I thought about offering her my shirt, which was just as wet but was black and so would cover her, but then realized that to do so might make it obvious I’d been staring at her boobs. So, instead, I kept quiet and did my best to not be too blatant about stealing glances.
Except, once, I glanced over at her and simply couldn’t look away. She had her spine arched and her face tipped up to the sky, catching raindrops on her outstretched tongue. Her shirt was simply plastered to her skin, delineating the curve of her spine and the dimpling of her ribs and the perky roundness of her boobs, which bounced with the trotting gait of her horse. I was entranced, hypnotized.
And then she opened her eyes and looked right at me. My mouth may have been open, a little. She grinned at me, and then let her gaze rake down my body. My own shirt was sticking to my abs and biceps, and I supposed Luisa liked what she saw since her expression was appreciative.
The air was charged between us, then, rife with tension. Luisa brought her mount closer to mine, so we were riding close enough that our legs touched. Thunder boomed directly above our heads, cracking so loud that the air shivered and our horses both tossed their manes and whiskered, nervous, sidestepping and bobbing and shaking. The hair on my arms stood on end, prickling, a thickness in the air choking me, tangy and acidic. We were passing a stand of trees just then, a small clump of short ash trees of some kind. I heard thunder clap twice more, and saw bright flashes to my left, just out of my peripheral vision.
Henry whinnied, reared, and danced backward on his hind legs. I clung to his neck, leaning against him to keep my balance. Luisa’s horse was rearing as well, and even as I struggled to calm Henry, I couldn’t help but appreciate how skillfully she handled her frightened mount.
Time seemed to slow, then, as a blinding explosion of white light struck a tree a few feet away from us. The air itself seemed to detonate, billowing outward with hurricane force. I felt myself thrown from Henry’s back. Even as I hurtled through the air, I heard horses screaming and Luisa shrieking and hooves pounding, and then I hit the ground, painfully hard. I couldn’t breathe, and my feet were cold. I stared up at the gray-black sky, watching the rain fall, twisting and windblown, shreds of low clouds skirling, flashes of lightning bouncing from cloud to cloud, arcing down to strike the trees again. I watched a thick pinkish-white bolt hit the tallest tree, and smaller curls of electricity sizzled down the fractured and smoking trunk and danced across the ground. I still couldn’t breathe, and my chest ached, my lungs burned.
Why were my feet cold?
I glanced down at my feet and realized my boots were gone. My breath slowly returned, and I struggled to my feet, dizzy and wobbly. Henry was several yards away, shaking his head and dancing away from Luisa, who was trying to calm him enough so she could grab his dangling reins. One of my boots was stuck in the stirrup, the other was standing upright on the ground, as if I’d taken it off and left it there. My hat was several feet away, tumbling in the wind.
Luisa managed to snag Henry’s lead, and tugged him back toward me. She saw me standing up, and rushed toward me, pulling both horses with her, transferring the reins of both horses to one hand as she reached me. “Caden, estás herido?”
“Huh?” I didn’t know a lick of Spanish, and I didn’t think my brain was working on all cylinders just yet anyway.
“Herido…hurt? Are you okay?” She looked me over, saw my now-soaked white sock feet. “Your boots, where they go?”
“I think I’m okay. It didn’t hit me directly I don’t think. Close though.” I grabbed for the boot wedged in Henry’s stirrup, but couldn’t get it free. The rubber was fried to the metal of the stirrup, and I saw that Henry’s coat was singed where the stirrup had been touching. “I think the bolt hit the tree and then arced at the stirrup. It’s melted, see?”
Luisa examined the boot and stirrup, wiggled the boot, and finally got it free. “You are very lucky, I think.”
“No shit,” I agreed. “Lucky as hell. Are you okay?” I stuck the boot back onto my foot, grimacing. It had been blasted out of shape, but it was better than being essentially barefoot. The other boot was intact, and I put that on too.
Luisa nodded. “Oh yes, estoy bien.”
