Here we go, bbs, more of
Mt. Carmel. All of you who contributed more or encouraged this ROCK SO HARD. I think I'm going to do at least one more part to thank everyone for their contributions, but I'm not sure whether I'll get it done today -- more likely, tomorrow.
(Hey, those of you who gave money, what do you think -- does it heat up a little between them, or stay friendshippy -- which would you choose, if you could -- no guarantees, because these guys have minds of their own, but just wondering, if I have a choice
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Mt. Carmel, Part 2Kris grips the door handle a little tighter and tries to focus on not throwing up.
"Rad, right?" Adam grins and takes the next curve a little faster. The wind whips at Kris's hair and pulls tears from his eyes. He grins in Adam's general direction anyway, because it feels so awesome to get away from Mt. Carmel, his crappy apartment, his stupid job at McDonald's, and, though he feels disloyal even thinking it, his mom.
Adam must sense Kris's discomfort with their speed, because he slows, just a little. "Just wait until you see! We're almost there!" he yells over the wind and the radio, cranked to the highest volume possible. "I still can't believe you haven't seen it yet!"
The borrowed convertible rounds another curve, and Adam yells, "There! And smell the air!"
Kris guesses he can make it out, a sliver of darker blue under the dome of the perfect California sky, but it's nothing special. There is something new in the air, though, a hint of brine, a little exotic.
"Yeah, baby!" Adam yells and they descend, hair-raising turns around switchbacks. And suddenly, <i>whoa</i>, that sliver of darker blue has turned into a wide stretch of water to the horizon. Kris makes out white froth and lines of breakers, stacked up as far as he can see to the north and south. Adam pulls the car suddenly down some side street, screeches to a stop and cuts the engine; it's really quiet. He looks at Kris triumphantly. "Well, come on."
Kris feels a little bit like a truck hit him; he's been feeling that way since Adam showed up after Saturday practice, all bouncy, eyes sparkling. "I gotta check with my mama, though," Kris had said. He'd been a little apprehensive about Adam seeing their shitty place, and his mom meeting Adam, but Adam had stuck out his hand all polite, and seemed genuinely thrilled about the color she'd painted the kitchen, and before Kris knew it Adam was sitting at the table eating some of her cookies with milk while she packed them sandwiches. "You want to come, Mrs. A?" Adam asked, obviously totally sincere. Kris gritted his teeth, because yeah, he loved his mother, but seriously, it was like the opposite of cool to take your mom to the beach, and besides, he wanted to be able to blast Thriller or the Stones, and hear Adam swear a lot and maybe catch him up on some gossip so he'd understand how things were at school. Mama had laughed, her genuine one, but declined. "No, you boys run along. Maybe next time. I've got to go to work in a bit, anyway." Kris hated thinking about his mom working so much, but she insisted it helped her keep her mind off things.
"Grab something and follow me!" Adam's arms are already full, so Kris carries what's left: a cooler from his mom and two foam boards with rope-like things on them. "Wasn't sure I could find this place again. It's off the beaten path so there aren't too many people."
Kris rounds a corner and stops dead in his tracks. They're standing on white sand that stretches as far as he can see in either direction. Cliffs rise almost straight up from the water in one direction; in the other, the beach traces a gentle crescent, and low houses discretely hug its curve. Splotches of color indicate riots of blooming plants. The briny smell is stronger here, and there's a gentle roar of waves, the screaming of seagulls circling overhead.
"Come on, let's go!" Adam drops all their stuff in a pile and grabs one of the boards from Kris. "Watch," he says, tying the Velcro fastener around his left wrist as they walk toward the water. "Go on, get in, I'll be right after you." If Kris had been watching closer, he would have paused at the slight twitch of Adam's mouth, but he's still sort of overwhelmed, so he basically runs straight in.
For a second he can't even breathe, then he gasps. "Holy crap! It's fu-frickin' freezing!"
Adam's doubled over laughing, safely on the sand. "The Pacific is fucking freezing all the time, hate to tell you."
"Okay, you're dead." Kris narrows his eyes. "When you least expect it. When you think you're safe."
Adam cracks up even harder. "Oooh, I'm so scared!"
"Yeah, well, like I said. Watch your back." Kris bites back a smile. "Like right now!" He uses the board to shoot a huge wave of freezing water at Adam, hears a satisfying scream, then heads out deeper before Adam can recover. It's a weird feeling at first, the powerful waves hitting him, but pretty soon he's reveling in it, the gentle swell, the powerful upsurge, salty water in his face.
