Catching Fire

Author's Foreword: This series has themes of romance, sex, friendship, humor, safe and consensual BDSM, and above all, intimacy and the concept of memory. Any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental. I want you, reader, to come away with more empathy, appreciation, and joy for yourself and others than you began. As I did when writing this.

Note on Part 8: Thanks for your patience in waiting for and then in reading this somewhat drawn-out (but fondly written) story. As always, your comments, likes, favorites, email contacts, and follows are greatly appreciated and motivate me to keep writing in my scant spare time. So if you want to read more, let me know somehow! Next installment has already started. Stay safe and kind out there.

***Today***

Memories keep coming back the more I write. My coffee goes cold or my beer goes flat while I stare into nothing and let my mind wander. It wasn't all sex and desire and awakening. A lot of it was, but thankfully not all. It was the "everything else" about that time that made it something besides an endless one-night stand for me and Erin. Like being told we had just over three months to live.

The small evening campfires on the beach, shale and pebbles clinking under us as she snuggled against me and the gulls screamed in their lonesome, covetous way. Walking on the bluffs, watching the trains and ships come and go in our dirty old town. Museums. Movies. Jokes. Awkwardly chatting with each other's friends while clearly not being seen as someone they had to really get to know. Music. So much music. In cars, on burned CD's for each other, in the background behind our passions, live shows that made our lungs quake, slow dances, and amateur pluckings from buskers that she always gave some money to as we strolled by.

And more. Afternoons spent staring at the ceiling or at quaking aspen leaves on the lawn outside as we silently digested some read-out-loud bit of writing or old poetry, then launching into debate. The love notes written on anything and everything, left in purses and pockets and scattered pillows, the words mawkish or steamy or both, all of which I still have in a shoebox with far less dust on it now. Dressed-up dinners where we toyed with our wine and giddily waited for the check to come, for the next part of the evening to start. The way we surprised, delighted, and wounded each other by caring so much in such a short time.

And among my favorite memories were the small, sunrise breakfasts in bustling cafes, holding hands and coffees, silently ignoring the bill on the table for a little while longer.

***

***Late Summer***

I walked quickly out the back porch door, trying to outpace the goddamn mosquitoes and keep up with my friends. It was raining softly in the long twilight, droplets pattering on the grass, on the broad leaves of a plant that would reveal too much to name properly in this story, and on the impenetrable gray of the gelid lake-water. We made it to the sauna and shut the outer door behind us. Once inside, Grant slapped me viciously on the back.

"Got it!" he crowed. I knew there was a broad handprint on top of a mashed bug on my shoulder blade. Little fucker had probably already bit me.

"I'm sure you needed to hit the skeeter that hard, jackass," I groused. He cackled in reply, and Alex joined in.

I'd been friends with Grant about as long as Alex. Grant was undoubtedly different, but someone you'd call first if anything went wrong or right. The three of us were a damn good team. As fit and capable as each of us was apart, we were a force in unison. Alex the reflective, forward-thinking, gregarious hermit; he of the dry humor and slow temper. Grant the talented, playful, solidly built artist; our risk-taker and mountain-mover. Me, the... you'd have to ask them, because I've never been able to figure it out. We'd serendipitously found one another at just the right time between leaving childhood and trying to become adults in our own idiosyncratic ways. We're still close, and take ourselves far less seriously now. Thank goodness.

"Just be glad I didn't think it needed a double-tap. Bloodsuckers are seriously big this year," Grant said with his easy, toothy grin. Alex nodded in sage agreement with him while peering at the thermometer set in the interior wall.

"Looks good," Alex said, "Time to go in." He unslung a strange little shoulder bag and set it to the floor, then flicked the light switch that would give us a single bulb's worth of illumination once we got properly inside. We all quit screwing around and disrobed before quickly trooping through the interior door to the actual sauna.

Back home, it always seemed like Summer was a week to a day and a minute to a week. At the end of the season, such dreamy times could often have an unexpected Fall before a predictably long Winter, so a good sweat session was a welcome thing most nights of the year. Grant's grandfather's house backed up to a lake, and he had built the little shoreside sauna himself. I was never clear on which 'Old Country' he was from, but he sure knew how to use his tools.

"Hooo-lyyyy shiiiit," Alex exclaimed when he got a good look at my naked body, partly shadowed by the single dingy light bulb set near the door, "You pickin' fights at the fuckin' zoo, man?"

