Passion Rising

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Passion Rising Page 15

by JA Huss


  “OK.” After a second, she asks, “How do you feel about it?”

  “Which part?”

  “I mean are you sad? Relieved? Still hungry? What?” She kind of smiles.

  How do I feel? How do I feel? I really have no idea. I never thought I would see him again in the first place. And I suppose that if you had asked me to describe what seeing him again would look like, I would have likely described something not too far off from the way it went. The only thing I wouldn’t have described is how I reacted. Helping him into a car. Telling him not to worry.

  Being kind about it.

  Yeah, that’s maybe the only part that surprises me.

  So, I look at her with what I think is probably sort of a silly smirk and say, “I dunno. I guess – in the words of the late, great, Walter Cronkite – I just kind of feel like...” I pause to put on a pretty awful Walter Cronkite impression that kind of sounds a lot like my awful Rhett Butler impression.

  “That’s the way it is.”

  Chapter Eighteen - Maddie & Tyler

  MADDIE

  Walking into Evan and Robert’s, Tyler heads straight for the windowed doors that open out to the pool. He slides them all the way apart, walks outside where he’s being simultaneously illuminated and cast in shadow by the beautiful landscape lights that pop on when it turns dark, and starts taking off his clothes.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him.

  He doesn’t answer, just kicks off his shoes, strips off his t-shirt, pulls off his pants, and stands there, naked, staring at me. The light and steam wafting off the heated pool encircle him and make him look sort of like a ghost. Some kind of lost spirit.

  “What are you doing?” I repeat.

  And then he jumps in the water. He drops down and then pops back up again, pushing his wet hair back and floating there, still looking at me. I smile because with his bare face and his damp hair, he looks like I remember him from a time many years ago. I think it was maybe a year or so before his mom died. It was summer. Barbara was about to start undergoing intense therapy for her cancer and my parents suggested that we all go out as a group one last time before they knew we probably wouldn’t be able to anymore.

  They put it to the boys, Scotty, Evan, and Tyler, what they would want to do. All three of them agreed on a water park, so even though I don’t think any of the grownups thought that would be the most fun, they went along with it anyway.

  I also remember Jack on that day. I mean, I must’ve been about seven, so I don’t think I could have put all the pieces together, but now, looking back... I have a vague recollection of thinking that he seemed different. He had always been a fairly gregarious guy. Not quite as fun or funny as Tyler’s mom – because no one was – but still, an OK guy to be around. But that day at the water park, I recall him being sullen. Withdrawn.

  Every time I looked over at the grownups I’d see Mom and Dad, Evan’s parents, and Barbara all sitting and talking, but Jack would be off to the side with a grownup drink, just sitting by himself. I may just be making this up now – memory is a tricky thing – but I may have marched my little seven-year-old ass over to him and asked if he would want to go on a log flume or some shit. Because, I dunno, seeing people sad and alone used to really bum me out.

  And he just kind of waved me off. Ignored me. And then he wandered back over to the bar. I think I shrugged and turned around to see what the boys were doing and that’s when I spotted Tyler popping out of the water, laughing and pushing his wet hair out of his face. Looking just the way he does now. And, again, in my memory, that was the moment my tiny little heart fell in love.

  Or that could all be bullshit. Like I say... memory. But it feels real to me. Like it tells a story that makes sense. And honestly, if it feels real, then who’s to say it isn’t?

  What I know for sure is that watching Tyler now, treading water and staring at me, my heart is full. I am in love. Still and again. And the guy I love is turning out to be the most surprising and at the same time exactly expected version of the guy I wanted him to be. And I can’t believe that this is my life. Because not so very long ago, it seemed pretty goddamned impossible to imagine.

  I kick off my own shoes now, strip off my top, my jeans and my underwear, and stand there facing him. He doesn’t say anything, just continues treading water and staring at me. I walk to stand in the crossover to the outside, letting the tiny chill that’s now in the air tickle my skin and make me shiver. I walk over to the edge of the pool by where Tyler is floating and look down at him.

