“I started to realize that even though I thought I had everything under control—my life, my high, my speed—I wasn’t ready for what was coming out of the next lane. And if you take away the fast cars, that’s just life. You never know what’s going to crash into you or miss you by a hair’s breadth. Even though I’m not looking for that rush anymore, I think about it all the time. That feeling doesn’t go away.”
There’s a lot of nodding going around the campfire. For a moment I think of Hutch and myself as two cars speeding on a long, dark road. What if I go one way and he goes another and we never see each other again? What if turning into each other means a head-on collision? What if this relationship is doomed no matter what we want?
Did I just call it a relationship?
“What about all of you?” Simmons asks, prodding the fire. The wood hisses and pops. Cinders and ash rise up in the cool air. “When was the last time you faced your fear?”
Jermania raises her hand and stands. She wipes the back of her jeans, then shoves her hands into her back pockets and shrugs. “Hey everyone. I’m Jermania and I’m… an alcoholic… and previously anorexic. I don’t really know the last time that I wasn’t afraid, you know? I was adopted when I was ten. Before that, I was in an orphanage in Utah.
“Anyway, I was always afraid of the dark, because I didn’t really like silence and I hated being alone. There’s something inside my head that terrifies me. I can’t really figure out what it is. Sometimes I feel like my life is just one long stretch of fear of the people around me, the words they say, the way men and women look at me. And the only way I can drown it is by drinking myself into a stupor.”
Simmons shuts his eyes. “How do you feel when you’re sober?”
“I feel weird. Like my life is an out-of-body experience. I’m just trying to get used to my body the way it is now.”
I listen to all of their words. It’s strange, but I don’t really miss alcohol. I mean, I like the idea of it now that it’s cold. But there are other ways to warm up. There’s the fire, and then there’s Hutch. I wonder if I’m just trading one vice for another.
“I had a near-death experience,” Randy says. He cracks his long, knobby fingers. “I wanted to see how many times I could jack off in a single day, and I dehydrated myself so much that I passed out.”
There’s a round of ewwwws.
“I think you’re derailing the conversation,” Simmons tells Randy.
“I’m just doing what you’ve all been saying to do this whole time. Telling you my feelings. What about Mr. TKO over here? Come on, Hutch. Counselors have to share, too. You guys are like our role models.”
Hutch stands. The fire casts his shadow to the tops of the trees. He’s the king of the woods. He’s fierce and bold, and I catch myself drooling a bit as he rests one of his legs on the log, stretching his jeans over that fine ass.
“I’ve never had a near-death experience,” he says. “But I’ve lost a few people. I never had a good relationship with my father. I thought the day he died would be just an ordinary day. No one was more surprised than I was when I heard the news and broke down. It was like part of me was gone. Well, because part of me was gone, and there was nothing I could do to get it back or make amends or figure out if I could have done something, anything, to get it back. Then I lost my mother to liver failure. I loved my mother more than anything, but I was never quite convinced that she loved me back.”
The way he says that brings a chill to my bones. What I wouldn’t give to jump right over this fire and pull Hutch into my arms and tell him that he’s not alone. That maybe I’m falling in love with him with every single moment. That there is someone here for him.
“A few months ago, I lost a friend. I was the one who found her. I think the worst part was knowing that I was a few feet away. That maybe her life could have been saved if I had checked on her sooner, if anyone had checked on her sooner. I’d say that my biggest fear is letting people down.”
“Damn,” Randy says. “I’m sorry, man.”
They go around the circle some more. Julie talks about her bulimia and use of pain medications. The thing that brought her to HCRC was her mother finding her in a pool of her own vomit after nearly overdosing.
Listening to all these close calls makes me want to retreat into my tent. But Simmons won’t allow everyone to go to sleep with such dark thoughts, so he brings out his guitar. He’s great at fingerpicking, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Jillian. Simmons and Hutch switch back and forth. Hutch is all classic rock and Van Morrison. Simmons is ‘90s alternative. We finish the night with a terribly off-key rendition of Wonderwall. I mean, we have to scare the bears away somehow.
During all of this, I feel happiness flooding my body down to my toes. I feel my eyes flutter as the campfire dies, and everyone scurries away into their tents. Hutch, Jillian, Simmons, and I linger conspiratorially. When the fire is put out and the only light is the sliver of moon in the expansive midnight sky, we split up into couples.
Before I can even fully zip up the tent, Hutch’s massive hands close around my waist. He pulls me against his chest and onto his lap. I’ve always thought of myself as pretty tall, or at least taller than most girls. Hutch is the only man that’s ever made me feel petite. I sit across his lap and relax into the easiness of being with him.
Since we’re not allowed to talk (it’s so painful not to), or use any lights at all lest we create a shadow puppet show, we sink into a different kind of intimacy. We let our hands do the talking and exploring for us. I lean back onto the bedroll, pulling him on top of me. He lines up our noses and brushes his lips across mine. It’s like being brushed across the skin with the softest feather. His hands find their way under my shirt. After stripping down, I had to put my underwear out to dry as well. It’s a little weird being in Simmons’s clothes, but it’s all part of our charade.
