“Both, in a way,” Darian admitted. “And Hammond, too. I don’t want to look like some underqualified guy who got hired only because Hammond hung out with my mom at an academic conference years ago.”

  “You don’t need to prove yourself to them,” Argo said, scowling. “I wish you had more confidence, Darian. You always assume the worst is going to happen.”

  “Only because it usually does,” Darian tried to joke, but Argo had a point. Whether the subject was lecturing about writing or moving in together, his first assumption was that his own incompetence would screw things up in some way. He closed the notebook with a slap. “You know, you’re right. I’m not going to change a thing. I’ll run my workshops just the way I’d planned to. Kaz can complain about my lack of epistemological sophistication all he likes.”

  Argo looked momentarily puzzled. “That’s the spirit.” He tilted his head toward the lake. “Sure you don’t want to change your mind and take a dip?”

  “No thanks. I’m much happier on dry land. That water looks dark, deep, and chilly enough to turn me blue.”

  “You’d feel the shock for a moment, but in this heat it won’t hurt at all. It’ll invigorate you.” Argo stretched out on his towel, extending his bare legs and flexing his toes. “After a few minutes, you’ll be at the perfect temperature. It feels great to get the sun on my skin again. That’s the worst part about winter. All those layers of clothes.”

  “I don’t want to think about winter without them,” Darian said. “Or even summer, for that matter. Sorry I’m not more of an outdoorsy type. I figure mankind moved out of caves and trees for a good reason. Keeps your books dry and clean, for one thing.”

  “I see I’m fighting a losing battle here.” Argo laughed. “Okay, a week-long camping excursion is out. Duly noted.” He tapped his forehead.

  On their way back to their cabin, they noticed Cole and Hammond’s sliding glass door standing halfway open. Raised voices came through the gap.

  “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation again,” Cole was shouting. “I only agreed to come to this godforsaken hellhole because you promised to make some time for me while we were here!”

  “I spend all my time with you now,” Hammond said. “Too much, in fact. I haven’t written anything substantial in months!”

  “This was supposed to be a fresh start. Not only for your writing career, but for us.”

  “Cole, give it a rest. I know things have been a little rocky, but I need to give the participants their money’s worth this week. They’re not just random writers, you know. They’re my fans. Not to mention my future readers when my new book comes out.”

  “Calling them writers is a stretch. You know as well as I do that nothing most of them write will ever get published. They’re coming here for the hookups and nothing more.”

  “How did you get so cynical at such a young age?”

  Cole laughed harshly. “Don’t forget, darling. I learned from the best.”

  From inside, they heard a door slam.

  “Another drawback to roughing it,” Argo said. “Good luck getting away from your partner if he drives you nuts up here, unless you literally decide to run for the hills.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Darian said.

  Within an hour, a knock sounded on their cabin door. Darian opened it to find a surly-looking Greg Hodge bearing a foil-covered baking dish.

  “No dinner at the lodge tonight,” he said. “Too busy getting ready for the guests. Aubrey says to heat this up yourself. Paper plates and plastic forks are in the cupboard.”

  “Thanks,” Darian said, but Greg turned and stomped away while he was still opening his mouth. Argo came up behind him and gazed down at the covered dish.

  “So either Cole and Hammond are still arguing too much to keep up the pretense through dinner, or they’ve made up and sneaked away to celebrate. Either way, a quiet dinner on our own sounds perfect to me. Is that chicken or tuna casserole?”

  Darian lifted one corner of the foil. “Tuna. With crumbled corn chip topping.”

  “Excellent! The perfect end to our first day here.” Argo rubbed his hands in anticipation. “Who knows? If things keep going this well, I might be inspired to write a poem or two before we leave.”

  Darian was less enthusiastic about the meal, but Argo’s contentment made him content, too. And he was not at all opposed to the two of them staying inside for the evening. Things would get busy the following day when the rest of the guests—including Lanislaw—showed up.

  He was also beginning to understand why Aubrey found Cole, and perhaps Hammond, a drain on his patience.

  “I’ll get the plates,” he offered, handing Argo the casserole.

