…you race over the mountain?”

Wesley smiled, not wanting to say he got held up by his grandmother and had to do exactly that, push himself hard to get over the mountain in time, he shook his head and tried to control his breathing.

“Nah.”

Elliot looked at Wesley’s bike, the way the fork was obviously from another bike, the curve not quite right but it seemed to work, especially since Wesley had painted it flat black, mimicking a bike he saw advertised in the paper. “That is a great bike, even if you did piece it together.”

“Thanks.”

“Is that all the water you brought?” seeing only one bottle clipped on the frame.

“Yes. There are a couple of springs we will cross and I’ll refill there.”

“Well, let’s go and you can show me these trails of yours.”

They climbed up the side of the mountain, Wesley in front and Elliot close behind, standing on their pedals most of the way, pumping their legs hard to make the climb. At the ridge Wesley stopped to let Elliot see the view, a clear view from one end of the valley to the other, then they were off, coasting down, working their bikes around obstacles, cutting around switchbacks and over jumps. They rode for over an hour, working along the side of the mountain till they were down in the valley, covered in dirt and sweat, slow pedaling down the road heading for town.

Elliot wanted lunch and told Wesley to lead them to a restaurant. They rode the miles slowly, arriving in town after the main lunch hour rush. All morning and through lunch they talked about the trails, their bikes, the falls they had taken or seen others take. After lunch, they headed back down the valley to the school where they hit the trail where Wesley had gotten hurt and began to climb, to work their way up the mountain.

They rode hard, legs aching with the exertion, till they came to a small rock formation protruding outward creating an overlook. Bikes lying on the ground they laid back on the rock, feeling the warmth of the air as sweat covered their skin. For a long time, they just lay there, eyes closed, till their breathing settled back to normal.

“I wish we could do this every day” Wesley whispered.

For a long time, Elliot didn’t say anything then he gave a short laugh.

“I don’t think my legs could take it” Elliot finally replied and they both laughed. Falling silent, neither said anything else, and Elliot felt a tension between them, a moment that so much more could be said, or done, but he didn’t know how to bring that into reality, fearful Wesley considered everything differently. There had been so many signals, or what he thought were signals, but maybe he was imagining it, wanted there to be something making him misread everything.

“We should ride back” Elliot said in a low voice with no sense of conviction.

And they continued to lay there, silence thick in the air around them.

Wesley

How long did they lay there? Five minutes, fifteen, thirty? He had no idea, but he didn’t want it to end, this closeness between them, with no one around to disturb it. He glanced over at Elliot from time to time looking at his profile, the hook shape of his nose, the prominent cheekbones and the thin lips. He wanted to reach over and touch him, wanted to run a finger along Elliot’s jaw and feel the stubble of beard growth he saw coming in, to trace it up to his hairline. He felt his heart race in his chest knowing this time it wasn’t from his exertions. He closed his eyes, lay back, playing out scenario after scenario on how to take this moment further, to make it something else. Something special between them. He wondered if it was his loneliness that made it worse, an almost desperate desire for something more with Elliot. Or was it the mere fact Elliot was here, close by, available, at least in his fantasies. He thought about reaching over and taking Elliot’s hand and admitting his attraction, admit he was gay, letting the chips fall where they may. What could happen? The worst case: he’d lose this friendship that was developing. He heard Elliot shift. A slight movement. Then there was the touch. Briefly, only for a moment, Elliot’s elbow pressed against his arm and everything stopped. Froze in place, holding his breath, hopeful.

Elliot pulled away and it was over.

A few minutes later Wesley sat up, almost angry with Elliot with frustration. He knew he was being ridiculous and he pulled his knees up, wrapped his arms around them and rested his chin on one knee staring out over the valley. Elliot rose into a sitting position next to him. Silence still between them for a few more minutes.

“We should get going” Wesley said stifling his disappointment.

At the ridgeline of the mountain they stood over their bikes, Wesley aimed toward his side and Elliot toward the other.

“Wesley, this has been a lot of fun. When can we do it again” Elliot asked and Wesley thought ‘how about tomorrow’ knowing that was impossible.