"Can't help it," I said with a grin, twisting to demonstrate my trophies and taking the opportunity to flex, "I like the wild cats exhibit too much."

"Fuck me. Safe to say your debt is paid," Grant said to Alex, "Luke's all kinds'a clawed up. Ass to Adam's Apple. And look how the lines and teeth-marks and whatever else criss-cross? Layers of 'em! Wait... not just layers, but different sets! I'd say our boy's been at it!" The two of them laughed and glared at me in equal measure.

It was infernally hot in that little old-school sauna, more so when Grant cast a handful of water. We sat in companionable silence for a long time, the only sound being the sizzle of the rocks and ticking of the stove.

"So," Alex grumped at me after a laconic interlude, "Let's hear it."

"About what?" I asked, playing dumb.

"Motherfucker," Grant laughed, throwing his hands up in tandem with his eyes, "Don't even try that. Come on, dude; we've suffered through all your depressed writer bullshit for years, so now you gotta give us the good stuff! Tell the tale of the *tail,* man!" Like nearly all young men, we were insufferably crass when alone, but convinced ourselves we earned some leeway and entitlement to it by trying to be marginally clever about it.

"Well," I said, wiping yet more sweat away, "Problem is, I'm thirsty."

"Figures," Alex grunted, exiting the sauna for a moment and reappearing with three ice-rattling, sloshing, dingy plastic water bottles, passing one to me and one to Grant before sitting down with his own. That solved the mystery of his shoulder bag. We each took a swig and shuddered violently from the burn of Alex's notoriously rough bartending.

"Figures," Grant and I coughed in tandem, then laughed at the antsy Alex.

"Whatever, Mr. Scratching Post," Alex prompted me, "I wanna hear it. Lily caught a cold, so it's just me and my best girl Jill for a bit, and I'm not thrilled about it."

"Who's Jill?" Grant asked. Alex barked a laugh. I explained by holding my hand up and patiently tracing the fingers, starting with the 'J' between the thumb and forefinger. Grant rolled his eyes and gestured for me to get on with it.

"Okay, okay," I conceded, "But I'll warn you - you might need a dip in the lake. Leeches and all."

"We'll be the judge of that," Grant said with a grin, setting his broad back comfortably against the cedar planks and humming a quiet tune, belying his full, formidable attention.

I, on the other hand, sat up straight to tell it properly and took another swig of liquid courage. It took me a moment to compose my thoughts, and in the corner of my eye I saw my comrades glance knowingly at each other, sure that what followed would be worth their while. I took a slow breath.

"So," I began conversationally, as though mid-story, "You already know how Al met Erin, and why and how I was brought in. Pawn offers to Queen, Queen takes Pawn, Knight moves to mate. Point is, I was annoyed at being the Pawn, but it also seemed like there was some potential in it for me. And what's the worst that could happen, if I was already dead? Anyway, based on prior disappointments I knew I wasn't going to wow any hottie out of the gate with my tragically subtle good looks, so I had to do something neither of you are familiar with - use the head between my shoulders rather than my legs."

"Oh for fuck's sake - where's the remote? Fast-forward, please, I want the good shit!" Grant guffawed to Alex, who snorted. I ignored them both. It was my story, so I got to tell it as I liked it. They knew that, and wouldn't have it any other way. I couldn't help but notice that the towels we each brought gradually became more strategically placed as I related what I dared. But I didn't tell them everything.

***

***Mid Summer***

"You should come over," Erin said, "I've got a surprise." I could practically hear her eyebrows flick upward impishly.

"What kind of surprise?" I replied, breathing heavily against the phone in my left hand. After I dropped the axe in my right hand into the chopping stump, I stepped back with a loud groan and stretched my back.

"Goodness," Erin laughed, "You're easy to impress, Loverboy."

"You know that's not true," I objected, looking around at the huge piles of birch and spruce that I would have to eventually stack once the axe-work was done, "But have you met yourself? 'Impressive' is barely a start. Anyway, what can I do for you today, Miss Erin?"

