Ten Below ZeroTen Below Zero(19)

“This is it?” I asked, gesturing around. “Being an alcoholic and waiting until your time’s up?” I couldn’t say why I was enraged, but I was. It was none of my business, and normally I would bathe my brain in indifference. But something about this was so completely wrong. I couldn’t help but speak my mind.

“This is it,” he confirmed. He grabbed a serving spoon and looked at me. “Everyone is going to die, Parker. You’re going to die, I’m going to die, we’re all going to die. And I want to leave this world with a little dignity. I want to spend the rest of my life, no matter how much is left of it, doing what I want. I don’t want to die in a bed, in a hospital, after fighting a losing battle. I want to die peacefully.”

I realized I was standing from my earlier outburst, so I sat, calmly. “How much time do you have left?”

Everett served up a heaving spoonful of lasagna. “That’s the beauty of this situation – I don’t know. My doctors don’t know. The type of cancer I have is a ticking time bomb. I can live a while, or I can die tonight.”

I heaved out a heavy breath, worn out from my anger. The emotion had grated on me, raw and dangerous. I settled down. Not back into indifference; there was no way I could feel indifference again around Everett. But I was settled. That was the best way to describe it. My emotions were neutral.

“Please don’t die tonight.”

Everett laughed and pushed a plate towards me. “That would be keeping with the picture you’ve painted of me, wouldn’t it? It would be rather rude to drop dead into my lasagna.”

It was uncomfortable to laugh about, but I felt compelled to ease the tension I’d created. “Yeah, and that would not be a dignified death either.”

Everett chuckled softly. “I want control, Parker. I don’t want to have an expiration date. Who wants to know when they die, really? I don’t want to dwell on my death. I want life. I want to put my hands into all the life there is and let it flood my senses, all of them, all at once.” Everett hadn’t moved from behind the other side of the island, and yet I felt his words as if he’d whispered them directly in my ear.

“It sounds like you have a plan,” I said, swallowing a sip of wine.

“I do. I leave this weekend.”

“For where?”

“Eventually, I plan to get to the Grand Canyon.”

I picked up my fork, took a small bite of the lasagna. “And then?”

Everett took a bite, swallowed. “The Four Corners.”

I took another bite. “This is good, Everett.”

“Extra cheese, Parker.”

I bit my lip. How could I go from feeling indifference, to lust, to anger, to calm, to wanting to smile within just a few minutes? I looked up at Everett, watched him chew.

“Where else?”

Everett shrugged, took another bite. After swallowing, he continued. “I’m going to visit ghost towns, weird attractions, and whatever else I feel like.” My heart picked up pace. There was nothing more intriguing than the idea of visiting an abandoned city, devoid of people. Unchanged, trapped in time. The fact that you could step back into time and see an intimate part of someone else’s life hit the happiest place in my soul. Which was to say, the only happy place. The place that I kept hidden, the place that found enjoyment in the small luxuries I indulged in.

Jealously flared up. I bit the inside of my cheek.

“What?” Everett asked.

I lifted my eyes to his. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Sure you did. Just not with your voice.” His eyes glittered under the light. Their cool color was warm with what I assumed was excitement for his upcoming adventure. For the first time in a long time, I longed. Not just for the prospect of traveling, but for connection. I actually wanted to be around Everett. I wanted human connection. And I wanted touch. I wanted his touch. I wanted his hands and his lips, and his skin against mine.

When I was around Everett, I forgot why I avoided it all.

I got up from where I was sitting and walked around the island. This was an experiment. I normally lived life through observation, not through experience.

This would change that.

Tentatively, I walked to Everett. He watched me carefully, with eyes that seemed to sense my intentions. He dropped his fork and turned to me, opening to me.

With all the courage I had, I stepped closer, until we were a breath apart. And then I rose up on my tiptoes and pushed my lips to his.

What I’d intended to be a quick meeting of lips turned into a devouring of lips, of eyes. His hand immediately found the small of my back and pressed, pushing me further into him. I pulled back and looked into his eyes. There was a fire in his eyes that made my heart skip, tumble, and fall in my chest.

He looked at me like he was starving. And perhaps he was. So I fed his hunger with my lips, pressing them along his jaw line, kissing each laugh line. And then my lips found his and he sank in. Our teeth clashed. My hands gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly.

I felt his fingers thread through my hair and then I felt the tug as he pulled the hair, bringing with it a delicious sort of pain.

And then I pulled back and heaved a breath. Tears pricked my eyes in an instant. I turned away, towards the kitchen island, and held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut.

Everett didn’t let me collect my thoughts. In an instant, he trapped me against the kitchen island. I couldn’t look at him.