Fortunately, the place is mainly flat. Not the usual uphill trails I’m used to in California. The woodsy area is parallel to the beach. The unique mix of both environments and the sun setting on the west side make me take my phone out for a picture. It’s not every day I have the opportunity to witness the purple sky and the view of two different landscapes becoming one.
I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t avoiding. This is walking into the first circle of hell willingly. It’s reckless. I’m not safe with him. He’s like a flame, blazing and burning, scorching my skin. If I’m not careful, he’ll wreck the perfectly constructed life I’ve created for myself.
Why am I here if this is bad for me? I’m human, a weak man. No one should judge me for being so weak.
He’s too persuasive and too attractive to ignore.
Matt Decker has the build of Mark Wahlberg, the height of Ben Affleck, and the handsome face of Brad Pitt. Today he wears a pair of cargo pants and a tight T-shirt that molds to every muscle of his torso. I can see every ripple, and my hands crave to touch them. So much for controlling my lust.
But how can I when he’s so appealing?
The silence between us is unnerving. One hour walking and neither of us has said a word. I should be okay with it, instead, I feel tortured by the stillness surrounding us.
“Do you do this often?” I fill the quietude, hoping the lust will go away.
“Yes. Anywhere I go, I find a place where I can walk along with nature. It’s—” He slows his pace and looks toward the horizon where the sun is covered by pink clouds as it hides behind the sea. “Calming.”
Without giving it a second thought, he grabs my wrist and guides me to the beach side of the park. My knee-jerk reaction is to snatch away my arm. Holding hands with another man can be interpreted as “a gay thing.” What if someone sees us? But after a few breaths, I realize the warmth of his hand has released the tension I’ve carried since we arrived at the park.
We halt in the middle of the beach, and he releases me.
“Close your eyes,” he says with a raspy voice. “What do you feel?”
I tilt my head in his direction, waiting for a punchline, but I realize his eyes are closed.
“The wind,” he responds. “Take a deep breath and close those eyes.”
How does he know I haven’t closed them yet?
I do as he requested, and within seconds, my body releases everything I carry. It’s a refreshing sensation. It’s peace. Only the sound of the crashing waves.
“Look,” Matthew says, and I open my eyes to witness the last rays of the sun.
“This is perfection.” He points at the sunset. “Watching the ocean swallow the burning sun and promising that tomorrow will be another day.”
“I never took you for a poet.”
“I’m a little of everything,” he responds, shrugging it off and turning around. “My father, Chris, used to take me out on hikes when I had a bad day.”
That’s refreshing and unbelievable. How can a guy who’s always happy and doesn’t have a worry in his life have… “Have you ever had a bad day?”
He nods a couple of times.
“Everyone has struggles, Tristan.” He spins around, walking back toward the trail where we came.
It doesn’t take me long to catch up with him.
“I learned to live with them,” he continues, not stopping or even glancing at me. “They don’t define who I am. Of course, it took me some time to learn that leaning on family and friends makes everything a lot easier. Maybe it’s time to let someone into your life. Let someone know why you struggle.”
ChapterFive
Tristan
Matt Decker wantsme to trust someone with my struggles?
Is he volunteering?
Where do I start?