by Lily Jenkins
He’s looking at me as I hold him, and I want to make him feel good, the way he made me feel good. He’s not going to ask for it. I know Adam: tonight is about me. But right now I want to appreciate him, all of him. I lean down and give a tentative lick, from the base to the tip. Adam squirms and his whole face convulses, and I get a jolt of pleasure from this control that I have over him. I can make him feel good too. From the looks of it, I can make him feel overwhelmingly good. I lower back down and take him into my mouth, feeling him rub against my tongue, and start sucking. Adam makes some unintelligible sounds, basically just encouragement, and I see what it feels like to touch him like this, to put a hand on his penis to slide up and down as my mouth moves.
I look up to see his reaction after a moment. His mouth is open and his eyes look dazed, almost drunk. He gives a woozy smile at me.
“Damn,” he whispers. But when I move to return my mouth to him, he puts a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.
He pushes me toward the bed, on my back, and presses his body against mine, holding me for a moment. I feel his heart beating, his lungs filling and exhaling. Then he looks at me. And even before he says anything, I know what he’s asking with this look.
“Do you want—” he starts.
“Yes,” I say immediately.
He leans down to kiss me on the mouth, then pulls himself off to rummage in something at the side of the bed. When he is back on the bed, his fingers are fiddling with a condom. I wait while he puts it on, and then he positions himself, holding up my leg with one hand while he holds the head of his penis against me with the other. He looks at me, pressing the tip against me, and watches for my reaction as he moves his hips forward slightly. I feel him inside me. Not all the way. He’s coaxing himself into me, rocking back and forth.
“It’s okay,” he says. “You can relax. All I want to do is make you feel good.”
I realize that my whole body is tense, and I will myself to relax. He slides inside deeper, and I feel the pressure building. It feels both strange and exhilarating. I think to myself, “So this is what it’s like.” Then, when he’s all the way inside, and I’m starting to think I might not like this after all, he pulls out and presses back inside in such a way that my whole body shudders, and I understand. It’s then I understand what this is all about.
And I start to relax even more, and let my body take control. I am back in the moment, and I start to feel a multitude of sensations at once: the feeling of his hard shoulder on my ankle, the electrifying slap of his waist on the insides of my thighs, the heat coming off his body, the heat coming off mine. He leans down to kiss me, and it takes a moment for our mouths to connect as he presses himself inside me. The feeling of his tongue in my mouth makes me tense with pleasure, and I feel him throb inside me in reply. I lean my head back and gasp, putting my hands over my head to find the wall. I need to anchor myself to something stable, because all at once the sensation is making me lose control and I can’t even think anymore. We are two bodies totally in sync with each other. I am not me; he is not Adam. We are lost in each other. We are one.
Adam’s thrusts increase their tempo, and I know he’s feeling this as much as I am. I heave in a warm breath and I know I can’t last much longer. Adam seems to sense this, and his pace changes ever so slightly. He adjusts his angle instinctively and presses against me in such a way that I can’t help it: I cry out with a surprised influx of pleasure. This excites Adam even more. His pace doesn’t change, but inside me he pulses so intensely, so warmly, that I know he’s close too.
I look at his face, and it’s his expression—the hooded eyes, the almost drugged look of his pleasure, but also his attention to me, his focus on my reactions—that sends me over the edge. My orgasm crashes over me in tingling waves. Through the intensity, I feel Adam’s body clench, and I come again, the second orgasm riding the first and turning my muscles into pudding, my body going slack and rigid in turns as he thrusts into me, his moans joining my soft cries. He presses against me, holding me, his arms around me tight. He kisses me, on my mouth, my neck, then my mouth again. Our bodies are shuddering. I feel his arms pulse with the aftershocks of his own orgasm. Then he lets out a deep, contented sigh and pulls out of me.
We lie there afterward on our backs, our arms around each other, breathing heavily and staring at the blank ceiling of his room. My hair is still damp, both with rain and sweat. Our naked bodies are on top of the sheets, sprawled out and pressed next to each other. I am just starting to catch my breath when Adam turns to me.
