The Farmer's Son

Chapter 25 Wrong Number

The sparklers tumbled from their hands, bouncing onto the ground where they lay throwing arcs of embers onto the tops of their boots. Empty hands caught Alan around the waist. Hot calloused hands held Ray's face. Lips parted in surprise, Ray felt a flicking tongue and warm breath that tasted of beer and barbeque. But even more surprising than the kiss itself was the sense of familiarity that came with Alan's touch and taste, calling up memories of a night of whiskey and haircutting and the taste of bacon he did not eat.

Ray responded to it involuntarily, his eyes closing briefly and head bending slightly. But as suddenly as they pressed to him Alan's lips pulled away. Head still bent, Ray's eyes remained closed. "Oh..." he breathed.

Alan sighed. "I shouldn't have done that, should I?" he said quietly. His boots crunched on the ground as he stepped back from Ray. "Sorry," he said. "Can we just pretend nothing happened?"

Blue eyes opened under dark lashes. "If only it were that simple," Ray murmured, watching Alan in a distinctly different way.

"Yeah," Alan said, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. "I guess nothing is."

Licking his lips, Ray touched the back of his fingers to them almost pensively. He glanced up at Alan, the familiarity of his kiss and the reason why on his mind. "I, um, didn't know you felt that way," he said. Which was true. He really had no idea. "How—I mean, not how, but, well, where—no, that doesn't make sense, obviously I know where. What I mean is, what is it, what are you, what do you—" He stopped in an inarticulate sound of frustration that made Alan laugh.

"Sorry," Alan said, covering his laugh with a loose fist. "It's just strange hearing you at a lost."

"I am," Ray said, with a breathy chuckle. "I didn't see that coming at all."

"Really?" Alan looked away. "I could."

"That's not fair. You had inside information."

Alan smiled. Bending to pick up the dropped sparklers that were still fizzing and throwing out sparks, he used them as an excuse to avoid looking at Ray.

But Ray could not help but to look at Alan. He wanted to say something—he felt like he had to say something. But what that something was, he wasn't exactly sure. He took a step towards the other. "Alan—" he began, not knowing what would follow.

"Ray." Sugar-colored eyes finally raised to meet him. "I know," Alan said. "You said it, right? You've still got Joel; you're still sorting that out, and until you do, you can't—" He looked away.

Ray swallowed. "No," he said, frowning at the surprising regret he felt. "I can't."

Head down, Alan nodded, but under the fringe of blond hair, Ray could see a frown creasing the pale brows.

Overhead, the sky continued to explode with color and light, while the two young men stood in silence. In Alan's hands, the sparklers they'd held not a minute before fizzled and died.

"We should head back," Alan said, turning away.

After a brief hesitation, Ray fell into step beside him. They crunched down the lane flickering with light in silence, but a few minutes later, Ray couldn't help but chuckle.

"What?" Alan asked.

"Nothing," Ray said. "It's just been a big night for you: a girl and a boy."

Without missing a beat Alan shoved him, and Ray went down into the wheat with a yelp. Alan paused to look down at him sprawled on the ground, and laughter bubbled up from his throat. Ray laughed, too. Alan reached out for him, and Ray took the hand. Coming up to stand toe to toe, their gazes met, hands clasped between them, damp palm to palm.