The fire had burnt nearly to embers now, with only the comforting glow of orange and red over the white ashes. Still, I didn’t think we should let it go out, yet, and reached for a log to put on the fire. The only people still up were me and Ezekiel; the rest of our friends were already passed out in various tents. There were only six of us, but we were all full grown, and about two to a tent was a perfect number for optimal sleeping comfort.

I shifted on the log I was sitting on, and glanced up at the moon, gazing at it for a moment. It was a cloudy night, but the moon was full—or very nearly, at least—and could be seen clearly, casting a glorious halo of light over everything, including the clouds that had it surrounded.

After tonight, everything would change. The six of us were entering into an entirely new realm and chapter of our lives, one which was both exhilarating and terrifying to think of: we had finished high school and were all heading off in different directions in the next week or so, some to settle into dorm rooms or relatives’ houses, and others into their new jobs.

‘It’s a lovely moon,’ I said earnestly, but quietly, not wanting to wake any of our comrades.

Ezekiel had been looking at the moon too; at this, he looked at me evenly, seeming somewhat surprised I had spoken to him, and nodded once with an agreeable ‘Mm.’

‘Are you scared about all the changes?’ I asked him. If there was one night he should talk, it was tonight. In only a few days he would be going away.

‘A little,’ he said in his usual agreeable tone. Even in a group such as ours, which was not cliquey in the least, one was usually better friends with some people more than others. Ezekiel had always been extremely introverted and quiet, so I didn’t feel as close to him as some of our other friends, but I still felt as completely relaxed with him as any of the others. ‘I’m going to enjoy living with my gran.’

‘That’s great,’ I agreed. ‘Nothing like family. I’m sure you’ll be fine. We’re all only a text away, after all, if you need us.’

I had been looking at him pleasantly, smiling, and he had looked back—intently, hesitantly. He did seem a little unsettled in himself, but so did we all. It was a big change that was coming up.

But ... for the past year, I’d had a quiet suspicion that Ezekiel had distinctly un-friend-like feelings for me. Since he had never said anything about it, though, and I had a long-time boyfriend, I had never questioned him about it, or thought to confirm my suspicion.

It might have been that we were all just on the brink of such huge change that he seemed rather out of sorts and disquieted—or it might have been because he was alone with me. Which, if I stopped to think on it, I don’t think he’d ever been. We had always, always been surrounded by the hubbub of our four other mutual friends, who were generally very rambunctious people and usually left very little room for one to consider things like a growing affection for one of other said friends while in their presence.

‘What will you do?’ Ezekiel said, pulling me from my consideration. I blinked at him, confused.

‘Do?’ I said, blankly.

‘Yes. On your year off.’

‘Oh! That,’ I said. ‘Well, I’m hoping to get a job as a waitress at a restaurant in town. I love working with people, and always being busy with something, and waitresses do both, so ... I thought it would be perfect. Earn a little bit of money for college and all that, you know.’

Ezekiel nodded gravely, and our conversation trailed off into gazing at the moon again, sitting side by side on the log bench by the crackling flames. A log split, sending up sparks into the night. The frogs were busy coupling at the dugout a few hundred feet away and were happily singing their ribbety songs about it, and an owl was calling, probably trying to find its mate.

I was beginning to get a little sleepy and considering going to bed soon, even in the fresh, cool night air--how one might have believed in ‘night vapours’ in a past time seemed positively unthinkable in such a lovely caress of the breeze--when Ezekiel spoke up very suddenly.

‘I’ve got to tell you something,’ he said abruptly, not looking at me.

‘Oh?’ I smiled sleepily and suppressed a burp which tasted exactly like the most recent fruity vodka cooler I’d been nursing. I wasn’t drunk, not at all--five out of the six of us weren’t--but I was feeling a pleasant warm buzz somewhere in the back of my brain. ‘What’s that?’

‘I’m in love with you,’ Ezekiel said without preamble, facing me directly, his dark brown, almost black eyes reflecting the firelight and myself back at me when I looked at him. He was very serious.

‘Oh,’ I said faintly, not quite sure what to say under the circumstances. It had been very ... out of the blue, his confession.

‘I had to tell you because this is the last night,’ Ezekiel said. ‘And I have to know ... is the feeling mutual?’

How terribly awkward and unfortunate.

‘Ah... ‘ I said, softly, trying to think of a gentle way to say it, but found none and dropped it. ‘No, I’m afraid it’s not mutual.’

His face dropped, but only a little. I saw the corner of his mouth twitch, and a rueful smile crossed his lips as he turned away from me, back to the fire.

‘Well, I didn’t think so, what with your boyfriend and all,’ he said, in a surprisingly normal and even tone of voice, ‘but I had to know for sure.’

I put a gentle hand on his arm. ‘Oh, Zeke,’ I said softly. ‘I’m sorry.’ I knew he was hurt and disappointed, but reciprocation of affection is not really something over which one has much control ... so there was very little I could really do. ‘I’m very sorry.’

