by M. A. Grant
I need that same sense of peace now. That’s why I’m out here on the back roads off the coast, driving in the cool midnight of a Californian summer’s night. Old Blue purrs along, promising me that the open road will put my mind at ease, that I’ll find all those answers I’m looking for.
I’m graduating college. I am now an adult. I’m supposed to get a job, a boyfriend, and a cute apartment I can decorate with IKEA products. Instead, I’m feeling the same sense of weightlessness I felt back in high school. A disconnection from the world around me.
In high school, since Jake worked all the time, the person who kept me grounded was Dally. I’ve lost him though.
I crack my window and let the fresh air wash over me, wishing it would clear my mind. Everything’s so tangled. I bet the magazines would pay to get this losing-my-virginity horror story on their glossy pages. It can’t possibly get any worse—
Old Blue sputters.
‘No, no, no,’ I say, looking over her display for the first time in a while. Oil level’s fine. Engine’s fine. Gas … not fine. Empty, in fact.
That smug jack-off Murphy can kiss my ass.
The tank has been run dry. I manage to coast her to the side of the quiet road I’m on. Her tires crunch on the gravel as she comes to a slow halt. The engine dies with a sad wheeze and I pat Old Blue’s dash, hoping she’s not too angry with me for my foolishness.
Now what the hell do I do? My cell phone has reception at least, although it’s extended coverage. I try to pull up the map app, but my connection is so slow I can see my battery life being sucked away. At least I get a vague idea of where I am before I close out the app.
I try calling Maya first. Her phone goes to voicemail. Not unusual for her; she always shuts her phone off completely when she sleeps. Although I’m not eager to do it, I try Jake next. His phone also goes to voicemail.
‘Hey, Jake. Give me a call.’
I put my phone down and look around me. The moon is high overhead, so I can actually see pretty well. Not that there’s much to see. I try Jake again after a few minute of boredom.
Again, to voicemail. ‘When you get this, call me. I’m fine, but Old Blue’s having some problems.’
I settle back in my seat and snag the beach towel I left out here to cover my legs. I catnap for about twenty minutes and try my brother again.
‘Come on,’ I plead when it goes directly to voicemail again. ‘Stop being an ass.’ I hang up with a sigh and thunk my head against the seat’s headrest.
My phone beeps and I glance down. Ten percent left. Aw, squirrel nuts.
My fingers drum against the steering wheel. How far could it possibly be to walk somewhere for gas?
Too damn far, my flip-flops warn. My womanly gut—which reminds me of the high probability of being picked up by a serial killer and left littered along the California coastline were I to hitchhike—also sides with the flip-flops. Desperation is on the fence. Two and a half to none … the stay puts have it.
I’m running out of options. Think positive, Cat.
At least the moonlight is nice. This countryside could almost be considered pretty, with the coastal fog spread out over the fields and that old barn standing watch on the hill.
Too bad it looks more like a zombie movie waiting to happen. I shudder and eye the barn. The cow painted on the side is beginning to look vaguely demonic. Who would paint that on there? Is it to lull visitors into a false sense of security? Maybe it belongs to a cannibal family who keep zombies for pets, using them like hunting dogs …
Jake is unreachable. Maya is too. I’ve got one choice left. But surely there has to be another option—
I look back at my phone. Seven percent.
My hand shakes as I make the call. Dally’s phone rings and goes to voicemail.
‘Hi. I know you’re being the super cool bad boy driving away from his past right now, but I kind of ditched out on Jake and went for a drive. And somehow I’m in the countryside and Old Blue’s run out of gas. So I’m trapped out here. There’s a big barn with an ugly cow painted on it near me and my phone is dying and I’m pretty sure I may get killed by zombies or Leatherface, so if you aren’t already halfway to Arizona I’d really love—’
My phone dies. Perfect. I collapse onto the steering wheel with a muffled wail, willing myself not to cry. Surely a motorist will pass by. Old Blue’s clock tells me it’s two-thirty.
Almost an hour and zero cars later, I’ve cracked open one of my extra water bottles and am nibbling on some stale goldfish crackers I found in a Ziploc baggie in my glove box. Catherine Jacobs, survival expert.
