Travels - 7. The Promise

Wednesday, 23 July 2014

The sound of the trunk being slammed made CJ glance toward the rear of the car. Owen stood perfectly still―keys in one hand, a travel mug in the other―staring at his grandfather. After hugging both young men, Jack had remained under the building’s awning, watching them get ready to head out on their road trip.

“Hey.” CJ’s tone was gentle; he was aware something was bothering his friend. “Are you okay?”

The tall, blond Aussie shook himself awake, glanced at his friend, and then back at his grandfather standing alone by the structure housing the family winery. The older man smiled with a hint of sadness. Owen tossed the keys up in the air, caught them as they fell, and walked towards the driver’s side. “Yeah, just feeling weird. This is it, mate. I’m not coming back here for a very long while.” There wasn’t fear in the man’s voice; CJ thought he heard longing instead. But Owen sounded resolute.

“It won’t be all that bad. You’ll come back on vacation. And in three short years, you’ll be an attorney and ready to return for good.”

“We’ll see. When I went away to uni, I knew I’d be back here on a regular basis. I rode the motorcycle home from Sydney every few weekends. But this is different. I’m going to be thousands of kilometers away and traveling back and forth won’t be as easy. I’m going to miss this place. And I’m going to miss the family even more.”

The cool breeze made CJ shiver. The weather report called for a clear, sunny day with temperatures in the fifties. He had dressed accordingly, donning hiking boots, jeans, and a long-sleeved t-shirt underneath his hoodie. The quilted vest he wore so often during winter in Washington was in the back seat; he had been warned the temperature would drop further as they climbed into the mountains.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” CJ said. “I’d be fine hanging around here the rest of the trip. We could visit more wineries. And meet your friends at the pub every night until it’s time to fly out.”

“Hell, no!” Owen replied, sounding determined. “I’m just being sentimental. I’m looking forward to the next few days and you have to see a little more of Australia.”

“Then let’s get the show on the road. I’m ready to do some exploring if you are. You sure you didn’t forget anything?”

“Pretty certain of it. And if I did, I can call Mum and Dad and have them bring anything I left behind to Sydney. They already have those two large bags I packed for them to carry.”

The road they took was new territory for CJ. They headed west-northwest, vineyards flowing through the Hunter Valley as far as he could see. Eventually, mountain foothills materialized to the south, the roadway hugging them as they skirted the village of Broke where the route veered north. When they reached Milbrodale, Owen stopped long enough to fill the car’s fuel tank and for the guys to rid themselves of some of the coffee they’d been drinking.

From there, Putty Road climbed into the mountains, meandering south until reaching Howes Valley, spread out to the west. The small break in the rocky outcrops came and went. Mountains soon enveloped them again on both sides of the road.

“So, these are the Blue Mountains?” CJ lowered the volume on the radio. “And it’s all a National Park?”

“Kinda,” Owen replied. “These are all part of the Blue Mountains Range which is a World Heritage Site. But they’re not one park. It’s actually seven different ones. Right now we’re in between the Wollemi and Yengo National Parks.”

“I’m guessing those are eucalyptus forests all over the place? I can smell them.”

“Yep, lots of them around. If you look west, that’s the Wollemi and you can see lots of dead trees. One of the worst of last year’s bushfires ripped through the area. Luckily, only two people died. And we had over a hundred of them burning in the state at one point.”

CJ made a quick calculation in his head. Based on the elevation shown in meters on the small roadside billboard―he thought he was getting better at converting metric measurements to what he considered normal―the village of Wentworth Falls was almost 3,000 feet above sea level. Owen made a sharp turn at the intersection following the welcome sign and the boys found themselves at the top of a small street. Hemmed in by a picturesque park on one side and quaint small shops on the other, the steep roadway disappeared at the bottom of the hill beneath a thick canopy of branches from the trees lining its flanks.

They had lunch at a small café, sitting outside with their wraps and beers, enjoying the warmth of the midday winter sun. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen in the bright cerulean sky with dark purple mountains framing the view. They lingered over an espresso, enjoying the conversation, as Owen explained what he had planned for the next two-and-a-half days.

Eventually, they shook off their food-induced lethargy, returned to the car, and drove to the edge of the town where nature still reigned supreme and man-made structures no longer ruled the landscape. They parked by a deserted picnic area. The absence of people made CJ wonder where the crowds were. Back home there would be vacationers swarming all over the place.

