by Sunniva Dee
Bo comes quietly. Sinks down and holds me close. I sigh. Let my hammering heart slow and my muscles relax. “What about you?” I whisper. “You need me.”
“It’s time we both figure things out.”
I say goodbye to my past at the door of that motel room. I’m exorcised. The good, the bad. It’s all out now. The room is dark behind the love I’ll never forget. Stray strands of too-black hair tickle his cheekbones the way I might never do again.
Mauve lips hike up in a small, boyish smile. Like ages ago, he leans his head on the doorjamb and stares down at me. “Inga. Inga, Inga, Inga. Maybe, huh? Maybe we can pull this off?”
I smile back at him. Touch a pale, hard chest. Trail my fingertips down to a sparse trail of black curls meeting the towel around his waist. “Yeah, maybe we can.”
“Tell him I said ‘hi.’ Tell him he’s lucky,” he whispers, happy for me.
I laugh softly. Shake my head. “I don’t think I’ll do that. I’ve got a lot of convincing to do once I return to Deepsilver. Special messages from you won’t help me.”
A hint of that cocky grin I first fell for when I was sixteen gets me. It stirs the lump I’ve tried to swallow for a while now. Bo sees my response and grabs my chin. “No. No-no, I’m not allowing that face. You’re leaving on a happy note. I want to remember you smiling, with your future in your eyes.”
I peck his lips. That too for the last time. He puckers his, responding. Then, he steps inside, leaving the door open so I can decide when it’s time to break apart.
That time is now. So I lift my hand and wave. It’s silly. It’s childish, too little and just right. He laughs. “Silly.” He mirrors my thought.
“Bye, Bo,” I say.
“Bye, Inga baby.”
Arriane’s eyes are wide with apprehension. My sweet friend has no idea if she’ll have to pick up the pieces of me. I shut the car door behind me and turn fully so she can see that I’m fine.
“Inga,” squeals an excited little terror from the backseat.
“Lyric! My baby!” I squeal back. Arria covers her ears. “Was it nice at Grandma’s?”
“Pop.”
“No, he did not get pop,” Arriane assures me—or herself. If Grandma’s house is anything like mine, he got his way in Arria’s absence.
“So…?” She begins as the car starts moving.
“So, we’re over.”
“I thought you weren’t together.”
“No, I know, but for good.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Steers us out from the motel parking lot and onto the road. I fumble with the radio and find some hard rock station that makes Lyric dance. As we wait to get on the highway, she floats me a glance and smiles.
“It did you good, then, to see him?”
“Yeah…” I grin. “I think I’ve got it. I’m going to talk with Cameron.”
“You aaaare?” Arriane sings.
“I aaam!” I sing back.
Today isn’t my day. I feel shitty on a whole different level. At dawn I untangled from the girls, got dressed, and lifted my hand in a shaky V-sign before I went home.
“See you t’night, hot stuff,” Tara had purred, bleary-eyed too.
“Uh-huh.”
I’ve dozed ever since. It’s two p.m. Dan and I were supposed to do some recon on a future base jump location today. He left without me.
I make it to the bathroom for what’s now dry heaving. This sucks ass. Well, I can cross threesomes off my bucket list. I’m fucking sick of thinking about it.
I return to bed. A bite to eat would be the way to go, but honestly, I don’t give a shit about much right now. I’ll just brood under the covers. Yeah, brood.
I let out a dark snicker. I mean, when have I ever brooded? The problem is, last night’s attempt at getting my head off Ingela and back in the game backfired.
Someone raps on the door with light knuckles. It’s annoying. Last thing I need is for the two love-struck threesome participants to visit. Anyone else, I’d hate for them to suffer the stench of whiskey and dirty man.
“What?” I bellow from the bed, a fresh wave of nausea rocking my stomach. “Goddammit, fuck,” I mutter.
Muffled by the thick door, I still hear her. “It’s me, Inga.”
I don’t think. I unlock the door, twist around, and stride back to bed.
“Cameron?” Surprise tinges her voice. Guess she doesn’t see me hung over often. “What the hell were you up to last night? It stinks like a vomit pit in here.”
