Ollie doesn’t sleep well. His bed is lumpy and awkward. The waves sound different from those at home. Each time he wakes in the night, he reaches for Tai with his eyes closed before he thinks. But when he opens his eyes, he can make out Tai across the room, asleep. He’s lying on his back. His face is traced by silver blue moonlight. It looks smooth and untroubled, at ease. Ollie has no idea what he’s dreaming about.
He watches as Tai sighs and rolls so he’s facing Ollie. Tai’s asleep and too far away in the other bed, so there’s no bright gaze or quick understanding, no earnest reassuring words either. But there’s a vulnerability to him that touches Ollie. He stares across the space between the beds and watches Tai’s soft, young face, his long lashes, the way the pale light catches his dark cheekbones and parted lips. Tai’s beautiful, of course; everyone knows that. But Ollie’s only recently started noticing.
They’re flying out today.
Once the sky starts to lighten, Ollie gives up on more sleep. He climbs out of bed and pees in the little bathroom. Then he reaches around the curtains to slide the glass door open and step out onto the deck. The dazzling gold of sunrise is touching the far-off horizon. The ever-present Australian parrots are waking up and starting their noisy pterodactyl screeching.
Ollie watches the Indian Ocean stretching east of them. It’s not his ocean. And there’s no point in counting the waves here, not anymore. But he can’t help himself as he stands there. The rhythm settles his heart and lets him think.
He knows he’s not like everyone else. He’s always had to keep a bit of distance. It’s not coldness, not really. It’s experience. Touch is a prickling distraction at best and raw pain at worst.
Yet it was Ollie who reached for Tai that first time, and he’s reached for him over and over since. Every time it’s been dazzling, but also effortless. Ollie trusts Tai, and that’s part of it. But it’s not just that. When he’s with Tai that way, Ollie doesn’t need to think. Everything stops. Tai’s careful touch is welcome, even though it’s overwhelmingly intimate.
But last night Tai reached out to hold him in front of everyone. Ollie was full to the brim with disappointment and frustration, and Tai touched him in front of all the competition. Ollie was exposed. He’s always trusted Tai not to do that.
The sun’s still low in the sky, the scattering clouds yellow and pink, when Tai appears in the doorway. He rubs a hand across his face before he looks at Ollie. His eyes are dark and concerned, but he moves across the deck and leans against the railing before he speaks. Even just awake and clearly worried, he’s comfortable in his skin, sure of himself and the way his body moves. He looks like something Ollie needs.
“Morning,” Tai says. The birds are keeping up their raucous song, and Ollie can only just hear him.
“Hi.” Ollie tries to smile at him, but he’s sure it looks like a grimace. He wraps his arms around his body. One night without Tai in his bed and his whole body longs for something he can’t have. Not forever. Ollie’s way more caught up in this thing than he needs to be.
The way Ollie sees it, Tai knows all about sex. He’s known for years what it’s like to share breath and sweat and desire. It’s never seemed to touch Tai, not deeply. For Ollie, sex is different. As soon as Ollie fell into bed with Tai, Ollie’s whole self, his skin and his heart, were invested in something way bigger than anything Tai’s ever wanted.
Ollie doesn’t want to lose Tai. But he doesn’t know what to do about it. He pushes the pad of his thumb against his teeth.
“How did you sleep?” he asks Tai.
“Terribly.” It seems so simple when Tai says it.
Ollie can’t help the spurt of happiness, however unfair. “Me too.” After a pause he says, “Fuck, Tai, I don’t like it when we fight.” It’s the smallest part of what he’s feeling, but at least it’s true.
Tai smiles and Ollie sees gratitude in his tired eyes.
“We need to pack,” says Tai after a while. “The car’s leaving in an hour.”
Ollie nods agreement. Still, they stand there for a long time, watching the water, close to one another but not quite in contact.
It’s a surprisingly long way from Australia to Tahiti. Tai’s eyes are dry and sandy in the recycled air of the plane. He squeezes them tightly shut.
Ollie’s beside him, his shoulder pressed close to Tai in the narrow seats. Tai’s trying not to think about the cooling space between them last night or the not-quite truce this morning. He opens his tablet to run through all the stuff he’s downloaded on the wave at Teahupo’o. It takes his breath and makes him nervous. Thick-lipped and relentless, it’s not the height of the wave that’s impressive, but the weight. Heaviest wave in the world, they say. Sometimes it looks as if the entire ocean is hanging over the lip, ready to pound surfers into the reef below. The thought of Ollie on that wave—
He turns the picture in Ollie’s direction. “Take a look at this, a real look. We’ve got some time before the contest, but we’d better get you out near it as soon as we can.”