He squeezes my breast with one hand and brushes my hair back with the other. When he stops, I can hear the rustle of the wind in the trees and the hooting of owls. I can hear the whistles and snores of sleeping campers. If Jillian and Simmons are getting it on, I can’t hear that at all.
I lift up my head to pull Hutch back to me. I fear he’s too hung up on my almost drowning. I want to show him that I’m perfectly okay. I want to show him how much I appreciate him. Sex has always been something fun. Something to do. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been in love because I don’t think I ever truly have. I’m not exactly a romantic, but I think love is a one-shot thing. How do I know if I’m falling in love with Hutch if I’ve never felt this way for a guy before?
It feels like I’m burning from the inside out. It feels like all of my hard edges are melting and chipping away, revealing a girl I didn’t know I could be. A good, sweet girl who doesn’t party and doesn’t drink or gamble. A girl who sucks at nature things, but loves getting lost in the wild of the trees. A girl who isn’t afraid of being someone new.
Hutch and I already had sex once.
This is different. This is hunger. Reckless hunger, grasping for heat and naked skin. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I trace the lines of his face. I kiss his lashes, and he edges the waistband of my sweatpants down and his sure fingers find my wetness. He inserts them, and I press my head back as he sides his fingers deeper and deeper in. I raise my legs and kick his boxers down with my heels. His erection presses hotly between us.
I feel restless and I wriggle against him, impatient to get him inside me. He lowers his lips to mine and I can tell he’s smiling. He whispers the tiniest “Shhh.” My blood is pulsing in my throat, my ears, and my center. He’s a match, striking against me, setting both of us aflame.
I grab him by the neck and keep his lips pressed to mine. He reaches for something under the pillow. I hear the foil of a condom tear. I part my legs, press my hand on the firm muscle of his ass, and in one jab he’s inside me.
I could die from the torture of keeping the scream at bay. He doesn’t pull out, but pushes fur
ther in, reaching parts of me that have never been touched before. I wrap my legs around him and move my hips against his hard muscles.
He inhales and digs his face into my neck. I can feel the tension in his body, the scream trapped in his chest. He releases some of it by biting my shoulder. It’s incredibly unfair to ask me to be quiet during all of this.
Slowly, torturously, he pulls out halfway before thrusting back inside me. He holds my face in both his hands. Despite the chill in the air, our bodies are hot. Sweat drips from the tip of his nose, and I bend up and lick it. I see the pearly whiteness of his teeth, and press my lips to his, squeezing my thighs and rubbing our bodies together until I come all over him. My breath hitches once, and he silences me with his open mouth. He holds me tighter, harder, still, as his body shakes to a finish. My name is a whisper in the night. After he collapses, he wastes no time in pulling me against his chest.
I fall asleep with his hands threaded in my hair, a tangle of limbs and lies, not ready for the sun to rise.
Chapter 28
“I think I’m going to add camping to the list of things I never thought I could do,” I tell Jillian. We’re filling up the water bottles. I’m amazed at how pure the water is, even without the purifiers. “Did you know that in New York they tell you the tap water is fine, but that’s just because the pipe systems are so old it can’t be measured by any kind of new standard?”
“That can’t be true,” Jillian says. She looks dewy and sweet in her long ponytail. There’s definite color to her tanned cheeks. “Is it?”
“I think so. I heard it somewhere.”
She decides I must be joking. We walk around the perimeter of our island, holding onto long branches for balance along the water’s edge.
“Can I ask you,” she says, “how long have you and Hutch… you know.”
I give her my most discerning look. Jillian is quiet and sweet. She never really contributes to conversations, I think because she’s afraid to say something wrong in her Spanish accent. I bet she’s the kind of girl that likes to tell stories about boys. Even though I haven’t known her for very long, I think I can trust her. The horses certainly do, and I like animals a lot more than I like people.
“Since before HCRC.”
She gasps, and giggles a little bit. “Did he ask you to, how do you say, get committed?”
I let out a bark of laughter. “I think you mean ‘to check in.’ And no. I saw him at a bar and I just knew. I had to have him.”
“You’re very bold. I’ve worked with Simmons for a year, and only a few weeks ago worked up the courage to ask him for coffee.”
“I think it’s cute. At least your being together is just frowned upon instead of totally against the rules. I understand why it is against the rules, don’t get me wrong. I just never thought I’d fall for someone like Hutch. Sometimes I think I should put an end to it to protect him. He loves his job and he loves helping people. I’m a train wreck. I mess up everything in my path and I don’t want to hurt him.”
Whoa, where did that come from? I’ve been here too long. The fresh air is making me voluntarily honest.
“Chris is a very smart man. He’s kind, and generous with his time. He’s patient and honest. I think this is the first time he is doing this kind of thing. The other staff members like to call him Mr. Nice Guy.”
“I think this whole thing is crazy. I’ve never been in a long-term relationship. I don’t even think I can call this a relationship. What will happen at the end of November? Do I come visit him and pretend like it was never going on under Helen’s nose?” I shake my head and adjust the backpack full of water bottles.
“I like to think it will all work out. Love is not easy to find. I traveled all the way across the world to feel this way. How do you say, it is written in the sky.”