It’s a little before four when I hear an impossible sound.
‘No way,’ I mutter.
But there, coming out of the darkness behind me, is a single headlight, moving slowly. I reach for my water bottle. Either I’m about to be saved or I’m about to become a skin suit.
The single light stops behind me and the familiar motor shuts off. ‘Cat?’ Dally calls as he pulls off his helmet.
I get out of the car, sheepish and so stupidly glad to see him.
‘Of all the things that could have gone wrong,’ he gripes, ‘it had to be you forgetting to fill up before you decided to run away from home.’
‘I wasn’t running away from home,’ I protest. ‘I just needed to clear my head.’
He shakes his head and unties a gas can from the back of his bike. ‘Move.’
I watch as he fills up my car. In the moonlight, the earlier injuries from his fight with Jake aren’t too bad. But he winces a little when he adjusts the gas can.
‘Will you be okay?’ I ask him.
‘Yeah.’ The can is finished. He screws the gas cap back on and reattaches the can to the back of his bike.
‘Where’s your bag?’
He doesn’t look at me. ‘At the shop. I was staying there until I could head out this morning.’
His calm explanation pisses me off. ‘So you’re not even going to stay for my graduation? You’re just going to leave?’
I’m not prepared when he turns and strides toward me, eyes flashing angrily. ‘Why is everything about you? I’m trying to move on with my fucking life instead of sticking around waiting for you to fall in love with me—’
He’s opening his mouth to say more, but I wrap my arms around his neck and drag him down, kissing him as hard as I can. Trying to burn away the flood of emotion that socked me in the gut with his admission. At first, nothing happens. Then he moans against my lips and wraps his arms around me, devouring me.
My ass hits Old Blue, but it doesn’t slow Dally. He tightens his arms and lifts me in a smooth motion, carrying me to the front of the car. He sets me on the hood and steps between my open legs, dragging me to the edge. I rest my feet on the fender and he grinds himself against me, pinning me in place with his hand so I feel every inch of him.
When I make a noise of need and try to pull him closer, he rips his lips away from mine. ‘You are so damn confusing,’ he growls.
His other hand slips up under my shirt, finding my breast. I gasp when he rolls my nipple between his thumb and finger.
‘You want me stay,’ he says. ‘You want me to go. You need me. Cat, did you ever think that maybe I need you?’
His hand disappears and I complain until he’s hauling my shirt up and over my head. He throws it behind me and unhooks my bra with a speed I can’t quite follow. That gets tossed on the hood next to me.
But that’s where the ferocity ends. He eases me back with a reverence I’ve never experienced. He kisses his way across my chest, teasing me with the brush of his lips. I moan when his mouth finally closes around my nipple with a warm, wet heat, sucking it to a tight peak before easing off to start the entire process over again. Each pull sends a bolt of heat through me, one that settles between my thighs, making me wet with each brush of his jeans against my shorts. He takes his time, dividing his attention evenly between them, waiting until my breathing gets shallow to draw up and make o
ut with me before dipping back below my collarbone.
‘Dally, please—’
He makes me beg before lifting me up from the hood. He snags my shirt and bra, tossing them in the front seat, and helps me crawl into the back seat. I’ve never thought it was cramped until he’s in here with me, dark eyes sweeping over me in lazy movements.
He undoes my shorts and tugs them off, only to freeze when he sees my underwear. ‘Bumblebees?’
I close my eyes and cover my face with my hands. He laughs and kisses his way down my stomach, stopping just below my navel at the top of the panties.
‘So perfect,’ he mumbles against my skin.
‘What?’ I start to rise up off the seat, but he pushes me back down, nuzzling against the cotton.
‘I’ve been folding your underwear for years, babe. This is my favourite pair.’ His fingers slide up and hook the sides, hesitating. ‘Are you sure—?’
‘Don’t you dare stop,’ I threaten.