Vomit pit. I chuckle.
“What are you doing in town? Thought you’d be rubbing against Jackass still,” I ask back.
“I leave you alone for one night, and you do this?”
“Pfff, you left me a week ago,” I remind her.
“Did not. You started sleeping at your pit again.”
“What’s with the pit? This is where I live.” I’m annoyed and amused at once. It’s how it is with Ingela. You can’t be mad at the girl. “But yeah, I did. No reason to sleep at your place when you stopped putting out.”
Inga isn’t upset by my attempt at hurting her feelings. She just rolls her eyes the way Arriane tends to do with her. “Aww, poor baby. You got black balls by now?”
Black?
“You mean blue balls? No, I don’t.”
Sadly not. Tara and Beth. I want to forget that entire fucking ordeal. I’m a girl; I feel weird for even having had an orgasm with them. There was nothing intimate about what we did last night, and yet it felt too private for them to be a part of. I laugh silently because that’s so crazy.
“Hey.” She sinks to the bed next to me. Brushes a hand over my unshaven cheek. I exhale with my eyes closed; I’ve craved this touch so much. “You’re acting really strange, Cam. You’re okay, right?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” I mumble. Then, I keep mumbling, which isn’t smart. “No reason for me to be all upset or anything over you taking off on a slumber party with your fucking ex or anything—I mean, we never even dated.”
Now I sound like a girl too. No, that’s not it. I’m saying exactly what I think at the same time as it’s sarcasm—I’ve got a mixed-gender brain, producing half-female, half-male logic. Damn, this has got to leave her speechless.
“Dork. And whose fault is that?”
“Whose fault is what?” I’m back to all-male brain again, confused as shit.
“That we never even dated. You fucking lived at my house for a month, idiot. Why didn’t you ask me?”
Ask her what?
“Really, Inga—you’re throwing this back at me now?”
“Yeah, because you were the one telling me you loved me. What the hell, shouldn’t you be asking me to be the girlfriend first?” She shouts her last question at me. It makes my head want to implode, from my hangover or from lost opportunities, I’m not sure.
Then, she stops and frowns. “Meh, I don’t know which comes first, girlfriend or love. Either way, you said ‘love’ and then you said nothing after.”
I have no idea what to say. Sounds like I blew something I didn’t even know was a possibility. I just look at her. She’s so gorgeous. Her eyes are painted, which makes them bigger and even prettier. Her hair’s all done up, foxy-like. She wears a red something, shirt or little dress—oh, it’s a short dress. I like that.
Suddenly it sinks in; Ingela doesn’t look depressed. This girl hasn’t been crying over her ex. She’s not disheveled, and most of all she’s not in her bed… brooding like I am.
A small flame of something—hope—flickers beneath my sternum. I prop up on my pillows, really looking at Inga. I don’t want to hear about the Swede again, but I need to know if I’m picking up the right vibe.
“So, the concert was all right?”
“Yep,” she answers immediately. A tiny smile grows on her lips, but I can’t read what it means. “They’re moving on.”
I like the sound of that. “Good.”
“I’m moving on. We are.”
&nb
sp; I sit up on my elbows. I’m sucking her words in like juice through a skinny little straw. Hard and slow. “What do you mean? Speak now, woman.”
She giggles low, and it’s cute as hell. I grab her head above me and pull her mouth to me so I can kiss her. She lets out a disgruntled huff—at the taste of old whiskey, I’m sure. She, though, has never tasted better to me. Mint toothpaste, Coke, and bubblegum. I love her.
“He’s been exorcised… from me.”
Damn, she lost me again. “Stop speaking in tongues.”
“I have to speak with my tongue, wuss—duh. You want to be my boyfriend? I only thought of you when I was with him.”
Cute. Childish. Surreal.
I let go of her and crawl out of bed. Jerk the curtains to my stinky pad open, and push a window out so fresh spring air can waft in. Then, I turn and go to her. She’s nibbling on a cuticle, waiting for my answer.
I’m naked, still shaky from the abuse I gave myself yesterday. She squeals as I lift her up, squeeze her tight into me, and nuzzle her neck. “I have no idea how this happened, and I don’t think I want to know, but hell yeah, I’ll be your boyfriend.”
