The Night We Met

by Nikole Knight

  It was better this way. The less they knew me, the easier it would be for them to forget. It wasn’t like I would be coming back here ever again. A clean break was always best.

  The temperature had dropped, and snowflakes drifted from the sky, blanketing the ground in a thin layer of cotton. Normally, Fayetteville County would already be submerged in snow this time of year, but the winter had been mild. Maybe the snow would stick, and everyone would wake to a world of white in the morning.

  “You sure you’re good to drive?” I asked as I crawled into Jethro’s car, and he nodded with a snort.

  “Why? Afraid of dying tonight?”

  It shouldn’t have been funny. To be honest, it was downright dark. Yet we both burst into laughter as the engine roared to life. Maybe it was the combination of tension and alcohol, but we laughed until we cried as Jethro maneuvered through the sleepy streets of Oak Hill.

  We left the city limits, and he turned off the main road leading back to Fayetteville onto a dirt path. Pebbles pinged against the metal frame of the car, and I watched him warily as we traversed the abandoned area.

  “Okay, I’m seriously scared now.” I crossed my arms over my chest as I searched our surroundings; there was nothing here but the old water tower in the distance. “You really are planning on murdering me, aren’t you? Is it for my organs? Is this some clever ruse to harvest and sell them?”

  With a joyous laugh, he shook his head and directed the car toward said water tower. “No, I was planning on getting you drunk so I could have my wicked way with you in my backseat.” He cast me a suggestive smirk. “And then I would kill you and harvest your organs.”

  “My abuela always said, ‘never trust a guy who hits on you during a suicide attempt.’”

  We lost our composure again, snickering like children as we arrived at the base of the tower. The chain-link fence surrounding it was old and broken in places, and the entire structure spoke of disrepair. Was this the destination?

  “We’re here,” he answered my unspoken question and shut down the car. “Better get out of the car before I put my nefarious plan into action.”

  Unbuckling my seatbelt, I opened my door and shot him a naughty grin, alcohol loosening my tongue. “Trust me, if you really wanted me in the backseat, you wouldn’t need nefarious plans.”

  I left him in the car, stunned at my forwardness, and I tripped through the tall grass as I approached the broken fence. There was a hole in the chain link—purposeful or accidental, I didn’t know—and I somehow squeezed through it without hurting myself. My sweatshirt caught and ripped, but I forgot about the damage almost as soon as it happened.

  Grass swished behind me, and the metal fence clinked as Jethro followed me toward the tall structure. A spotlight lit the base of the tower, highlighting a metal rung ladder, and after sharing a questioning look with Jethro, I started to climb. Honestly, this was a terrible decision sober, and it proved worse in my tipsy state. But up, up, up I went until I reached the platform circling the vast sphere.

  “So what, pray tell, are we doing here?” I leaned on the railing overlooking the woods, lights of Oak Hill, and further to the twinkling hint at Fayetteville in the distance.

  “You’ll see.”

  Hunkering down on the small walkway, Jethro slid his legs through the bars of the railing to dangle in the air as he pulled a bottle of Jack Daniels from his sweatshirt. Perfectly at ease, he unscrewed the cap and took a sip before offering me the liquor.

  “A bottle of Jack? You’ve been holding out on me.” I joined him in sitting, my feet swaying in the breeze as I rested my arms on a metal rail.

  “I snagged this from my parent’s house.”

  We snickered, sharing the bottle, and the more we drank, the thicker my thoughts clouded. Enjoying the easy numbness spreading through my extremities, I laid my cheek on my arm and studied the boy beside me.

  From the light of the spotlight beneath us, Jethro’s hair glowed. His profile was strong and straight, save for a marginal hitch in his nose, like it had been broken in the past. The light enhanced the thickness of his lashes and his full lower lip. Damn, he was more than attractive. He was fucking hot, though that was probably the alcohol talking.

  “It should start soon.” His voice cut through the silence of the night, and I shook away the lusty thoughts as I took another swig of whiskey.

  “What should start soon?”

  He looked at me like I was an idiot as he lit a fresh cigarette. “Um, the fireworks. Why the hell do you think I brought you out here? I wasn’t actually trying to take advantage of you in my backseat.”

