Move the Stars_Something in the Way

by Jessica Hawkins

  “Ten years?” I asked. “You think that far ahead?”

  “Ten, twenty, fifty. I don’t know if I can live in a city my whole life, but maybe we move upstate so you can stay close enough to perform.”

  I blinked in disbelief. “You’d stay here on the east coast?”

  “We can travel some of the time. I’ve always wanted to check out European architecture.” He held out his cigarette, drawing an invisible picture in the darkness. “Gaudí has this extravagant temple in Barcelona that would make you smile. It looks almost cartoonish. Then I’ll take my little actress to a show at Shakespeare’s Globe in London.” Dropping his hand, he squeezed my thigh over the blanket. “Then of course we’ll have to see the ocean. Maybe South of France or the Amalfi Coast. But no topless beaches. Or those little bikinis they wear. I want you all to myself.”

  I cozied up to him, basking in the glow of our bright future. “I can just pack a muumuu.”

  He nuzzled my ear. “Or I can find ways to keep you in the room the whole trip.”

  I lifted my chin to give him better access to my neck. We were good at hiding away from the world—and from those who cared about us. I realized when Manning left California, he’d be saying goodbye to more than Tiffany. “Will you miss Henry when you move?” I asked.

  “Nah. I don’t see him a ton as it is. He and I could talk on the phone once a year and it’d work for us.”

  “What’d you say to him at the wedding?”

  “Henry?” Manning sucked on his cigarette. “When?”

  “Before the ceremony. I was watching from behind the arches. Henry looked at me from the altar like he knew … everything.”

  “Huh.” Manning shook his head slowly. “I didn’t say anything to him. He congratulated me and asked how it felt to have found the love of my life. It was weird he’d chosen those words. Forgot about that until now.”

  “How’d you answer?”

  “I didn’t. I could never lie to Henry. If he’d asked me if I was happy, I could’ve said yes. I was. If I couldn’t have you, at least I was building a life with someone I cared about. If he’d asked me if I was doing the right thing, yes to that, too, because I thought I was at the time.” A flake fell on his nose, and he rubbed it away. “But was I marrying the love of my life? No. So I just stood there, sweating, hoping he’d leave it at that.”

  “I don’t think he believed you. The way he looked at me, it was like he knew.”

  “Maybe he did. He’s a smart guy, but as a cop, he gets responsibility and duty better than anyone. If he knew you were the love of my life, he also knew there was a reason you weren’t the one walking toward me.”

  My heartrate kicked up just hearing Manning say that. “What if I’m not the love of your life?” I asked. “What if I never was? What if we’ve changed?”

  He set his head back against the metal railing and laughed. “Of all the shit we need to worry about, it’s not that.”

  “But how do you know?”

  He looked down his nose at me. “Don’t you know you’re the love of my life?” he asked matter-of-factly. “Are you worried I’m not yours?”

  “I wasn’t the one who needed six years to figure it out. I knew right away.”

  “Right away, huh?” He shifted me on his lap, bringing his feet in so his knees cradled me. “I knew, too,” he said quietly against my ear, squeezing me to him. “Why do you think I’m here now? Why didn’t I just move on with my life? I was fucking confused. You were sixteen and heavensent and I just wanted to keep you in my dirty, dusty construction site. I felt like a fucking perv for the things I wanted to do to you.”

  “What things?” I prompted.

  “One day I’ll tell you, but I have to pace myself.” He nuzzled me with his day-old stubble, sending goosebumps down my arms. “I saw you before you saw me. You stuck out. I couldn’t take my eyes off you, because you personified a breath of fresh air. Certain things you did, like grabbing your backpack straps when you got nervous, reminded me of Maddy.” He glanced up. The mesh of the fire escape above us blocked most of the sky, but there wasn’t much to see anyway. “When I tried to give you your bracelet, you looked terrified. I thought you’d run away, but you didn’t. You came back to find me.”

  I’d been so curious about the big man on the wall in the Pink Floyd shirt. I could still feel the heat of that summer day, but not even the California sun could warm me to the core like sitting under a blanket against Manning’s bare chest.

  “You didn’t judge me the way your family and other people did,” he continued. “It wasn’t that I saw you and wanted to fuck you … it was just that I had this urge to be near you. To be good enough for someone like you. I wanted to be a better man for the first time since Maddy had passed. Since then, I’d just sort of been existing, living in the dark.”

  He took a drag. Smoke floated over the railing, gray and wispy under the moonlight, gone in an instant. I closed my eyes to hold on to the vibrations of his voice against me. I knew that this moment would end, like they all did with him, but at least time for us would only be finite for a few more days. Then there’d be no rules, no withholding, nothing in the way.

