DISCLAIMER: You are about to read a story that is strictly FAN FICTION and in no way represents true accounts. I do not - nor do I wish to imply that - I know Jake Gyllenhaal, his private life or his sexual preferences. This is also true of all other celebrities represented in this story. This is a work of fiction based in homo-eroticism, so if you are not of legal age, or if this type of content might offend you, please move onto something else.
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PART 9 . . . --------------------------------------------------------------------
We rode for most of the morning, traveling across the range through wide open pastures, passing by herds of cattle grazing grass through the half-melted snow. The ceiling of clouds had begun to recede, allowing patches of blue sky and sunlight to filter through, warming the valley.
Travis sat atop Red Cloud, riding effortlessly along at a slow pace, one hand loosely leading the reins while the other hand casually hung down at his side clutching the slack. His stature was completely comfortable in the saddle, as though he'd lived his whole life on the back of a horse. Which, for all accounts and purposes, I suppose he had.
My riding companion was Hugo, an even-tempered palomino who seemed to be guiding me more than I was guiding him. I knew Travis had picked him for this very reason, and I found it funny; Travis must have sensed that I was not a very seasoned rider. Or perhaps it was just obvious that I was a city boy, not a country boy. In any case, Hugo made for an easy ride.
For awhile, Travis and I trotted along side-by-side, following a path that eventually headed into the hills, continuing at a slow, even pace, each of us quietly basking in the tranquility of the morning, the caw of black birds the only discordance in an otherwise serene atmosphere. After a time, Travis rolled into conversation, inquiring, "How are you this morning, Jake . . . really?"
I glanced over and discovered him looking at me, his expression attentive, sincere. He was probably anticipating a little soul-bearing on my part, but I decided to screw with him instead. "My ass hurts to high heaven," I quipped. "And this saddle isn't helping much."
He immediately broke into raucous laughter, tossing his head back, the rim of his Resistol touching his shoulders. "Yeah," he chuckled, "I should have forewarned you never to ride a horse the morning after a good fucking." He continued to laugh, shoulders shaking.
Without even thinking, without even blinking, I said, "Are you an expert on that or something?" My voice was laced with unexpected cruelty, the question leaving my lips long before my mind even had a chance to censor it.
Travis's expression all at once turned gray, laughter gone, eyes instantly clouded over as he looked directly at me, green orbs piercing into blue. When he spoke, his voice was grave. "Are you referring to being fucked?" he asked. "Or being the one doing the fucking?"
We were sparring now. I lifted my chin slightly in defiance and said, "Does it matter?"
His face exuded pure insolence. "Sure," he said through thin lips. "'Cause, I mean . . . my ass feels dandy today, buddy."
We stared hard at each other for a moment, neither of us willing to be the first to look away. The horses continued on, unconcerned with the tension of their riders, heading down the dirt path towards a line of trees in the distance.
I fought the urge to turn Hugo around and ride off in the opposite direction, leaving Travis behind. Our argument - or whatever the hell it was - only added to the frustration, confusion and sadness I was already feeling, and although I shouldn't have escalated things, I found myself unable to contain the urge to be spiteful. "I had a dream last night," I said boldly.
Travis didn't respond. Just continued to look at me, straight-faced and tight-lipped.
"The dream was about you," I added.
"Yeah?" he finally said. "Who was I fucking?"
His bluntness rattled me. I turned my attention back to the trail, wrapping the loose reins tighter through my fingers. "You weren't fucking anybody," I spoke in a low voice. "You were in a bathroom stall with some guy's dick down your throat. And from the look of things, you were enjoying it."
Travis allowed this image to sink in, riding along in silence. Then he seemed to snap out of his reverie and asked in a neutral tone, "Was he young or old?"
The question threw me for a loop, and I looked at him, baffled. "What?"
"Was the man who was shoving his dick down my throat young or old?"
"Shit, Travis, I don't know!" I exclaimed. "All I could see were his hairy ass cheeks!"