"You are dead, Allen." Adam's caught up to Kris and he's grinning, hair plastered to this face. "Isn't it awesome, though?"
"Totally. So, how do you do this?"
Adam shows him how to boogie board, and pretty soon they're launching themselves in front of bigger and bigger waves. It's exhilarating and frightening, being tossed around like a piece of paper, then slammed into the sand.
They ride the waves for what seems like forever. A huge wave, the biggest yet, rises up behind them. They exchange looks. "Holy shit!" Kris doesn't know whether to duck under or ride. "What d'ya think?"
Adam grins. "No risk, no reward?"
Kris decides, yeah, and they both catch it just before it breaks. The curl catches Kris's board just right, slams him down onto the top of the water, shoots him forward and spits him out, choking and laughing, on the sand. He turns and Adam is next to him, covered in sand and seaweed, trying to get up and laughing. Kris would hardly recognize him as the same person he found in the greenhouse just two weeks ago. Adam's eyes are sparkling, warm on Kris. Kris wants to thank him, for all of this -- introducing him to the few people at school who straddle the line between jock and nerd, showing him where the cheapest fast food places are, putting bizarre notes in his locker to make Kris smile at random times. But that would be weird, thanking someone for this. "I can't move. My body's going to be found here in the morning."
Adam smiles back. "Ditto."
Eventually they get up and sprawl on their towels, pounding down sandwiches and cookies -- mama really went all out. It's hot once Kris dries off, and he can feel himself sinking down into the warm sand, the exhaustion of his schedule getting to him. He opens his eyes and Adam is looking right at him, head turned to the side, face resting on his forearm, a weird expression in his eyes. Kris's stomach feels a little funny.
"Thank you." Adam's eyes are warm. They stand out, almost purple blue in this light, against Adam's pale skin.
"What?" Kris feels like he's missed something here entirely.
"You know, for hanging with me. You even do it when there's people from your team around. They might--You didn't have to do that today, get in the car right then. I was going to come get you later."
Kris rolls his eyes. "I told you, I don't care."
"Those two big guys looked pretty freaked. They might cause problems."
"Whatever. I'm the one who should thank you." Kris picks up handfuls of sand and lets them drain out, hourglass style; he never knew sand was so soft. "I mean, I was, well, I didn't know anyone, and now I know the theater geeks and the secret musician-jocks and stuff."
Adam takes a breath as if he's going to say something, then bites his lip.
"What?" Kris turns on his side towards Adam.
"It's just. I've really only had one friend, one real friend here, for a long time. You know how awesome Danielle is, but I'm really glad to have found you."
Kris smiles. "I don't think you found me. I think it was the opposite."
Adam flushes and turns away. Kris reaches out without even thinking about it, curls his hand over Adam's shoulder. "Hey."
"It's just...embarrassing," Adam mumbles into his towel. "I swear, it's like the only time I've cried in five years."
Kris squeezes a little, feels the damp fabric under his hand. He realizes that Adam wore his t-shirt into the water, has had it on the whole time. "I know, don't worry about it. Adam...?" Now it's Kris's turn to not finish a sentence.
Adam turns back around to face Kris. "Yeah?"
"I just wondered. Why don't you ever take your shirt off. I mean, it's been a hundred degrees, and you're always all covered up."
Adam raises an eyebrow, says low and sultry, "You saying you want to see me naked, Arkansas?"
Kris feels his face heat, but he's also pissed, because--
"No. Oh god, sorry, sorry, see, I don't know how to have a friend, I'm just a bitch." Adam sighs dramatically and rolls onto his back, covers his eyes with his forearm. "Why do you think? I hate my body, okay? Everything about it. I hate my stupid red hair and I hate, hate, hate my freckles and pale skin, and I hate being fat, hate it, hate it. There. You can make fun of me now. I would."
Kris shakes his head. Adam would have a great body if he worked out a little. And even as it is, there's something about his gracefulness and solidity combined that make him attract eyes wherever he goes. "You never liked sports?"
Adam splutters. "Understatement! God, standing out there in the heat, everyone looking at me, and I always drop the ball or miss the goal or whatever. I don't even like going to the ocean, actually."
Kris raises an eyebrow. "Sure seems like you like it."
"It's been years since I've gone to the beach," Adam sighs. "Mainly because I'm so busy, I mean, this is my only free weekend for months, but also because, well."