We were standing face to face, the thunderhead having moved on, leaving us in a torrential downpour, the kind you can only get from a freak Wyoming storm. The horses whickered, Henry nosing Luisa’s gelding. The herd had kept moving, I thought, but wasn’t sure. I’d have to find them and get them back to the north paddock, but at the moment all I could think of was Luisa, standing inches away from me. Her face was turned up to mine, and she seemed to be getting closer, closer. I felt the cold wet touch of her shirt against mine, and then softness pressing against my chest.
Every cell in my body was attuned to her in that moment. I didn’t even know her last name, but I knew what was happening. I knew I wanted it. I wanted to feel her lips against mine. I hadn’t thought of Mom or Dad since I’d seen her, and I hadn’t thought of the empty hollow ache in my heart, in my soul. I wasn’t lonely. I was Caden and she was Luisa, and that was all that mattered.
I could feel the hard nubs her nipples against my chest, and somehow my hands were on her waist and she was pressing the length of her body against mine. Her eyes were so brown, so wide. Long lashes fluttered in the rain, hair like ink curled in wet strands against her cheek and forehead and down her neck. I felt her hands on my shoulders, and her breath on my face.
“Bésame…”
“What? I don’t—I don’t speak Spanish.” I thought I might have an inkling as to what she was saying, though. “Can I kiss you?”
She just smiled and moved even closer. “Sí. This is what I said.”
Her lips were warm, a counterpoint to the cold rain. I felt like lightning was still sizzling inside me, striking me at every point of contact where her body touched mine. She arched into the kiss, pressed her mouth to mine and clawed her fingers into my shoulder blades.
The kiss lasted an eternity. Neither of us broke free first; we both pulled away at the same moment, gasping. Luisa’s eyes searched mine. “I have…been kiss before, but not like this.” She put her hand to the back of my head and pulled me to her, pulled my lower lip into her mouth, and something inside me went nova. “I wish it was not raining.”
I pulled back and gave her a quizzical look. “Why?”
“So the kiss does not have to end.” Something in her steady, hot gaze told me she meant more than merely kissing.
I felt my cheeks heating up as I realized what she meant. She seemed so quiet, so contained. As we’d talked, she always spoke calmly, evenly, never swore or used vulgar expressions. She moved with poise and grace, and this…this forwardness was unexpected.
She must have noticed my blush, because her lips quirked up in an amused and almost predatory smile. “Eres virgen?” I caught that last word, sure enough. I nodded, eyes on my feet. She touched her lips to mine once more, briefly, and then backed away and handed me Henry’s reins. “Come, we should go. This rain will not stop para muchas horas.”
The herd had scattered, and it took us more than an hour to get them bunched and back to the paddock, where Gramps was waiting, his expression equal parts concern and anger. “Where you been, Cade?”
I lifted my boot and showed him the melted sole, and the scorched bit of Henry’s fur. I’d checked him out before mounting, and he wasn’t hurt, only the fur of his coat slightly charred. “Got caught in the storm, Gramps. Nearly got struck.”
Luisa spoke up. “He was hit, Señor Monroe. He was knocked from his seat.”
Gramps narrowed his eyes. “You okay, son?”
I nodded. “Sure. Wasn’t a direct hit. Struck a tree and arced to the stirrup. Knocked me off, but I’m fine. Need new boots, though.”
Gramps’s eyes moved to Luisa, and then quickly away. Luisa glanced down and then crossed her arms over her chest. “Give the girl your shirt, Cade. She needs covering.”
I peeled
my shirt off and handed it to her, but instead of trying to put on the sopping wet shirt, she pressed it against her front, glancing at Gramps after she was covered. “Lo siento,” she mumbled.
“Que está bien.” Gramps’s Spanish accent was nearly perfect, which kind of surprised me. But then, I realized, Miguel had worked for Gramps’s since before I was born, and he usually hired friends or relatives of Miguel’s for the busiest seasons. Gramps waved at Luisa. “Vete a casa, niña.”