And suddenly his face creased into a smile, his eyes glittering, all defiance vanished from him like the wiping of a slate. He leaned forward so that both hands rested on the saddle horn, the rim of his cowboy hat shading his eyes. "God, I really hate hairy ass cheeks," he mocked. "They're so . . .. neanderthal."
The statement rendered me speechless.
Travis lifted his face again and looked at me, grinning. "Come on. Lighten up. You dreaming about me is flattering, Gyllenhaal . . . It means we've made an impact on each other."
I couldn't respond. The mere recollection of the dream sent a chill through me all over again, and I shifted in my saddle, causing Hugo to swerve slightly to the left. "It wasn't a good dream, Travis," I finally managed to say. I hadn't realized just how negatively I'd been affected by it.
"Yeah, but, still," Travis said, continuing to grin. "You dreamt about me. I'd say that's a pretty good thing, regardless."
I glanced away, shaking my head in disbelief.
Travis reached out a hand and touched my arm. "Don't take it so seriously, Jake," he insisted. "It was just a dream."
I shifted my gaze back to him, embroiled in a dozen different emotions, my thoughts tumbling together. I wanted to tell him that the dream had truly disturbed me; that I didn't know what the hell was going on in my head; that I probably would have given up almost anything to be able to spend just one extra minute with him before heading home. But all I could mutter was, "Travis . . ." his name echoing in my head, all other words choked somewhere deep within me.
Travis didn't wait for me to continue. He whipped at Red Cloud's reins, bringing the buckskin to life beneath him, taking off in a wide gallop down the path, leaving me in the dust. Despite the thunder of hooves, I heard his voice ring out, commanding me to follow him.
I hesitated, but then kicked my heels into Hugo's girth, lifting my weight slightly off the seat, racing forward to follow in Red Cloud's wake. I pursued Travis at a steady clip until we were in the hills, and then Travis slowed down, giving me the opportunity to catch up with him. From here we meandered single-file down a path, entering into a large grove of conifer and leafless aspen, beams of sunlight streaming through.
The ground was half-frozen and partly muddy, but the horses easily traversed the terrain, hooves occasionally clicking across rocks. We rode for a short while, trotting quietly, until we reached a stream, and here Travis stopped and dismounted, allowing Red Cloud to take a drink from the cold water. I did likewise with Hugo, and then we tossed the reins of both horses around a tree. I sat down on a large rock near the water while Travis retrieved a blanket and knapsack from his saddle.
The stream trickled lightly over small boulders and fallen tree branches, a winding path for melting snow traveling down from the mountains. I picked up pebbles to toss across the water, attempting but mostly failing to skip them over the surface, my thoughts still somber. Travis spread the blanket down onto the damp ground and unpacked the knapsack, revealing a small picnic of bagels, grapes, fresh muffins and a large thermos of hot coffee.
He removed his hat, patted the empty space of blanket beside him, and said, "Come here, you."
I scooted down from the rock and attempted to find a comfortable position on the lumpy blanket, pebbles and tree branches poking up into the wool fabric. Travis unscrewed the lid of the thermos and poured steaming coffee into two tin cups, topping each one off with a dollop of whiskey from a small silver flask. He handed a cup to me, and I muttered a thank you before taking a sip. The hot liquid felt good going down my throat, and after several more sips my uneasiness began to slowly fade.
Realizing my hunger, I grabbed a bagel, tore off a piece, and said, "I'm impressed, Cooper."
Through a mouthful of grapes, he asked, "Why?"
"Because you packed a picnic."
He grinned. Shrugged and said, "I thought it'd be nice since you missed breakfast this morning."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
We ate for a short time, making light conversation, discussing nothing in particular. Once I had finished my bagel and coffee I laid back on the blanket, now damp with ground moisture, and placed my hands beneath my head to gaze up through columns of aspen trees - white trunks like candles pointing up into the blue sky. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of dampness and pine resin, happy to be far less anxious than I'd been only a short time ago.