“When can you get free?”

“If I work all week I can take next weekend off. And you? Where do you work?”

Wesley looked away, another aspect of his life coming up awkwardly to embarrass him. ‘Fuck it’ he thought and turned to Elliot, “I had a job at the grocery store but they cut me a week ago so I’m looking for a job. The valley just sucks for no one is hiring.”

“Well, don’t give up” Elliot replied giving Wesley a weak smile.

Elliot

The rest of the day and that night, lying in bed Elliot thought of Wesley. He replayed their day of riding, the times they scared themselves so badly they had to laugh it off afterwards, the ride in the valley to town, leisurely pedaling for the first time that day and lunch together, just the two of them. But it was on the rock he replayed over and over, the frustrating awkwardness of it, how it had been a moment of possibility that now seemed lost forever. He remembered the touch, something he had not meant to do but upon contact he had frozen, not wanting to break it. But Wesley had frozen for he had felt the way he tensed up, and he pulled away, breaking the contact. The moment was over and even Wesley had seemed different afterwards.

The other moment he replayed over and over in his mind was their last conversation, stopped on the ridgeline ready to part. Wesley needed a job. All evening he had tried to get up the nerve to ask his dad to hire Wesley, knowing they really didn’t need anyone. It seemed like such a good solution but he was afraid to ask, fearful of the response he anticipated from his dad.

Monday had been a tough day, every muscle ached in his body, every moment seemed to bring a new pain. And the restaurant being its usual slow pace was a time his dad made them do a more thorough cleaning in the kitchen and rework the stock room. Elliot got off at 6:30, went home, ate dinner and crashed in bed. Tuesday was back to normal, as was Wednesday. Each day Elliot watched his dad, looked for an opportunity that would be ideal to ask him to hire Wesley. But his dad was constantly talking about how slow business was, the increase cost of everything, and other comments that caused Elliot to refrain from asking.

Thursday began with rain, all morning, wave after wave of rain, finally letting up just before lunch. It seemed to bring everyone out and by 12:30 there was a crowd of people at the front door waiting to be seated. To make matters worse one waiter failed to show up again. Elliot came from the store room with additional dinnerware when his dad stopped him, told him to clean up as best he could, he needed him to wait tables. The dishes and pans piled up while Elliot waited on customers, trying to be quick and efficient but far too many wanted to chat, ask about his family and if he was now a waiter. By the time the main rush was over around two Wesley was sitting at the bar exhausted. His father came out and sat next to him and he straightened up knowing something was up.

“I’m sorry to ask son, but I need you back in the kitchen washing up.”

“I know…I just wanted to sit a minute.”

His dad nodded his head in understanding, watching the others get the tables straightened back up, filling salt and pepper shakers and sweeping the floor.

“I fired John, told him to pick up his last check this Friday.”

“I’m not surprised. What are you going to do?”

“You want the job? We can get someone else to work in the kitchen.”

The opportunity had arrived. He fought the urge to cry out, stifling a smile. “Yes, and I know someone who can work in the kitchen.”

Wesley

He had been shocked when his grandmother came over to tell him he had a job and to call Elliot back as soon as possible. He couldn’t believe his luck for he had been turned down twice more just the day before for jobs in the valley. It meant he had to ride over the mountain early in the morning and ride back late in the day, sometimes after dark, but it was a job.

For the first few days he kept his head down and worked as hard as he could, keeping everything washed up, busing the tables when the wait staff couldn’t keep up, and when he was caught up, he’d clean the kitchen, sweeping the floor, mopping when he could. He felt intimidated by Elliot’s dad at first, sensed his presence all the time, watching over him, but Elliot would come back on his breaks to the area he worked in and tell him how well he was doing and thanks for taking the position for it let him wait tables.

The following Monday Wesley was not scheduled to work, but he jumped out of bed, got dressed and biked over the mountain, forgetting what day it was and that he was off. Elliot’s dad looked at him confused when he came into the kitchen, then laughed. ‘Son, why are you here’ he had asked Wesley and it hit him. He was not scheduled, it was his day off and he threw his head back and moaned at the stupidity of it.

