This deed stood as a favor shunned by all. Nobody would’ve ventured into Scarlet Hills to pick up a teammate at nightfall, but I did. The hillside was ablaze with red maples as their flowers gleamed like rubies in the twilight. When I trekked through the budding trees, my nostrils detected a whiff of damp moss beneath the scent of nectar. Hummingbirds whirred past, bees buzzed, and wolves howled in the distance.
An atmosphere of foreboding ruled the woods that Friday, but I didn’t wimp out. My determination to ensure his safety was unwavering. I climbed the slope, pushed aside branches, and leaped over fallen logs until I spotted him.
Matt Roerig, a 21-year-old soccer player, paced the woods as if waiting for a big match. His physique was akin to a fitness model and showcased the strength of his legs. They were so thick that his washed-black jeans with knee rips fitted close from hips to hem. As he fiddled with his keys, his muscles flexed beneath the letterman jacket. He turned around with a glinting smile when I whistled at him.
“I can’t find my truck,” Matt slurred.
“Thank God! You’re too wasted to be driving.”
“No amount of booze will keep me here after dark, though. Legend has it that Scarlet Hills is haunted by the ghosts of hikers who were led astray by an evil spirit.”
“Yet, your so-called friends ditched you here.”
“I’m glad you’re here for me, Jeremy.” Sweat broke out on his forehead. “I was worried you wouldn’t make it on time.”
I glimpsed his chiseled abs when Matt wiped the perspiration off his face with his undershirt. My body froze as if time had stopped for me. In his presence, I’d always sensed an unexplainable connection that went beyond the physical. It was an emotional communion that I’d masked as camaraderie. But my body gravitated toward him as if drawn by an invisible force, and whispers escaped my lips.
“What’d you just say, Jeremy?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you say ‘I’m gonna regret this’?”
“What? No, I-I didn’t.”
“If you wanna get something off your chest, do it now. I’m drunk enough not to care, and I won’t remember it—”
An ominous twig snapped nearby, heralding the approach of an unseen presence. Something slinked through the shadows, its footsteps muffled by the damp earth beneath. Every creature seemed to hold its breath, waiting to witness what would emerge from the darkness of dusk. The tension in the air grew palpable as the presence inched closer.
A chill crept down my spine, the instinct to flee clawing at my senses. Yet, escape was futile because Matt’s intoxicated state rendered flight impossible. My arms folded over my stomach, forming a protective shield against the looming threat.
Matt appeared behind me, covered my mouth, and pulled me behind a wide tree. Barely had his massive instrument molded to the small of my back when my body tingled from the contact. His tantalizing breath heated my earlobe and made me sink into his warm embrace. His heart pounded as my back pressed against his pumped-up chest.
The skeletal trees trembled, catching the faintest hint of movement. A shiver ran through the undergrowth as if the forest itself reacted to the silent approach. Finally, a figure stepped into view, emerging from the dense foliage like a phantom. It was a hooded man in a leather trench coat. His movements were stealthy as if he’d mastered the art of blending with the shadows. Although his face was cloaked in darkness, his wolfish eyes cut through the gloom.
“It’s a Wolfjäger,” Matt whispered. “Don’t make a sound.”
The Wolfjäger paused, his gaze sweeping the area with a practiced eye. He seemed to be searching for something, or perhaps waiting for a sign. The atmosphere grew even tenser as if the climax of a slasher film was about to unfold.
My mind raced with desperate schemes for escape, yet amidst the chaos, only the most ludicrous option presented itself. With a flick of my wrist, I hurled a pebble the other way in a feeble attempt to deceive him.
The Wolfjäger’s head snapped toward the sound. He glimpsed movement in the shadows, lunged forward without hesitation, and disappeared into the blackness. Fortunately, the woods were silent once more, save for the faint echo of footsteps fading into the distance. The Wolfjäger left only the whisper of his presence and the lingering tension in the air.
“Let’s get the hell outta here,” I murmured.
Matt weaved his way toward my car, stumbling over the logs. I tried to hold him, but he sagged and slithered through my grip. We lost our balance and toppled over onto the mossy ground. As I lay on my back fluttering, his husky body pressed down on me. He planted a thankful smooch on my neck that pushed my heart rate into the fifth zone.
Every muscle trembled under my skin. I was anxious to escape from his disturbing nearness. It aroused old fears and uncertainties that I couldn’t gulp back anymore. What if Matt hated me for being gay? Things could’ve gotten weird between us, so I cleared my throat before carefully choosing my next words.
“Get up, Matt. You’re squishing me.”
“Not till you tell me what you were going to regret.”
“Okay, but promise me you won’t punch me.”
“I can’t even clench my fist now.”
“I-I’m gay.”
“What? Then, why you’re dating that cheerleader?”
“No, we’re faking it so our teammates won’t bully me.”
Matt’s seductive mouth plunged open. He fumbled for words before cute dimples bookended his smile. The even whiteness of his teeth dazzled me as much as the desire blazing in his baby-blue eyes. Tenderly, he cupped my face in his manly hands and captured my eager lips. His kiss, passionate and breathtaking, sent a delightful flutter through my core. The taste of ginger ale spread through my lustful tongue. Only then did I realize that he’d been sober all along.
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