"I know what you sound like when you're working hard," she vamped, "And normally I'd be extremely happy about it. But you're supposed to be working hard for me, not somewhere else. Anyway, I want it light and fun this evening... and then you're going to work extra hard tonight. But until you get here, I'm going to be studying for Fall classes." She toyed with her voice throughout her demands and offers, fluttering between delightful bimbo, admirable seductress, and cute girl-next-door with an edge as the whim took her. Between the sounds of her voice and my anticipation, I could feel a lot of blood starting to move.

"I can do that," I said confidently around my happy grin, "I'd like to see you dressed for the occasion. Wear what you did when we met. You remember it, right?"

"Aw, of course I do, you softie."

"More like hardie."

"Figures you'd make me do laundry today. But I guess I did wear it just for you that evening anyway. So yeah, I can do that. Just hurry up with whatever sweaty-boy stuff you're doing and get over here by six-ish. Try to look a little sharp. And don't jerk off in the shower before you come over just so you can last even longer than usual. I know what you've got and I've got plans for it, goddammit."

"You sound frustrated," I teased.

"Maybe," she conceded, "Doesn't help that you kept emailing me such naughty things to read while I was away for a few days. So get over here and we can do something about it. Oh, and Luke? A little advice: Don't. Keep. Us. Waiting."

She hung up and I looked around the deserted hillside. There was a distant, staccato rattle from a woodpecker that echoed around me. Time to finish the odd job, get paid, and beat feet back to my parents' house to freshen up as quickly as possible. I wondered what Erin's surprise was. The wind picked up again, making the rigid timbers creak, shiver, and sway.

***

I parked in Erin's driveway with a clean body and thoroughly profane mind. I smiled at and savored the sudden, fresh memory of when I'd first parked there, the way she'd pounced on me in the dark. What a summer, I congratulated myself: work like a dog all day, fuck like a god all night, then swap some of those nouns and verbs around once in a while for fun. One of my little publications had even been picked up for a little money. Life, I remember thinking, couldn't get better.

The gathering air was muggy and close on her porch when I rang the bell, and I was glad when I faintly heard her yell from deep inside the house to come in. There would definitely be a storm later that evening.

I hopped inside and locked up behind me, relaxing for a moment in the coolness of the entryway before I realized I heard no movement, no exuberant singing from her. Odd. She was nearly always singing or dancing when I came over, and I adored that confidence and openness about her, that clear flag of happiness, to say nothing of her somewhat practiced talent. She didn't have the eldritch quality to her singing that could win awards, but nobody would ever complain about her voice.

As I kicked my sneakers off and bent to place them neatly together, I froze. A pair of shoes I did not recognize were next to Erin's. They were slightly bigger and more sporty, but still feminine in decoration and shape. I straightened up and carefully sniffed the air. There was something new, yet somehow familiar. Why was I thinking of pencils and soccer fields? I set my backpack down next to the shoes.

"In here," I heard Erin call. Trying not to think too much about it, I followed her voice to the kitchen, then around the corner to the small, four-seat breakfast table. I stumbled on nothing and stopped dead, likely with a stupid expression.

"Hi, Luke," Sarah said with a shy smile, "Haven't seen you since we all... ran into each other. Remember?" I certainly did, and I think my face showed it. I hadn't gotten a really good look at her during the encounter with the popular crowd, and I'd been a bit distracted besides. Now that it was just the three of us (I hoped), I rapidly drank in her details whether I wanted to or not.

The two-ish years since graduation had added the right things to Sarah without taking anything away. She was an hourglass dream, now. Where some idiots might be disdainful of her departure from svelte and athletic late teenage-hood, I'd say she'd gone from beautiful, capable girl to gorgeous, admirable woman (or at least, my estimation of what an adult woman was at the time - I'm older now, after all).

Her rounded calves still showed the tigress-like spontaneity of a longtime soccer midfielder. She had thighs that could more than fill a large hand, score a goal from the corner point, dance a strutting salsa, and were gently softening towards perfection. Her rounded hips and ass had become slightly, pleasingly thicker in a way that made my teeth itch and hair prickle, apparent even when she was sitting down. Waist like a wasp and twice as dangerous. Tits that had ripened nicely without overburdening her modest frame. Neck and shoulders that were still slender. A single, small nose-stud of gold, and tiny silver rings in her ears. Face still dominated by her high cheekbones, full lips, pearly teeth that flashed at me, straightened-but-obstinately-wavy, raven-like hair to her shoulders. Skin like chai tea, both in color and fragrance. And, of course, large, brown-to-black, almond-shaped eyes that washed all over me in return. When they locked on to mine for a moment, earth to ocean, I felt things move. Heaven help me, she looked so... real.

