This is what happinessactuallyfeels like. No doubt, I’ve been happy lately. I’d say I’m usually a pretty happy guy. A low-drama, seek-out-my-pleasures kind of person. But what’s become obvious since the semester started is that there have been all these asterisks attached to that happiness. I get to be really happy being Vale’s. But I also can’t call himmy boyfriendout loud. I get to be happy playing the sport I love. But I get constantly reminded of how I’m only welcome asstraightGabriel Piña. I have great friends and love the fact that I didn’t go out of the city or state for college because I get to see my parents regularly, but they don’t get to see all of me. I get to see myself changing and growing and proving first-day-of-school me wrong, but I can’t talk about those changes and that growth with the people around me.
But, for this weekend, I get to be happy without the asterisks. I get to be myself. I get to acknowledge and celebrate the parts of myself I’m discovering that make me feel so much more …me. I get to breathe and leave all my worries back at the bay. I get to hold on to Vale and lay those soft kisses on him as much as I want. And I’m going to take every single minute of the next few days and make the best of them.
After a few hours, we finally leave coastal flatland and hit hills. We turn onto a long country road that, after about fifteen minutes, becomes dirt and gravel. Pérez, now awake and being an attentive copilot, goes from his phone to looking around us, directing Kat, telling them, “Keep going,” and “Have we passed a tree with a red tire swing?” until, eventually, and almost at the very end of the road, in between a handful of other small two-story cabins, he tells them to stop with a “There!We’re here!”
“Cozy,” Vale says as he steps out of the car, looking at the wooden cabin, a porch lining the front of the house, a balcony above it with a small hot tub, and a pit a couple yards away from Kat’s car. We’re only a minute from the shallow part of the river on the opposite side of the road and a short walk to where everyone goes floating.
“It’s perfect,” I add, my arms wrapping around his waist.
And I only let him go because we have to carry our luggage in, along with the couple of ice chests full of food and drinks to last us the weekend (including some bottles Vale’s cousins bought for him). The inside of the cabin, unsurprisingly, smells heavily of wood. Like I just walked into a Home Depot, but comfier and less dusty. On the bottom floor is a pretty large kitchen, big enough for all four of us to be standing in comfortably, a dining table with enough seats for six, and a living room with a couple couches and chairs. Upstairs are the bedrooms, one for Pérez and Kat and the other for Vale and me. A bathroom in each, and a door that connects to the balcony. And everywhere we look, cowboy decorations, including a huge cow head above the TV.
I come out of the bathroom and find Vale standing out on the balcony, leaning on the railing, looking out toward the river and all the trees. I put my weight on the doorway, crossing my arms, just taking a moment to stare at him. Mostly his ass, but also, all of him. The way he looks so peaceful and beautiful and handsome.
Yeah, I’m falling in love with him.
“YOOOO!”Pérez shouts from downstairs as music that’s got to be at a hundred volume starts playing. Almost so loud I don’t hear him running up the stairs (and tripping on the way up, letting out a“¡Pinche madre!”).
“It’s party time, compas,” he says, standing in the middle of our room. “Put on your swim shorts—or Speedo if that’s the energy we’re bringing into the weekend—”
“Please tell me you’re not wearing a Speedo, my guy,” I groan, the horror obvious on my face.
“Technically they’re called swim briefs,” Vale adds, coming up from behind me.
“We’re getting off topic,” Pérez shouts. “Ten minutes, group shots, and then we’re heading to the river. Y’all are going to have to wait until later to see how sturdy that bed is. You saw they got a rope attached to a tree? I’m swinging off that bitch as soon as we’re there. Also, to answer your question, yes, and I got a set of three in case you boys want to show off too. Should fit everyone. Different colors y todo.”
He rushes out of our room, yelling for Kat to get changed too, and Vale laughs, shaking his head. “Come on. We shouldn’t keep him waiting. He’s probably set a timer.”
He did. We know because whatever Bluetooth speaker Pérez’s phone is connected to starts making thatatomic bomb is heading for ussound just as Vale and I are coming downstairs and he’s waiting for us in the kitchen—only in his swim chonies and slides—with double shots of Hornitos.
“River time!” he shouts as he runs ahead of us toward the water, carrying his speaker that’s blasting “Azúcar.”
We’re the only ones around. There aren’t even other cars parked nearby. Maybe by this time, early November, everyone’s given up on river trips for the rest of the year or they’re spending all their money on turkeys or something.
I’m into it. More for us.
“Hey!” Pérez calls once he’s set his phone and speaker down, “I learned how to do a handstand. Watch. Mira, mira, mira.”
He sets his hands on the ground and his legs go up and— “Hold on, almost,” he grunts as he lands pretty dirty, nearly scraping his knee. And then again, this time his knees coming to his chest midair as he lets out a “Damn, wait. Almost.” Anda third time, his legs nearly straight up in the air for a second before going back down with an “Almost.”
I don’t know why I watch. Why I spend an entire two minutes patiently standing here as this fool does handstand attempt after handstand attempt, half of them looking like he’s pretending to be a frog, his cheeks clenching in his Spee—swim briefs—every time he throws his legs up, and his feet come back down with another “Nope” or “Almost,” but I do. And Vale and Kat do too, standing next to me, waiting for him to never get it.
“Ah, pues, it’s better when I’m using a solid floor. The grass and rocks are hurting my hands.”
“Yeah, that’s why,” Kat says with a grin. “Come on, we’re jumping in the river.”
They go first, grabbing the rope held by a thick limb of a tree that juts past the slight drop into the river. Deep breath and a“Let’s go!”and they’re flying, holding the rope tight and then letting go with a scream, landing right in the middle of the water. Pérez goes next, yelling something about “water breathing” and “tenth form,” doing a kick midair when he lets go of the rope that I’m pretty sure makes one of his balls pop out.
“You want to go first?” I ask Vale, holding on to the rope, ready to hand it off to him.
“Nah, you go first,” he tells me. “Show me what you got, futbolista.”
“Give me a kiss before I go? For good luck.”
And, with the feeling of his lips on mine and Kat and Pérez yelling “El Chivo!” from the water, I take quick steps off the ledge and start soaring. My body all the way on impress Vale mode starts pushing my weight back and legs up and bent. When the soles of my feet are pointing at the sky and I’m all the way upside down, I let go of the rope, following through with the restof a backflip, and sticking the landing, a solid eight out of ten at minimum. When I come up for air, Vale is cheering me on and Pérez has both his hands up for a high five, yelling, “That’s how it’s done, papi!”
Then it’s Vale’s turn. I watch him smile when I yell, “You got this, baby,” realizing that’s the first time I’ve called him that outside of my room. And, as my heart starts rushing, it feels good. So good. I want to call him that all the time. Everywhere.
He rushes off, bringing his legs in up to his chest, letting out his own scream as he swings down like that, and goes full cannonball into the water. I don’t hold back my cackle as Kat gets splashed, letting out a“¡Ya, güey!”
