Page 13 of Tossing the Caber

“Why?”

“I dislike that you’ve been made to feel as if your presence is a hardship.”

“Enough for you to kiss me? That’s ridiculous.”

Beacon huffs, nostrils flaring. “We’ll have to kiss in three days’ time, whether we want to or not.”

Laurel can’t argue with that. He grabs Beacon’s loose shirt and pulls him in close, mimicking the solid grip he had on Laurel’s arm. Beacon adjusts his touch to the small of Laurel’s back, drawing him in until their chests brush.

“You said you don’t want to marry.”

“Correct.”

“But you kissed me.”

The corner of Beacon’s lips twitches. “Correct, again.”

“And you won’t find me intolerable to be around?”

“Don’t,” Beacon says. His free hand pushes a lock of escaped black hair behind Laurel’s ear. “Idon’tfind you intolerable.”

“Alright,” Laurel says. He tugs Beacon down, knowing such a strong, stocky athlete could resist without trying. Nonetheless, Beacon complies easily. “I don’t find you intolerable either, so you know.”

“That’s a relief.”

“You didn’t seem to care before,” accuses Laurel. “You were ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t,” Beacon says with a shake of his head. “I told you I prefer quiet, Laurel. Especially while I’m eating. That’s just how I am.”

Gnawing his lower lip, Laurel tries to contextualize everything Beacon has told him. Beacon sighs and tucks his fingers under Laurel’s chin to lift it into a streak of sunlight. Laurel’s lashes flutter to keep the sudden brightness from stinging.

“We will learn more about each other,” Beacon promises. “I swear it.”

“We only have three days.”

Beacon shrugs. “Then we had better make them good days.”

Overcome, Laurel pushes onto his toes to kiss Beacon again. Just as their lips brush, aplop!in the water startles him into stepping back. “What was…?”

Flushing, Beacon bends to scoop the package of Laurel’s leftover fruit out of the stream. “My apologies,” he mutters. “I thought I had it secured.”

Water droplets run off the wax-covered parchment paper. “It will be fine,” Laurel declares, taking the package and tossing it onto the bank of the creek. It bounces once before rolling to a stop. When he returns his attention to Beacon, the taller elf is already near enough to press his lips against Laurel’s forehead, right where it meets the first strands of hair.

Laurel tucks his face into the crook of Beacon’s neck. His left hand tingles against the prosthesis, both real and artificial fingers twitching, but it’s not caused by irritation this time. If pressed, Laurel wouldn’t be able to put a name to the bubbly feeling rising up from his quivering stomach and shooting into his extremities.

“Thank you, Beacon,” is all he can think to say.

Beacon only hums, tucking Laurel flush to his chest, grip gentle even though his calluses still scrape the fabric of Laurel’s clothes. They embrace without leaving the creek until Laurel realizes his feet have gone numb from the cold water. He slips on the smooth rocks when he attempts to return todry land and only avoids falling thanks to his tail counterbalancing.

With the barest huff of amusement, Beacon sweeps Laurel up and carries him the rest of the way.

Chapter Five

Beacon

While Beacon has no interest in attending the Emberleigh cultural dances, this morning, he received a note from his mother informing him that he was to make an appearance. His parents have done their best to respect his wishes to see nothing of them, but that grace period appears to have ended.

Thirty minutes after receiving the missive from his mother, a paper in the shape of a butterfly landed on Beacon’s arm. It unfolded into a note from Laurel apologizing for whatever inconvenience it might cause, but after watching his Anatomancer vendor stall for the allotted half-day, he would have to rush to his workshop to address… something. He didn’t specify.