“Sorry, I didn’t think this morning” he replied as he turned to leave.

“Wait, since you’re here, you want to put in two or three hours and help us get the deliveries put away? Then you can grab some lunch and go ride that bike of yours”

“Sure…but…I’ll skip lunch” Wesley replied suddenly embarrassed. “I don’t have any cash on me, so I’ll just go home for lunch.”

“Nonsense, we can feed you here. A perk for helping on your day off.”

After lunch Wesley went out and was getting ready to ride off when Elliot rode up on his bike.

“Dad said you was here. You want to ride some before going home?”

They rode for hours, one trail after the next, Elliot showing Wesley what his side of the mountain offered. They took a break around three riding back into town and grab something to snack on then headed toward the other side of the valley.

“These trails are a bit more technical, so watch yourself” Elliot yelled back at Wesley as they approached the entry point to one trail. They climbed the mountain, working their way over and around obstacles, jumping over springs and wash outs along the trails. They lost track of time, the two of them in the zone, legs no longer aching, their muscles just reacting to the demands of the trials. They rode harder, testing themselves and pushing the other. It was getting late, near sunset, when Wesley pushed to pull away from Elliot, a challenge, as he dove down one particular stretch. His speed increased and he didn’t hear Elliot call out, didn’t hear the warning about the hard turn ahead, the way the narrow trail kicked off to one side of a rock and suddenly he was on it, too fast to adjust and he clipped it. Flash backs of last fall came to him, the whole fall of before played out, the crash that messed up his shoulder. He kicked the bike away as he tumbled over, balled up to protect his shoulders and knees and hit the ground hard, rolling along the trail till he finally came to a stop. Elliot was right beside him, bike tossed onto the ground.

“You alright…Jesus that was bad…you okay?” Elliot stammered, his voice pitched high with fear and worry.

Wesley felt the pain of the fall but nothing unusual, nothing that seemed to be broken or gravely damaged. He rolled onto his back and sat up brushing dirt and debris from his face and clothes. “I’m okay…I’m okay. Damn that was a fall.”

“Shit, you should have seen how high you were before hitting the ground.”

“Where’s my bike?” Wesley asked as he eased up on his feet feeling for a moment unsteady, slightly dizzy. “Damn” he uttered as he stood still to get his balance. He saw Elliot go down off the trail about twenty feet then come back dragging his bike. The front wheel was bent, the tire flat, and the handle bars only had the bracket from his light, the light itself busted and ripped off. “Oh no…how am I going to get home. How am I to get to work tomorrow. Oh shit…oh shit…shit…shit, shit…”

“Calm down Wesley, it’s going to be okay.”

“Okay? That is the only way I have of getting around.”

“I know, but listen to me” replied Elliot, walking up close to Wesley, only a foot between them forcing Wesley to look into his eyes. “You can stay at my house tonight, call your grandmother and let your family know, and tomorrow when your shift is over we’ll go down to that bike shop in Granite Springs and get you a new wheel and light.”

“Elliot…I don’t have the money for…”

Cutting Wesley off, Elliot interrupted him, “You get paid on Friday so you can pay me back then. Okay?”

Wesley took a breath, his panic from a moment before finally subsiding and he nodded his head. Elliot looked at him with an amused smile.

“Okay, let’s go. It’s going to take a while to get down the mountain having to push one bike and carry the other.”

They began down the mountain, each switchback and section growing darker and darker as the day came to an end. Elliot called his dad and told him where to meet them at the bottom of the trail, explaining Wesley’s fall. It was dark when they came out of the woods. Elliot’s dad was waiting, his Ford truck parked nearby. Soon they were at Elliot’s home, bikes stored in the garage, and the two of them sitting at the table eating dinner.