Travis stuffed everything back into the knapsack and pushed it aside, out of his way. Then he slid down beside me, mimicking my position to gaze up through the trees. A slight breeze picked up, the crowns of the trees swaying gently, and I shivered in my hoodie. Regretted not bringing a heavier jacket.
Red Cloud, or perhaps Hugo, neighed softly, hooves shifting on the ground, and suddenly, for whatever reason, I blurted out: "Will you come visit me in California, Travis?"
It felt liberating to finally articulate a concrete thought. Made me feel like maybe I could actually speak my mind.
Travis didn't respond to my question right away. Just laid there gazing up at the same cumulous cloud that I was. Then he raised himself up on an elbow, rested his head against his hand to face me, and said, "I'd love to."
I smiled. Shifted my eyes to meet his. "Really?"
He smiled back. "Sure. You've seen where I live - how I live - I'd like to see the same of you."
Excitement ran through me. "I'll take you to the ocean," I said. "Maybe we can go surfing."
Travis held up a hand. "Wait now, I don't surf . . ."
"Come on! You snowboard like a pro. You can learn how to surf."
Travis grinned, looking cute as hell. "Okay," he said. "We'll do whatever you want, babe."
This last word he spoke very lovingly, and I was surprised by how happy it made me feel. So many women had called me so many little names, cooing me with their soft voices, but somehow Travis calling me "babe" was one of the sweetest things I'd ever heard.
"When can you come?" I asked.
"Well . . ."
"How 'bout tomorrow?" I was completely overcome with excitement. Didn't even realize how desperate I sounded.
Travis smiled. Shook his head. Looked down at the blanket and then back up to me. "Tomorrow, huh? Isn't that a little . . . sudden?"
"No," I insisted. "Just pack a few things, fly back with me in the morning." I was so instantly wrapped up in making plans for our departure that I didn't notice his hesitation.
Travis traced a finger along the striped pattern of the blanket, following a path that eventually led to my side. After a moment of deafening silence, I started to worry, realizing that he wasn't responding to my suggestion. I sat up. Leaned on both elbows. Looked earnestly at him.
"It's not possible right now, Jake," he finally said.
Panic struck me. "Why not?"
He traced the hem of my hoodie, traveling up until he could slide his hand underneath, his fingers running along the fabric of my undershirt, tickling my stomach. "It's a really busy time of year right now," he stated. "We're scheduling the roundup. Hiring on extra hands. A lot of shit going on . . . Spring's just a really bad time for me to be going anywhere."
My whole entire body deflated as I was suddenly overcome with grief. I exhaled, frowning, and dropped back down to the blanket. Brought an arm up to cover my face, my eyes clamped shut to fight back unwanted tears. What the hell was happening to me? Why did I feel as though leaving Travis was the worst thing to ever happen to me?
He scooted closer, resting a leg atop my knees, his hand still exploring the fabric of my undershirt. I could feel his breath against my cheek, his lips caressing my jaw. "Jake . . ." he whispered.
I said nothing.
More kissing on my chin, my neck, his hand reaching all the way up to my adam's apple. "Jake," he repeated softly.
"Hmm."
He moved his face back. Forced me through silence to finally look at him. "I'm sorry to disappoint you," he said.
Still, I said nothing. I was so choked up I feared that I might start crying if I attempted to speak. And I couldn't - wouldn't - let him see me that way.
"I want to come visit you," he continued. "I really do. Maybe in a month or so, when things have settled down here. I just can't do it right now."
I moved my head in a pathetic nod. Felt sick with disappointment and sadness.
Travis sighed and partially turned his face away to gaze at the stream. I noticed a muscle twitching in his jaw, could feel the frustration emanating from him. When he turned back to look at me, his eyes were glassy, sullen. "Fuck," he mumbled. "I wish I could drop everything and come to L.A. with you, Jake, I truly do. But I just can't. You gotta understand that. My responsibility is to this ranch. It's my life. If I were to just - take off whenever I felt like it, nothing would get done here. There's no way Curtis could do it by himself."