“Erica,” he says, and there’s an urgency to his voice. He looks at me, his mouth tight. “If I do nothing else in this life, I will make you understand how incredible you are.”
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I start to turn away in embarrassment, and he reaches for my chin and makes me face him.
“I’m serious,” he says. “Just tell me what you need.”
I blink. “Haven’t you been listening?” I ask. His eyes look scared for a minute, so I smile and say, “What I need is you.”
“Yeah, but,” he says, “you’re going to need more.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “I need more already.” I lean in to kiss him. It takes him a moment to kiss back, his thoughts obviously rebelling against the moment. But then I open my mouth, and his tongue touches mine, and suddenly we’re communicating without distraction.
I don’t want to think about the end of the summer. I don’t want to think at all. I climb on top, and we kiss again with the same tragic intensity. Then we spend the night together, making love like we’re going to die tomorrow.
I wake up with Erica in my arms. There’s a moment before my eyes open that I’m not sure what’s a dream and what’s real. I can smell her: that strawberry stuff she uses to wash her hair. And then I have flashes: the motorcycle broken in the rain; Erica dripping wet at my door; our first kiss on the pier. It’s all mixed up and I start to panic. My arm tenses—and I feel her there. I open my eyes just to make sure, and a sense of relief washes over me because I didn’t imagine the whole thing.
Then, almost as immediately, I feel regret.
What the hell did I let happen? Haven’t I tortured her enough? I sit up a little to turn on the side lamp, and she moans. It breaks my heart. She is so vulnerable, so beautiful. We’re still in our cocoon in the garage, the warm lamp the only light. We’re naked, our skin touching in a way that feels incredible and familiar at the same time.
No, I can’t ignore her. I can’t stay away. I need her too much. But I have to remember the reality of the situation: I have to leave her. And before I do, I have to make sure she will survive without me.
She reaches a hand and places it on my chest, then nuzzles into my side. My sore throat protests, but I don’t move away. I notice a pale line on her shoulder where her bra covers her from the sun. I hold her tighter, never wanting to let go, and feel the soft skin along her shoulder blades. She groans a little, a groggy sound that’s adorable and sexy at the same time. Okay, maybe the sound itself isn’t sexy. Maybe it’s just that she makes the sound while she’s naked in my bed, and I have a flashback to all the other sounds she made last night while naked in my bed. I’m getting hard.
She’s waking now, and stretches out her arms.
“Good morning,” I whisper, and then kiss her temple. She smiles at my touch.
“Morning,” she says. She blinks her eyes open and looks at me, having her own little moment of realization that we’re waking up together. “Wow,” she says softly.
“I know,” I say. “It all seems unreal.”
“Good unreal?” She’s trying to make her voice nonchalant, but she’s really asking.
“Yes,” I say, and kiss her on the lips. “Fucking amazing.”
She grins. “Literally.” I smile back and press my forehead to hers, wanting to drown myself in the bliss of this moment. Right now, in this garage, on a crappy mattress on the floor, we’ve found an oasis from the pain
of the world. Our own little paradise. I never want to leave it.
Her hair is so soft. I run my fingers down the length of it, from her scalp to where a strand lies between her breasts. I feel her breath catch at my touch, and my cock pulses. I kiss her, and she puts a hand on my dick through the sheets.
Suddenly there’s a knock on the door, and we both jump like we’ve been caught with, well, a hand down our pants.
“Yo,” calls Levi from the other side. “You two awake?”
Erica scrambles to pull the sheets up to her collarbones. I don’t bother, leaving them around my waist with my chest bare. I sit up and call back, “Yeah?” It’s not in a particularly friendly tone.
“I’m making some pancakes, if you two are hungry.”
I look at Erica, and she nods. “Thanks, man,” I say. “We’ll be out in a minute.”
Levi doesn’t reply, and in a second I hear his footsteps walk away and drawers opening in the kitchen. Erica lets out a breath she’s been holding.
“I guess he knew I was here all along,” she says. Then her face reddens at the implications of this, at what Levi might have heard.