"I think you're beautiful." The words fall into sudden silence, sit there and sit there, and Kris has never felt so awkward in his life. Jesus, he is such a retarded--
"Well, that's a conversation killer!" Adam's laugh is deep, from the belly, the genuine one. "Kris Allen," he stage-whispers, "You are not like other boys. You are something else!"
"Okay, okay," Kris finally says. "I think we've humiliated me enough for one day."
"I don't think so," Adam says. "We've talked about my deepest insecurities. Now let's do yours."
"Let's not." Kris turns over definitively, pulls his sweatshirt over his face. Everything's warm and relaxed, and he falls easily into a deep sleep.
When he wakes up, it's to the low sound of singing. Adam's voice -- he'd recognize it anywhere already, had been amazed when he'd heard him sing live for the first time. Now, though, Adam's not going for power, just singing low in his register, "and I will sing a lullaby..." One of Kris's favorite Beatles melodies, and it's gorgeous when Adam goes low like that.
Kris opens his eyes. Adam's staring at Kris, hand a few inches from Kris's forearm, flung toward Adam on the sand. There's that look in Adam's eyes again, but this time, even Kris can read it. It makes Kris's stomach twist a little, probably because he figures Adam's had a lot of people say no to him over the years.
"Oh." Adam colors. "Sorry, I--Oh god, so embarrassing. This is just not my day." He sits up and sighs, starts gathering things together.
"Uh." Kris reaches out and grabs Adam's arm. "What're you doing?"
"Packing, duh, cue heterosexual freak out in five, four..."
Kris rolls his eyes. "Yeah, because I'm so freaked out right now."
"You're--You're not?"
"Sorry, did you want me to be? It's no big deal."
"No. Big. Deal. That I lust after you?"
"Eh. I lust after girls all the time. Doesn't mean I can't be their friend."
"Doesn't mean--" Adam's eyes are suspiciously shiny, and it makes Kris want to, to -- he doesn't know what it makes him want to do, but something, because no one should feel that bad about who they are. He wraps his hand around Adam's forearm, just squeezes a little. Adam swallows hard and looks away.
"I've got one for you, though," Kris says softly. He bites his lip. It's been something he's been kind of wanting to talk about, but there just hasn't been a good time. "I'm kind of, kind of religious? Or, at least I was, before Dad--My mama, she's looking for a church for us here?"
Adam turns, narrows his eyes at Kris. "Are we talking, like, Tammy Faye, with the mascara?"
"Sort of, I guess." Kris presses his lips together. "It's just. But I don't--"
"Don't proselytize, obviously, don't consign part of the human race to hell because of the way they were born, apparently."
"Exactly." Something eases in Kris's chest.
"Hmm. So you've been, what, angry because your dad got sick?"
"Yeah. Cliche and all that."
"Makes sense to me. But," Adam bites his lip, "if it's important to you, then, you shouldn't turn away from it. Just, you know, it's part of who you are, probably. You shouldn't lose that."
"Okay," Kris says, but he's not sure he can really do it.
"So, I suppose even though I'm a secular Jew who actually is on my best days at most agnostic, I suppose, all things considered, in the words of Kris Allen, that it's no big deal." Adam sits up and dusts sand off his legs, looks out at the ocean. "I mean, sometimes I do feel this huge, you know, something, towards the Universe I guess? It's kind of a question, sometimes, and sometimes more of a big gratitude. It's all so, it can be so--" He gestures toward the deep-blue water, the sun sinking low on the horizon, sparking pink and orange and yellow off the edges of fleecy clouds.
"Yeah." Kris smiles. Of course someone like Adam would feel that stuff; how could he not. Kris kind of feels that way looking at Adam sometimes, actually.
Adam smiles at him. "You want to hit it again before we have to go back?"
"Yeah," Kris says. "I think I do. Race you!"
He's almost at the water when Adam barrels past him, running straight in. "Banzai!"
The few people left on the beach turn and stare. Kris swallows, then takes a deep breath, yells as loud as he can, "Incoming!"
He runs straight into the water, not stopping until he's out at the breakers. Adam's laugh soars over the sound of the gulls, the waves, his racing heart. He takes another deep breath and tries a little prayer, just a tiny one, something about thanks, something about healing, something about hope.
Maybe California's going to be okay after all.
Because I, too, am very nervous about committing to making this little thing a big real story. I limited my auction offer to one real story because I have so many commitments, and also am nervous about writing to spec, as in OMG SCARY. 
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