“Sí, señor.” She glanced at me and gave me a small smile. “Thank you for riding with me, Cade. Perhaps we can ride together again?”
“I’d like that,” I said.
“Me too. Adiós.” She wheeled her horse around and was gone.
Gramps was leaning against the railing of the paddock, his gaze thoughtful. Rain dripped from the brim of his Stetson. “So. You met Luisa, huh?”
“Yeah, guess so.” I wasn’t sure where he was going with it, so I figured it was best to stay neutral.
“Nice girl.”
“Yeah.”
“And pretty.”
“She’s beautiful, yeah.” I slid off of Henry and scratched between his eyes.
Gramps seemed to be hunting for the right words. “Ain’t up to me to say why she moved out this’a way, but…look, she’s Miguel’s niece, and he feels responsible for her. So just…be careful, all right?”
“She said she was moving up here to go to school.”
Gramps shrugged, an uncharacteristically noncommittal gesture. “More than that to it, but like I said, ain’t my story.”
“Was she in trouble or something?”
“Dinner soon,” Gramps said by way of not answering, “so best get Henry put up and some dry clothes on you.”
Midnight saw me still awake, exhausted but unable to sleep. I’d worked since five that morning, and had to be up at five again the next morning; yet sleep eluded me. I wondered what Gramps had been alluding to regarding Luisa. It sounded like he’d meant she’d been sent here for more than just school. Maybe it had something to do with how…open…she’d been about kissing me, and wanting more.
I finally drifted off, floating just above the blackness of true sleep, tilting and falling in the weightless space of not-asleep, not-awake. I dreamed of hands on my chest, skin against skin. I knew the silk-soft texture of breast in my hand, even though I’d never experienced that before. I knew the taste of lips on mine, and knew that she was mine, I was hers, and this was right. Perfect and true, everything we’d ever wanted and ever needed, the fullness of desire made flesh, and nothing existed, nothing mattered. Nothing but her.
Darkness lightened to the haze of moonlight, or a candle lit bedroom.
I saw, not dusky Latin skin and brown eyes, but porcelain flesh and jade-green eyes. Ever’s eyes. It was her body I saw too, generous curves, heavy breasts, not Luisa’s small and delicate frame. She was naked like me, flesh against flesh, and her lips met mine and I knew heaven in that dreaming kiss, bliss like nothing I’d ever felt. In the dream, there was nothing to forget, nothing to be distracted from, because she was everything.
It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like something I’d lived, love I’d known. It felt like a memory.
When the dream ended, I felt as if I was missing a piece of my soul, like the memory was all that was left of a love I’d had and lost.
interstice
Ever
* * *
Caden,
I don’t know who else to turn to. I’ve never been so mixed up in my life. It’s about Will. I know this kind of goes beyond what we usually talk about, and maybe it’s kind of weird. I don’t know. I’m just messed up in my head, in my heart. He’s…amazing. He’s this talented jazz musician, which is just cool by itself. He’s not a rockstar, although he has that same kind of presence and magnetism, but he just wants to be in a jazz band, like Miles Davis or John Coltrane. He’s been teaching me about jazz, which I never thought I’d like, but I do. It’s different and cool.
And he treats me well. He’s not like the other guys at school, you know? I know if I was dating any other guy, he’d be all over me, pressuring me to sleep with him. Most of the girls I’m friends with have already done it with their boyfriends, and I’ve heard how a lot of them felt pushed into it. Like the boys wanted it, and they felt like they had to go along with it to prove something to their boyfriends, or to themselves. Not everybody, of course. I know Irene Oliver basically seduced her boyfriend because she was ready to get rid of her V-card, as she put it. I don’t want it to be that way. And Will understands that, which is so cool.
But I know he wants it. He says he’s willing to be patient and wait for me to be ready. But what if I’m never ready? How do I know I’m ready? I mean, when we’re making out, I can’t think of anything else, and it feels like I could just do anything and it would be amazing. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel pressure from people at school to lose my virginity. But I don’t want it to just happen, you know?
