Beautiful Boy

by Leddy Harper

  Realization hit me right then. It wasn’t her job to save me—it was mine. I could use her as my anchor to keep me from drifting, but in the end, I had to be the one strong enough to get me where I wanted to be. Relying on her alone only set us both up for failure.

  “Yes. I think you’re the one. If anyone can get through to me, it’s you. If anyone is capable of showing me the things I’ve become blind to, it’s you.”

  “But why?”

  “Because you’re innately virtuous. Inside, outside…you see what no one else can. You bring something out in me I’ve never experienced before. It’s like you see this goodness in me, this purpose, and without you, it’s not there.”

  Through her full inhalation, she nodded and bit her lip, contemplating what I’d said. “And what about after that? Where do you see yourself after? Where do you see me?”

  One corner of my mouth pulled up. I closed my eyes and vividly pictured my response. But when I opened my eyes, my lips fell flat. Novah’s chin quivered, dimpling in the middle as she fought to control the tears filling her bright eyes.

  “I’m going to marry you.”

  Her eyebrows arched high on her forehead as her breathing grew even harsher, her shoulders now rising and falling with her chest.

  “You better believe if I pull through this, I’m never letting you go. Ever.”

  A tear slid down her cheek, paused at her trembling chin, and then plummeted to her shirt. “Oh, yeah?” she asked, trying to sound brave. “And what if I say no? What if I don’t want to marry you?”

  I ran my finger down her face and traced her smooth jaw before tucking an errant piece of blond hair behind her ear. “You can marry whoever you want, Novah, but I’m letting you know now I have full intentions of crashing your wedding and hauling you off over my shoulder.” My grin reformed at the sight of hers while I recalled her words from earlier regarding crashing my date.

  “Isn’t that kidnapping?” she teased, her eyes shining through the residue of her tears.

  “Not if what I took already belonged to me.”

  “I belong to you?”

  I nodded and bent down until my lips grazed her ear. “You became mine fifteen years ago on my parents’ kitchen table.”

  “And when exactly did you become mine?”

  I stood up straight and pulled my shoulders back. I felt very confident in my answer. “First day of school. You walked into the cafeteria and scanned the crowd of students like you were looking for someone. You glanced briefly at me before moving along. Then you left, as if you didn’t find who or what you were looking for. The very next period, you walked into my photography class and made a beeline for the window seat. Without even knowing your name, I was gone. Yours. I just didn’t know it at the time.”

  Novah shifted uncomfortably on her feet and glanced around the room. It seemed my confession unhinged her and left her unsure of what to do or say. “Okay…so what do we do in the meantime? You know, before you get it together and carry me off caveman style and force me to marry you.”

  My smile caused my cheeks to burn, but I ignored the ache. I wasn’t ready to lose the proof of whatever happiness I had at the moment. “You look at your pictures and then celebrate your triumphant win.”

  I followed her to her kitchen table where two large manila envelopes sat, both sealed with tape. Shari must’ve written on the tape, because over the seal in black ink, it read, “Must be together to open.”

  I stood back and waited as Novah opened her envelope. She moved through each print, flipping them over and checking the backs of them all.

  “Well, she didn’t pick any of mine.” She set her photos on the tabletop, turned to face me, and reached for the other envelope, but I snatched it up before she could grab it. “C’mon, let’s see the winning picture,” she insisted, wiggling her fingers at me.

  “I’m rather certain she didn’t pick one of mine.” I tightened my hold on the packet.

  “Why not? None of my photos are marked, so you have to be the winner.”

  “Well, I didn’t exactly follow the rules.”

  Novah yanked the envelope from my hands and squinted her eyes at me. I couldn’t do anything other than watch and anxiously wait for her reaction.

  She turned around, her back to me, and ripped the seal open. Complete silence filled the room as she slid the photos out and flipped through every one of them, studying each image.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered and met my gaze over her shoulder. “You were supposed to take pictures of Shari…not me.”

