The Forest for the Trees

You would think, for someone who loves the water so much, that LA would be the perfect place to live, wouldn't you? I can't lie. It is pretty fantastic. But even with the doctor, it's not the same as sitting river or lakeside with Randy, smoking and speaking in low tones. I forgot how deep his voice is. And I forgot the way that it sometimes carries away on the wind before I can catch everything that he's said. I'm glad he found this place, this little private lake. And I'm glad that the gate was unlocked. It's kind of nice to remember this. Even if it's just for one night.

"Do you remember that time we went bowling in Canada with Adam and Amy?" I ask after we've both lit what feels like our hundredth cigarettes of the night.

Randy just grunts from his place at my side, his denim-covered legs stretched out before him. "That shit wasn't bowling," he insists as he takes another drag and exhales a long line of smoke into the black night.

I laugh at his statement and shake my head before laying back to pillow my head in the sand. It's cool, but it feels good against my neck. "You are still so damn American," I chuckle. "Jesus."

"Yeah, well," Randy shakes his head and puffs again, pouting. "I don't care where you're from. Five pins and a shot put ain't fuckin' bowling."

Back when we were together, Randy and I hung out with John and Maria a lot. But John, as champion, was a busy guy, and sometimes they just weren't available. So we would hang with Adam and Amy on occasion. And I gotta tell ya, though I love Maria as my best friend in the whole world, sometimes it was more fun with the others. I don't know if Adam's just a more creative guy, or if it's because he's Canadian, or what, but he came up with the strangest things for us to do. And it didn't always make sense, but it was always fun.

Bowling was the best. Up in Canada, they have five-pin bowling. I'm sure there are some places that have regular bowling, but the place we went was five-pin. Five little pins and a tiny little ball. You'd think it'd be easy, but not so much. Takes skill. A skill that Randy really didn't possess. Mocking him about it whenever we all got together used to be one of my favorite past times. Mostly because he always gets that little boy, 'don't make fun of me' face. It's adorable.

Lifting my head to take another drag, I turn my face toward him. "You're just sour 'cause you got schooled by everyone that night," I accuse.

"You have no idea how hard it is to knock those stupid things down," he begins to defend, but then backs down when I open my mouth to remind him I was there. "I'm just sayin'," he deflates.

Hoisting myself back to a seated position, mostly because I can only see his back from my current position, I think about the young man sitting next to me. "You never change, Randy," I deduce. "You just can't accept defeat. You never could."

He huffs again and lifts his cigarette to his lips once more. When his crystal blue eyes drift out to the ocean, I have to avert my eyes. If I'm not careful, I'll start thinking about my Randy again. I can't do that. "You're wrong," he mutters. At least, I think that's what he says. It's one of those 'carried away' phrases.

I know that he's right. He has changed. A lot. "In some ways," I concede. Lifting my eyes just as he turns his head, our eyes meet. "Other ways, you're exactly the same."

Okay, this is the proverbial line. And we can't cross it. We can't, no matter how beautiful those twinkling blue eyes look in the moonlight, or how fast my heart starts beating when those eyes dart to my lips and then back. "Is that a bad thing?" he asks, just a twinge of that arrogant grin fighting to tweak the corner of his lip.

"It's really not," I murmur before I can stop myself. Can't cross the line. We can't cross this fucking line.

And yet, his lips are on mine before I can dodge them. Or before I care to. I'm not sure. I just know that Randy is kissing me, and it feels like my chest is about to explode. His lips are as full and soft as ever. Tasting the bite of smoke on his tongue reminds me of life, and love, and fully experiencing everything that I ever dreamt. It's like coming home again.

And after only a few seconds, he pulls back. "That was a really bad move," he whispers, turning away and running the hand that just gripped my neck a second ago over his face.

"Worst," I agree with a slow nod, unable to stop my tongue from trailing over my bottom lip. "Ever," I add, wiping my mouth. I don't know if I think I can erase the feeling, but I suddenly feel compelled to try.

We both drop our cigarettes into the sand at our sides and reach for another, fidgeting awkwardly as we fumble for lighters and look anywhere but at each other. It was a horrible idea. Horrible act. We're both in healthy relationships. That absolutely should not have happened.

"So we agree that was never supposed to happen?"

Is he reading my mind? "Oh, yeah," I agree emphatically. Maybe a little too emphatically, actually. "I mean, it's understandable, ya know." I understand that I'm about to launch into 'counselor' mode, but let's be real, okay? This situation is potentially volatile, and it needs to be diffused. "I mean, this is the first time in years that we're together without drugs or drama. It's totally understandable that we would get caught up in the moment," I explain as he drops his chin to his chest and nods.

Raising his head, Randy takes another drag from his cigarette and then looks over at me. "So it was a mistake and it's never . . ."

"Never gonna happen again," I finish with him, and we both laugh. It's like the lilting sound pops the bubble of tension and I fall into an easy place once more. Comfortable. "Dude," I sigh, sucking at my cigarette a little to vigorously as a lump begins to form in my throat.

Randy checks his watch and I think maybe his eyes are going to pop out of his head. "Damn, I need to get back to Jamie," he says, jumping from the sand and running his hands over the back of his pants.

Right. His girlfriend. The new woman in his life. Who is not me. "Yeah," I nod, because I know that he has to get back to his life without me. He has to. And I have to carry on with my life without him. "I have an early seminar in the morning, so I should," I trail off as he offers a hand to help me to my feet.

Neither of us speaks on the incredibly long drive back to his hotel. That whole scene would have been a perfect act break in a film, except that Jamie took Randy's truck from the restaurant and now I have to take him back to his hotel. And even though I know that neither of us is going to breathe a word about our indiscretion on the beach, I can't help wondering if he'll think about it while he's laying next to her tonight.

When I bring the car to a stop in front of the hotel, he leans over the console and lifts his hand to my face. For a minute, I think he might kiss me again, but he just tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and gives me that genuine, heart melting smile. "It was good to see you again, Tate," he whispers just before he lets himself out of the car.

Dammit. I wish that I could tell you that Randy and I are going to be great friends. That we're going to have the kind of relationship that is born out of two people who just realize that, while they're not meant to be together, they are meant to be a part of each other's lives forever. I wish that I could tell you that because I wish it was the truth.

But the electricity that his simple touch against my cheek sends through my entire body. Randy and I were never friends, and we never will be. Which is exactly why I have to stay the hell away from him. No matter what.