‘Is it that I’m not attractive?’ He blurted suddenly, and then his pale skin reddened becomingly with a flush of embarrassment.

‘No!--ah, no,’ I said, trying to pull my wits together. He was, in fact, quite attractive and striking, with a very tall, lean figure, pearly white skin, those big dark eyes, and smooth black hair. ‘Being attractive is not ... the only factor in romantic affection, not at all,’ I stumbled, groping for the right words as to what actually DID constitute feelings of romantic affection. ‘I do love you, you know,’ I said, and then mentally stabbed myself for saying it. THAT wouldn’t help, not now! ‘But not in a romantic way,’ I amended. ‘In a platonic way. The way one would love ... a brother, or a sister. The way I love all you guys. There are so many kinds of loving, you know.’ I thought fleetingly of my boyfriend Colby, a surprising burst of warmth going through me at the thought of him, thinking wonderingly how our relationship seemed to miraculously encompass all the different kinds of love--there were times when we were platonically affectionate, romantically, physically...

‘You ARE attractive,’ I assured Ezekiel. ‘It’s only--mphm!’

He had grabbed me around the waist and pressed his lips to mine with a demanding sort of gesture completely uncharacteristic to Zeke himself. One hand was cupping the back of my head and the other arm was firmly around my shoulders, as if he were frightened I would run away. His lips were firm and warm on mine, and, closed as they were, the touch was obviously so passionate it ignited an immediate, slow-burning fire in my belly.

I did pull back, breathing heavily. My first impulse was to slap him across the face, hard, but I stayed it. My second was to kiss him again, but I suppressed that as well. Instead, I sputtered, ‘What the bloody HELL do you think you’re doing?!’

‘What did it look like?’ He gave back, with a surprisingly un-Ezekiel amount of defiant force to his words. This began to cool nearly immediately, however, and I saw as the adrenaline melted away from him how his expression sagged and became miserable.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Lillian! Really I am. I don’t know why I did that ... I’m so sorry... ‘

He hung his head. I was worried he might be so distressed he would cry, which I didn’t think this situation was worth, but with three coolers in a young man who rarely ever drank...

I put my arms around his middle, letting him lean into me and take deep breaths, soothingly shushing him and rubbing his back.

‘It’s all right, really. You’re probably a little drunk,’ I said, reassuringly, although I didn’t think he was.

Gradually, as his breathing became regular again, I became aware of the bulge in the front of his jeans. Covertly, while his attention was still not on me, I stole a glance at it. Yes, definitely an erection, not just a weird fold in the denim.

Deciding, with a firm but gentle sort of resolve, I turned my face up and softly kissed him on the mouth, feeling the flexible stubble over his top lip brush against my mouth.

Ezekiel made a distressed, strangled noise and pulled away. ‘What was that about?’ He said, almost indignantly. ‘I thought I wasn’t supposed to kiss you!’

‘YOU didn’t,’ I said. ‘I kissed YOU.’

‘Oh,’ Ezekiel said. He took a moment to digest this. ‘What ... does it mean?’

‘It means,’ I said in a low, soft tone, ‘that although I don’t love you the way you wish I did, I CAN give you something of me, just this once ... just because everything is about to change for all of us here.’

For a moment, Ezekiel simply stared at me. Then he reached out and grabbed me in a passionate embrace, his lips pressed down over mine again.

‘Hang on a mo!’ I gasped, when he let me breathe. ‘Let me smoor the fire ... and let’s go to the tent.’

Ezekiel nodded, incapable of speech himself, and watched as I tended to the fire, and then following me through the tent flap.

He sat on top of his sleeping bag and pulled me onto his lap. One hand played with the strands of hair loose at my neck where they’d escaped my braid, and the other was wrapped firmly around my waist as he kissed me. I could feel the heat and shape of his erection beneath me, and squirmed a little on it, involuntarily, which made Ezekiel gasp. He flicked his tongue tentatively at the seam of my lips and was surprised but delighted when I gave entrance and let him French kiss me; I felt his cock jump at the new sensation, and a hand stole down to stroke restlessly at the bottom of my sweater. As we continued to kiss his hand crept up, very shy and cautious-like, to cup a breast on the outside of my sweater. Not breaking the lip-lock, I took his hand and gently put it under my clothing and up to my bare breast. He started at this, but tentatively began to touch.

‘You can squeeze a little,’ I told him, ‘if you want to. It’s nice if you roll my nipples, or gently pinch them--or lick or suck on them,’ I added, which made him unexpectedly moan. He pinched gently, and I pulled sweater and shirt over my head, leaving my breasts bared and exposed to his gaze.

Leaning over, Ezekiel rubbed his face against one of my breasts, the soft stubble along his cheek and jaw causing pleasant shivers. He turned his face and tentatively licked one nipple, gently, again and again until it hardened into a stiff peak that caused my pussy to ache. Then--then he took it into his mouth and sucked on it, stroking the nubbin with his tongue.