grin prying at him out of the darkness. What a difference it made in the expression of the eyes.
"You mean I scared you?"
"Not for long," Gaylord said quietly. "At first I thought that dog had me."
Blake laughed. "You mean you thought I was a dog?" And then he whined.
Instead of answering, Gaylord moved closer.
No one o'clock in the morning ghosts rose from the road to haunt him as they started back towards Cotton. If loving Blake was a crime for which society would never forgive him he didn't care. In Blake all the beauty, life, and loyalty, the endless dreams and young hopes had come alive. Was it so easy to dispose of someone who gave all this? Who else could save the effeminate boy or find beauty in his sensitive soul? "For whoever or whatever you love, love is beautiful." This was his legend, and no one could take this from him.
As if to reassure himself, he reached for the hand on his shoulder. Still holding it, he looked at the other on the steering wheel.
Blake broke in. "What are you thinking of, Gay?"
Gaylord opened his lips still moist with the taste of passion. "Of you," he murmured … "And how lucky I am to have you."
Blake tightened his grip. "So am I to have you."
"We're all supposed to be created equal but I think this is the first time I've ever felt like I was."
"Gay?"
"What, Bob."
"Let's take a little trip together … let's go someplace … just you and I."
"I'd love that," Gaylord sighed, already imagining them on a strange land. Riding over roads and long expanding bridges; together and without questions; to be part of each other; to be able to sleep in each other's arms each night. He sat there enthralled picturing their flight. "I'll go anywhere you want to go … anywhere."
"I think you would," Blake grinned.
"You know I would."
"Where would you like to go, Gay?"