She giggles when I act like I’m dropping her then jerk her close again last second. “This means Bo needs to stay in Exville, get on with his own shit, all right? And you: no more running off and crying over that asshole.”
“No more,” she agrees. Her eyes twinkle above me, accentuating the hyper-red lipstick smile on her mouth. Damn, I’m so crazy over this girl. This is Ingela, the way I remember her. Sweet, silly, beautiful—easygoing.
“Really?” Because, really, is this happening?
Ingela’s gaze flows to my lips. Then, she nibbles on them slowly. I’m hard as a steel rod on first contact.
“Mm-hmm, really,” she murmurs. “And here I thought I had to convince you. You’re easy, you know that?” She licks my mouth again, wiggling a little in my arms. My dick’s fucking throbbing already.
“Uh-huh.” She’s told me what I needed to hear. I don’t care about anything but her lips now. A small twist of my hips, and I’m safely nestled between her thighs.
“Oh, and tell your boy down there to take a break. Because both of you are long overdue for a shower.”
She has no idea how right she is. My gut tells me to keep it that way.
Each morning, I wake up on Cameron’s chest with a light snore beneath my ear. My mind roams, searching, because something, something isn’t here. Cameron comes to life, then, sleep on his breath and in his eyes. He has a smile on his face and warmth in his embrace when he curves me in and snuggles me tight.
It takes me a moment to figure out what’s missing. When I remember, I wiggle closer. I shut my eyes, and I smile too, because the only part lacking is the dark adrenaline of heartbreak.
Over five years I was with Bo. Three years it took me to let go. But here I am, free from the man who couldn’t unleash me until I said goodbye.
As the weeks pass, my suspicious brain calms, allows me to believe in my new existence, this strange stroll in wonderland where love is pretty and never tinges dark.
Whenever we have classes at the same time, Cameron drops me off in the hobble-mobile. At Smother, our shifts are always together. We’ve both cut down on bar hours with finals approaching soon. When we’re there, though, Arriane is excited, and even Leon’s gaze brightens at some of our sweeter PDAs.
My fan-boy group, as Cameron calls them, is getting used to his possessive show whenever they flirt with me. I give Cameron crap for it, but he just stares down his nose at me and smirks. It’s impossible to offend this guy… and harder to fend him off. Not sure I’ll ever want to do the last part, though.
“Time for a trip,” Cameron announces three weeks after my Talco awakening. “We’ve got the weekend off, we’ve spent too much time studying—”
“And partying and making out,” I say.
“Yep, and—no,” he corrects himself, “never too much time making out. Too little time fucking.”
We get sidetracked easily. The banter begins over how much time one should or should not spend making love. It ends with me being tipped over on my bed—always my bed—and kissed into oblivion.
“So where are we going?” I ask afterward. Cameron has a sated grin on his face. He’s so full of himself right now. He might or might not have made me squeal. The bastard is learning my secrets. It’s hard to play it cool when he’s discovering—and playing—every string I have.
“Red Boulder Canyon. It’s a romantic trip for two and recon.”
Recon? Not sure I like recon. It sounds dangerous. I flick a glance to the bruises on his ribs. Smooth yellow is the only color left, and their width is severely reduced. We’re a week and a half from what the doctor calls “normal healing time,” but Cameron shows every sign of being done with this injury.
My superman.
“What are we reconning?”
“Just, you know… stuff.”
“Uh-huh, tell me.”
“The Cloud Bridge.”
I hike up on my arms, confused. Touch each rib of his, moving down to his stomach. He’s ticklish. Sucks in a breath at my light fingers.
“What’s the Cloud Bridge?”
Excitement shines in his eyes. “You’ll love it.”
And thus, plans solidify.
“Oh my God, this is crazy,” I scream out. True to his word, Cameron has taken me to Red Boulder Canyon. The pictures he showed me—the documentary—can’t even remotely do this place justice. It is absolutely stunning.
