***I forgot I wrote this. This was . . . like close to two years ago? Grey lost her laptop and was depressed so I jotted this down. Guess there's no harm in posting it now.***

The mountain road was a challenge in the old '68 Charger, but we managed. Weekends are busy at the game shop, and if Kek isn't working he's studying, so for us to get away together for a few days is a thrill. I don't know why we decided to go camping, neither one of us ever have. Perhaps that's why – we've never done it before, and it's far away from all our games and computers.

Kek parks the car between an oak and a sycamore. Gold and ocher leaves sift to the ground after a breeze. Through the open windows I can smell a mix of pine bark and rotting leaves that's reminiscent of butterscotch. I pull the cobalt blue hoodie tighter around my chest because of the chill in the air.

"I thought we were going to kill the radiator at that one bend," Kek said.

"Yeah, it was probably a good idea to pull over and let the engine cool a bit like you did."

"Guess next time we'll take your car."

I grin at him. "Sorry, I know mine would have been a little better, but I've never been in the back seat of this one and I thought tonight would be a good night for a tour."

He nips the bottom of his lip with his teeth. Before, a sentence like that would have had his cheeks more scarlet than the autumn leaves, but it's been a month and I find myself having to earn each blush I pull from his cheeks.

We get out and stretch our legs. The tent in the trunk is new, sale sticker still announcing the clearance price. It's an instant up Coleman. Honestly, neither one of us trusted our ability to set up a regular tent. Kek pulls out his pocket knife, and with a few quick wrist-flicks, he has the box open. We set it aside for kindling later and stretch out the tent.

"This looks easy enough," I say as we pull the poles up, the tent already taking shape.

"Flatten out that corner a bit more." Kek points to his left, where the plastic still bunched together.

It takes me a moment to get it right; I have to pop the pole joints in the right spot, but once I finish, the tent stands straight without assistance. We step back and admire our home for the night. Kek nudged me in the ribs. "The zombie apocalypse is going to be a piece of cake."

We get our duffel and sleeping bags (the sleeping bags are also new). "Is that why you brought me up here? To practice surviving during the zombie apocalypse?" I ask as we toss our gear into the tent.

Kek shrugs, keeping the flow of our banter. "That and to show you the backseat of the '68."

"Before we get too confident about our survival skills, we should light a fire."

We break up to search for scrap wood. I carry an armload of sticks back to our campsight. Dust and lichen cover the wood, but it's dry and should lite well enough. I take off my hoodie and toss it in the tent because I'm already sweating despite the chill air. After a few trips we have a good pile stacked up. We brush away pine needles and leaves and make a pit for our fire. Kek using his knife to cut the cardboard into strips and we add pine needles to help get the fire going.

We try with matches, the small flames curl the pine needle black but the fire dies each time. Kek frowns as he tries to encourage little chips of wood to light. "This is retarded. I'm holding it right in the flames. Why the fuck won't it light?"

"Let's just use lighter fluid."

Kek scowled as he tries to light a chip again. The end blackens but, the flames don't catch. "No, I want to do it this way."

"Lighter fluid would be easier."

"This is more fun."

"You don't look like you're having fun." I get up. When Kek gets an idea in his head there's not much convincing him otherwise. I pull the ice chest out of the back seat – we'll need the room, after all. I search for the hot dogs. Kek growls at his work. I look up at him. "Lighter fluid."

"Don't break my concentration."

"Blow on it some more."

"I am."

"You're blowing too hard. It puts the flames out."

Kek raises an eyebrow. "Never heard you complain about me blowing too hard before."

I lick my lips at his comment. "Hurry up. I'm hungry."

He stabs the pile with a stick a few times to vent his frustration before reaching for the lighter fluid. It's still hard to get the fire to properly catch, but after a few minutes of coddling the flames we sit side by side holding sticks speared with hot dogs. We eat them with chips and drink jasmine tea.

I find the bag of marshmallows for dessert. I love watching the soft, white surface bubble and crisp to dark black as the sugar burns in the fire. I pull a burnt marshmallow from the stick tip and cram it into Kek's mouth. He winces a bit. I touch his lips. "Sorry, was it hot?"