“How come it’s so empty?” he asked. “Aren’t we just west of Sydney? I figured this place would be crawling with tourists.”

“It’s winter, middle of the week, and there’s no school holiday.”

“Crap, stupid question. I keep forgetting about me being off school for the summer when you guys aren’t.”

Owen chuckled while grabbing a small backpack he had provisioned with water bottles and energy bars. “I hope you remember that when we’re in Washington. I’m sure I’ll be making plenty boneheaded comments.”

Following a well-worn level path, past trail signs for the Jamison and Wentworth lookouts, they descended some 200 steps to the cliff-edge, Fletchers Lookout. CJ’s step counting fizzled out around three-quarters of the way. The not-so-quiet whispers of nature surrounded him as he marveled at the cascade that gave Wentworth Falls its name. He could hear the water tumbling over the side of the mountain, as it plunged to the valley floor. The torrent slid down what resembled the inside of a cylinder made of rocks to an escarpment of jumbled boulders. The second cascade rolled off these massive stones into a shallow pool before once again flowing over a natural parapet.

From their viewing position, the two men walked down steps for a few minutes and found themselves at the top of the Falls. The magnificent Jamison Valley spread out in front of them to the other side of where the creek spilled into space. They traipsed around the different tracks for a couple of hours, alternating between staring at the natural wonder in awe, and taking pictures of each other. When they eventually returned to the car, and CJ once again had a strong signal on his phone, he uploaded a couple of pictures for his family and friends to enjoy.

Fifteen minutes after driving away from the picnic area Owen slowed down, exited the Great Western Highway, and delivered them to the Blue Mountains YHA in Katoomba. The hostel would serve as their base of operation for the next few days.

Thursday, 24 July 2014

Over breakfast the following morning, Owen gave CJ a quick history of Katoomba. The small town, with less than 10,000 residents, had first developed as a tourist destination in the late nineteenth century. At the time, coal mining was also a thriving industry that faded into memory as the seams were exhausted. The town went through periods of popularity and decline during the 1900s and was currently a popular place with poets, artists, environmentalists, and plenty of eccentric characters. Based on the people and places he’d seen the previous night and this morning, CJ thought the place had lots of character.

“So what’s on the schedule for today? I’m not sure I’m ready for a big hiking adventure.” CJ spread a healthy amount of jam on his toast and took a bite before finishing his thoughts. “I know I’m in good shape but my calves are killing me this morning.”

“What? A little bushwalking yesterday and you’re ready to call it quits?” Owen kidded him.

“Fuck you! As much as I walk and run back home, I was still using muscles in a way I normally don’t. All I’m saying is no climbing up and down the side of mountains today. I went through the same thing when I moved from Miami to Washington. South Florida is flat and the hilly grounds around Georgetown had my legs burning the first time I went jogging. Now instead of hills, it’s mountains. I know better than to push it.”

“We can walk to Echo Point, it’s less than two kilometers away, and it’ll give us the best view of the Three Sisters. Then we can explore the shops around here after lunch. We’ll leave the mountain climbing for tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s do it.”

Perched on the edge of the bluff at the end of Katoomba Street, Echo Point provided panoramic views of the Blue Mountains and the iconic Three Sisters formation. As CJ took pictures of the landscape, Owen related the dreamtime story of the rock formation.

The commonly told legend was three sisters―Meehni, Wimlah, and Gunnedoo―lived in the Jamison Valley as members of the Katoomba tribe. They fell in love with three brothers from the neighboring tribe, but marriage was forbidden by tribal law. The men were not happy to accept this law and decided to use force to capture the three sisters. A major battle ensued, and the sisters were turned to stone by an elder to protect them, but he was killed in the fighting and no one else could turn them back.

“That’s a great story, mate. It’s good to run into a couple of Aussies who can explain things to us.” The comment made the two friends turn from looking out over the valley to face the speaker. “Hi, I’m Ivan and this is Jett. Are you guys from Sydney?”

CJ thought the young man extending his hand to shake sounded British. After a few days surrounded by Australians, his ear was able to pick out the difference in their accents. Both clean-shaven guys appeared to be in their early twenties and wore jeans, hiking boots, and carried large packs typical of backpackers throughout the world.

“Hey, mate, I’m Owen. I’m from a small town in the Hunter Valley, the wine region north of Sydney. My friend’s CJ. He’s visiting from America. I’m assuming you’re Brits?”