  Early the next morning, Darian showered and pulled on his sweats, kissed Argo goodbye, and headed out for a brisk run. He warmed up on the grass outside their cabin’s sliding glass doors and then jogged up the path to the lake. As he got closer, he saw a lovely bluish-white mist hanging over the water. The surface lay was still and glassy, nowhere near as gray and threatening as it looked when Argo had dived into it. Only some shrill birdcalls and the steady drone of insects disturbed the silence.

  A few more strides took him past the site where he and Argo had stretched out the afternoon before. When he glanced over, though, his steps slowed and his jaw fell in shock. Two men, both entirely naked, had set up a blanket of their own in the exact same spot and were leaning toward one another, speaking in hushed tones. Though their bare backs were toward Darian, he recognized one of them as Kaz. The other was Cole.

  While he gaped at them, his left foot struck rock, and he stumbled forward with a grunt. Cole and Kaz turned toward him. Neither seemed the slightest bit embarrassed at being discovered.

  Cole lifted one hand in a friendly wave. “Darian! Hello! You’re out early.”

  “Enjoying this beautiful scenery, just like we are,” Kaz added. “Wonderful, isn’t it? Seems all three of us had the same idea.” He gestured toward two neat piles of folded clothes at the corner of the blanket. “Swimming, I meant,” he clarified when Darian blanched.

  Darian had no idea what to say. He actually looked down at himself to make sure he was clothed and wasn’t dreaming.

  “Come on down!” Kaz patted an empty spot beside him. “Rest for a minute! The trail won’t disappear.”

  Too dazed to summon an adequate excuse, Darian trotted toward them, though he remained standing. Neither of them made any effort to cover themselves. He couldn’t help blushing as he noticed how perfect their bodies looked, and how attractive they seemed side by side. It was like he’d stumbled into a photo shoot for a gentlemen’s skin magazine. Only there was no camera crew to signal a professional arrangement rather than a personal—and unmistakably clandestine—rendezvous.

  “Where’s the old ball and chain?” Cole inquired. Darian wanted to ask him the same thing.

  “Still asleep,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “We had a good time out here yesterday, so I thought I’d retrace my route.” He blushed when they smirked at one another. “I didn’t mean it like that. We walked down from our cabin and Argo jumped in and swam around for a while. I stayed on the shore, writing.”

  “We weren’t judging,” Cole said. “Far from it. Make the most of this getaway, I say.”

  Finally Darian did pose the obvious question. “Where’s Prescott?”

  “Alas, my dear husband’s not a morning person. I left him passed out under the covers. He had a few glasses of wine last night. Tall glasses, if you catch my drift.” Cole winced. “Not that I blame him, since I know he’s under a great deal of stress. A lot is riding on this big comeback of his. All these people coming to hear him speak, hoping he can teach them about writing. With your help, of course. Thanks again for taking on the job. He’d be freaking out even worse without you two.”

  “He’ll be okay.” Kaz clasped both his hands around one raised knee. Darian averted his eyes as discreetly as he could. “Once he steps up to the podium and looks down at the crowd, it’ll all come flooding back to him. Like riding a bike.”

  “I hope so.” Cole forced a smile. “Though I have to admit, whenever he gets on a bike, he tips over like a statue in an earthquake. Darian, want to take the plunge with us? You know, get in the lake.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I really just planned to run a couple of miles. I’ve been out of practice lately. Too much going on, with the end of the school term and moving into Argo’s house and all.”

  “Why not do both? When was the last time you skinny dipped?” Kaz asked.

  “When I was twelve,” Darian said. “But the water and the air are a lot warmer in Florida. Besides, I’m not a strong swimmer. It might not be safe.”

  “We’ll buoy you up.” Cole laughed at Darian’s panic. “No pressure, no worries!”

  “Sorry.” Darian started to jog in place. “I’d better finish my run now. Don’t want to cool down completely or my muscles will cramp up.”

  “Have fun.” Cole waved him off. The two immediately turned back to one another and resumed their conversation as Darian thudded back toward the dirt trail, moving at a faster pace than he normally kept.