Afterwards, in Elliot’s room, Wesley stood in the middle of the room amazed at all the things Elliot possessed. A television, a computer, a gaming station and on a shelf below a wall of photographs of the mountains, a camera with various lenses lined up. He turned slowly around, eyes falling from one thing to the next, the whole room filled with stuff. Then he watched Elliot through the doorway to a walk-in closet, it nearly as big as his bedroom. Elliot pull from a shelf a bath towel and a wash cloth bringing it to him.

“The bathroom is through that door, go on and get cleaned up and I’ll get you something to wear.”

Once again Wesley was shocked, Elliot and the next bedroom shared a bathroom between them. It wasn’t a huge bathroom, just a small vanity and toilet and on the opposite wall and large shower. Instead of some cheap plastic curtain it was enclosed with glass with the walls lined with tile.

He eased out of his dirty clothes stacking them on the floor. In the shower, he rinsed the worse of the dirt from his body, moved his hands over each aching leg pushing the dirt and grime down to be washed away. Soaped up, he then ran the wash cloth over himself, feeling instantly the sense of clean. He was covered in suds as he stood just out of the spray as he worked shampoo into his hair. He felt the thick lather cascade down his back and sides as he worked his fingers over his scalp. He had his eyes closed to keep the soap from getting into them when he heard the door open.

“I got you something to…w…wear” Elliot’s voice came from the room and he turned away, suddenly shy about letting another guy see him naked. He knew by the way he felt his cock was slightly engorged, thicker than normal, ready to grow erect and it embarrassed him to know Elliot had seen it.

He held his head under the spray feeling an urgency to finish. “Yeah okay” he replied as he stood under the shower trying to get the shampoo out of his hair. He sensed Elliot’s presence, still in the room, watching him, and the thought came to him, the thought that this was an opportunity, a moment not to be lost. He stood up straight and turned toward Elliot. He saw Elliot’s eyes, the way they scanned upward from his legs to his face. He recognized the look, knew it well. He’d seen it in the mirror so often before. This look of wanting, longing for something that seemed out of reach. Where he got the courage he didn’t know, didn’t think about consequences, not this time as he reached over to the shower door and pulled it open.

“You want to get in?” Wesley asked.

Elliot didn’t say anything, didn’t nod or shake his head. He just pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. He undid his shorts and let them drop to his ankles where he stepped out and kicked them off to the side. Eyes never leaving Wesley, Elliot pushed his boxers down till they fell around his ankles. Wesley stared at him, looked at the body that was so like his own, simple lean build, its muscular build from work and bike riding. But he looked at the differences too. The darker olive tone than his white fair complexion, the thick underarm hair and the trail from navel down to the thick fan of pubic hair. Elliot looked older, more mature. Wesley couldn’t help it, he looked at the cock that lay thickly over the sac, the head arrow shaped, tapering toward the end, so different from his own, it longer but thinner and the head bulb shaped, flaring out. He didn’t consider the differences, just noticed them, intrigued by this opportunity to look upon another guy without shame or fear. Looking up he saw Elliot doing the same, looking at him, his green eyes scanning downward then back up.

“Elliot” Wesley whispered, breaking him out of some sort of trance. Elliot stepped into the shower and Wesley made room for him under the spray of water. Elliot held his head down and let the water cascade over it. Wesley moved behind him and ran his hands over each shoulder, down the curve of Elliot’s back and over the curve of each ass cheek. He felt the grit and dirt he was wiping away, the slickness of the skin beneath. He felt the heat of the Elliot’s body, the way it radiated into his hands. The contact was everything and he wanted more, wanted to feel Elliot against his own body. He moved his hands around Elliot’s waist, and his hands came together on Elliot’s stomach moving closer till he was pressed up against Elliot’s back. He felt the contact, chest downward, all the way to his cock, growing thicker and longer, nestled between Elliot’s ass cheeks. He felt Elliot lean back, head on his shoulder. He felt the tension leave Elliot, body completely relaxed against his own. He moved one hand upward, racked it over the smooth flat chest feeling each nipple, the hard nub of each evident to his touch. Elliot moaned and Wesley rubbed one nipple harder, circling his finger over it, causing Elliot to move within his embrace. He didn’t know why he did it but he pinched it, lightly at first, then harder and harder while he used his other hand to reach down and take Elliot in hand, feel the thick shaft grow harder in his grasp. He stroked its elongating length as he pinched the nipple. Elliot moaned and cried out, pushing his ass against Wesley’s cock, the pressure making him fully erect.