He was right, of course. My selfishness was out-of-bounds. But I couldn't help it. I took a quivering breath, rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, and sat up. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. "Just forget about it . . ." But still I felt crestfallen, my mouth turned down in a frown, my eyes moist.
Travis sat up beside me. Placed a hand on my knee, his fingers lightly squeezing the denim fabric. "These last few days have been an amazing time, Jake," he whispered. "Better than anything. You gotta know that I don't want you to leave."
I nodded. Felt choked up again. "Yeah," I said through tight lips. "It's been incredible for me, too." I blinked back tears. Suddenly wanted to jump up and run off.
Then Travis's hand found its way to my face, cupping my cheek, and it was the last straw for me. Tears spilled out, embarrassing and aggravating. "Fuck," I seethed, slapping his hand away in shame, wiping the salty moisture from my cheeks.
But he wouldn't let me go that easily. With both hands he grabbed my jaw and pulled my face forward until our foreheads touched. "Look at me," he said.
I didn't.
He shook me slightly. Commanded, "Look at me, dammit."
I lifted my gaze. Saw the tears welling in his own eyes. "I WILL come visit you," he said sternly. "I promise you. Okay? As soon as the roundup is done. I'll come out for a whole week if you want."
I nodded. Sucked in a quivering breath. Said, "I don't know what the hell is happening to me, Cooper. I've never felt this way before. It's like . . . I don't know. Like I can't get enough of you."
"I know," he whispered.
I was shaking my head, looking down at the blanket again. "I'm sorry for being such a blubbering fool . . . It's so fucking embarrassing . . ."
He silenced me with his lips. Softly kissed me. My anxiety started to fade, and eventually we landed back on the blanket, side-by-side, our legs entwined, our mouths still connected. I wrapped my fingers in his hair. Tasted the coffee still lingering on his tongue. Inhaled the aroma of soap, damp hay and mountain air on his skin. Wanted to imprint it in my mind forever.
Time seemed to stand still as we lay there, each one of us gently sucking on one another's lips, the horses shifting together, the flickers calling to one another up in the trees. Another breeze picked up, and I absently pushed myself further against him. He responded by embracing me tightly, and in no time we were kissing much more fervently, our mouths opening wider, tongues competing for space, saliva pooling at the edges of our lips.
The intensity continued to grow as our hands began to roam, exploring each other through layers of clothing, Travis's fingers snaking up my hoodie and undershirt to tickle my abs, my own fingers struggling with the buttons of his shirt. Once successful, I rubbed his chest, following the contour of his pecs, flicking over his nipples. When I caressed his ribs, he shivered, goose bumps chasing his skin.
I felt his hand travel down to my jeans, his fingers grabbing the now-hard bulge in my pants, a moan escaping from my lips, lost in his mouth. He rubbed me briefly, and I squirmed, wanting more. As he popped open the button of my fly and proceeded to pull down the zipper, he removed his tongue from my mouth and drifted down, sucking on my neck, licking at my navel, pulling my boxer briefs down with his teeth. I helped him push my pants down over my hips and then laid back, allowing the sensation of his wet tongue on my hard cock to wash over me.
He flicked his tongue over my piss slit, teasing me, while his fingers worked on my balls. I slid an arm under my head so that I could watch him, my other hand resting on his neck. He licked the full length of my shaft, traveling down to the base, tickling my pubic hair with the tip of his tongue. Then his mouth opened and gently sucked my balls in, both nuts resting in the wetness of his mouth, his tongue rapidly flicking across them. The sensation was incredible, and I arched up slightly, pressing a little harder on his neck, my breath quickening.
