Chapter Four
Beckett couldn’t keep his eyes to himself. Every couple minutes he found himself glancing Christian’s way. He felt an unexpected calmness inside him, like he was in the eye of a hurricane where the chaos of all his recent thoughts—the way his love of motocross felt muted, coming out, his family adjusting, thoughts of his career, and the fact that he wasn’t riding like himself—couldn’t reach him. They were still there, twisting and turning around him but right here, right now, they were quieted by the fact that his oldest friend was here. That he’d thought Beckett might need him and he’d come.
They were silent most of the ride to the house. It was surprisingly a comfortable sort of quiet. He hadn’t expected that after all this time. There was a whole lot of shit between them, things that needed to be discussed but it was as though they both managed to put that aside and it was only Christian and Beckett in the car right now. How many times had he heard that yelled over the years? Christian and Beckett! Most of the time, they were getting into some kind of trouble.
He let out an amused chuckle.
“What?” Christian asked as they pulled into the driveway of the cabin.
“Just thinking about all the trouble we used to get into. About how many times we heard our names getting yelled by someone frustrated with whatever antics we’d gotten up to that time.”
“Oh God. Don’t remind me. You were such a bad influence on me.”
Beckett cocked a brow at him. “I’m pretty sure you have that the wrong way.” But really, he just thought trouble came looking for them when they were together. He couldn’t let Christian blame it on him without blaming it on Christian, though.
“I think you might have hit your head a few too many times during crashes.” Christian stepped out of the car, then opened the back door. “I was a good boy. You were always the one saying, ‘Let’s take the bikes on this path, Chris. Who cares if it’s private property? No one will catch us. Let’s try this jump, Chris. Oh, we can steal some beers and drink them in that abandoned house, Chris.’ I just went along for the ride.” He grabbed his bag and grinned at Beckett. Christ, this felt good.
“You have selective memory, but I’ll let it slide for now. It’s the least I can do after you came all this way.” Once he was out of the car, they went for the steps that led onto the small front porch of the cabin. “Are you hungry?”
“No. I could use a drink though.”
“Beer?” he asked as he unlocked the door.
“Perfect.”
They made their way inside. “I’m staying in the room at the end of the hall. You can put your bag in the first room on the left and change or whatever. We can head to the back deck, watch some TV inside, or if you just want to take your drink and go to bed, I understand. You had a long day of traveling.”
To Virginia to see him. He still couldn’t believe that Christian was here with him now.
“Some fresh air sounds good,” Christian replied, and then they stood there looking at each other without moving. His eyes looked bluer than Beckett remembered. They were like the ocean in a painting—bright and magical.
He had a small mole next to his eye. A fading scar on his chin from when he went off his bicycle on a ramp and hit the concrete. Memory after memory slammed into him, washed over him like waves in the same ocean he was just thinking matched Christian’s eyes. Christian represented a part of him that was real and honest in ways Beckett never let himself be. Even when he’d meet a man on an app or at a club it wasn’t honest. They didn’t know each other or care about each other or keep each other’s secrets. They hadn’t laughed together or gotten scared together or even held each other while they cried.
That was only Christian.
Christian who broke their silence with, “Well, this is awkward. I think we just had a moment there. It’s a little too soon for that. I’ll put my bags away and be right back.”
Damned if a warmth didn’t spread through his chest and a smile tug at his lips, and if all those questions about his career and what would happen and where his passion was going didn’t bury themselves a little deeper. Christian had always been good at making him forget things.
“I’ll get the beer.”
“You do that.”
“I will,” Beckett said and then he rolled his eyes. “I think we somehow went through a time portal and we might be sixteen-year-old kids again. Christ, you’re making me act weird.” Before they continued to play the staring game, Beckett turned and went for the fridge to get their beer. He heard Christian’s footsteps get farther and farther away until he didn’t hear them at all anymore. That’s when he breathed.