Elliot pulled away and picked up the soap. Wesley saw those hands move to him, take his hard shaft and stroke it. The feel of the hands moving on his shaft made him shudder, struggle not to thrust his hips forward, pumping his cock through their slickness. Elliot turned toward the wall, bracing with one arm, the other reaching back and grasping Wesley, the tight grip making his cock flex with hardness. He felt the tug, the pull to move toward Elliot. He let Elliot pull him forward watching his cock being held down, straight out, till he was pushing between Elliot’s cheeks.

“Wesley…put it in me.”

Elliot

He held Wesley in his grasp, tightly, feeling the cock fill his hand. He slid his hand to the base of the shaft feeling the soft pubic hair against the side of his hand then pulled it toward him. Never in his whole life could he remember wanting something so badly. His desire for Wesley, another guy, was overpowering. He wanted to feel Wesley against his body, wanted to feel the warmth of it. And he wanted to feel Wesley inside him. His fear of the penetration, what it would feel like, was over powered by his desire for it and he pulled Wesley closer, held him against his hole, feeling the flared head press against its tightness. He leaned over resting his head against his arm. Letting go of Wesley’s cock he reached back and held him by the ass cheek and pulled forward encouraging Wesley to penetrate him.

Eyes closed he centered his everything on the feel of Wesley against him. This insistent push against his tightness. Hands took him by the waist holding him place and he felt it, the push against him till he was being penetrated, his hole stretched open. He held his breath as Wesley breached his hole and sank into him, inch after inch, slowly, seemingly taking forever. He thought of Wesley’s cock, how long it was erect and imaged each inch sunk in his hole. His loosened to it, this penetration and the last of Wesley’s cock sank all the way inside him till their bodies were pressed together. He felt Wesley kiss the back of his neck. Felt lips move over his neck and shoulder. And he felt Wesley’s fuck.

Wesley’s cock slide back out of his hole, an impossibly long pull through his tight ring. Then he felt the push back inward till Wesley pressed against his ass once again. Wesley kept it up, this slow fuck, working cock inside of him. He focused on it, focused on the feel of Wesley moving through his opening and pushing deeply inside his body, over and over and over. Wesley’s grip tightened, his pace increased and he put both hands on the wall of the shower and pushed back meeting Wesley’s inward push. Their bodies soon began to slap together, rocking him with every thrust inward. He held his head down, unable to stop himself from grunting and moaning.

Wesley’s thrusts grew shorter, more urgent. He felt Wesley lean against his back, hands move from his waist up to his chest bear hugging their bodies together. Lips touched his neck again, then moved to the side and up to his ear. Lips and tongue manipulated it increasing his arousal.

“Fuck…fuck me” Elliot uttered through clinched teeth as he took Wesley, every stroke.

Wesley’s hot breath hit his ear and neck, and he heard the low grunting noises Wesley was making, every time he felt him sink all the way inside his hole. Their fuck became frantic, Wesley hammering his hole with such urgency he knew Wesley’s release was imminent. The hold on his body tightened, the noise of Wesley’s grunting grew more ragged. Then he felt him shove into his hole and shudder against his back.

Wesley held tight to him for a minute or so before pulling free. Elliot stood up and turned to face him feeling an emptiness, a disconnect he didn’t like but Wesley moved down in front of him. He watched as his cock hovered in Wesley’s face, just an inch or so from his mouth. He watched Wesley move toward it and inch by inch slipped through his lips. Fists balled up tight he held his breath trying not to cry out with the pleasure of it, the feel of his cock sinking into the warm wetness. Wesley held his hips and moved him back and forth, a natural fuck motion, one that drove cock through wet lips. It was too much, all the sensations that ran through him and he held Wesley’s head and took over, began to move on his own. He fucked Wesley’s mouth, fully aroused, cock so hard it ached and he thrust his hips eager for release. He couldn’t hold back, didn’t want to, and he pushed into Wesley’s mouth over and over till he felt it, his cock swell with imminent release. He felt his whole body tense up, every muscle tightened, and he held Wesley on his cock. There was the surge within, this release about to explode from him. Wesley’s tongue moved over the head of his cock, slickly, rubbing over its flared width and it was too much and he pushed forward one last time and filled Wesley’s mouth.