  He swims to where I am, props his elbows by my feet and starts stroking my calves with his fingertips. The touch of his hands and the tiny drops of water from his fingers sliding down the backs of my legs causes my shoulder blades to tense up. In a fantastic way. I shudder a little bit and he leans down and kisses the tops of my feet. Then he stretches his neck and licks at my ankle. I close my eyes and throw my head back, letting out the tiniest of groans.

  I kneel down, squatting into a sit, and plop myself on the concrete, sliding my legs forward and letting them dangle in the water. Tyler’s face is between my knees now and he stares up at me. He still hasn’t said a word since we walked in the house. He hasn’t had to. He runs his fingers up and down along my thighs as I hold his face in my hands and we look at each other.

  His expression doesn’t change, and I’m pretty sure mine doesn’t either, but we are communicating crystal-clearly. I smile a small, diminutive smile. I hope it’s not a sad smile, but I’m sure there’s probably some of that in there. Not because I’m actually sad, but because my heart aches for this good, good man who’s trying to become an even better man, and with whom I am realizing that I can finally summit that damn mountain. All I needed was to be willing to accept a little help. A climbing buddy. Not because I couldn’t do it on my own, but because what the hell would it have even mattered if I had made it to the top alone?

  Like I told him in the parking lot of Frank’s... I go where you go.

  And looking in his eyes now, I see where he wants to take us in this moment, and, yeah, it’s definitely way better than going it alone.

  TYLER

  I hadn’t planned on getting naked and jumping in the pool. I don’t know what happened exactly. I’ve kind of been on autopilot since leaving the diner. I just know that when I walked in the house I had the sudden urge to throw myself into the briny deep. And since we’re in the desert and ain’t no briny deep to be found, I figured a heated, Olympic-size, salt water pool would do the trick just fine.

  I’m sure if I were smarter or more self-aware, I’d be able to unearth the hidden psychological bullshit that would compel me to do such a thing, but I don’t really care. All I know is that I needed to feel naked and wet. And now I am.

  Looking up at Maddie staring down at me, I detect a tiny bit of sadness in her smile. I don’t bother to ask if she’s OK. I know the look. It’s the look of somebody with a huge heart who hates to see somebody they care about in pain. Which is a look I haven’t seen in a long, long time. Maybe from Evan on occasion, but this is different. Obvs.

  I don’t bother to tell her that I’m not actually in pain. It’s something else. Ironically, for a long time I was in pain, but didn’t show it. What was actually pain got masked by shit that made it look different. On my best days it was just, like, ennui or lethargy or whatever. Just a listless kind of boredom that projected to the world that I didn’t care. Most of the time, it was just me looking like an asshole. But I never let the actual pain show through. Anger’s funny that way. It’s almost never a sincere emotion. It’s usually a secondary emotion. A defense mechanism that kicks in to cover fear, or sorrow, or pain, or anxiety. In my case, all of the above.

  But now, whatever Maddie’s sensing in me isn’t any of those things. It’s whatever one feels when they’ve finished running a marathon. Backwards. On crutches. Fighting off a fucking zombie onslaught along the way. And then managed to cross the finish line but with the uneasy suspicion t
hat as soon as they turn around, someone’s gonna say, “OK! Ready for the next race?”

  But that’s life, ain’t it? There is no “there” there. And when all is said and done, isn’t that actually a good thing? How fucking boring would shit be if you had everything all figured out? I mean, hell, I dunno. As noted, I’m no philosopher. I’m just a naked dude in a pool with the sexiest, kindest, coolest woman I could ever hope to know sitting in front of me with her pussy inches from my tongue.

  Yeah. I’m not in pain at all. I’m good.

  Gesturing to her with two fingers, I signal her toward me. She wriggles herself forward until her ass is right on the curved edge of the pool before it drops into the water. Just exactly where I can put my face into her perfect softness. Pulling myself up along the wall, I slide forward and run my nose up along the crease between her legs. I nuzzle there, letting my lips and chin tickle at the tender skin. She moans out her agreement and I bring my hands up onto the inside of her thighs to spread her a little wider.