“Yeah, we’re traveling during our gap year. A Yank, eh? How the hell did you two end up together?”

“We met through our families.” CJ raised his sunglasses, allowing them to rest atop his forehead, once he’d taken a good look at the guys. “I was here in December with my parents and two of their friends. One of them’s Owen’s cousin and we spent a lot of time together then. I liked the country so much I came back for another visit.”

“So, are you from California?” Jett asked.

“Nope,” CJ replied, chuckling. “I live in Washington―the city, not the state―but you’re not the first one to ask me if I’m from California. Happened a few times last trip. I guess most visitors are from the west coast of the U.S. Hey, would one of you take a picture of us with the mountains in the background? I’ll do the same for you.”

“Great idea, mate. What are you guys doing the rest of the day? We just arrived and haven’t even checked in yet. Too early they said.” Ivan snapped a couple of pictures and then the two Brits swapped places with Owen and CJ.

“We’re taking it easy today. Did a lot of climbing yesterday so we’re taking a break. Probably walk around town this afternoon and then chill back at the hostel.” Owen returned the guy’s phone after taking their picture, while CJ fiddled with his, uploading one of the shots to Facebook. “We’ll do some more bushwalking tomorrow.”

“You guys want to hang out together? We’re staying at the hostel too and starting fresh tomorrow sounds like a good idea,” Jett said. “We noticed there’s an Irish pub in town when we looked at the guide earlier. How about we have lunch together and I’ll buy each of you a pint. It’d be good to have a local as a guide.”

The first pint was finished before their food was even ready so CJ walked over to the bar and returned with four fresh glasses. By the time each of the guys had bought a round, he was feeling drunk and in need of a nap. “Sorry, I’m a lightweight, guys.” CJ stood, holding on to the edge of the table until the slight dizziness left him. “Not used to drinking so much. I think I need to jump in bed and get an hour or so sleep.”

“A snooze’s a great idea, mate.” Owen pushed his chair away from the table, offering his fist to their new friends for a bump. “You can probably check in by now, it’s late enough. Wanna walk back with us?”

“Yeah, that’s probably good. Maybe we can find bunks near each other in the dorm?” Ivan replied.

“We’re not in the dorm,” CJ said. “We have one of the double rooms, although we use the group showers and bathroom.”

“No matter, we’ll go with you.” Ivan glanced at Jett while shrugging. “We can meet up later after we clean up and rest. There were a couple of places we walked by that looked good for supper. We’ve been in the country for a week and still haven’t eaten kangaroo. I saw a sign at one of the restaurants advertising ‘roo steaks, and I want one.”

The small family restaurant served huge portions for a reasonable price and the four young men all enjoyed big, bloody slabs of kangaroo for dinner. Afterward, they stopped at a bottle shop before returning to the hostel where they spent the rest of the evening in the common room in front of a roaring fire, drinking and chatting with other guests. While CJ and Owen drank rum and cokes and talked to a variety of people, Ivan and Jett shared their whiskey with a couple of Scandinavian girls who they disappeared with after a while. But not before making plans to meet the other guys early the next day.

Friday, 25 July 2014

After showering and getting dressed, but before leaving their room, CJ and Owen recorded a short video wishing Tom Kennedy a great fortieth. Due to the time difference, it was still Thursday evening in Washington and they made a big deal out of being the first ones to wish him a happy birthday. Once they’d posted it, they left to meet the two Brits. Over breakfast, they all got to know each other a bit better. Owen explained he was moving to the US to study and CJ surprised the guys from England by revealing his age and the fact he was still in high school.

Ivan and Jett told of growing up in London, the sons of Russian immigrants, and about their escapade with the girls the previous night. “Mate, those Scandinavian girls are always nymphos,” Jett said. “You two should have stuck around, I’m sure they would have let you tap them too.”

“I’m telling you they were ready for action. The one I ended up with was all wet before I even got my tongue in her twat.” Ivan added. “She was nice and juicy when I put it to her and damn could she use her muscles down there. Maybe tonight we can find one to share? It’d be fun to run a train on a bitch.”

Returning to Echo Point carrying water bottles and sandwiches in their backpacks, Owen led the other men towards the Giant Stairway, providing a running commentary about what they were seeing. Almost a thousand steps led from the lookout point around the Three Sisters formation to the valley below. The series of steep, dizzying staircases―some pinned to the rock, some carved right out of the cliff itself―had been built in the early years of the twentieth century, and were not for those in poor physical condition.