Finally getting showered they dried each other off and slipped on boxers. It was too early to go to bed and he knew his parents could come up any time to check on them, so they lay across his bed playing video games. They played for a couple of hours, until his parents came to his door to tell him good night and were turning in.

“I have to piss” said Wesley, getting up and going into the bathroom. Elliot watched him cross the room and then pull the door closed behind him.

Wesley

He used the bathroom, washed his hands and came out to find the room dimly lit, only a small lamp on the nightstand left on, but the thing that caught his eye, the thing he couldn’t take them off, was Elliot, naked, lying on the bed on this stomach. Wesley knew what Elliot wanted, knew without being told. He moved to the bed letting the boxers he wore drop to his ankles and he stepped out of them as he climbed on the bed and eased over him straddling Elliot’s thighs. He rubbed his cock over each ass cheek, feeling it grow erect, elongating till fully hard. He saw Elliot’s ass rise up, cheeks spread apart just a bit, and it was teasingly enough, made him want Elliot, want to feel himself sunk into his hole. He pushed his cock down rubbed the head up and down the cleft of Elliot’s ass cheeks as he grew more aroused.

Elliot reached back, took each cheek and spread them apart. He opened himself up to Wesley, revealing the deep cleft and the tight opening, waiting to be penetrated. Shifted forward, Wesley pushed his cock to it, pressed against it feeling the tightness. Shifting over Elliot, he pushed with his hips and felt his cock slip easily in, and he kept pushing, inch after inch, till his hips pressed against Elliot’s ass.

He began to fuck, slowly, keeping his need in check. He savored the feel of Elliot beneath him, the tightness that milked his cock as he moved inward and out. There was no urgency for release, just the longing to feel the penetration, the connection with Elliot. He pushed inward slowly each time, all the way, feeling the ring of Elliot’s tight opening along the length of his cock. At times, he pulled all the way out, hovering briefly over Elliot’s ass then easing back in, stretching him open again, each time the feel of the penetration driving him on, sinking as deeply as he could till his hips pressed against Elliot’s ass.

Wesley wanted it to last, all night if he could. Elliot began to move beneath him, to undulated with his fuck, pushing up when he pushed down, their bodies working together. The bed made light squeaking noises, barely audible above the sound of their breathing. As hard as he tried to hold back he felt the need for release rise, felt his body tighten. He lay down on Elliot, their bodies undulating together, moving as one, as he ground his cock into the deepest recesses of Elliot’s hole, pushing in all the way. He moved his hips with all his strength, pushing down on Elliot making the bed rock beneath them.

Arms wrapped around Elliot’s neck he hugged him tightly, held him like he was afraid Elliot would try to escape as he fucked, drove his hips a little faster, the feel of every thrust bringing him closer and closer. He felt the surge of release, his entire body rigid, as he pushed inward and ground his hips against Elliot’s ass. Then he came, hard, each release shook his entire body till he was spent, exhausted with his exertion. He lay still, cock still buried in Elliot, breathing hard. Then he shifted to the side, pulling free, and reached for Elliot’s cock.

“No…not yet. Just hold me for now” Elliot whispered as he shifted up next to him, back pressed to his chest.

Wesley held him, felt their bodies spoon together. He listened to Elliot’s breathing, how it slowed, and he felt Elliot relax in his arms. He knew Elliot was asleep and he could  now relax, let himself settle down. Soon sleep over took him.