He continued sucking my ball sac while his hand massaged my cock, my pre-cum assisting as lubrication. Then with his other hand I saw him fumbling with his jeans, unbuckling his belt but struggling with the buttons of his fly. His hips were close to me, so I pulled him over, slapping his hand away so that I could do the honors of opening his pants.
"I don't know why the hell you wear button-fly, Cooper," I mumbled in irritation, and he chuckled, my balls still stuffed in his mouth.
When his jeans were finally open, I attempted to push them down, but the angle was awkward and Travis had no choice but to release me, sit up partially, and pull them down himself. We re-situated ourselves, lying on our sides in a `69' position, taking each other's cocks into our mouths, groaning in unison.
Although I had been in this position before with dozens of different women, doing it with Travis was altogether different and extraordinary. Perhaps it was because we both had dicks. We mimicked one another - he sucked me in, I sucked him in. I pulled back to lick his engorged tip, he did likewise with my tip. It was like a little game, each one of us coaxing the other one on. He grabbed my ass, I grabbed his ass. His fingers dipped into my crack, my fingers dipped into his crack. His musky scent was so arousing that I wished I could just swallow every inch of his entire crotch.
In no time at all, we were both close to reaching climax, grunting and sucking and pushing into each other's mouths, our hips grinding against one another's faces, all sights and sounds of our surroundings nonexistent.
I was the first one to cum, moaning from deep within, my cock shooting an enormous load that Travis greedily swallowed, pulling my hips even closer, his tongue working to suck out every last drop from my pulsing tip.
He reached ejaculation shortly after me, bucking against my face so that his balls smacked my nose, his dick exploding inside my mouth. Without even realizing it, I had sucked him all the way in, hungrily gulping down the hot semen, his long, swollen cock pushed all the way to the back of my throat. I couldn't believe how much I loved the taste of him, how much I loved holding his throbbing dick in my mouth, how much I loved having his sweating balls pressed against my nostrils, his pubic hair scratching my chin. Had never in a million years thought I would ever enjoy anything so much. Didn't want to let him go.
And we didn't let each other go . . . Not right away. Lay there with our dicks still shoved in one another's mouths, allowing our heart rates to slow down. Then slowly we released each other and pulled away to lay on our backs, our wet cocks cooling in the breeze, our chests heaving.
We remained like this for several minutes, no words spoken, just the flickers calling back and forth to one another in the trees. Then Travis said, "We should head out," and pulled his boxers and jeans back up. Took a moment to button his fly and then stood up to button his shirt, tucking the shirttails in and buckling his belt. He attempted to fix his hair with his fingers but retrieved his hat to put on anyway.
I was more reluctant to get dressed - was enjoying the sensation of having the cool air blowing against my sweating groin while I gazed up at the blue sky. But soon a chill traveled through me, and I shivered and stood up, pulling my jeans and boxer briefs up with me.
Travis retrieved the blanket from the ground, and together we shook it out and rolled it up. Packed everything back onto Red Cloud's saddle and prepared the horses for departure. We hesitated before mounting, standing next to one another, the sun streaming down through the trees.
"Thanks for taking me riding this morning," I said.
"It was my pleasure." He grinned impishly, snapping the ends of the reins against his thigh. "In more ways than one."
I laughed. "Yeah, it was." Then, more somberly, added, "I don't know how I'm gonna get back to my normal life after all this."
"You'll be fine," Travis insisted. "Cooper Ranch will be a mere speck in your memory once you're back in the limelight."
I shook my head. "No way. This place has changed me." I looked closely at him. "YOU'VE changed me."
"Well . . ." Travis pulled me into a hug, the reins hitting my back, his hat lightly bumping my head. "I hope you don't hold it against me."
I returned the embrace. "There's nothing to hold against you. You've managed to . . . fill a void that I guess was missing."
He hugged me tighter. We stood there for a moment, the horses stomping their hooves, and then I stepped back and said, "Will you stay with me until I fly out tomorrow?"
"You mean stay in Aspen with you?"