The going wasn’t hard for the fit men, but it was slow due to the incline. At the bottom, the steps turned onto a walking track that wound around the base of the Three Sisters, giving them impressive views of the rock formation from the ground. A half hour or so later, they crossed Kedumba Creek, stood on the bridge, and gazed up at a fantastic view of the waterfall. Halfway through what would turn out to be a hike over four hours long, Owen suggested a break. They found a level spot under the forest canopy, opened up their bags to dig out food and drink, and sat to rest.

“So, we were talking some last night about you guys after we were done with the girls. And then again while we climbed down after our conversation this morning. Neither one of you showed much interest in what we suggested, so we agreed the two of you are probably gay.” Jett glanced between CJ and Owen before taking a bite out of the wrap in his hand.

“Yeah, and that’s cool,” Ivan added. “But what we can’t figure out is which one of you’s the girl. You both look like normal blokes.”

Owen’s face reddened, he frowned and looked at CJ who smirked trying not to laugh. “What the fuck do you mean?” The Aussie sounded offended.

“You know, mate,” Ivan replied with a wave of his hand. “Which one of you put it inside the other one last night? We figured that’s why you got a private room. So you could fuck around.”

Trying not to laugh, CJ decided to help out his Aussie friend who seemed to be having trouble dealing with the frank discussion. “Neither one of us got fucked last night, bud. We’re friends and that’s it. But you’re right about both of us being gay. I’m guessing that’s not a problem with you guys?”

“Fuck no!” Jett replied. “I think it’s kinda horny for two hot lads to go at it. Hell, I keep wanting to put it to Ivan but he won’t let me. I wanna try it out at least once.”

“No way, mate. I’m not getting fucked,” Ivan replied. “Maybe one of them will let you.”

CJ placed a hand on Owen’s arm when he thought the Aussie was about to jump the two Brits for suggesting one of them bottom for Jett. “Relax, buddy,” he chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows the way Brett often did. “The straight boys are just being curious. I’m willing to let Jett fuck me if he’s interested.”

“REALLY?”

“WOW!”

“WHAT?” Owen’s eyes shot open. “You… you can’t be serious, mate.”

“Sure I am. He can fuck me. But only after he lets me do him. I mean, he does have a nice butt.”

“Fuck you!” Jett shouted while Owen looked flabbergasted and Ivan and CJ laughed. “Not a chance, mate. I ain’t nobody’s bitch.”

“You sure?” CJ teased. “I’m thinking you’d like it. But I gotta warn you, I ain’t small. It might hurt at first. But I promise to take it easy on you. And I’ll pull out if it’s too much of a pain in the ass.”

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” Jett repeated. “No way! I think we better forget this whole conversation.”

“Fine by me, bud. But you have no idea what you’re missing.” CJ stood, extended a hand towards Owen who was shaking his head and helped him stand. “Now I’m horny and since none of you are likely to take care of my hard-on, I think we better get going. I wanna get back so I can have some me time.”

“You think they’re fucking?”

“Geez, Jarhead, weren’t you the one complaining the other day when you caught him dicking Eli? Didn’t get enough thrills about our son’s sex life already?”

“I might have been a wee bit disturbed when I saw them―”

“HA!”

“―but the more I thought about it the more he reminded me of you.”

“What?”

“His ass’ just as furry as yours, but I’ve never seen you fuck anyone else except in the mirror when you do me.”

“Oh? And seeing a picture of CJ and Owen smiling with their arms around two guys they met hiking gave you ideas?” As usual, César was enjoying teasing his husband. “You wanting to go find a couple of Brit backpackers and have a little party?”

”Fuck no! I guess I’m just living vicariously through our boy. I might look, and now and then I may flirt, but that’s it. I had enough sleeping around when I was single. Call it the possessive me. No way in hell do I want to share you, so I would never even consider it.”

“Never say never, Captain.” César smirked while pulling the sheet over their bodies and wrapped his arms around his husband.

“Asshole!”

Saturday, 26 July 2014

The air inside the small car was redolent with the scent of muscle liniment Owen and CJ had liberally applied to their legs before leaving Katoomba. The soreness from the previous day’s hike wasn’t too bad, but the prospect of spending four hours in the confined space led them to slather it on to assuage the possibility of cramps.

“Okay, time to tell me a little about your capital.” A couple of hours after leaving the mountain town, they’d stopped for fuel and to stretch their legs. CJ had purchased them coffees which they sipped once back on the road.

