Art Therapy by Tag Gregory

Author:Tag Gregory
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, LGBTQ, M/M Romance, Gay Romance, Portland
Publisher: Tag Gregory
Published: 2022-09-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13 - Jayce

It’s snowing by the time we get to Timberline. The sunshine from earlier in the afternoon is completely blocked out by the lowering clouds, making it appear later in the day than it is as we pull into the resort’s parking lot. I jump out of Ryan’s Jeep the second it stops and spin around so that the big, fat, wet snowflakes swirl around me. Ryan gets out of the car more slowly, already laughing at my antics. I can’t help it though; I love the snow. Especially this kind of snow. The kind that’s lazy and heavy, drifting down slowly from the breezeless sky, and piling up on every surface like giant upside-down snow cones. I even love the smell of fresh snow; that crackling freshness that hits the inside of your nostrils with a zing, making you wonder if it's the cold or the snow-smell that you’re sensing.

“Let’s go, you nut,” Ryan says, hooking a finger in the hood of my sweatshirt so he can tow me away towards the entrance of the lodge. “We aren’t exactly dressed for this shit. It’s the fucking middle of May; I wasn’t expecting snow.”

“My mom calls this a ‘three-season day’,” I tell him. “We kinda went backwards though - summer, then spring, then winter - all in one day.” Ryan makes a scoffing noise, although I’m pretty sure he’s not that upset. “Welcome to s-springtime in Oregon.”

“So it seems,” Ryan replies, noncommittally. “Now, where’s this famous glacier we came all this way to see?”

I wave a hand up towards the unseen peak of the mountain hidden in the clouds. “Up there somewhere. Sorry.”

Ryan is about to respond, no doubt to give me shit for dragging him all this way for nothing, when a snowboarder comes shushing down off one of the nearby snowbanks, almost colliding with us. Ryan manages to pull me back, out of the shredder’s path, at the last minute. I’m not all that upset about winding up wrapped in Ryan’s arms again, so all I do is giggle. The rider yells a muffled, ‘sorry dude’, over his shoulder as he kicks his board along towards the parking area, presumably ready to call it a day and head home.

“Shit. So, it appears you weren’t joking about the year-round skiing.”

“You doubt my tour guide creds? I’m offended,” I tease, wrapping one arm around his waist so we can continue to conserve heat as we walk together towards the lodge proper. When Ryan doesn’t say anything, I take his silence as a challenge and launch into full-on ‘Wikipedia Mode’. “Timberline Lodge was built in the 1930s as part of FDR’s Works Progress Administration drive. The builders hired hundreds of local craftsmen and they built pretty much the entire thing by hand. There were so many of them, and they did such a great job, that they built all of this,” I sweep my hand across the front of the huge, four-story tall lodge in demonstration, “in only two years.

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