I kiss her on the forehead. “Better him than your parents.”
Her eyes widen, and her face pales a little. “I can’t even imagine,” she says. Then she bursts out laughing. I laugh too. She starts looking around the room, and her eyes land on the pile of her wet clothes by the door. “Crap,” she says. “I don’t have anything else to wear.”
A grin breaks out on my face. “I don’t mind.”
She smacks my chest lightly. “I’m serious. I didn’t exactly plan ahead.”
I wave away her concern. “No big deal. You can borrow some of mine.” I try to hold back my smile, but I can’t. “We’re the same size, right?”
When we emerge from the garage into the kitchen, Erica is a good three steps behind me, like she’s trying to hide herself from view. She’s wearing a gray t-shirt that goes halfway down her thighs and a pair of orange workout shorts that look like capris on her. The waist was obviously too big, but we tied it pretty tight with the drawstring. The shirt, though, there’s not much helping that. She’s also barefoot.
“Hey man,” Levi says, his back toward us. “Hope you’re hungry.” He’s at the stove, flipping something with a spatula. There’s a stack of pancakes on a plate next to him, and I see that he’s cleared off the kitchen table, all except for three table settings: three plates—real ones—and some silverware laid out on folded paper towels. Erica rushes to take a seat before Levi can turn around, and I take the seat next to her.
Erica looks around the kitchen, taking in the details, and I reach under the table to hold her hand. At my touch she looks down at her hand, then at me. She smiles. Then Levi flicks off the stove and carries over the pancakes, some bacon, butter, and syrup.
“Now,” he says, dropping two large pancakes onto Erica’s plate, “don’t feel obligated to finish. I realize it’s a lot of food. But I’m not good at small portions.”
Erica waits to eat, her hand under the table in mine, and watches while Levi puts three pancakes on my plate, and then another three on his own. There are still at least seven pancakes on the plate, and he sets this in the center of the table. Then he puts out three glasses, one for each of us.
“These smell so good,” Erica says. She’s smiling in a different way now, and I hope for her sake that these pancakes aren’t terrible. I know she’s too polite to do anything but clear her plate.
Levi grabs a half-gallon of milk and a carton of orange juice from the fridge and places them in the center of the crowded table. Then he sits down, pulling up his chair to the table with a loud scrape.
“All right,” he says. “Dig in.”
Erica pours orange juice while I butter my pancakes. It’s a minute before everyone gets their plate the way they like it, and then I realize Levi is waiting for Erica to take the first bite, watching her expression as she cuts into the stack of pancakes and brings the fork to her mouth.
She chews, her first bites slow, and then her eyes fly open like she’s burned herself or something. Fuck, I think. It’s probably raw. But then she chews some more, quickly now, and makes a deep moan.
“Mmmmm,” she says, and it’s a sound of pleasure mixed with surprise at that pleasure. She swallows. “Wow,” she says. “That’s actually really good.”
Levi laughs, and starts to eat his. Then I join the party and dig into my own plate.
Okay. I have to admit the pancakes are pretty damn good. They’re not raw at all. They’re light and fluffy, and soft enough that they almost seem to melt on your tongue. And he’s loaded them with stuff: big juicy blueberries and bananas, and I think granola or oatmeal or something. You don’t even need butter or syrup; you can eat them just like this. But of course I add the extra sugar and fat anyway. Force of habit.
“Damn, Levi,” I say, reaching for another helping. “And here we’ve been eating takeout and pizza?”
“You didn’t have a girl over before,” Erica kids. “Right, Levi?”
Levi laughs, his mouth full of food. “Yeah, I guess so.” His words are mumbled by the food, and watching him I begin to understand why most girls don’t like Levi. He’s a great guy, but the dude needs some lessons.
The food is so good that we’re pretty much silent as we stuff our faces for the next ten minutes. I didn’t even realize I was hungry, and now I can’t get enough. Then I remember I didn’t ever eat lunch yesterday. And with everything else that happened, it put my body through a lot. I look over at Erica and see that she’s eating pretty consistently too. She’s a girl, so she’s watching her pace and not just stuffing her face, but I get the feeling if I tried to take a bite from her plate, she’d fight me off with her fork.