  With a goofy grin, I stared at the night sky expectantly. “Pity.”

  Jethro scooted closer to me and nudged my shoulder. “Didn’t that waitress talk about your girlfriend?”

  “Ex-girlfriend,” I corrected, swallowing the bitter aftertaste left by the whiskey. Or was it the topic of conversation? “And?”

  His curiosity weighed on my shoulders, but I refused to meet his gaze. “Normally, guys with girlfriends don’t want to be taken advantage of in the backseat of other guys’ cars.”

  “Ex-girlfriend,” I repeated through clenched teeth. “And normally, guys are too hung up on their own masculinity to admit they wouldn’t mind it.”

  Our eyes locked for one long minute, but the pregnant pause shattered as a firework exploded above our heads. Utilizing the distraction, I focused on the colorful shimmers as my muddled brain chastised me for my blunt honesty. I should stop drinking.

  We watched the fireworks boom, lighting the night sky in blues, greens, and reds. They crackled and screeched, rendering me deaf to everything else. The water tower was, indeed, a great vantage point to watch the show, and as the finale crashed overhead, Jethro tossed his cigarette butt over the railing and poked my arm.

  “Happy New Year, Samuel,” he whisper-shouted in my ear, and our noses grazed as I turned to face him.

  “Happy New Year, Jethro.”

  When had he gotten so close to me? I didn’t remember. But now that he was here, I liked it. He was warm and gorgeous, and as the colors of fireworks reflected in his hazel eyes, I leaned into him. He didn’t stop me, even when I touched my lips to his.

  “New Year’s kiss,” I slurred.

  He scoffed, his breath fanning over my mouth. “If you can call that a kiss.”

  It was a challenge, pure and simple, and I arched a disbelieving eyebrow as a drunken chuckle vibrated up my throat. “You hit on me during my suicide attempt, and now you manipulate me into kissing you again to prove my abilities?”

  With a sexy smirk, he shrugged, slanting his mouth over mine with barely a centimeter separating us. “Never said I fought fair.”

  Logic told me to pull away. Rational thought instructed I leave before I made a stupid mistake. Wisdom chided my incorrigible hormones. But the alcohol said, “Go for it, bro,” and, Lord knows, liquor and lust were a dangerous combination.

  I kissed him again, harder than the first time, and he sighed into my mouth, immediately submitting. As my tongue slicked the seam of his lips, he opened, and I plundered his mouth, ravenous and greedy. How long had it been since I’d felt this bone-deep hunger? Weeks? Months?

  Yet now, my body awakened with a vengeance. I was famished, and Jethro offered the closest gratification. And he was all too willing.

  The bottle of whiskey clattered to the floor, rolling over the metal until it fell right over the edge, disappearing into the grass a hundred feet below us. But we didn’t really notice. With liquor fueling our need, we grasped at each other, lips hungry, hands desperate. I tasted the ash of his menthol cigarettes and the bite of alcohol on his tongue, and I groaned at the odd yet addicting combination.

  Crawling into my lap, Jethro shoved me against the metal dome at my back, somehow cramming his taller body into the tight space between me and the railing. The fireworks fell silent, and the air filled with heady pants and deep moans as he took control of the kiss. I briefl
y allowed him the opportunity, welcoming his slick tongue into my mouth.

  Hard as a rock, my cock strained against the confines of my jeans. There was no way he couldn’t feel it as he wiggled more securely into my lap. I gasped as he undulated in my arms, his thigh rubbing over my length. He whimpered as my hands fought their way under his hoodie, then his shirt.

  Where I was accustomed to soft skin and supple curves, my hands met solid muscle and hard planes. I explored his torso, far too eager than I should have been, and I was pleasantly surprised to discover I’d been right about his physique. Lean yet toned muscle hid beneath his clothing, and I spanned my hands over his firm back, dropping lower to cup his ass.

  “Fuck, Sam.” He shuddered as my fingers dipped below his waistband, and when he didn’t stop me, I delved further. Thankfully, his jeans were loose, and I worked my hands inside until my palms found his full, bare cheeks. “Yes, yes.”

  Fingers fumbled between our bodies as Jethro nibbled on my jaw and blazed a trail of kisses down my neck. Surrendering to the fire, I threw my head back, giving him access as he struggled to open my jeans.