* * * *
Christian tossed his bag onto the bed and rubbed a hand over his face. He’d expected the awkwardness to lie heavily upon them but it was different to know something than to experience it. They’d left a lot of things unsaid ten years ago. They were both different men—they had to be—but when he looked at Beck, he wanted to see his childhood friend. The person he’d gotten in trouble with and laughed with. The one who he’d thought would always be in his life. The boy he would have done anything for…the boy who hadn’t been able to say the same about him.
Grow up, Chris. That was a long time ago.
The truth was, he might have come here for himself just as much as he’d come for Beck. This was a way to make peace with the past. A way to move on, and maybe become friends again.
Christian picked up the bag again and made a quick trip to the attached bathroom, where he changed into a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts so he’d be more comfortable. After cleaning up he forced himself to shove all the thoughts about Beck, their past and the tension between them to the back of his mind and made his way to the living room.
There was a sliding glass door off the back of the room decorated in earth tones. The glass was open, a screen between him and the outside where he saw Beck sitting on a reclining lounge chair. There was a table beside him and a matching chair on the other side of it. Circular lights hung from various beams around the deck giving off soft light. Beyond the deck, all he could see was darkness and the outlines of trees and nature in the distance.
“You’re being very creepy standing behind me like that,” Beck’s voice drifted through the screen door.
Christian chuckled. “You think you’re funny in your old age, do you?” He took the last few steps and then opened the door before going outside to take the other seat.
“Old? You say that again and I might have to kick your ass. You have no idea how much I get that at the track. I’m one of the old guys.”
Young men often dominated the sport but, “You’ve won how many championships? You’re in excellent shape. I don’t think you have much to worry about. You’re out there schooling those youngsters.”
Beck turned his head, still letting it rest on the back of the chair and looked at him. “Thank you for defending my honor—and I’m in excellent shape, huh? I think I might need you to expand on that a little bit. Exactly what is it about my shape that’s excellent? As many details as possible please.” He rubbed his beard, no doubt hiding a smirk. That was the Beck he knew. Playful, flirty and a little cocky.
“I’m not making your head even bigger than it already is. Now where’s the beer you promised me?”
Beck chuckled and then reached into a cooler on the other side of him. He pulled out a bottle of dark brew and handed it over to Christian. He opened it, took a long swallow, quenching his thirst before he set it on the table.
And then it was quiet as they looked out toward the pines. It sounded as though there was possibly a river there, too.
“It’s nice out here. It always takes some getting used to when I head home for a visit, or hell, anywhere outside of the city. It’s like the whole world is asleep.”
He heard Beck let out a deep breath, then he took a drink of his beer. “Yeah, yeah it is.” He took another drink. Christian watched his Adam’s apple move as he did. “Tell me about your life. You’re making games just like you always wanted.”
He smiled at that, because he was. While Beck had always wanted to ride, Christian had always wanted to get lost in the world of video games. It was then that a thought steamrolled him and he couldn’t help but get a kick out of it. “It’s funny that we both just wanted to grow up and play.”
“Is there any other way to live?” Beck asked, with amusement in his voice.
“Hell no.”
“But it’s hard work, too. Both of us…we work hard.”
“We’re lucky we get to do what we love,” Christian countered. “Not everyone can say that.”
He glanced Beck’s way, waiting for a response, waiting for him to agree, for his eyes to light up and for his body to nearly glow with the passion for riding that he’d always shown. Christian loved a lot of things. He loved games and creating but he’d never had the passion for anything that could hold a match to the fervor that Beck had for riding.
One beat, then two and three. Seconds ticked by with no response. Beck finished his beer and then set the bottle down on the table, but still, nothing.
“What is it?” Christian asked, a heaviness in his gut. “Does this have something to do with being outted? Did it cause problems in your career?” Or hell, maybe the fact that after winning Supercross last year, it had been expected for him again this year, but hadn’t happened.
“No, no.” Beckett shook his head. “It’s not that…and I’ll admit something to you, Chris, I wasn’t outted. Not really. Would anyone outside the MX world really know me well enough to take a picture of me like that?”