“Okay,” says Ollie.
“Not to surf, just to get a feel for it.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to surf it.”
Tai can’t tell if he’s being willfully obtuse. He lets his fear turn into frustration. “Don’t be stupid. It’s, like, the most dangerous wave on the planet, Ollie. No one surfed it until fifteen years ago.”
“Bro, I know.” He doesn’t quite roll his eyes as he turns back to the tiny screen embedded in the seat in front of him. He has the flight path up there, an image of a giant plane making its slow way across a blue and green map of the Pacific.
Tai lets out a breath. He knows Ollie is on edge. Tai gets it, of course, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He hates not knowing what to do. This is their last tour stop before heading home. Everything’s ending.
Tai pitches his voice reasonably as he says, “If you want to come through this stop with a good ranking, you need to think about this shit before you get on the wave. It’s a fucking monster.”
Ollie looks back at him irritably. His lips are pressed together.
Tai can’t help but go on. “Ollie. You won’t get through this round just on talent. You need to think.”
Ollie’s eyes spark brightly in the dim airplane. “I know that. Fuck it, Tai, stop treating me like I’ve never surfed a big wave before.”
It stings, partly because it’s true. Pipeline’s a dangerous wave, and Ollie’s been surfing it since he was a grommet. Tai’s more worried than he should be. “I’m trying to help,” Tai protests.
“Well, you can stop. I’m not some project for you to look after. I’m not a kid.”
Tai leans away from him. “I know, Ollie. God,” he says hotly and mostly to himself. But he’s uncomfortably aware that he treats Ollie like that, some days. The difficulty is, he’s not always sure what he’s good for if he’s not looking after Ollie.
When he turns back, Ollie has turned away again. Anger bubbles in Tai’s blood. He leans closer and hisses, “Ollie.” He puts his hand on Ollie’s arm to get his attention.
Ollie jerks his arm away and turns quickly, his voice rushed and low. “Stop it, Tai.” He puffs out a frustrated grunt. “Don’t touch me.”
Tai freezes. It’s only with Ollie that Tai feels as though he’s too much. “You’re an asshole.”
There’s nowhere to go in a tiny plane. The seats keep them pressed together. Tai tries to lean farther away. Ollie sits rigid and cool beside him. When Tai glances across, tears edge Ollie’s eyes.
Tai softens. He sounds rough to his own ears as he says, “Hey. You brought me here, Ollie. What’s my job if it’s not getting you all the information I can?” He pauses. “I’m not helping you because I think you’re a kid, I’m helping you because that’s what I’m here for.” He pauses, catches his breath. “Trying to help, anyway. But hey, this is our last stop before we head home. I’m not going to let another fight ruin what’s pretty much been the most awesome time of my life.”
He turns back to his tablet. Next to him, Ollie puts on his headphones to flick through music channels. After a moment, Ollie reaches out to Tai without looking and loops his pinkie finger under the shell string tied to Tai’s wrist.
It’s late when they reach the little Tahitian resort. The air’s heavier than Tai’s used to at home. But after the cool dry of the airplane, its mugginess is a welcome comfort. The ocean’s dark and close, lapping up against the black sand beach that stretches out past the lights in front of the cabin. Of course, it’s almost dead flat at the shoreline. If they want to see the wave, he and Ollie will paddle out about ten minutes or take a boat past the reef.
There’s not much around. Just the cluster of wooden cabins and a big central restaurant that’s mostly open to the water. The mountains jut straight up behind the buildings to knife-edge peaks. They’re rough and black under the night sky, covered with palms and tropical scrub. It’s nowhere he’s ever been, but the whole thing reminds Tai of home.
In their room, Ollie writes a postcard to Jaime. He pushes it across the tiny table for Tai to read.
I know, J, I sucked at the fourth stop. Hope you haven’t disowned me. But now we’re in Tahiti getting ready to surf Chopes, so at least we have that. Haven’t seen the wave yet but we’ve all seen the pictures. Tai goes whiter than me at the thought of me riding it. But I’ll be fine. Love, O
“I’ll be fine,” Ollie says to Tai, repeating himself.
“Yeah, I know.” Tai wishes he could slow the whole world down.