  “It’s a bit snug,” he grumbled against my Adam’s apple, and I squeezed his ass with a laugh.

  “A bit.”

  When his hands left me, I growled in annoyance, and my mood soured as he yanked my hands from his jeans. “Come on.”

  His order was breathy, needy, and I obeyed, stumbling after him as he rushed to the ladder. Trapped on the drunk side of tipsy, traversing the ladder was a death wish. Good thing I was already suicidal.

  Giggling, we tripped over the uneven terrain, finagled ourselves through the hole in the chain-link fence. When we reached Jethro’s car, we reconnected our mouths enthusiastically. I pinned him to the frame of the car, rutting against him like a dog in heat, and he hooked a leg over my hip to encourage me.

  “Sam, wait, wait.” Instead of explaining his need for a break, he kissed me, and I regretfully stilled my hips, waiting for him to continue.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked as he kissed around my words.

  His responding smile, evil as sin, sent all my blood south, and he wordlessly dropped to his knees in the grass.

  “Oh, shit.”

  With an arm on the roof of the car to keep my balance, I tangled my free hand in his hair, urging him to continue, to take more of me. His talented mouth threatened to fry my brain, and I bit my bottom lip hard to distract myself from losing my shit too early. I had never been blown like this before.

  Too soon, he stopped, rose to his feet, and kissed me soundly before opening the door to his backseat. “There’s shit in the glove box,” he threw over his shoulder as he lunged onto the bench, already tugging his sweatshirt over his head.

  It took me too long to understand his words, but I eventually got with the program. Pants around my knees, I dumped half the contents of the glove box onto the floor of the passenger side before I found what Jethro wanted.

  With the condoms and bottle in hand, I hurriedly joined him in the backseat, my hands practically shaking. Too eager.

  Prepared to fight him for dominance, I hesitated at the sight of him lying on his back, jeans on the floor as he pumped his own cock. He spread his legs with an inviting smile, and I gracelessly threw myself at him. The back seat was almost as snug as the water tower, but at least we were horizontal.

  As the windows fogged and bodies twined, my brain attempted to stop the inevitable. We were too intoxicated, too broken, too hopeless. We shouldn’t, but we did. And it was heaven.

  He tasted like whiskey and desperation, and I lost myself to the heat of him, to the comfort of his arms and the pleasure of his touch. Unhindered, he welcomed me, and I took everything he offered. Torture and bliss in equal measure, we succumbed.

  As the euphoria faded, his fingers sifted lazily through my hair, and I blanketed his body with my own. Limbs tangled and fused, we lay in silence, absorbing the shared body heat as best we could as our sweat dried. My heavy eyelids drooped, and I lost the battle as they slid shut. Jethro breathed evenly beneath me, his hand stilling, and the silence settled around us.

  And for one moment, brief and fleeting, peace wrapped me in comforting arms and cradled me close. As I floated away, anchored by Jethro’s firm hold, I was happy.

  Maybe being alive wasn’t so bad, after all.

  Chapter Five

  Fall

  It was the cold that woke me. Naked flesh warmed mine as limbs tangled in knots, but the body heat wasn’t enough to chase away the chill of the early winter morning. Air puffed in front of my face with every exhale, and goosebumps pebbled my bare skin. With nothing but a zip-up sweatshirt draped haphazardly over my waist, I shivered from the icy air.

  Lifting my head slowly, I blinked through the darkness to orient myself. A subtle ache existed in my temples, and the taste of stale whiskey on the back of my tongue made me cringe. I was slightly hungover in the backseat of someone’s car. What the fuck happened?

  A deep snore vibrated against my arm, still resting across a firm chest, and I squinted through the pre-dawn shadows only to balk. Jethro’s golden hair splayed over his forehead and the seat beneath him, his toned body stretched across the backseat, nude as the day he was born. The car smelled of menthol cigarettes, Mountain Fresh soap, and sweat.

  And it all came rushing back. The kiss, the burn of alcohol, the searing touch of greedy fingers—the memories flashed before my eyes as I relived the delicious feel of Jethro writhing under me in the throes of intoxicated pleasure. The way he moved to meet every thrust, his deep moans of ecstasy… Holy shit! We’d fucked in his car.