  I shrugged, acting like it was no big deal, but then I said, “You’re the only woman I see, Novah. When you’re around, everyone else simply disappears.”

  Her jaw hung slack, her eyes roaming my face as if searching for the punch line to a joke.

  But I’d meant every word.

  And it showed in the images I’d captured. Novah’s smile, her eyes, her lips, the way the sun brightened her hair and made it shine like a halo around her head. The curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts. And if Shari had developed it, there should be one of the crease in the backs of Novah’s thighs where her ass met her legs. Yeah, she’d bent over for something and I’d captured the beautiful shot in the crosshairs.

  “Just me?” Her whispered voice shook, matching the quiver in her bottom lip.

  “Only you.” I moved to her, grabbed her fingers, and laced them with mine. “Stop thinking you don’t mean as much to me as I do to you. If anything…you mean more to me.” So much more. “I took these pictures before you wrote that text or showed it to me. And it’s all the proof you need to know I’m telling the truth. It’s always been you, Novah. Always. You. Only you.”

  Her gaze fell away, but I quickly brought our entwined fingers to her chin and lifted it, forcing her to lock eyes once more with mine.

  “And it’ll always be only you.”

  Fourteen

  My dad had always said I was an impulsive creature, never thinking about anything other than what stood right in front of me. His point had been proven time and time again, none more, though, than the time I’d taken Novah’s pictures in my kitchen. Apparently, I never learned. And throughout my life since then, I continued to make impulsive decisions, including—but not limited to—the times I’d tried to take my own life.

  Standing in front of Novah after showing her firsthand how my world stopped for her, and only her, proved once more how I couldn’t prevent myself from doing the things I truly wanted to do. Such as fist my hand in Novah’s thick, blond hair and pull her mouth to mine. Such as gripping her hip harshly while pressing my erection against her lower stomach until she released a hearty moan. After the heavy conversation we’d had earlier regarding my inability to find true happiness in life, pouncing on her like this should’ve been wrong.

  But it wasn’t.

  At least, not to me.

  And as her dainty fingers twisted in my shirt, her small hips rolling against mine, I knew it wasn’t wrong for her, either. She wanted this as much as I did, and nothing could stop us now.

  Our heavy breaths mingled together as I pushed her against the table. Her spine arched until it left her neck exposed for my mouth to explore. I licked my way down from her ear to the soft dip in her throat, and then continued to the beginning crevice of her cleavage. Her tank top was in my way, and without warning, I backed up a step to remove it. I needed it to be gone.

  She briefly released her grip on my shirt long enough to lift her arms so I could pull her top over her head. The moment she stood in front of me in nothing but her bra and those short, frayed cut-offs, my dick grew impossibly harder behind the fly of my pants, taking every ounce of blood in my body with it.

  Her fingers gripped the bottom of my shirt, prepared to strip me of it as well, but I didn’t give her the opportunity to do so. With a tight grasp on her hips, I spun her around, and then, while holding her in place, I began to grind my erection against her jean-covered ass. It was
n’t sweet or slow, but impulsive and needy. I needed her, and the reasons were endless.

  Because with her, I felt no pain.

  Because with her, I wasn’t in the dark.

  Because with her, I wasn’t…me. I wasn’t empty and alone. I wasn’t worthless or insignificant. I wasn’t dying. She filled me with something. Light, love, happiness…I couldn’t identify it. She gave me purpose, even for a brief moment of time. She made me feel…alive.

  Because with her…I was somebody.

  And I needed that—more than my next breath, more than a drop of water in a drought, more than an ounce of sunshine on a dreary day.

  I fell into her and pressed my chest firmly against her back. She slumped forward and held us up with splayed fingers on the wood table. My hand moved to the front of her shorts, and after grabbing her roughly between her legs, I quickly unfastened the button and lowered the zipper. An eager rush of air left her as soon as I slipped my hand inside her shorts, beneath her underwear, and the tips of my fingers found her hardened clit.