There’s no way they’ll surf in the morning. Tai can’t tell by the sound of the wind or the waves, but all the reports say that the swell out past the reef is huge and will stay huge, too huge for competition. They’re the kind of waves that even experienced big wave surfers take their lives into their hands to ride at all.
They share a bed without discussing it, not looking at one another as they slip in on either side. Tai goes to sleep with one hand on Ollie’s hip. Ollie twines his fingers in Tai’s.
Tai wakes too early. The light in the cabin is exquisitely pale. The sun isn’t up. Ollie’s lying on his side across the expanse of sheets. His eyes are open, gray-blue and slightly guarded as he blinks sleepily at Tai. The wind shifts in the trees. There’s no rush to do anything. Tai meets Ollie’s gaze for a long uncertain moment. It hurts to want to touch and not really know how.
Ollie stretches out a long arm and cups Tai’s cheek. He moves closer, shifting his body across the bed.
They lie still. It’s warm, even this early. “I don’t want to think, Tai,” Ollie murmurs into the quiet. “Or talk. Not right now.”
“Okay.”
Tai moves his hand to weave his fingers with Ollie’s where they lie flat on the sheets. It’s hours before they need to be at breakfast; so much time stretches out before them. However much they’ve been prickling and cutting at one another the past couple of days, this is still Ollie and, for this last week, they still have this.
Ollie lifts their joined hands and kisses Tai’s fingers. His eyes are heavy with sleep. Tai shifts closer and closes his eyes. Then he stretches out along the length of Ollie’s body and nuzzles Ollie’s shoulder, kissing up to his collarbone. He lingers, tasting salt, flattening his tongue over the bone beneath Ollie’s skin. Ollie sighs sweetly.
They kiss.
“Good morning,” Ollie says as Tai’s cock presses against his hip. “Can I?” He reaches for Tai, and Tai almost laughs aloud despite his worries, the weight of silence, the closeness of the other cabins.
“Of course,” he says. Of course.
Ollie’s eyes are compellingly lovely as he slides down Tai’s body. He keeps them open as he works a condom over Tai’s cock, then closes his eyes. He exhales as though in relief as he opens his mouth then swirls his tongue low around Tai’s balls. He takes Tai’s cock into his mouth. Tai lies back with a pleasured sigh.
Tai’s body is heavy and dreamy, but as Ollie drops his mouth all the way to Tai’s crotch and draws him deep inside, desire coils tightly in Tai’s belly. Ollie pulls off and sucks Tai down again, in long steady tugs. Tai gasps. He lets the pleasure build in his spine, moves his hips mindlessly. He comes before he expects it. The pleasure explodes low in his cock, skimming across all his nerves and bringing him alive, making him hazy and grateful.
Ollie rolls him over onto his front. “Okay?” Ollie asks.
“Yeah,” Tai breathes, settling into the new position and turning his head so his cheek presses against the mattress. Ollie lowers himself against Tai’s back. Tai closes his eyes, stretches out long and pliant under Ollie’s body as Ollie grinds against his ass. His cock slots between Tai’s cheeks and slides back and forth, deeply intimate and suggestive. Tai groans. Ollie thrusts forward, his breath coming in rough muted pants. He presses his mouth against Tai, muffling his pleasure in Tai’s skin. His hips stutter. He grunts softly over and over, then comes across Tai’s lower back with his teeth pushing focused points of pain into Tai’s shoulder. Tai lets him catch his breath, settle the shaking. Then Tai rolls over, sticky and gratified, to hold Ollie close. He’s half-hard again but drowsy with it. He longs to say something that matters, but he doesn’t know how. He moves back into sleep with Ollie warm and sated against his side.
It’s an extraordinary thing, the space not to think. Ollie finds it every time they have sex. He listens to Tai breathe beside him. Tai shifts and wraps an arm around Ollie’s waist; his knees butt against Ollie’s thighs.
When Tai makes a move to get up, Ollie pulls him back to the bed. “Stay a little longer,” he says.
“Breakfast will be over in twenty minutes,” says Tai, though he comes back willingly.
“Give me ten of them.” Ollie knows Tai won’t resist.
Half an hour later, they’re sitting on the cabin stairs munching pastries they’d grabbed at the last minute from the closing buffet.
“I know I’m not the expert,” Ollie says. “But I think we’re kind of good at—you know—the sex thing.”
