Under Blue Idaho Sky 04

I slammed the door shut and leaned my head against the window. My elbow anchored on the doorframe. Waiting.

The engine started. Gravel cracked beneath the tires. We left the campsite, silence buzzing between us.

I observed the scenery outside. The forest slid past the windows, painted in mist and early sun. Trees covered in rusty tint were spelling fall's arrival.

Jack navigated towards the main road. His neck stiff, lips shut tight, hands clenched on the steering wheel. The air inside was oppressively still - thick with words none of us dared to say. Every few seconds, I could see him stealing glances at me out of the corner of his eye - quick and cautious, like I might vanish if he looked too long.

I kept staring out the passenger window, fists balled in my lap, jaw grinding. Tapped my knee once, twice. Still no words. Only the sound of the wind crawling through the cracked window, the engine, the quiet tension of breath held too long.

A hawk sliced across the sky. The road narrowed. I noticed we were heading out of Tetons and in the direction of the Wyoming-Idaho border. What the hell was he thinking? Was he playing for time?

"Do you even know where you're going?" I snapped, unable to hold it any longer.

"I do. Kind of." He blushed a little, avoiding my gaze. "I hope I remember the road."

"Idaho?"

"Yep."

I inhaled deeply, a flicker of understanding tightening my chest.

"Do I know it?"

"Better than anyone."

His words cracked open something I hadn't touched in years. Long summer days by the Bear Lake. Kayaking, ice-cream, singing songs by the fire. Sneaking out under the stars to swim until our skin wrinkled and our secrets felt safe. Recalling these innocent moments filled me with warmth I didn't think I was able to feel ever again.

"Bear Lake." I said under my breath.

"Yeah..." He nodded. "I couldn't sleep tonight after we..."

He tightened the grip around the wheel. As I'd thought - those things were much harder to face sober.

"Kissed?" I helped him finish.

He nodded, still unable to say it out loud.

"I was thinking about our teenage days. About those summer camps. How we'd do everything to be in the same group each year." He let out a shift laugh. "Remember?"

"Hard to forget." I smiled under my nose, recalling that well-tanned youngster with the sun-burnt fringe falling all over his big hazel eyes.

Maybe it was during those humid days under the Idaho sky, when my heart first melted for the sight of his. I had fallen for him before I even had the words to name it.

"I wanted to ask you to take me here," Jack said, "before everything with Jared..."

"He saw us," I cut in. "At the truck. He knows."

Jack exhaled hard, like it was a blow.

"You two talked?"

"He's pissed. Rightfully."

"I have to tell her," he muttered. "I know I do."

"Then you'd better do it fast," I said, turning my gaze back to the road. "If you want to outrun him."

Jack nodded at my last words. The road narrowed again, tracing the edge of a dry ravine. A sign for Montpelier flashed past us. Not far now.

"I've never told her the truth," he said, voice almost swallowed by the engine. "I made her think I was confused. That I grew out of it."

I said nothing. It wasn't my job to help him feel better about it.

"But it wasn't confusion," he went on. "It was you."

That one landed. I turned my face away, not sure if I wanted to hear more.

"I think we're almost there."

This time it was me who decided to run away. Ironic.

Pines gave way to rolling hills, and the air turned brighter, clearer. Then, like a curtain lifting, the lake came into view.

Even after all these years, the sight of it made something shift in my chest. That unreal turquoise stretch of water. Empty picnic areas, shuttered summer stands. A stillness that felt like memory itself.

Jack pulled the truck into a half-forgotten turnout on the west side, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Our spot. Hidden between the pine belt and a rocky slope. We parked beside the charred ring of what used to be a firepit.

"This is it." Jack murmured. "Remember what you said to me on our last camp here?"

I nodded slowly. We were seventeen, and I barely understood myself. I had no one to talk to. Jack was the first person I came out to, and for a long time, the only one.

"I told you I liked guys." My heart started to pound for the sole thought of that night. "God I was terrified."

"You didn't need to be," Jack said, still staring out at the water. "I might have caught it even before you did. The way you looked at me that summer... I just knew."

His words stopped me cold. We'd never talked about it. Not once.

"Was it that obvious?" I mumbled, casting my eyes down, burning with old shame.

"You weren't just telling me you liked guys, were you?" He asked softly. "What you really wanted to say was you liked me."

"Yeah." I nodded slowly. "I didn't think you were ready to hear it. I didn't think you wanted to hear it."

"Now I do. And now I'm ready."