Cam’s got his hook-ups for everything, it seems. In this case, half-price plane tickets here and a completely free stay at an amazing hotel twenty minutes from where we’re at now, gazing out over vast red rock, cliffs, and outcrops he keeps referring to as “diving boards.”
The Cloud Bridge is insane. We’re four thousand feet above the ground and on a glass floor. I’m not afraid of heights, but I gulp oxygen like a blowfish at the sight. “Damn, Cameron, we’re in the air!”
“Yeah.” He’s got the look on his face. I only see that expression while we’re biblically together; my man’s getting a total high out of this. When he leans over, scanning the depths below, I know we’re in trouble. He shouldn’t be staring into the void the way he is. Cameron is being sucked in and contrary to normal people, he’s loving it.
“Baby?” I say with a hand on his back. “You…” I halt for a second, sensing the jitter of tense muscles under his skin.
“Hmm?” He can’t rip his eyes off the potential plunge.
“You look like you’re about to ejaculate.” I mean, he does. Not kidding. “Are you about to come? Shoot your seeds out over the edge?”
That breaks the spell and makes him laugh. “Oh shit yeah…” he enacts, dry-thrusting slowly against the transparent wall. Those semi-closed eyelids and half-puckered lips are hilarious and hot as hell at the same time. It’s like watching your boyfriend go at it without you. Which it sort of is.
People pass us, quickly glancing away. A small child stares and points at Cameron, but his dad pulls him along. Cameron is having fun. Now, he grasps on tight and speeds up.
“Oh my God—you’re such a clown,” I scream, laughing. He drops the act and turns to grab me. Nuzzles my neck and chews on my ear until I squirm to get away.
“I’m a clown for you.” By the tone, he says he loves me.
“A lunatic for me, perhaps?”
“Yeah, you—this booty—drives me crazy. Recon done. Time for the hotel”—he fake-coughs through the last word—“bed.”
During our romantic dinner for two at the Waffle House, I lean in over the table with the urge to be serious. “You understand that you’ve got to stop this monkey business of almost dying every time you do your, um, sports, right?”
“I’m not almost dying. I know what I’m doing, Inga.” Cam places a sweet kiss at the tip of my nose. “Everything I do is calculated and based on weeks of planning.”
“No, I
believe the planning part, but you’re reckless, baby.”
“Hell no. Ask Dan. My safety gear’s always up to date, I always—”
“Either way, you really are super-reckless. How else do you get hurt every time you’re out there? I never see the buds being as hacked up as you are. I’m not saying you should quit your wild-sports, but because you have a girlfriend now, you need to take it down a notch. Just don’t do the crazy gigs. This here, for instance? The Cloud Bridge? I get what’s going on in your brain, Cam. You’re up to something, and it’s not good.”
He rolls his eyes. Oh my God, I’m the mom, and he’s the teenager. I’m serious about the talk we’re having, but I have to stifle the snicker in my throat at the situation. With one eye-roll, he derails me. Dude’s got skills. I bet he was the cutest teenager ever too.
“I’m not actually doing it, Inga. I just wanted to recon in person. But damn, what a fucking rush that would be.” He’s reverent, staring off at nothing past my head as he says it. “Can you imagine? To fly four thousand feet like that? Usually, I’m down in thirty seconds.”
I frown, not liking this at all. I really am being a mom, scaring myself. Then again, with crazy people wanting to fly off shit, it’s only natural to be protective of them, right, since they’re not protecting themselves? Especially Cam. Because he’s sweet and gorgeous and tasty and mine. I bite my lip to keep from smiling at the last thought.
“What?” he murmurs, lifting my hands up between us and entwining them with his. Then, he pulls them close and breathes on my knuckles, drizzling small kisses on them. I give him the short version.
“I need to take care of you because you’re crazy and delish.”
“Ah, well good.” I don’t see his mouth behind our hands, but his eyes smile. “Don’t worry, though. About the Cloud Bridge. It’s illegal to jump from here. The last time someone did, they got fined five thousand bucks so it’s not happening. Plus, the area where I’d touch down is Indian land. Sacred grounds I wouldn’t want to disrespect.”
“Thank goodness, because you’d be a total cocksucker if you jumped.”