  He told Argo, who was up and making coffee in the kitchenette when he got back to the cabin, about the uncomfortable scene.

  “They claimed to be swimming, or rather skinny dipping, but their hair wasn’t wet at all.”

  “So they were getting their courage up before they dove in. Don’t be so judgmental, Darian.”

  “I’m not,” Darian said, offended. “I was shocked by Cole sneaking off behind Hammond’s back. So much for the newlywed bliss Hammond bragged about.”

  “It could have been entirely innocent. So what if it wasn’t? Their relationship’s not our business.”

  “So you wouldn’t mind if I snuck off to the woods and stretched out naked on a blanket with another guy?”

  “First of all, I’d trust you. Just because you’ve unsheathed the sword doesn’t mean you need to wield it. Listen, Darian. There’s an age difference between Hammond and Cole. Clearly they have a few issues stemming from that, among other matters. We don’t know if they made an arrangement of some kind. In the end, you didn’t catch Cole doing anything beyond some platonic sunbathing.”

  “I agree it’s not my place to say anything. I just think there’s some kind of an imbalance in their marriage that could affect the workshop. You must sense it, too.”

  Argo poured out coffee for both of them. “Let it go for now,” he advised. “If a problem arises, we’ll deal with them later. As soon as you’ve showered and changed, we can go up to the lodge for breakfast. The first guests should be arriving any minute now. I figure you should meet as many of them as you can before your first lecture. Then you’ll be less intimidated.”

  Darian appreciated Argo’s concern for his emotional and professional well-being. He knew Lanislaw wouldn’t be around until later, so that wasn’t the reason for Argo’s eagerness to mingle. Was he just getting into the swing of things? Possibly he was even serious about wanting to try his hand at writing a poem. The prospect got Darian looking forward to the day’s events, too.

  On their way to the lodge, they passed a double-doored storage shed filled with sporting equipment. Someone, presumably Greg Hodge, had propped both doors open, allowing them to glance inside. Most of the items, Darian figured, were remnants of Hidden Pines’ previous incarnation as a boy scout or children’s campground. He spotted, among other implements, a ratty-looking badminton net, some softball bats and gloves, and four canvas archery targets. A line of bows and vintage leather quivers of arrows stood beside them. The tips of the arrows looked sharp and metallic, relics from a time when parents still blithely allowed their kids to play with dangerous or even deadly toys. Times had certainly changed. In fact, he doubted his moms would have permitted him to indulge in target practice even in his late twenties.

  Next, they found Hammond by himself, eating waffles at a picnic table near the unfinished hot tub. He seemed a bit worse for wear. Cole had likely been telling the truth about his late night bender. He had a bag next to his chair with a laptop and some books and writing pads stuffed into it. Darian also noticed the neck of a bottle sticking out. The faint smell of whiskey hovered around the table, though all he had in front of him was a white ceramic coffee mug imprinted with the name of the campground.

  “Mind if we join you?” Argo asked.

  “Please do.” Hammond waved a hand over the table. “I’m not at my best yet this morning. Working on it, though.” He indicated his coffee cup. Darian realized that was where the telltale scent was wafting from. An old trick of alcoholics, he knew. So much for Aubrey’s rule banning alcohol in the campground’s common areas.

  “Argo and I just came down to see if any of the guests had arrived yet,” he said. “Is Cole with you?” Darian ignored Argo’s pointed glance.

  “My dear husband went out for a walk. He’s into fitness and body sculpting, as the young ones often are. He’s after me to join a gym. We even went to one once—some sort of guest pass. Spent the bulk of my time at the counter drinking some wretched juice concoction. I have to say, all those stripped-down, sweaty bodies reminded me of the good old days, when you could still go to bars and enjoy the scenery. And I most assuredly don’t mean the potted palms and picture windows.” He winked.

  “We understand,” Argo said, amused or at least convincingly feigning amusement.

  “You boys weren’t even born when those places were a thing. I feel sorry for you in some ways. You never knew the sheer intoxication of that era. The world was new for us. We owned it. Or we thought we did.” Hammond scowled. “Then it all came crashing down.”