  “Those early days I met you,” he said, his gaze distant, “it was more like you were the light of my life. Maybe you knew right away that you loved me, but I had to resist it, or I would’ve caused us a lot of problems. The trouble with that, though, is that I fell in love with you anyway.” Finally, he met my eyes again. “And because I fought it so hard, that love is deep and unshakeable. That’s how I know you’re the love of my life. That love is a part of me.”

  In drama class, that was what we called a monologue, and it was the best one I’d ever heard. I could’ve died right then knowing our love hadn’t all been in my head. That Manning had seen me that first day, really seen me. I put my palm on his chest. He was still much warmer than I was. He flicked his cigarette over the fire escape and covered my hand with his. “That love is a part of me, too,” I told him. “You were an adult when you met me, but I wasn’t. I was still growing up. My heart formed with you already in it.” I wanted to tell him I loved him. I had tried, earlier, but the only time I’d actually told him, he’d crushed me. As long as he was legally bound to Tiffany, there was still a chance I could lose him, so I kept it to myself.

  And suddenly, just like that, we were kissing. I’d imagined it so many times, the freedom to touch my lips to his, especially curious about the flavor of cigarettes. “You have to quit smoking,” I murmured.

  His chest rumbled underneath me. “Does the taste bother you?”

  “It makes me think of all the times I watched you smoke or play with your cigarette. I wanted to know so bad what it would be like to kiss you. Cigarettes always make me think of you. I even let a classmate of mine kiss me at a party because he was a smoker, so I could imagine it was you. That way, I wouldn’t have to die wondering what a smoky mouth would be like. So no, it doesn’t bother me.”

  He inhaled through his teeth. “You kissed someone else?”

  “Of course I have. Haven’t you?”

  My sarcasm was lost on him. He released my hand to sneak an arm under the blanket, around my back, tightening his hold on me. “Who else have you kissed?”

  A part of me wanted to tell him—and that part was larger than I cared to admit. “I’ve been on dates. I kissed some of them.”

  “How many?”

  “Over the years? I don’t know. I made out with one of Corbin’s frat brothers, and Corbin nearly broke his nose.”

  “What about Corbin?”

  “I kiss him all the time,” I said. I didn’t necessarily want to rub it in Manning’s face, but he asked. He probably deserved to visualize me with others the way I had him so many times with Tiffany. “Usually when I’m drunk or when we’re having a nice time together. I just haven’t been able to take it much further than that.”

  “But you did take it further.”

  I bit my bottom lip. It was
maybe more than I needed to share. If I knew Manning, his imagination would be torture enough. “A little,” I said.

  “How little?”

  “I’m not going to say. In one day, you’ve already had more than he ever did. So you should be happy with that.”

  Happy, he was not. His expression remained passive, but I felt the pull of his muscles, saw the tick in his jaw. “What about the night of the wedding?” he asked. “When you were crying. Did he kiss you then?”

  “No.”

  “He’s not going to bother you anymore, is he?” Manning asked. “When I go back to California to sort shit out, he’ll stay away? Hearing about you and him, you and anyone, makes me want to put my fist through a wall, Lake. I know it isn’t fair, but it’s the truth.”

  It was laughable that Manning should have any say over my love life, but it was also a turn-on to see him get annoyed after so many years of getting nothing from him. “He’s my best friend,” I said. “He’s not going anywhere, but I promise you, I will never, ever kiss him again.”

  Manning took my chin, lifting my face to his. “Swear to me you will only kiss one person from now on.”

  “I will only kiss you.”

  “So do it,” he said.

  I did. I never wanted to move from his lap, from his possessive hold on me and even more possessive words. His scruff scratched my lips, but more urgently, his erection had been digging into my thigh since we’d woken up. I pulled on the button of his jeans until it gave. It took some maneuvering, but I managed to squeeze my hand between us, into his pants.

  “What’re you looking for?” he asked.

  The second I wrapped my hand around him, his neck corded. I moved my fist back and forth over his shaft, my eyes glued to his face as I relished how solid he felt against my palm.

  “I want to watch you,” he said.

  Shielding us with the blanket, I scooted over on his lap enough to lower his zipper and pull him out. My fingers seemed even whiter against his bloated purple head.

  “Your hand looks so good on me, Lake. Feels fucking amazing.”

  Emboldened by his praise, I moved a little faster. “Can you show me how you do it?” I asked.

  He took my wrist and spit into in my palm before lowering my hand back to slide it along the length of him. “Fuck.” He let go of me to grasp the metal frame over our heads, shifting underneath me. “The saliva.”