He woke to find they had moved around, changed positions, Elliot now holding him. He felt it, Elliot’s cock pressed to his ass. It was hard, thick with its arousal. He moved against it, felt a desire for it. He suddenly wanted to know what it was like, the feel of it, the penetration. He shifted onto this stomach and manipulated Elliot with his hand, whispering to him, begging him to do him.

Half awake, he felt Elliot move on top, the weight of his body comforting. He moved slowly beneath him, pushed up against the erection pinned between their bodies. Elliot rose, just enough and he felt the head of Elliot’s cock rub over his ass, probe along the cleft, then push in till it was touching him, pressing against his opening. He pushed back and felt the breach, felt the stretch as he opened up to Elliot. Slowly, inch by inch he felt ease into his hole, stretch him open and penetrate deep within his body. He felt the fullness of it, the way it connected them and he clutched tightly to the sheet as he undulated his body, done as Elliot had done, manipulated Elliot’s cock with his body till he felt the movement over him. The pull outward, slowly, nearly all the way out, then the push back inward. Over and over, inward and out, Elliot moved through the tight ring of his opening.

Elliot laid on his back, their bodies in full contact, and he gave himself to their fuck, worked his ass, pushed up to take all of it, pumping his hips, grinding his own cock into the mattress. He was hard again and it drove his desire, pushed him to want it and he begged Elliot, pleaded with him, to fuck harder.

Elliot moved up, pulled out of his hole leaving him feeling empty.

“Roll over” Elliot whispered in his ear.

On his back, Elliot moved between his legs, taking each behind the knee and folded him over, bringing his ass up. He felt Elliot’s wet hard cock touch his ass, slide slickly along it then bore down on him again. He took it, easily this time, every inch till Elliot’s body pressed against his ass.

“Fuck...do it…do it” Wesley whispered just before pulling Elliot down and kissing him, roughly, passionately, one hand on the back of Elliot’s neck and the other moving along Elliot’s body, down the back feeling the slight curve of it, then over the round ass cheek. He grabbed the cheek and pulled it downward forcing Elliot to penetrate him all the way. “Fuck me” he whispered in Elliot’s ear.

Elliot began to move over him and he felt their bodies come together, a rhythmic motion, over and over, Elliot’s hips smacking against his ass. He slipped his legs around Elliot’s waist and took it, every thrust, each deeply penetrating push.  His own cock was trapped between them, stimulated by their movements. It was wet, slick, rubbing over his stomach. Elliot shifted positions, pushed inward in a different angle and he saw stars, felt every punch inward. He stifled a cry out as he pushed upward harder. Elliot’s body was hot against him, quickly wet with sweat and they moved slickly against each other. He wrapped his arms around Elliot’s back and hugged their bodies together tighter and he felt the movement of muscle beneath the skin, the way Elliot’s body moved with its exertion. The skin was hot, slick with sweat and he clung to him kissing his neck, tonguing his ear, whispering his pleads, begging Elliot to keep fucking.

Elliot’s movement grew rapid, an urgency to his movement, hips smacking against his ass. It was too much, too much stimulation, pushing his aroused state to the breaking point. His cock flexed and grew harder as he felt his own release, felt it surge from within. He bit Elliot’s shoulder to keep from crying out as he pumped his hips, pushed upward with each release, each wad that was trapped between their bodies slicking up the head of his cock as it pumped more between them. Each ejaculation made his hole tighten around Elliot, made each movement magnified and he jerked upward, pushed up with greater intensity.

Wesley felt Elliot change his pace, no longer a rhythmic movement of hips. Instead he felt the jabbing thrust inward, the rougher smack of their bodies coming together, over and over, till Elliot grunted loudly through clinched teeth and shoved inward hard, all the way.

Then it was over and they lay side by side exhausted. Wesley rolled over to face Elliot, to look at the dim outline of his head next to him. They were quite for a moment, neither saying anything. Who started neither were sure, but one stifled a laugh, then the other till they both began to laugh. They snuggled up together, softly laughing about what they had done.

Just before sleep over took him Wesley felt Elliot snuggle up closer, the warmth of each exhaled breath on his neck.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” Elliot asked in a low whisper.