“What do you know about it?”

“Not much, I’m sorry to say.” CJ sounded apologetic. “I had no idea we were going there until you told me after I arrived, so I didn’t read up on it.”

“I didn’t even know for sure we were coming here until a day or two before you arrived and decided to keep it a surprise. The location was selected as the site of the nation's capital in 1908 as a compromise between rivals Sydney and Melbourne. It was to be a planned city much like Washington in the United States and Brasilia in Brazil. They organized an international contest for the design and believe it or not the winners were two architects from Chicago.”

“Oh, so Washington was laid out by a Frenchman and Canberra by an American? Nice coincidence.”

“Yeah well, as with most big government projects, there was a lot of politics involved, false starts, and incredible delays. Construction was started in 1913 but the two World Wars and the Great Depression slowed things down. It wasn’t until after the Second World War that things started moving along.”

“Wait. Construction started in 1913? That means the city’s just over a hundred years old.”

“Yep. There was an entire year of celebrations which ended in March of this year. That’s when they unveiled the Canberra Centenary Column. It’s a sculpture located on City Hill and one of the places I want to visit. I haven’t seen it yet.”

“Have you been to the city a lot?”

“Only a couple of times. Once with dad when I was in school and he had some meetings concerning wine production regulations. And once while at uni for a school trip.”

“You did field trips while in college?”

“It was related to what I was studying. Canberra was the first city in the world to propose a plan to eliminate all waste. They missed the deadline, but the use of landfills is minimal and about seventy-five percent of all waste is recycled.”

“Damn! That’s pretty darn good.”

“I think so. It’s been a joint effort between government, business, and citizens. It proves a lot can be accomplished when all sectors of the community work together.”

Owen shared his knowledge about the Australian Capital Territory and Canberra for the remainder of their trip; he answered CJ’s questions about its history and the places he wanted them to see over the next couple of days. After registering at their hotel, they walked to the Australian National University, had lunch, and then strolled through the campus.

“This is like the oldest building I’ve seen so far,” CJ said as they stood in front of the ANU School of Art, gazing at its clock tower. Although the structure seemed utilitarian at first glance, he realized there were Art Deco and industrial details which reminded him of Works Progress Administration structures in Washington built around the same time.

“Think about it, CJ. The school was founded after the War so most of the buildings are less than fifty years old. This one’s different. It’s a bit older. If I remember correctly, it used to be a high school before they moved and ANU eventually took it over. I think this is the only pre-war structure on campus. Come on, I want to show you one more and then I could use a coffee.”

They strolled through campus. Sometimes under the shade of trees lining the sidewalks, at other times out in the open as they crossed grassy ovals. Owen provided a running commentary about the school and campus.

“Wow!” CJ exclaimed as they approached a modern structure of steel, stone, and glass. The building seemed to undulate in place; fin-like wedges protruded from it giving it an organic feeling. He thought it looked like some creature out of a movie. A giant, segmented body, crawling along the landscape.

“That’s the School of Medicine. I thought you’d like it. The blue reflecting glass turns all sorts of colors when hit by the sun. First time I saw it was around sunset and the orange and yellow reflections were amazing.”

“Can we go inside?” CJ asked, sounding as excited as a little boy with a new toy in front of him.

“Definitely,” Owen replied chuckling. CJ’s excitement seemed to be contagious. “I thought we’d stop at the Vanilla Bean inside for that coffee I mentioned. I hope it’s open today, even if it’s a Saturday.”

The café was closed, so after a quick look around the ground floor, they ventured closer to the shore of Lake Burley Griffin. The boys crossed onto a strip of land extending into the water, still in search of their cup of coffee. When they reached the end of the small peninsula they found themselves on the grounds of the National Museum of Australia and decided to explore inside.

“I thought you told me there wasn’t much to this city,” CJ said as they walked towards the front entrance. CJ stopped to take pictures of the jumbled collection of anodized aluminum shapes. Metal beams rose from the ground at an angle to meet a rounded roof that overhung a red section inclined in the direction opposite the beams. The triangular entry, made up of glass panels, was in turn traversed by two larger rectangular beams parallel to the ground which extended beyond the outside leaning section. “This is gorgeous! I need to see if they have a book about it in the gift shop.”

“Never been here before, mate. I’ve seen pictures but this is much better. They supposedly have the largest collection ever of indigenous art and artifacts. We’ve got a couple of hours to explore if you want.”