I clear my plate first and lean back in my chair, very full, very satisfied. I look out at the back yard and see that the rain’s stopped. I can’t see the sky except for a narrow band between the awning of the back porch and the top of the neighbor’s roof. There’s some blue in it, so I guess the storm’s passed.
Erica follows my gaze. “Looks like it’ll be a nice day.”
“Supposed to be sunny,” Levi confirms. Then he gets this grin on his face. “You know, Adam, we don’t need you at the shop today.”
“Oh really?” I say, grinning back. I know they totally need me today. The convention’s next week. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, real slow. No appointments. I have to go in for some inventory stuff, but…” He looks at his pancakes. “It’d be a shame to waste a day off. You can even borrow my bike if you want to.”
I take back everything negative I ever thought about Levi. After today, it’ll be my goal to get him a girlfriend. I owe him for this. Erica starts to ask why I’d need Levi’s bike, but I wave her off. “Mine’s not running,” I say, not wanting to go into the whole story. She’s quickly distracted by thoughts of a daytrip.
“It’s a weekday,” she says, getting excited. “I bet the beach isn’t too crowded.”
“You wanna go?” I ask her. “What’s a good beach by here?”
“Cannon Beach is pretty nice,” she says, “but Seaside is closer. Plus I like the shops there better.”
“Seaside sounds perfect,” I say. “You need to stop off at home for some clothes?”
The joy drains from her eyes. Fuck.
“Or,” I say quickly, “we could just wash your clothes from yesterday.” I turn to Levi. “They got wet in the rain.”
Levi mouths the word, “Oh,” but thankfully he stays silent.
Erica’s smile is back. “Okay! But,” she turns to Levi, “do you mind if I use your shower first?”
Levi says he doesn’t mind, and the plan is settled.
When we’re all done eating and Levi is taking our plates—he insists we don’t help—I throw Erica’s clothes into the wash on the quickest setting. The shower isn’t big enough for two, so I jump in for a quick rinse, then show Erica how to use the s
ettings and leave her to it. I check on her clothes, watching them churn in the machine, and my mind starts working.
I come up with an idea. Erica’s not going to like it. But sometimes life isn’t about what you like, it’s about what you need.
I head back to the kitchen. Levi’s still by the sink, drying off the plates with a rag. He turns to me.
“So, uh, about that bike,” I begin.
“Yeah?”
“You think you can hook me up with a car instead?”
I take my time in the shower, partly because I need a few minutes to myself to think. Yesterday feels like a fever dream. A beautiful start to the day; the fight at the fish stand; the fight with Pete; the fight with Dad; walking through the rain; and then Adam. Adam all night. If the soap weren’t stinging the scratches on my arm, I’d think that I had imagined the whole thing. But it was real. And the question is, now what am I going to do?
I find that I don’t want to go home. I know I’ll have to eventually; all my stuff is there. But I don’t want to live there anymore. There’s no ambivalence about this in my mind. It’s settled. It’s time to leave.
But where will I go? Can I live with Adam? Will he let me? What about when he leaves at the end of the summer? He said I couldn’t follow him before, but now, things have changed, right? I feel like we can be together now.
And yet… I still know so little about him. Where he was born, what his birthday is. All the things you usually learn first about a person. Yet at the same time, I feel like I know him better than anyone else I’ve ever met. It feels natural to be with him, like we just fall into place when we’re around each other.
A fresh towel, courtesy of Levi, is folded on the closed toilet seat. I’m happy to see that the bathroom is sparkling clean, which is saying something in a house with two single guys in it. Especially two mechanics who weren’t expecting company. And I wonder, did Adam clean this? Or did Levi?
I rub my hair dry and use what deodorant and toothpaste I can find in Adam’s toiletry bag. I use my finger to brush, and while doing so, I start making a mental list of the bare necessities I need to pack from home. I want to travel light. It has to fit into a suitcase. A backpack, maybe. Something I can carry on a motorcycle.