“I know.” Tai pauses long enough that Ollie turns his head. He watches Tai’s lips then meets his eyes. Tai says, “What if we didn’t stop?”
“What?” Ollie manages. The world around is a blur.
Tai rushes the words. “What if we kept going when we got home? It’s not an accident that we’re good at this. We’re comfortable with one another. We’ve known each other for such a long time. We enjoy it. It doesn’t need to be a big deal, you know.”
Ollie freezes. This is a big deal. He can’t help how huge it is in his heart.
Ollie’s well aware of how differently they think and feel about sex, how easy it is for Tai and how complicated for Ollie, which is part of why this has to stop when they go home.
Tai watches with a worried frown. He says, “It’d be okay. I mean, we could keep it to ourselves.”
Ollie says the first thing that comes to mind. “First, have you met Sunny? And Jaime? The house isn’t that big. There’s no way we could keep this to ourselves.” He goes on. “But even if we could—no. No way, Tai.”
Tai’s face drops. “Okay, okay,” he says, raising his hands. He sounds defensive and hurt. But it’s easier to deal with that now rather than later, when the emotions become even huger and Tai moves onto some cute mainlander and Ollie’s a mess.
Ollie continues, “We can’t. We really can’t. Making it just while we are on tour made sense. Have you forgotten about our house? That’s our family. It’s everything we have. We can’t risk it. Jaime’ll have nowhere to live. And the girls. We all need that home.” He takes a breath. “No. We talked about this. We agreed this would end with the tour.”
“I’m not talking about risking anything, Ollie,” says Tai with heat. “I’m talking about something simple.” He turns his head away. “Fuck it, I wasn’t about to turn up at your bedroom door reciting poetry and giving you flowers and shit. I thought it’d be fun.” And that is precisely the problem. Tai thinks it would be fun.
“I know, but it’s a bad idea.” Ollie wants to cry, but it’s a gorgeous Tahiti day, he’s on his first world surf tour with his best friend, and he’s getting what he’s asking for. Crying wouldn’t make sense.
They take a boat out to the wave the next morning. There are five days until the contest, and Ollie plans to use every one of them to get his nerve up for this monster.
The weight of the wave makes him breathless. All the things Tai told him are true, but in real life it looks about a million times more hazardous than Ollie anticipated. He meets Tai’s eyes as they follow the others out of the boat and into the lineup.
“If you’re not scared, you’re stupid,” Tai says. He’s planning to sit on his board on the inside, though Ollie imagines part of him is itching to have a ride too. He has a waterproof camera to film Ollie. Ollie wants to hold his hand, just for a second, but they’re in public. He gives Tai a thumbs-up instead.
They’ve reached an unspoken truce. These are the last few days they’ll have. Ollie can’t resist reaching for Tai. So they touch in the dark of their room. They don’t talk about it. They talk about surf and boards and injuries coming off the reef. They talk about the wave Ollie has to master. They don’t talk about home, not as much. They don’t talk about leaving the tour behind.
* * *
By the time the contest begins, Ollie’s ready. Teahupo’o isn’t like most of the waves. The whole point here is to stay in the tube. It’s huge and dangerous, but Ollie’s been dealing with that since his first day on the North Shore. He holds his nerve. He makes it all the way to the finals and comes in runner-up to one of the Australians.
Part of him is euphoric with the success. The first stage of the world tour is over and Ollie’s done better than even Sunny and Jaime could have dreamed. He’s excited to go home to a place he knows deep inside. Home is safe.
But another part of him is terrified. Home might be safe, but there he and Tai have to go back to being friends. And he’s not sure he remembers how.
For the whole of the next day they’re surrounded by people. Tai shakes hands, or slaps shoulders, or yells goodbye to someone who was a stranger five weeks ago. Ollie watches from the outside. Maybe both of them are intentionally avoiding time alone.
That night, as they close the door to their room, Ollie says, tentatively, “I know we’re not on the same page.”
“But this is our last night,” says Tai. The full force of his dark gaze brings tears to Ollie’s eyes. “Come here,” Tai says. “Please. Come here, Ollie.”
He pulls Ollie to him for a kiss. Ollie goes easily into his arms; his body melts into Tai’s. Later, they move against one another in the dark, seeking the rhythm of that ancient and unthinking pleasure. There’s not much left to say.
They wake with Tai’s alarm at six and head across the island to get a plane home. On the bus, Ollie keeps his eyes resolutely away from Tai’s lips. They’ve already had their last kiss.