CJ watched Owen down the small portion of murky liquid in one gulp and shook his head in disbelief. He was sure there would be a hangover tomorrow morning. While his friend and the three half-naked guys standing around the high table with them cheered and drank, he surreptitiously poured his cocktail into the potted palm tree behind them.

After their day of sightseeing, they returned to the hotel, showered, napped, and eventually agreed to hit a gay bar after dinner. Fortified by a couple of beers, they ended up on the dance floor, moving to the beat of uptown funk blaring from the giant speakers, surrounded by college-aged men and women enjoying themselves.

The alcohol, combined with the jam-packed dance floor, had them both sweating. CJ was hot and didn’t care about what anyone else thought at the moment. He ripped off his top, tucked it into a belt loop, and smiling, grabbed the hem of Owen’s shirt and started pulling it off. The rivulets of sweat sliding down the Aussie's smooth chest made him unconsciously lick his lips. He looked up at the taller man, sensuously ran his hand down the hard planes of his torso, and slowly closed his eyes, getting lost in the feel of Owen’s body and the thumping music.

His trailing fingers hooked into the Aussie’s waistband and pulled him in a bit closer, smashing their groins together; CJ could smell the man’s musk and his dick reacted. He leaned forward, stuck out his tongue, and licked a drop of sweat from where it dangled at the end of a nipple. He thought Owen would look good with it pierced, a gold hoop or bar CJ could clamp his teeth around. Choking the chicken in the bathroom mornings and nights wasn’t getting the job done. He was horny and wasn’t certain he could keep his hands off the man. No matter what his intentions might have been when he flew to Australia.

Three guys around Owen’s age were next to them and after seeing CJ and Owen discard their clothing, followed suit, hooting and hollering all the while. They inched closer to the two friends and eventually, the five young, shirtless, and fit men formed a tight circle in the middle of the dance space. Arms draped around each other, gyrating to the pulsating beat, and having a good time. There was no need for words, no introductions were made. CJ thought this was the sense of brotherhood, of family, Dragon had often mentioned to him. Uncle Devon claimed the tribal connection could only be experienced when gay men gathered together, with no reproachful stares from straight people.

When one of the strangers called for a break and a cocktail, they all ambled over to the bar together. Casual introductions were followed by someone ordering a round of blowjobs. CJ watched in fascination as the bartender mixed the concoction of Bailey’s Irish Cream and Kahlua topped with a squirt of whipped cream from a can.

With one of the guys demonstrating on his own, another one offered to help CJ learn how to properly enjoy the shooter. The new acquaintance placed the tumbler close to CJ’s face. Warning him about his intentions first, his self-appointed assistant put a hand behind CJ’s head, all the while smiling while his mates and Owen shouted encouragement. They started a countdown and upon reaching zero, CJ’s head was forced forward until his lips touched the rim of the glass. The pressure on the back of his neck was relaxed and at the same time, the hand covering his own holding the drink was pushed upwards. CJ opened his mouth wider. The glass was tilted as his head moved backward, and CJ watched the creamy liquid ooze into him. He swallowed. It was a little too sweet for his taste, but enjoyable nonetheless. They were all laughing; jokes about the Yank having his first BJ were shouted making others around the group cheer.

CJ was having a good time. The loud music, the proximity of the hot men, and the alcohol had him feeling exhilarated. He decided to buy a second round for the group when they took their next break; this time he didn’t need help gulping the stuff. Afterward, he excused himself when he felt the need to use the restroom, eventually rejoining the guys leaning against the small table they’d claimed in a darkened corner.

As he slid in next to Owen, placing an arm around the man’s waist, one of their new friends walked back from the bar with five glasses filled with what he called a Moscow Mule―vodka, ginger beer, and lime juice. The previous drinks had left him feeling happy but he’d spaced them apart by chugging bottles of water in between. The appearance of cocktails he’d not seen the bartender prepare sent warning signals to his brain. Right on the spot CJ decided he was done drinking alcohol for the night, discretely discarded the current one, and begged off from subsequent ones.

The experience in New York was still vivid enough. He had no reason to suspect his newfound friends had ulterior motives, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He’d promised his dads, and most importantly himself, he’d be careful when around strangers. The last thing he needed was to find himself drugged by someone slipping something into his drink. When he and Owen made it back to the hotel—the Aussie not walking very steadily—he was happy he was sober and glad he’d kept the promise.