He slides them down my legs and tosses them away. I shiver when his hands are on the inside of my thighs, spreading my legs wider. He murmurs something and kisses those stupid bruises on my hips. Then his warm breath brushes against my most sensitive flesh. His first kiss is sweet. The second, not so much. His tongue parts my folds and he gives a long, sinfully slow lick. I shudder and the hand he’s splayed over my pelvis flexes.
His focus is absolute. He works me to the point of orgasm, tongue swirling around my clit, his fingers dipping inside me. I flex around him and his groan matches mine.
‘You’re so wet.’ He presses a final, lingering kiss to my mound and lifts himself up enough to reach back and pull out his wallet. He draws out a condom and adds his wallet to our pile of cast-offs. I’m so shaky I can barely lift my head, but I want to see this. To see him.
He strips off his shirt, abs rippling with the movement as he curls over himself to fumble with his jeans. He gets them unbuttoned, but the back seat’s too small to get them off quickly. He’s forced to push them down and disentangle a leg, jamming his bare knee deep into the seat while the other hits the carpeted floor.
He’s gone commando and my mouth goes dry when his erection’s finally free of the denim. He’s potently masculine, his cock jutting from dark hair. I reach out and he moves so I can run my fingers over him as he opens the condom. A hiss of breath escapes him as I explore.
He’s not too long, but I like that he’s thicker. I slide my hand up and down his shaft, happy at his soft sounds of appreciation. The tip is smooth, ridge clearly defined, and when I trace my fingers along its crown, his hips jerk forward. He gently removes my hand and sheaths himself in the condom with a smooth motion.
He settles over me, kissing my neck. His fingers search out my clit and begin circling it, light touches that leave me squirming against his attentions, desperate for the sensation of a fullness I’ve never felt.
‘Babe, this is probably going to hurt,’ he warns.
I nod, gasping for air as his fingers bow me up off the seat. ‘I know. Now get inside.’
He laughs at that and kisses me. The faint taste of me on his mouth sends that wave of heat over me again, wetting me all over again. His tip brushes over my clit, making me whimper, then slides lower, finally settling against my opening.
His hips roll forward a tiny bit and I suck in a breath at the stretching sensation. I knew he was thick, but he’s definitely wider than I’d expected. He tenses and reaches down again, massaging me until I relax, legs falling open to make more room for his hips. Again, he pushes a little deeper and I tighten up until his focused attention eases me. His patience never wavers, even though I can see sweat standing out on his forehead, his neck cording from his efforts.
‘Point of no return,’ he whispers after what seems like hours. He looks down at me, infinitely tender, and gives me one last, deep kiss. ‘I love you, brown eyes.’
I’m not sure what brings the tears to my eyes: his words or that final thrust forward.
Then I figure it out. Definitely the thrust.
‘Oh, shiiiiit,’ I moan into his neck, clawing at his back in my misery.
‘Congratulations,’ he quips, voice tight.
‘Why did I choose an extra-frigging-large?’
‘Part of the package.’ He moves a little and I wince from the burn. ‘It gets better from here,’ he whispers. ‘Trust me. Come on, Cat, kiss me.’
I tilt my face up to his, expecting something hot and fast, but he surprises me. He’s gentle, coaxing me to return his kisses. I do, focusing on the feel of his mouth instead of the tightness between my legs. And by the time he starts moving inside me, short, slow thrusts, the pain starts to fade. He reaches between us, the pad of his thumb rubbing against that tiny bundle of nerves with every movement of his hips, and to my surprise, I’m back to that earlier state of tight anticipation.
His eyes close and his entire body shudders. ‘There you are,’ he mutters. ‘You are so tight—’
His thumb makes a slow circle and I feel the edge of the orgasm take me. ‘Dally—’
‘That’s it. Come for me, babe—’
I bury my head against the curve of his neck and shatter, clamping down around him as he coaxes every last quiver from my rubbery muscles. I’m positive it can’t feel any better when he stiffens and pushes himself into me one last time. A long, rough grunt of masculine appreciation escapes as he comes, filling the condom with strong pulses that send a faint echo of my earlier pleasure through me again. When it’s over, he swears quietly under his breath and eases himself out of me.
The burn returns when he pulls out, but it’s not as noticeable as before. I stretch, sated, and watch as he glances around the car.