He shakes his head no, but I know he's just acting tough. That's his way, acting tough. I lean forward and lick his bottom lip to ameliorate the burn. He's not really hurt, but I like the excuse. The light chill in the air this afternoon is now verging on cold as the sun goes down, but the fire pushes heat on our arms and faces. We clear half the bag of marshmallows before putting them away. There's a pole to hang food near a trash can with a chained lid and a small water spigot.

Kek brushes dust from his jeans before flashing me a wolfish smile. "So . . ."

"So . . .?" I ask, blinking my eyes as innocent as I can manage.

"A tour."

"Oh now? You didn't want to wait?"

Kek shrugs like he doesn't care and walks towards the car.

I follow him. I love that old car. We've basically rebuilt the top half of the motor together and what was once an angry grumble in the engine is now a authoritative roar. I love teasing Kek, telling him if he ever cheats on me that I'd disassemble the motor and take the pushrods out again (we replaced those together); I also threaten to elope with her on days he's cantankerous.

Kek gestures with his hand. "Here's the window, here's the speaker, and here's the seat. That concludes our tour."

I ignore his words. I'm already in his lap. I pull his hair as I kiss him. We kiss for a long time; my lips sore like they're sunburned. We pull off our shirts easy, but our pants are more of a challenge. I have to raise my hips as Kek shimmied out of his trousers. When it's my turn I try to just slide them off, but I can't with my legs straddling Kek, so I have to rearrange myself as I slide the cloth down my legs. I feel the gooseflesh pinch the skin on my legs tight, but the rest of me is burning because of Kek's touch.

I already have lube hiding in a cubby on the side door. I get Kek as slick as possible and slip down without preparation. We know each other's bodies now, and as long as I start slow I can manage it without the extended foreplay. My rhythm is awkward. We switch often enough but I'm not used to riding and the cushions on the plush seats sink with my body weight and don't give quit enough leverage, but it's still intoxicating. The rocking of the car, the strain our weight puts on the struts, the stars peaking out the windows, the fresh, clean smell of nature outside, the seats inside, and Kek's cologne all around me, these things add to the atmosphere and make up for my self-consciousness.

Kek's pumping me, focusing on the shaft and I feel myself give and shudder. I continue to ride him until he's jerking his hips up fast and hard and holding his breath as he pours into me. I sigh, content, and lean back. "And that concludes our tour of the backseat."

"Oh, I thought you wanted the penny tour." Kek pulls me closer so he can press his face against my chest.

I bury my face in his messy hair and kiss the top of his head. We hold each other; I start to nod in Kek's arms. He pokes my ribs. "Isn't that why we got the tent?"

"'M awake," I mutter.

"Uh-huh."

Yawning, I reach for my shirt and slip it over my head. We put our pants back on right outside the car; the ground's cold under our feet. The fire adds a rich, smoky complexity to the already delicious air. I look out and admire the trees shadowed by the failing light.

"See any zombies?"

"Not yet," I answer, "I think we'll survive the night."

"If you see any let me know and I'll protect you."

I shrug. "You're no Daryl, but I suppose you'll do."

He glares at me.

I wink. "You're cuter, does that compensate?"

He snorts and builds up the fire and then goes into the tent. I follow him. We combine the sleeping bags so we can lie together, tangled together in our own arms. Kek's combing my hair with his fingers and looking at me. The only light is the fire outside.

I tease his bottom lip with my fingertip. "I'll make pancakes in the morning."

"Ryo, I . . ."

And my world stops because I get a tickling sensation that he's finally going to say it. I lean forward, wanting to hear his words.

He exhales. "Think you're great – for, um, making pancakes."

"Pouring water into a plastic bottle and shaking the batter is a hard job, but someone's got to do it."

He sighed. "Goodnight."

I kiss him, tracing my fingers down his face and to his chest. It's been a month and I've been wondering if enough time's gone by to say it myself. Just now I thought he'd save me the trouble. Too bad he's as shy as I am. I caught myself whispering it to the mirror yesterday morning: Kek, I love you, Kek, I love you, Kek, I promise not to roll dice before I say I love you.