  “Gyms sort of took over the role that dance clubs and bathhouses played before the early eighties,” Darian said. “Or at least that’s what some gay historians think.”

  “I guess the guys are fit and healthy, and that’s not altogether a bad thing. I spent a full day there while Cole showed me all the machines and the yoga classes and whatnot. I can’t deny that he almost persuaded me. Then he said that if I joined, I’d be expected to drape myself over one of those outrageous metal contraptions that was probably inspired by a medieval torture device. So now I let him go alone. It’s good if a couple doesn’t have too many overlapping interests and routines, right? Have to find something to discuss in the evening. If you’ve been to all the same places, you just start watching TV and munching on high-carb snacks. Recipe for disaster, to my way of thinking. Literally.”

  “Darian and I definitely make a habit to tell each other about our days at work. It makes for some lively exchanges.”

  “Hmph. I’ll bet it does. Though teaching a bunch of rich, bratty kids can’t be the most scintillating subject for conversation. Not much more exciting than a plagiarized essay or an injury on the soccer field to talk about, is there?”

  Darian smiled. “Oh, we have our moments at Birchwood.”

  Hammond didn’t seem to be listening. He picked up his mug and peered into it. “Well, guess I’ll go back inside for a refill. See you boys a bit later, when the party really starts.” Hoisting his bag onto his shoulder, he tottered off toward the lodge’s main entrance.

  “Shame, isn’t it?” Darian shook his head. “That amazing legacy, all that potential. Like you said, though, it’s not for us to judge.”

  Just then he saw Cole and Kaz, thankfully clothed now, emerge from the woods at the far end of the clearing. Both wore goofy smiles, but at least their hair was wet this time. Either they’d really gone swimming or they’d realized they had to make it look that way. Darian said nothing, though he knew Argo watching them too. Again he reminded himself that it wasn’t their concern. Instead, by mutual unspoken agreement, they followed Hammond into the lodge in search of waffles.

  Within the hour, as predicted, the aspiring writers started to arrive both singly and in pairs. Some opted to enjoy Aubrey’s breakfast spread before checking into their cabins. Suitcases began to line the walls in the function room, where Greg Hodge and Aubrey had finally finished setting up tables along with a buffet and coffee urn. Hammond seemed to have vanished after refilling his coffee mug, which Darian didn’t find terribly surprising, but Cole filled in for his husband by helping Darian and Kaz greet the new arrivals as they came. Darian found it hard to remember their names, but he did register the fact that most were from the Northeast, though some participants had come from Colorado and one middle-aged couple was from Minnesota. Darian recognized them as the pair he and Argo had seen in the convenience store downtown. He wasn’t sure he should bring up the unpleasant scene, but Argo beat him to it. Raymond and Terry shook their heads in unison.

  “Yes, I must say we were a bit disheartened by the behavior we witnessed at the store. Still, we’ve reached a place in our lives where it’s easier to pity such narrow-mindedness rather than engage with it. We just drove on and decided to sightsee a bit before we checked in. Thankfully, we found some other small towns up the road that were much friendlier and just as picturesque.”

  Darian saw Argo’s jaw stiffen. Even if Raymond and Terry were willing to let the incident go, he knew, Argo had no intention of doing so. He expected to hear much more later.

  Cole approached them with his hand out. Darian had seen him making the rounds, and now apparently it was their turn. “Hello and welcome! Are you two fans of my husband’s novel?” he asked everyone as soon as he’d introduced himself. Raymond seemed especially keen to answer.

  “Definitely! I’ve read it more times than I can even count. That book occupies a special niche in my heart. It helped me come out when I was young, you see. It even inspired me to try my own hand at writing.”

  “So many people say that to Hammy.” Cole gave a theatrical sigh. “It’s a burden he struggles to live up to.”

  “Some people think the book is autobiographical,” Terry piped up. “Are you in it?”

  “Me? Are you nuts? Look at me. I’m not old enough to be in it. I met Hammy much later, after he was already famous. Obviously that’s what attracted me to him.”