‘What do you need?’
‘Where can I put this condom?’
When I make a face, he chuckles. ‘Hey, brown eyes, welcome to adult world. It isn’t always pretty like the movies say.’
‘There’s a Ziploc in the console.’
He picks up the bag and eyes it. ‘There are goldfish crackers in here.’
‘I got hungry. They were stale anyway.’
He grumbles something, but turns as much away from me as possible to clean himself up and drag his jeans back on. He notices my water bottle and wets a section of the beach towel. I’m shushed when I reach for it and he attends to my sore flesh with familiar meticulousness. Once I’m wiped clean, he bends down and presses a kiss to my newly-christened womanhood.
It doesn’t take him long to hunt down all my clothes. He helps me get dressed.
‘You okay?’ he asks as I finish shrugging into my shirt.
‘A little sore.’
His hand around the base of my neck pulls me to him for a slow kiss. ‘Sorry for that.’
‘I’m not.’
‘No?’
‘I wouldn’t have wanted it to be anyone but you.’
His fingers intertwine with mine and my eyes burn when I realise we’re saying goodbye.
‘You’ve got to get back,’ he says quietly. ‘Jake’ll be worried.’
‘Will you call me to tell me when you reach Arizona?’
‘’Course, babe.’
He gets out of Old Blue first and I follow, legs a little wobbly. He snags his shirt from my front seat and drags it on. I hand him his wallet and walk him to his bike. My hands hold his face still as I go up on tiptoe to kiss him one final time. ‘Love you, Dally.’
He doesn’t stop at my pronouncement, doesn’t reel from it. He just gives me that cheeky grin, as if I tell him that every day. ‘See you, brown eyes.’
I turn my back to him, refusing to stand awkwardly and draw this farewell out any longer than necessary. He’s doing exactly what I asked. After all the sacrifices he’s made for my family, it would be cruelly selfish to ask him to stay.
And even if he’s gone, I was able to tell him the truth before he left.
I am in love with Dallas Miller.
I think I always have been.
Day 5
— Early Morning
I fill up Old Blue once I get back to town. I decide to not go home; I’m still too raw from my interlude with Dally to go face Jake. Maya’s apartment is a safer haven. It’s early, nearly six, but she tends to rise with the sun.
My knock clearly didn’t interrupt her sleep, since I hear her walking toward the door. She must look through the peephole because she mutters, ‘Catherine?’ and the locks are undone.
‘Maya, I had to tell someone—’
I trail off when my mind fully processes what I’m seeing. Maya tugs the sheet more tightly around her.
‘Oh, I’ll come back,’ I mumble, horrified I’ve interrupted one of the rare moments she gets with her mystery man.
‘Maya? Who is it?’
I freeze at the familiar voice and fix my friend with a look. She flushes, but stands back out of my way. This isn’t happening.
‘Baby, come back to bed.’
I shall not have this shit.
‘You arrogant, hypocritical bastard!’ I rage as I slam my way into Maya’s bedroom.
Should have given him some warning first.
‘Oh, God! Don’t look!’ Jake yells, grabbing for a pillow at the same moment I whirl in horror, flinging my hands over my eyes and begging, ‘Cover it up! Cover it up!’
I scrub the heels of my hands against my closed eyelids as if it would scour the image from my memory. ‘Why are you naked? No, wait, don’t tell me. I can figure it out.’
Maya’s come back, still flushed, but not as embarrassed as I’d suspect. I think I’m in shock. ‘My brother is in your bed.’
‘Yes, he is.’
‘So when you mentioned this mystery man months ago, you meant Jake?’
‘I tried to tell you a few times. This week even.’
I flip through my memory, searching desperately. Finally, I hit on it. ‘The day we were talking about Dally not wanting to be my first—’
Jake starts to protest from the bed, but I snap my fingers at him and order, ‘You, shut up.’
I look back at Maya, shamefaced. ‘I was obsessing and you were trying to tell me and I am such a horrible friend!’
‘I love you,’ she promises. ‘And I knew I’d be able to tell you at some point.’