I nodded.
He grinned. Pecked me on the lips. "I thought you'd never fucking ask."
We took our time riding back to the ranch, meandering through fields, arriving at the stables just after noon. We spent some time untacking the horses, rubbing them down and feeding them, Travis explaining the process to me as we did so. Then Curtis sauntered in to let us know that lunch was ready up at the house.
"We'll be right there," Travis said.
I followed Travis into the office. He rummaged through some papers on his desk and then said to me, "I've got to make a few phone calls. Why don't you go get your stuff and head up to the house. I'll meet you there."
I nodded, "Okay. You want me to grab some things for you?"
He thought about it. "Yeah. Just some underwear and my toothbrush. Thanks."
We kissed each other, and then I exited the stables and headed to the bunkhouse. Derry appeared from out of nowhere, following at me heels, and I greeted her with a scratch behind the ears. She entered the bunkhouse with me and stayed at my side as I gathered my things together, stuffing everything into my overnight bag.
I pulled open the drawers of Travis's dresser and found his boxers and socks. Decided to grab an extra shirt and jeans for him as well. Looking around, I found a duffle bag and shoved his clothing inside it. Then I went to retrieve his toothbrush from the bathroom.
When I returned, Katie was standing in the middle of the room, dressed in a tight-fitting t-shirt and red mini-skirt, her combat boots unlaced on her feet, her raven black hair tumbling down around her shoulders.
Her presence startled me, and I stopped dead in my tracks.
I hadn't seen her since dinner last night, when she'd done nothing but sulk throughout the meal, placing an unwanted strain on everyone, not hanging around for dessert. It seemed rather odd to me, due to my personality, that I felt absolutely no sympathy or regret where she was concerned. But I didn't. She'd gotten what she'd deserved. In fact, maybe she'd deserved more, but I wasn't an antagonist. I convinced myself that so long as she steered clear of me, everything would be fine.
But she wasn't steering clear of me now. She was moving towards me, her boots clunking against the wood floor.
"Hi, Jake," she said, stopping a foot or so away from where I stood.
I still held Travis's toothbrush in my hand, gripping it at my side as though it were a dagger. "What's up, Katie?" I asked guardedly.
"I just wanted to come say goodbye." She moved in closer.
I took several steps back. "I don't want a repeat of yesterday," I said sternly.
She pouted. Very convincingly. Said through her frown, "I'm not going to try anything again. A girl can only take so much rejection . . ." Her voice trailed off; she looked to the floor, her hair falling into her face, her shoulders slumped.
I headed over to the bed to stick Travis's toothbrush inside the duffle bag. Zipped it closed, sighed heavily, and then turned back to her, my hands on my hips. "Look, Katie," I said. "You're a nice girl . . . a little misguided, but nice. Let's just agree to call a truce and move on. Deal?"
It seemed the best I could offer at that moment. And, quite frankly, I hoped it would appease her enough to leave me alone.
She looked at me through long mascara'd eyelashes - her expression deceptively innocent - and nodded her head. She moved forward, held her arms open to me, and said, "How about one last hug? One last hug, and I promise never to bug you again."
I knew it was a mistake. Knew that she could never be trusted, because she was inherently an evil, evil child, but I acquiesced, allowing her to wrap her arms around me. Her vanilla-scented perfume hit my nostrils, her fingernails traced a line down my spine, her lips just barely touched my earlobe as she whispered, "You're not the first guy Travis and I have fought over, Jake. And I highly doubt that you'll be the last."
I wrenched myself free from her embrace, involuntarily shivering, feeling as though she'd infected me with poison.
"Get away from me, Katie," I seethed. Never in my life had I felt such an urge to slap a female. I had to turn from her, force myself to breathe, focus on something other than the anger coursing through me. Quickly, I grabbed the bags and my snowboard and headed for the door.
She followed me, trying to grab my arm, saying, "He'll never stay with you, Jake. He's never stayed with anyone . . ."