He’d wondered the same thing. But still, he didn’t get why Beck didn’t just come out, if that’s what he’d wanted. “What’d you do?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t do much of anything. I went out after a race, wanted to get laid. It wasn’t something I put a lot of thought into I just…let go. I was tired, Chris, so fucking tired of sneaking around and being elusive. I met a guy, danced with him, he asked what I did and I told him I’d just won a race that night. I didn’t get as many first place podiums this season as I’d wanted and needed to celebrate. It was like…” He went quiet for a moment. Christian watched him, waited, heard the wistfulness in his voice when he spoke again.
“It was like I could breathe. I know that sounds crazy and maybe a little childish, but it’s true. It was like my anchor had been lifted. I hadn’t realized how heavy it was, Chris. The guy I was with, he thought it was cool that I’d just won a race that night and he was talking to everyone about it. Each person we spoke to, I just kept getting lighter and lighter. That night, I felt better than I had in a long time.”
He looked Christian’s way, his brow furrowed. “Does that sound crazy?”
Christian wanted to know everything. If there was more to Beck not agreeing with him on loving their careers than whether he was out or not. If there was something he was holding back. But he didn’t ask those questions. He just reached over and squeezed Beckett’s hand. It was bigger than his own, slightly rough, with prominent veins. “No. Of course it doesn’t sound crazy. It has to wear you down, keeping a part of yourself in chains your whole life.” He couldn’t imagine the feeling. When he’d first been accidentally outted, he’d been devastated. It wasn’t long before he was thankful for it.
“I knew you’d understand,” Beckett told him. The truth was, they might not have spoken in ten years but he still felt like he knew Beck. This moment on the deck was just as comfortable as it would have been when they were teens.
“I do. And don’t think I forgot that you changed the subject about loving our jobs. I won’t let that go for long.”
“There’s not a part of me that doubts that.” Beck chuckled and then, “I love riding. I’ll love riding until the day I die.”
“There’s not a part of me that doubts that,” Christian returned his words back to him.
Beckett nodded, opened another beer and took a sip. “Remember when we used to sleep in your back yard on the trampoline all night?”
Christian smiled at the memory, saw it clear as day in his mind. The dark sky, dancing with stars. They spent most of their summers sleeping outside. “I do. We used to stay up most of the night talking.”
“With wake-up flips thrown in between.”
A laugh formed in Christian’s chest, and he let it out just as Beck did the same. They’d get up and do back flips and front flips on the hour to keep themselves awake. Otherwise…they’d just talk.
He thought maybe he wanted that again—minus the flipping part. He’d likely break his neck now. Christian had a feeling Beck wanted it too.
“What’s your favorite track you’ve ridden?” he asked.
“Oh that’s easy…” They went from tracks to trainers. From video games to dancing. From movies to clubs in LA. Friends and restaurants. Books and vacations. They let each other experience the last ten years of their lives. They relived them until the sun started to peek over the horizon in yellows, pinks and oranges.
When the sun finally made its grand appearance, they decided it was time to get some sleep. Beck stood, stretched. Christian took in the view as his t-shirt pulled up, showing a muscular stomach and a dark trail of hair that disappeared under his jeans.
He wanted to know what it tasted like. How his skin would taste and how Beck would smell. He wanted to experience those things they hadn’t really done when they were younger. Back then it had been nothing but kissing and rubbing off on each other through their clothes.
Beck cleared his throat. Christian let his eyes lazily rise to meet Beck’s, not hiding the fact that he appreciated the view.
“Thank you,” Beckett said softly. “Thanks for coming…for talking. I missed you, Christian.”
A knot formed in Christian’s chest, one that was hard to speak around because even after all these years, he’d needed to hear that. Needed to know Beck had missed him the way he’d missed Beckett. Christian stood. “I missed you too.”
He stepped forward, wrapped his hand around the back of Beckett’s head and pulled him closer until he could press a kiss to Beckett’s forehead. Then without another word, Christian headed into the house and went to bed.