  My teeth came down on her shoulder, gently digging into her soft skin while my other hand unclasped her bra. I ran my fingers down her spine. I heard her gasp for air and her back arched against my touch.

  I needed to be inside her, to feel what she’d given me the weekend before. To have her screaming my name. But when I pulled away enough to free myself from the constricting confines of my pants, she turned around and placed her palms against my chest, as if to hold me back.

  She stood inches away from me, her body heaving wildly with her uncontrollable breathing, and I froze. I took her in…all of her. Her untamed hair, the glowing burn in her cheeks, her dry, parted lips. Her bra had completely fallen away, and she remained in nothing but a pair of shorts with the front opened wide, her pink underwear showing through.

  Everything about her screamed “fuck me now!” but her eyes said something different. I would’ve missed it had I not been staring right into them, but they whispered for me to wait. They softly begged me to slow down. And I had to listen to them. Shari had warned me of Novah’s struggles, and studying her in front of me made it clear. Her eyes really did tell me everything I needed to know.

  Her tongue ran along her bottom lip, wetting it before pulling it into her mouth and holding it there with her teeth. I stood frozen, unmoving as I waited for her to do something…say something. Finally, she moved her hands—lower, lower, lower until she held the bottom of my shirt. And then she slowly lifted it, pulling the fabric up until it was gone. She left me exposed, with nothing to hide the impurities of my body from her.

  Her attention fell to my chest, and then her fingers grazed the numb area on my left side. She placed a kiss over an area of scar tissue, even though I couldn’t feel it. Then her eyes locked with mine, shining bright and glistening with an emotion I couldn’t depict.

  “I want to see you, Nolan.” Her fingers made their way to the button on my pants and worked diligently at unfastening them. She never took her gaze from my face. “I want to watch you.” Her tiny hand felt cold around my shaft after making its way past my boxers. It caused me to jump slightly at the unexpected sensation. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

  Still unable to move, I waited breathlessly while she lowered her shorts and underwear, and then she kicked them off and stood in front of me completely naked. I reached into my back pocket and retrieved a condom from my wallet before dropping my pants and boxers around my ankles.

  Novah took the condom from me and perched herself on the edge of the table. She watched carefully as I stroked myself from base to tip. She then proceeded to rip open the foil packet with her teeth and took me into her hand, sheathing my hard-on with the rubber. The way she carefully and slowly rolled it on, her eyes on mine the entire time, threatened to make me blow long before ever getting inside her.

  I moved between her legs and dropped my hand to the warmth between her thighs, rubbing energetic circles around her clit with my thumb. I wanted to watch her explode like last time, but she stopped me. She grabbed my wrist, pulled my hand away, and then she did something so unexpected, I couldn’t do anything but watch and allow it to happen. She took my shaft in her hand and used the sensitive tip to rub circles over her clit.

  Her head fell back and her mouth opened. Whimpered gasps escaped her and caused my dick to throb painfully. Before I could do anything else, her legs wrapped around my waist at the same time she slid the head of my dick from her clit to her entrance. Her thighs tightened around me, forcing me to move closer at the same time her hips rolled into me. I slipped inside easily, but the heat of her left me frozen the moment I fully filled her.

  “Nolan…” she rasped as she clenched around me—every part of me. Her arms tightened around my neck, her legs locked rigidly around my body, and her core gripped me as if she worried I’d pull out and disappear. She began to move against me with me caution, but then she stopped when I impulsively spoke.

  “I love you.” Those words were meant to stay in my head, locked away until I could tell her and leave no doubt in her mind I’d meant them.

  But that didn’t happen.

  They were quiet and filled with grit as they scratched and clawed their way out. They vibrated through my chest, leaving me shaky and unsteady. I wanted to swallow them whole and go back in time.

  I wanted to…not be so vulnerable.