“Stars,” I tell her. “It’s written in the stars.”
• • •
That night we do a little stargazing after dinner. It was much warmer in the afternoon, so the cool night is a nice reprieve. We lie on a pebbly shore on the other side of the island. I rest my hands behind my head.
“What’s on your mind right now?” Hutch asks beside me. He’s at a safe distance, but I’ve decided that there is no distance safe enough.
“I’m thinking that I can’t believe this is the same sky I look at back home. Light pollution is terrible. For the first time in my life, I think I’m actually speechless.”
“Isn’t that something,” Jermania tells me.
I giggle and turn my head toward Hutch. He’s drumming his free hand on his chest. “What about you?”
A wicked smile spreads across his moonlit face. “Things.”
“I’m thinking we should go skinny dipping,” Randy says, sitting up.
Hutch pulls his hand away and points a finger at Randy. His bruise has changed colors like a mood ring. “Please, keep your pants on, man.”
“What? You afraid to compare?”
Another head down the line pops up. Pete. “I don’t think this is appropriate.”
The others giggle. Some people actually stand and flank Randy, who’s already lost his shirt.
“River, babycakes, you’re not the only one who gets to see the glory that is Randall Rider.”
Hutch grumbles.
“I can tell you all that water is 10,000 degrees below zero. Has frat bro life taught you nothing of shrinkage?”
That gets some booming laughs. Randy is making chicken noises in my direction.
“I hope the Flathead Lake monster eats you up!” I shout.
“Simmons! Help me out here, man!” Hutch says.
Simmons is too busy staring into Jillian’s dreamy brown eyes to care that this might get back to Helen.
“I think Simmons is off duty,” Jermania tells him. “Live a little. This is, hopefully, a one-time deal for some of us. If it makes you feel better, you can close your eyes, or go back to camp.”
She’s naked in a flash, and Hutch is turning his face away.
“Come on, River!” Randy shouts, putting on a terrible New York accent. “I triple dawg dare ya.”
“It is incredibly hard to resist that level of dare.”
Hutch tries to grab hold of my hand. I walk to the water’s edge where their shrieks pierce the midnight air. Randy’s wading into the freezing water, and the others follow him as if he’s some pied piper. Hutch stands directly behind me. It’s hard to see from the shore. Their dark heads bob in the still water, illuminated by silver moonlight. I stick my foot in the water, and shout, “Nope!”
I’m starting to turn around when I see Hutch, naked down to his toes. It’s a startling sight to see him like this in the moonlight, like something out of a Greek myth. His grin is bold, and that dark stare I love so much is on me. I feel the air get knocked out of my lungs. A thrilled scream goes up all around me.
“Come on, River Thomas,” he whispers as he walks past me. “You can float on my back.”
Then he runs and dives into the water. I look at the stragglers who won’t go, either because it’s too cold or they don’t want to be naked. When I see Julie, with her eyes wide and her jaw on the ground like she’s witnessed a miracle, I get the terrible feeling that we didn’t think this through. It’s funny, because I’ve always been the person who is down for anything.
“You in, Julie?”
She shakes her head and stares at the water.
“I think she might be in shock,” Pete says. “I’ll take her back to camp. You guys are going to need a roaring fire to get warm tonight.”
I search for Jillian and Simmons, but all I see is a pile of clothes where they used to be. I’m out of my sweats and top in a second, and then I jump into the water. This time, even though it’s darker, I’m not afraid. I’m ready for the way the cold knocks the wind out of me. I break the surface and scream.
“Holy fuck that’s cold.”
Jermania floats past me, and all I can think is that I wish my boobs were that big.
There’s a wonderful smile on her face, like this is the happiest she’s ever been. Despite the freezing cold and the fact that I’ve seen more of some campers than I wish I had, I feel that too. Someone splashes me, and suddenly I feel warmer. Either that or my whole body is frostbitten.
“Where’s that glory?” a girl whose name I’m not sure of shouts at Randy.
He swims towards her, and that’s my cue to turn away.
I see Hutch staring at me. His face is in shadow, but I know he’s searching for me. My blonde head is hard to miss, though it would be a nasty surprise if he mistook Randy’s blond head for mine. I throw my head back and allow myself to relax. Tiny fish swim around me, tickling my skin. There’s an infinite silence that comes with looking at the night sky this way. When I can’t feel my ears anymore, I get out.
“You’re on your own!” I shout at everyone.
I grab my clothes and get into them as quickly as possible. I know, without a doubt, that Hutch is a few paces behind me. He doesn’t alert them with a goodbye; he just follows me. It’s a silent language we’ve created by sneaking around in the dark. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know I need to get warm and I need to be with him.
“Hey,” he says in a low voice. Here, we can’t hear the campers around the fire, and we’re far enough away from the water that I only catch stray hollers.
I shiver, and he drops the clothes in his hands and comes to me. I pull my hoodie over my head and step out of my pants. The pit of my belly tugs as he clamps his hand between my legs, spreading warmth across my cold skin. He picks me up and presses me against a tree. There he keeps my weight up with his body, and uses his hands to brush my wet hair back.
Life on the Level: On the Verge - Book Three Page 19