  My thumbs find their way to her folds and I separate her opening so that I can embed my nose all the way inside her, drinking in her scent deeply before I tilt my head and allow my tongue to make its way inside next.

  Her legs start kicking a little bit in the water behind me, and the soft splashing creates a rhythmic melody that lets me know what I’m doing is pleasing her. Slowly, probably unconsciously, she begins pushing her hips forward, driving herself deeper into my mouth. Which I love, but which is forcing me backwards. We’re near the deep end, so I now find myself having to tread water pretty forcefully while at the same time holding her legs just above my shoulders to keep from getting pushed underneath. This is a serious workout and I can feel it in my rib, which... I’m beginning to wonder if it’s ever going to heal.

  She is now stretched out with her arms straight back and her hands gripping the coping, and I am straining to keep us both aloft. As my tongue does a quick, skittering tap dance across her clit, she arches at the waist, and when she crashes back down, she forces me under the water. I still have hold of her thighs, so I drag her down with me, pulling her off the ledge and underneath we both go.

  The lights coming off the inside provide just enough visibility so that I can see the hilariously shocked look on her face. Her hand shoots up to her mouth in surprise and she starts laughing, little air bubbles punctuating her hiccupping glee. The smile that spreads across my face causes tiny bubbles to rise as well, and we grab each other tightly, pulling ourselves together. The kiss we share is longer and harder than it should conceivably be. But we are air, each for the other, like two living SCUBA masks. We breathe life into our shared beings.

  Finally, we unlock our embrace and float above the surface, popping out, panting, smiling, shaking our heads because we can’t believe... Well, I don’t wanna speak for her, but I can’t believe that this is my life. Because not so very long ago, it seemed pretty goddamn impossible to imagine. I don’t know what she feels, but I’d like to think it’s something similar.

  We rotate around now, and swim together the few feet back over to the edge of the pool where I prop myself up and she presses her legs against the wall on either side of me. I let my torso float up to meet her, and then she positions herself so that my cock can slide inside her. Gripping me around the waist, she pulls me up and into her over and over again, the water lapping and slapping against us as we make love.

  It feels frantic and urgent and necessary, but somehow, at the same time, something about being here in the water slows time down and draws out each moment. Or maybe it has nothing to do with the water. Maybe it’s just the way it feels when I’m with her.

  Whatever it is, we stay locked together like this for what seems like hours. Back and forth. In and out. Tiny waves rippling along around us. A tidal force generated by the motion of our lovemaking.

  We continue not to speak. Neither of us make much of a sound. We only stare into each other, holding tightly and trying not to let go.

  And we won’t. I know this. I know this is true as much as I have ever known anything. Probably more. We will hold each other forever and then some.

  We don’t have to say it. We don’t have to say a word. It simply is.

  I love her.

  She loves me.

  And we will hold each other.

  Now and always.

  We will never let go.

  “Where are you going?!” I ask, grabbing at her arm to keep her from getting out of the water.

  “I have to pee.”

  “No, don’t go. Just pee in the pool.”

  “I’m not peeing in the pool.”

  “Why? We just had sex in the pool for like two hours.”

  “The fact that you see those two things as being somehow similar concerns me.”

  “OK, fine.” I sulk, like the suddenly needy wheeze-box I have just become. “Go pee in the stupid bathroom like a decent, civilized human being. Whatever.”

  She drops back down in the water and straddles me. “What? What’s wrong? Why is baby grumpy?” she asks in what can only be called a “patronizing and yet totally fucking sexy” way.

  “I just want to keep you close,” I tell her.

  “That’s sweet.”

  “Yeah? You don’t think I’m a whiny bitch?”

  “Sure, I do. But you’re a sweet whiny bitch.”

  I roll my eyes and lift her off me. “Go pee, jackass.” She laughs and pulls herself out of the pool. I slap her on the ass as she goes. Water ricochets off her skin into the night air as my hand makes contact, and she squeals.