His fingers found my wrist, slowly, tentatively. I let him take my hand. And just like that, we were seventeen again. My chest filled with warmth, my heart was racing.

"I like you, Jack. I have liked you since that summer. Maybe even earlier. I should've told you, before we fucked it up."

"Let's be honest. You didn't tell me, cause I've always been a coward." He turned to look at me, finally meeting my eyes. "But I liked you too. And the truth is... I still do."

We sat there still, silent. It was fragile. I didn't dare to speak, as if a sound, a rustle could tear us apart again. For a moment, there were only our breaths, and the breeze caressing pine tops outside of the window.

"Can we forget about the world just for today?" he asked softly. "Like it's the last day of camp or something." He glanced at me, hesitant. "I'm not trying to run again. I just want to live this moment. While it lasts."

"Okay." I whispered back. "What do you want to do then?"

"Let's take a swim. Like the old days."

"Like the old days, you say?" I smirked, recalling those nights we were doing races across the lake, messing around and jumping in the water.

"Last one in gathers wood for the fire!" I shouted out of nowhere and ran out of the car towards the bank, getting rid of my clothes along the way.

Jack followed right behind me, laughing. The valley filled with sound -- our sound. Laughter bouncing between the hills, echoing over the water like it had memory. As if the lake remembered. As if it was welcoming us home.

"I'm so glad we came here." Jack sighed later, as we lay sprawled on a blanket, warm from the sun and the swim.

I smiled, holding a stick over the fire, scorching bread on the tip. It was just leftovers from what I'd packed for the party.

"We had a good childhood." I said, watching the crust blacken slightly" I miss those days."

"At last you're free. No one questions what you do. And me? Whatever I do is never enough. The guys always pushing for more deals, more money. My parents still comparing me to my siblings. And Mary... yearning for a peaceful, perfect life I won't ever provide."

"The grass is always greener on the other side." I bit the bread and gave Jack a telling glance.

"You're probably right." He exhaled loudly. "I really don't know what happens next."

"You don't have to. Life has a way of unfolding after that."

He looked off toward the water.

"I can't believe I allowed it to get this far. She wasted so many years on me..."

"Better to end it now," I said slowly, "before you both get stuck in a lavender marriage neither of you asked for."

I folded the toast, placed a square of chocolate inside and passed it to Jack. Silence settled between us as we ate. I observed his cheeks puff out with delight.

"You've got more?" He asked, tiny chocolate smudge marking his chin.

I smiled and reached out to wipe it away.

"You'd have to wait a bit. The rest is in the car."

He caught my wrist, his grip warm and firm. Then, slowly, he brought my finger to his mouth and licked the melted chocolate from its tip.

"I've waited long enough."

His eyes locked with mine, and there it was - that look. That hunger. Not just for touch, or heat. But for connection, for us. My stomach twisted, my pulse quickened. I was falling for him all over again.

"Did you think of me sometimes?" He asked with his voice low.

"I did." I admitted. "But it hurt me more, so I let it go. I really thought I moved on... until you showed up." I paused. "And it was all fresh again. As if we never parted."

"I'm sorry." He said with his voice crackling. "I should've found you earlier. On my own. Without all this fuss."

"It is what it is." I looked at the sky, streaked red and orange as if it was getting ready for the stars to appear. "We should really get going if you want to be back at a reasonable hour."

"Let's stay the night." He grabbed me by the hand once more. "Please, don't steal this moment. I don't know when we'll have another."

His fingers slid beneath my shirt, like a timid invitation. Then his lips touched my neck. A kiss steeped in longing, built across the years. His body warm and aching leaned into mine, begging for an answer. And I couldn't say "no" this time. Because this time it was different.

There was no rush, no guilt, no drunken haze. Just two people wanting each other - fully, honestly - more than anything else in the world.

The evening air filled with the hush of our breath, the soft sighs we couldn't hold back. The lake breeze curled around us, stirring the reeds, cooling our skin as we moved together -- slow, careful, almost reverent.

The pines were whispering overhead, the crickets in the grass weaving their midnight concerto. We lay there, wrapped in silence, absorbing the sounds, the scents, the hardness of the ground beneath us. Yearning for another kiss. Another touch. Another breathless second. Never ready for the night to fade.

The fire had long since gone out, and the stars had shifted overhead. We stayed close, tangled in one another.

Neither of us said much. His fingers traced lazy circles across my ribs, my hand rested against the curve of his spine. We were sharing soft caress, an attempt to memorize each other.