Do you know?
I don’t want to wait forever. I want it. I do. And I think if I’m going to do it with anyone, Will would be perfect. But…I’m just confused. Do I wait for a sign? I mean, I don’t think I’m in love with him, you know? He and I even talked about that. But is love like it seems in the movies? Does it just hit you and make you go crazy? Do you just know, know in your soul that you’re in love?
I had a dream of you. It was…weird. Intense. We were…together. Is that weird to you? I don’t know what it means, if it means anything, but it was…it was like…god, how do I put it? It was remembering something that had already happened. Does that make sense?
How’s Wyoming? Are you a full-time cowboy now? That’s kinda hot, actually.
* * *
Always yours,
Ever
* * *
Ever,
I’m a little unsure what to say, to be honest. I don’t know the answer. I’m feeling something similar, actually. With a girl that lives on the ranch, niece of one Gramps’s best hands. She Mexican. Luisa. I don’t know a lot about her, but there’s just this…tension between us. This electricity. We’ve only kissed, once, but I know if we had the chance, it’d go farther. And I want to, but I don’t. I’m a little afraid, that it would be a mistake, or that it would change things. I mean, I know it would change things. For me, and for whatever Luisa and I would have. But like you said, I don’t think I’m in love with her. In love? I feel like that’s something you can’t miss.
I guess you just have to take things one step at a time and make the best decision you can. That’s all you ever can do, I think, in life in general.
I have to be honest. It is a little weird talking about this with you. I mean, I know we’re pen pals, and friends, and I love that. These letters are often all that get me through week to week. Even if it’s just random stuff, nothing important, they’re important to me. Gramps is great, and I love working on the ranch. But…I’m lonely. I feel disconnected, like I’m no one, like I don’t belong anywhere. Like I’m just here until something else happens. I don’t even know what I want with my future. I used to think I’d go to art school, find a career using drawing, but now? Maybe I’ll just be a cowboy forever. And your letters, they make me feel connected to something, to someone.
But hearing about you dating Will or Billy or whatever his name is, hearing about you thinking about having sex with him? It’s…kind of hard.
I had a crush on you, when we first met. I thought you were beautiful. So beautiful. It was hard to think of anything else. Then camp ended and we never got together, and now all I have of you is these letters.
Shit. I just told you I have a crush on you. HAD. Had a crush. Not sure what it is anymore. A letter-crush? A literary love? That’s stupid. Sorry. I just have this rule with myself that I never throw away what I write and I always send it, so hopefully this doesn’t weird you out too much.
Did you get my last letter? You didn’t respond to anyt
hing I wrote, so I was just wondering.
I had a dream about you too. Same kind of thing. Us, in the darkness, together. Just us. And it was like you said, a memory turned into a dream, but a memory of something that’s never happened, but in the dream it felt so real, and it was more, I don’t even know, more RIGHT than anything I’ve ever felt, in life or in dreams. I wonder what it means that we both had the same dream about each other. Maybe nothing, maybe everything. You tell me.
* * *
Cade
* * *
As I finished the last line, I realized with a bolt of horror that I’d never read Cade’s last letter. Everything with Will had pushed it straight out of my head. My brain was spinning, my heart whirling in mad, confused circles. Cade had a crush on me? Literary love? He’d dismissed the phrase as stupid, but to me, it was raw poetry. It meant something. Literary love. I’d only spent a few hours with Cade at the camp, but I knew so much about him.
I dug through my purse until I found his previous letter, ripped it open and read it. By the end, I was sobbing. He’d lost his dad too? How much could one person endure?
And then I’d sent him this selfish, rambling letter about how I was confused about having sex with my boyfriend. He must think I was such an asshole. Yet, he’d told me my letters were important to him. Were they still?
He thought I was beautiful. He thought I was beautiful?
Did Will? He hadn’t said so. He acted like he wanted me, but was that different than thinking I was beautiful.
The Nice Boxset Page 44