  He slept soundly, snoring in a comforting cadence, and I forced my eyes not to linger on the expanse of naked flesh, inviting, tempting. Instead, I searched the cramped car for my clothes, cringing at the used condom tied off and forgotten on the floor. I barely remembered fumbling with the damn thing and dropping it after I’d pulled out of Jethro’s tight heat.

  Oh God, what had I done?

  It wasn’t as much the whole fucking-a-guy part, but the implications. I was supposed to be dead, and I wasn’t because of the naked man sleeping peacefully beneath me. He had promised to change my suicidal mind, but I didn’t think either of us expected it to go this far. I barely knew him, yet I’d drunkenly hooked up with him in the backseat of his piece-of-shit automobile.

  This wouldn’t be my first one-night stand, but I’d never felt this amount of shame associated with meaningless sex before. The air inside the car was suddenly stifling, and I dressed as quickly as I could without waking Jethro. I had to get out of here. This vehicle, this man—they were to blame for the pain flaring in my chest and the unwarranted desire curling through my blood.

  More than anything, I wanted to snuggle into Jethro’s chest and lose myself to his mouth, his tongue, his body. But I couldn’t. Our encounter sat heavy in my gut, like a betrayal of sorts, and my fear and confusion solidified into anger. Like an exposed nerve, the raw sensitivity he had somehow unearthed within me pulsed in agony with every beat of my heart.

  This was wrong! All of this was wrong, and I had to get out.

  With a glance at the clock, I pulled up short. 6:11 a.m. Dawn approached. Even now, the barest hint of light colored the sky, cutting through the pitch. Sunrise would paint the horizon in a little over an hour, and our time would be up. Jethro’s twelve hours would expire.

  Everything about last night had been a mistake. I should have never left the bridge or climbed into Jethro’s car, met his family or taken solace in his body. None of this should have happened, because I should have been dead!

  I couldn’t even kill myself without fucking everything up. Even in death, I was a failure.

  My eyes landed on the dashboard next to the bright green numbers reading 6:14 a.m. A dark shape lay on the dash, and it took me a moment to recognize it. The pinto. Ruthie’s gift to a dying man she barely knew. Jethro must have brought it.

  Tears stung my eyes as
I tore my gaze away and fumbled with my boxers. My toes were numb, my left leg asleep, but I managed to finagle them on. Unfortunately, my flailing jostled Jethro, and he roused with a snort.

  “What’s happening? Where…?” He groaned, his hand cradling the side of his head. Yeah, hangovers were a bitch. “Sam?”

  Guilt and defensive rage coated my throat with copper, and I shoved my feet into my cold, damp socks. “Yeah?”

  The word was clipped and icier than the winter air outside, and Jethro instinctively snagged the sweatshirt draped over his hips and tugged it to cover more of his nudity. He tried to play it off like he was cold, but the vulnerability in his sleepy eyes was impossible to misconstrue. And my wrath bubbled.

  Had he planned this? Was this what he wanted all along? It had been his idea to drink, to come here to the middle of nowhere.

  “Sam, what’s wrong?”

  What wasn’t wrong? Everything, all of this, was wrong.

  “It’s cold as fuck,” I mumbled as I shouldered the door open, flinching at the blast of freezing wind. With no room to move, I gritted my teeth against the cold and stuck my lower half outside the car as I slipped on my jeans. “We’re gonna freeze out here.”

  A hand teased my shoulder, and I jerked away from the touch. I heard more than felt him pull away. My self-loathing thickened. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I never wanted to drag anyone down with me.

  “Come back inside and shut the door.” Jethro felt around the backseat in search of his own clothing.

  I fastened my shoes, the need to escape so intense it resembled panic. So much for slipping away while he slept. Now, I’d have to face this. Too bad I was a coward.

  “You can go back to sleep, if you want. I’ll walk.”

  “Walk?”

  Fully dressed yet colder than I had been wrapped naked in Jethro’s embrace, I threw myself out of the car. A light layer of snow dusted the ground, and my frozen toes protested the chill of it as it seeped into my sneakers. Walking back to town was going to be hell, but anything was better than staying here.