  After she didn’t respond, I held her tighter, closer to me. I couldn’t chance seeing her face, seeing the unspoken words in her eyes. Her silence said it all, and it left a gaping wound in my chest—she didn’t feel the same.

  Her hold on me loosened, and she managed to pull her face away from my shoulder, despite my insistence to keep it there. Her eyes were shut tightly, and she cradled my cheeks in her warm, soft hands with her mouth hovered over mine. Her slow and careful breaths billowed across my lips as she took her time, holding her face so close to mine, yet not finalizing the act.

  Insecure, damaging thoughts left me immobile; however, the sensual way she held me, breathed me in, gave light to the darkness in my mind. It allowed me to release the strain in my muscles caused by fear.

  The second my shoulders fell slack, her tongue met mine, and I couldn’t hold on any longer. I began to move inside her. Slow at first, and then faster.

  Faster still.

  Harder until her nails dug into the back of my neck and wiped my mind free of doubt.

  No words. Only panicked breathing, frantic moans, quiet whimpers, and unrestrained grunts could be heard as we moved together, our hips working as one with the fluency of two people who had many years of practice with each other. Our bodies melded together, each seeming to find their missing piece. Our hearts raced, telling a story through each beat, each pump of blood that ran through us.

  A story I never wanted to end.

  Suddenly, Novah’s muscles locked up around me. I could’ve been deaf and blind and still would’ve known what it meant. I felt it in the way she clung to me, the way her insides constricted, tightened, gripped me.

  All of me.

  It was in the way her rigid body convulsed, the short, hot bursts of air against my skin. I didn’t need to hear her muffled cries, her throaty gasps, or see the deep creases in her forehead to know she’d found her pleasure. Just feeling it was enough to get me off.

  But it didn’t.

  It didn’t because even through my hazy mind and the fog of sex, I realized something. For a week since the night in my home office when I’d taken her against my desk, I’d stroked myself to the memory of her getting off while I fucked her. I’d replayed the way her muscles relaxed, the way her head fell back on my shoulder, and the airy breaths she took as she clamped around my thrusting dick. Nothing about this orgasm was even close to the other, and it left me with one nagging and deflating thought: she’d faked one of them.

  And that realization hurt.

  It hurt worse than being blown up.

  Worse than dying.

 
; Rejection held a far worse pain.

  My movements slowed, letting her ride out her pleasure, and then I stilled completely. Her eyelids finally lifted. She stared lazily at me, a contented grin forming on her dry lips.

  I wanted to say something, but her expression left me inept to do so. Words evaded me, thoughts suffocated me, and fear choked me. Fear caused by her lack of response to my confession of love. Confused and twisted thoughts over why she would fake it with me. I couldn’t handle it all, so I kissed her forehead and dropped my face to hide it in the crook of her neck.

  Her fingertips lightly stroked my lower back, yet it did nothing to calm the storm inside me. Panic rang in my ears and drowned out her whispered words, but I played them back to myself until I heard them.

  “Oh my God, that was incredible.”

  I wanted to believe her, to believe what she said, but I couldn’t. All I could think about was the difference between this time and the last.

  And it made me question everything.

  My eyes remained closed as I pulled out and took a small step back. Everything suddenly became cold…the air, my skin, the center of my chest.

  “Are you okay?”

  I had to turn around. I didn’t want her to see me like this.

  Broken.

  Shredded.

  Destroyed by her.

  I knew it wasn’t her fault, but I couldn’t stop my mind from blaming her. I couldn’t stop tormenting myself with the facts: she didn’t love me; she’d faked it.

  Her voice dropped to a whisper when she said, “Did you…” The sentence hung in the air and I slowly turned back to her. Her gaze fell down my body to my empty rubber. “Why didn’t you…?”

  “I guess I lost the moment.” I shook my head and tried to back away more, but this time, she slid off the table and took the step with me.

  “Was it me? Did I do something wrong?” she asked with a quivering voice, full of the trepidation I could plainly see in her eyes.

  I guess rejection hurt us both.