I tried to shut her voice out. Pushed my way out onto the front porch, practically tripping over Derry who was fast under my heels. Katie continued to follow me, taunting me with her incessant babbling over how Travis was no good until I simply couldn't take it any longer. I whipped around, my snowboard inadvertently smacking her on the arm, my breath hot as I spat, "I know all about Eric, Katie!"
She stopped moving. Stared at me with wide green eyes.
"Yeah," I said. "Travis told me. Told me how you hated their relationship and how you still hold it against him to this day. You need to do a little growing up, Katie. And you need to leave me the fuck alone. Goodbye." And I pushed through the screen door, hearing it slam shut behind me, satisfied that she was no longer following me. Satisfied that I had left her dumbstruck.
Travis met me on the path up to the house, smiling broadly, slipping the snowboard out from under my arm so that he could carry it. Immediately, he sensed my angst and slowed down his pace, looking at me. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said through clenched teeth, taking the path in wide, hurried strides, forcing him to jog along beside me. Irritated, he grabbed my arm, flipping me around to face him.
"What's up, Jake?"
I glared at him. "Your sister needs serious fucking help, Cooper. Like . . .. an institution. She's fucking loony tunes." I shook free from his hold and continued down the path.
Travis caught up with me again, calling, "Hey, hey, slow down . . . Tell me what the hell happened."
So I did. Stopped in my tracks to tell him everything, including the scene in the woods and Katie's continuous flirtations and spiteful comments, and how that, in my opinion, she was more than just a young girl wanting to test her boundaries; she was fucking evil incarnate. At first, Travis sincerely listened, hearing every word, his eyes expressing remorse. But soon his expression evolved into anger.
By the time I had finished my diatribe, he was bristling. "I'm gonna go talk to her," he fumed.
He swiftly spun on his heels, heading back towards the bunkhouse, but I grabbed him by the arm to prevent him from going. "Not now," I begged. "It'll only escalate things."
"She needs a good whipping."
"Yeah. But do it later, when you get back from Aspen. None of us need this shit right now." Then, as an afterthought, I added, "I just want to spend the day with you, Travis - no confrontation, no tragedies, no arguments. Please."
He sighed, looking at the ground, my snowboard still tucked under one arm. I could tell that he was struggling with the urge to confront Katie right then and there. But eventually he nodded his head and squinted up at me. "All right," he conceded. "Fine."
I gave his shoulder a tight squeeze. "Good. Thank you."
He held up a finger. "But ONLY because you asked me to. Otherwise, Katie'd be facing the wrath of hell right now."
I chuckled, hoping to lighten the moment that I had so effectively ruined. "I'm sure she would, my friend. Now come on, let's go eat. I'm starving and would hate to miss my last meal here."
He agreed, and we headed to the house, stopping to put our stuff in the back of the truck before heading inside.
In the dining room, everyone was already seated, chatting and eating.
"Hey, guys!" Travis's mother greeted, her warm smile as bright as ever. She was, without a doubt, one of the most genuine people I had ever met.
Travis and I said hello in unison and took a seat, fixing ourselves heaping plates of grilled chicken and cornbread and salad. We enjoyed the meal - peaceful without Katie - and discussed the morning's ride with the others.
When lunch was over and it was time to leave, we all stood on the front porch to say goodbye. Curtis and Arturo shook our hands, bidding us a safe trip home; Travis's mother embraced each of us, thanking us for coming, extending an open invitation to visit any time. It was disheartening to leave them - they were such great people - but in my mind I knew that I'd be back again, perhaps sooner than later.
After tossing Maggie and Peter's overnight bag into the open bed, we all climbed inside the cab. Travis started the engine, reversed out of the driveway, and everyone waved to one another one last time.