"Oh," I said, hesitatingly, "Sarah. Um, hi." She and Erin each had an open can of diet soda in front of them on coasters. Textbooks and notes were scattered around the table as well. Everything had a highlight or an underline or a sticky tab. A little crystal charm in the window cast small rainbows everywhere, and it was hard to tell what was annotated and what was scattered sunlight.

"Hey Handsome!" Erin said invitingly, patting the chair nearest to her between them. Seeing her snapped me out of my slack-jawed reaction to Sarah. True to her word, she was wearing the same outfit in which I'd first laid eyes on her. She'd even put on that shimmering dust again, making her like a second prism in the room. I knew her body and ways so well by then. Or perhaps I'd convinced myself I had. Had it really only been that long? The corded legs and toned arms, the flat stomach, the small breasts, the almost painful prettiness of her face, the teasing confidence and piercing intellect powering it all; these and more made me remember where my full attention was due. That, and I could tell she had something up her sleeve by the way she looked at me.

My heart was racing, and I tried to mentally jump in front of it like calming a panicked horse. Woah, I thought to myself as I sat down. Easy, boy, easy. Erin and Sarah are acquaintances, remember? Looks like she came over to say hi and study together. They're both the type. So why hadn't I seen another car parked outside?

"Oh you're so easy to read, sometimes," Erin said, "I had Sarah park in the garage. It made sense, with Mom gone all week and that old minivan I get to drive sitting outside because the space is too short. Her car's small enough to get in there, and I was worried about all the break-ins around town lately."

"Oh, yeah, of course," I readily agreed, "Way too many. Right. I mean, I had my parking meter change bag and an old cassette tape stolen the other week. Which was a real bummer. Sorry I was so surprised, Sarah, I was just - I had no idea Erin was having folks over. I didn't mean to interrupt. I should have called. Or brought something to share maybe? My folks' garden is going crazy right now, they'll be mad that I didn't try to offload some of it. And if I knew you were studying, I definitely would have brought my things over for, uh, my classes. So.... Wow, I'm tripping all over myself, aren't I? Funny, really funny. Yeah. So, what've you been up to, lately?"

You know, I thought, maybe fatal aneurysms weren't horrifically random. Maybe I could have one if I tried hard enough. That would be very convenient for me. I was definitely making a good attempt at it.

Erin cocked her head at me while Sarah looked a little concerned. This was a far cry from the calm bravado I'd managed back at the sex shop. What was happening to me?

"Soda?" Erin asked, smoothly standing up and coming behind me to lean over my shoulder. Her lightly tanned, wildly freckled, smooth arms folded around me and I felt and heard her lips smooch me behind my ear. Sarah flicked a glance at us and smiled slightly before taking a sip of her own while looking out the window. For some reason, the kiss made the faulty starter in my mind finally work well enough to kick the engine over, and I felt my brain suddenly roar into its normal rhythms and balances. Now all I had to do was keep from flooding it.

"Sounds great, thanks," I said, my hand briefly grasping Erin's arm before she moved away to the fridge.

"This summer? I guess I've been doing a lot of reading," Sarah offered, pretending that I'd behaved like a perfectly passable human a moment before.

"You, reading all summer? I never would have guessed," I laughed, "What about?" I'm happy that I resisted the urge to talk about the nonsense I'd been reading. I wanted to hear what *she* had to say, not hear myself say something stupid.

"Biological science journals, mainly." she said eagerly, "Genetics is really taking off, now. I might like to go into 'gene therapy.' Solving diseases with a few billion years of evolution instead of drugs and surgeries. But really anything in the biomedical research field."

"That sounds... incredible. Futuristic," I gushed, immediately fascinated, "Are you getting an internship or something?"

"She's been telling me all about it," Erin said, ruffling my hair as she walked back, "It's pretty awesome, though I definitely anticipate some politics and lawyers wrapped up in it if things get far enough along." I scooted back from the table to let Erin sit in my lap, relaxed as anything. Erin cracked the soda and set it vaguely behind her, so I picked it up and put it on the nearest coaster, murmuring thanks to her for the kindness, petting her shoulder blade.