My eyelids were getting heavy, but there was something holding me back from falling asleep. An irrational fear...

Looking at the sky covered in greys, I realized that this night couldn't stretch any further. And when the sun comes up, who knows beside whom I'm going to wake up.

Suddenly, the memory of an empty bed returned, and a cold thrill ran down my spine. Would he even be here in the morning? Or would I be left holding nothing but his scent, and even that fading by nightfall? Would I be wounded again? Left behind like some inconvenient truth?

I turned my head toward Jack and whispered barely audibly "If you're gonna leave, do it now."

His body shifted next to mine, and he uttered a silent, sleepy "What are you talking about?"

"I'm scared to close my eyes." I clenched my fists on the blanket. "Because when they open, you may not be there." I turned my face towards him and placed my hand on his cheek. "This time I won't make it. If there's even the slightest thought of leaving in your head - leave me now. Before I close my eyes."

"I'm not leaving. I just need some time to figure things out..."

I put a finger on his lips.

"Then stay."

--

The morning sun spilled across the greenery as I turned off the gravel road and pulled back into the lodge's lot.

My fingers brushed the edge of the steering wheel where Jack'd gripped it the day before. His recent presence still lingered in the truck. His scent caught between old leather and late summer air. His final farewell was echoing in my mind, and my lips buzzed with the memory of his goodbye kiss.

I had no idea what would happen from that point on. But at least that morning, for once, I hadn't woken up all alone.

I killed the engine and stepped out of the car, begging myself for a final confrontation. The guys were already loading up. Patrick was playing dad, triple-checking the cabin for leftovers. Kevin looked hungover, yawning and squinting in the sun. And Jared was leaning against the porch post, finishing his coffee, eyes fixed on me like he'd been waiting.

"Morning, pal." Kevin patted my back, yawning loudly. "Where'd you lose Jack?"

"He's on his way to Salt Lake already."

"What? He missed Mary so much?" Kevin cackled, but Jared's chill stare made him shut up.

"Aren't you a giggler, Kev? Get inside." Jared snapped, throwing his own bag on the truck bed.

Kevin climbed into the backseat, obedient now, like a kid who'd been scolded. Jared took the passenger seat without even asking, his face stiff with something that wasn't quite anger.

"Is Jack alright?" Patrick asked me quietly, lifting a backpack. "He seemed uneasy. Texted me to pack his stuff, but didn't say anything else."

"He needs to figure some things out." I said. "Give him time."

"Hey, man," Kevin piped up again after I slid behind the wheel. "That was one hell of a bachelor party. You plan to repeat it when you two marry, right? Count me in."

"Cork it, you moron, or you'll be going back by foot." Jared gave him the final warning, staring out the window.

I pulled off the plot, leaving a thick cloud of dust behind us. In the rearview, I saw them - Kevin half-asleep, Patrick already scrolling his phone. I wondered how much Jared had told them. I wondered if he'd told Mary.

Well, I had to agree with Kevin on one thing - it was a hell of a party indeed. And it seemed the groom was going to stay bachelor for a while longer.

For a moment we rode in complete silence. Tires bit into gravel, the radio hummed some dull country ballad, and the wind kept slipping in through the cracked window. Kevin and Patrick dozed off in the back, leaving Jared and me suspended in the quiet hum of the road.

"I didn't mean to blow this up so much." said Jared at last, voice low.

"Yeah?" I replied, bitter. "You pulled out a great performance."

"I just wanted him to be honest at last. I wanted to see the real Jack. I wanted Mary to see the real Jack."

"Have you told her?"

"I didn't plan to... but you weren't coming back, and I lost it. We had a late night call."

"How did she take it?"

"She cried. A lot." He paused, and I saw him going miles away.

"If he wasn't my friend, I would fucking beat the crap out of him. You don't do that to people you love. And I think... in his own broken way, he does love her."

I didn't answer, but I heard him. There was more to his words than he was ready to unpack. I could feel it. We drove the rest of the way in silence.

Mountains softened into open plains. Jackson's outskirts blinked into view. We pulled into the parking lot, the guys yawning awake, gathering their things. I climbed out, stretching.

And then I saw it - Jack's hoodie - slumped in the corner of the backseat, like it was still waiting for him. Or maybe he'd left it on purpose?

That view lit a tiny spark of hope within me. Like a promise made without words. I smiled to myself, faintly, as if too much joy may break the spell.

And for the first time in years, I was ready to wait.