  Once she’s gone, out of sight, I allow my head to lean back onto the coping, and, looking up at the stars in the sky, I let out a massive, massive sigh. It’s longer and from deeper in my lungs than I think I’ve ever sighed before. Because it’s filled with years of release. A lifetime.

  I know that I cannot, in one long breath, let go of everything. I know that I can’t breathe out all the hurt, and guilt, and loss, and suffering on just one exhalation. I know that it will take hundreds, probably thousands more sighs to purge myself completely of the weight of friends lost and promises not kept. Of dreams unrealized and goals unfulfilled. I know that there will be demons still lingering in the shadows, and that there will remain mountains to climb and dragons to slay. But I’m good with that.

  Because I’m not alone. Because the only person I have ever met in my life who stands a shot of understanding is with me. I told her back on Thanksgiving, when we were having sex in the Four Seasons, that I just wanted her to understand. She said that she wanted that too. And holy shit... she does. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to, but she does.

  Looking up at the night sky, I think about how lucky I am. And I laugh. Not because I am lucky, but because I can allow myself to recognize it. To feel it. That’s something I thought was gone forever. That feeling. That appreciation. That gratitude. And yet here it is. Filling me up and making me smile.

  Ain’t that some shit?

  New Year’s Eve is tomorrow. And then a whole new book starts getting written for us. I can’t wait to see what happens. Which is fucking incredible since for so long I just dreaded to see what was gonna happen. Man...

  Nadir’s watch will be ready in a couple of days. Restored. Fixed. And when we find his family and return it, we will be able to know that with every second that it ticks off, it will mark a special, precious, bonus moment in time that Maddie and I will get to share. Moments that didn’t have to happen. Moments that all came so very close to never having the chance to be.

  I look up into the inky mystery above my head and whisper out, “Thanks.”

  We really should do something to mark the occasion, I suddenly think. Like, I dunno, maybe we should even get out of town. I know we’re gonna be going to the Middle East soon, but that’s less of a “vacation” and more of a “Tyler-and-Maddie-continue-to-put-their-lives-at-risk” kind of a getaway. So before that, maybe just something off the grid in a
sweet, not war-zoney place. Just for a second.

  It’s last-minute, but I could get us a flight to somewhere. Find some little B&B on a beach somewhere. Or maybe not a beach. We were just on a beach last week and I dunno if we’re far enough removed from that to really enjoy it. Might have Carlos and Logan flashbacks and shit.

  Blech.

  So maybe one of those treehouse hotels in the jungle. Yeah! That could be rad. Me Tarzan, you Jane and all that. Just running around in loincloths, and eating bananas, and petting monkeys and so forth. Yeah. Yeah, that could be fun. Just a total, wacky, silly change of pace from all that we’ve been dealing with. Shit, I’m gonna do it right now. Before she gets back from the bathroom. I’ll book something on my phone and surprise her. Just tell her to pack a loincloth and give no other hints about what we’re doing. That’s super-romantic. I’m fuckin’ great at this boyfriend shit. I—

  “Did you get my texts?”

  Because I’m reaching over for my discarded jeans that have my phone in the pocket, I don’t see anyone approaching from the indoor portion of the indoor/outdoor space. So that’s on me. But, in fairness, I wasn’t really expecting someone to show up so rudely, uninvited. Although, if I had to pick someone to expect it of... It would be him.

  I stop reaching for my phone now, turn to face him, and say, as casually as I can...

  “Hey, Logan.”

  MADDIE

  The toilets at Robert and Evan’s all have remote controls. It was very jarring the first time I attempted to use one. I was curious what all the little icons on the keypad did. A lot, as it turns out. One of them controls the electronic bidet wand that shoots water up your ass. And everywhere else. And once I figured out that you can control the temperature of the water that sprays up there... Well, now Evan and Robert’s bathrooms have become some of my happy places.

  And as I’m washing my hands now, I look at myself in the mirror. There’s something in my eyes I don’t necessarily recognize. But I like it. I don’t know what it is. But I like it. It might be contentment. Which is almost as good as a Japanese toilet bidet wand.

 

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