We headed down the dirt and gravel road, and I watched the scenery pass by, hoping to stamp the impression on my mind. As an afterthought, I pulled out my cell phone, rolled down the window, and snapped a quick photo of the passing landscape. It came out blurry. I left the window down for a moment, allowing the crisp air to whip against my face. Then I shut it, pointed my cell phone at Travis, and snapped a candid photo of his profile; his eyes were casually fixed on the road ahead, his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, his Resistol hat perched back on his head.
He grinned over at me. "What are you doing?"
I took another picture of his smile. "Memories."
We reached the edge of the property, sooner than I'd anticipated, rumbling over the large cattle grate to pass under the stately pine log post again. As we turned out onto the main road, my stomach churned slightly, convincing me that I was truly going to miss this place. I slumped down a little in my seat, absently hugging my belly. Travis glanced over, saw my distress, and immediately reached out a hand.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
I nodded. "Yeah."
We held hands, resting our arms against the seat between us, something deeper than words connecting us.
In deference to Maggie's pregnancy, Travis chose to stick to official roads this time around instead of taking the washboard shortcut. Maggie was grateful for it, and although the scenery wasn't nearly as breath-taking, driving through the mountains was great nonetheless.
Traffic was surprisingly heavy, Travis cursing at the multitude of "Sunday drivers" he continued to get trapped behind. "The mountains are always too fucking crowded on the weekends," he explained in irritation.
In order to avoid getting further stuck in traffic, we all mutually agreed to not make any pit-stops along the way - just simply drive straight through. By the time we reached Aspen, Maggie was ready to explode, needing to piss a river. When Travis finally pulled into the front drive of The Little Nell, she quickly exited, apologizing for her swift departure, Peter hobbling along after her, their overnight bag slung over his shoulder.
I slid from the cab, shut the door, retrieved the gear from the bed while Travis handed his keys to the valet. The front doorman approached and asked if we needed assistance with the bags, and I politely refused, hoisting my bag over my shoulder. Travis took my snowboard and his duffle bag, and together we headed to the front door.
Travis leaned into me, grinning, and said, "Sure is a fancy-shit hotel you got here, Gyllenhaal," pleasantly reminding me of the words he'd spoken to me on the first night we'd met.
I chuckled and bumped my hip into his.
As we approached the revolving door, we fought over who was going to go through first, playfully cursing at one another. I was so focused on Travis and shoving him out of my way that I didn't even notice the man with the camera until he was in the lobby, following along behind us, the shutter of his camera going off at about a hundred clicks per second.
Travis and I headed for the bank of elevators. I did my best to ignore the photographer, but it seemed an eternity that we were waiting for an available car to pick us up. In the meantime, the photographer kept snapping pictures.
"What the fuck is that guy doing?" Travis growled, finally noticing the man.
"Paparazzi," I mumbled. "Just ignore him."
Already, people were staring at us. I considered taking the stairs, but suddenly two plain-clothes security personnel magically appeared, quietly commanding the photographer to leave. As they escorted him out, an elevator car finally arrived, and Travis and I both rushed in, relieved. I punched the button to close the doors, not wanting anyone else to enter; thankfully, no one did.
As we ascended, Travis said, "I take it you get that a lot?"
I sighed. "Yeah. It's a part of my life. Sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry. It just threw me off-guard."
We reached my floor and stepped out into the empty hallway. I slid my keycard into the door and entered the hotel room, discovering it to be meticulously clean. I set my bag down and immediately marched over to the large picture window, pulling the curtains tightly closed. Then I marched back over to Travis, pulled the snowboard and duffle bag from his grip, and grabbed him by the arms.
"Come here," I barked, leading him over to the bed, flicking the Resistol hat from his head, pushing him down onto the comforter. Straddling over him, my hands clutching his wrists, I said, "It's our last afternoon and evening together, Cooper. What do you want to do?"
He grinned, seeming to enjoy being held captive beneath me. "You're welcome to do whatever you want, Gyllenhaal."
"Good."
And, with that, I drowned him in a sloppy kiss.
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