  The way he groaned from his chest and dropped his head back made me squirm along with him. I wanted to know exactly how it felt. I wanted to always have this kind of power over him. He looked as though he’d give me anything I asked for just then. If I’d done this years ago in the truck, could all our heartache have been avoided?

  “More,” he said, grit in his throat.

  More? I moved faster, but my saliva had already dried. I started to wet my hand again but paused. By more, did he mean something else? This was as far as I’d gone with anyone but Manning. When I looked up, he was watching my face, and I had my answer. Manning knew the thoughts running through my mind, and if he wanted me to stop, he’d have told me to. He’d never had any problem telling me no. “Will you let me do more?” I asked.

  He bit down on his bottom lip. “I will let you, yes.”

  I got up and kneeled between his legs. The cold metal stung my kneecaps, but Manning’s legs closed around my shoulders, warming me. He drew the blanket over my back and partly up his lap.

  I took in the sight of him, my heart skipping with momentary doubt. I never would’ve thought to call a penis beautiful, but that was what it was. It stood tall and vertical, pink and veiny, so rigid I wondered if erections could ever be painful. He still wore his jeans, but thick, black hair covered him, trailing up to his navel and smattering the tops of his thighs. I wrapped my hand around it first, still fascinated by how thick it was. I put just his head in my mouth. The slightly briny taste surprised me, and I licked around the ridge. When I pulled back, the tip was darker, his veins more pronounced. I ran my thumb over one, following it down his shaft. When I accidentally grazed him with my nail, he hissed.

  I pulled back, realizing I’d been sitting there for a while and hadn’t even done anything yet. I glanced up at him for direction, but all I got was a heavy-lidded stare. “Did that hurt?” I asked.

  “It felt good.”

  “You can tell me what I should do,” I said.

  “I like watching you explore,” he responded.

  I put my hand back on him. There was a raw masculinity about everything from his waist down, including the way he smelled, and I wanted to commit it to memory. I kissed my way along his shaft, keeping my eyes open. I made my way up again, then sat back. My heart pounded. The thing was, I had thought about this so often, and yet had no experience at all, and this was Manning. For a moment, I regretted that I hadn’t used all our time apart to practice, kind of like how my classmates and I rehearsed endlessly for our drama productions in school.

  I didn’t want to hide from him, so I admitted, “I’m a little nervous. Once again, this is a first for me.”

  “Nervous?” He closed his body over me, bringing us face to face. “I’ve memorized everything about your mouth. The curves and lines when you’re happy or sad, confused, nervous, excited. There’s a freckle on your top lip I can only see when I’m close enough. I know the exact spot of your dimples. I could identify your tongue in a lineup. Do you think that I think this mouth can do any wrong? Do you think I haven’t fantasized about it in every way possible? On my mouth, or wrapped around my fingers, or sucking my dick?”

  I gripped one of his thighs when he said dick, overcome by the violent fluttering in my stomach. “That doesn’t help me,” I said. “In fact, it only means I have more to live up to.”

  “Nah. Knowing I’ll be the only one ever inside your mouth … watching the way you handle me for the first time … I’m making an effort not to come so I can enjoy this. One day, this mouth will know all the ways to send me to the moon but in this moment, you are everything I need.”

  I took a fortifying breath, still nervous, but confident enough now to give it a shot. I burrowed a little deeper into him so his long legs encompassed all of me. He kissed the top of my head and pulled the blanket higher. On my first try, I fit as much of him into my mouth as I could, then let my lips glide over the veins and ridges of him, sucking lightly. Manning’s fingers found my hair, getting firmer until he was guiding me up and down at a quick pace. My jaw soon ached, and it was getting harder and harder to catch a breath, but the taste of him, the look on his face, the feeling of being both subservient and powerful—I’d never experienced anything like it. I felt, finally, like a woman with a man instead of a virgin fumbling through her first time.

  When he stopped me, I was gasping a little. “That’s it?” I asked.

  “No, not quite. I’m going to come.”

  “And? What should I do?”

  “Swallow it if you think you can.”

  Everything up until now had been like unwrapping one present to reveal another. If that was what he wanted, I’d do it. I blinked at him a few times, nodding.

  “Good girl.” He urged my head back down so I could finish him, and swallow I did. Not gracefully, but afterward, he cuddled and kissed and praised me, seeming disproportionally satisfied.

  He carried me back inside as one big bundle, through the window and everything. “It was too dark out there,” he said, cradling me. “Next time, I want to see you better.”

  “How?”

  “On the bed. And once I’ve gotten a good look at you, I’ll do it to you at the same time.”

  My eyes surely popped out. “What?”

  He laughed as I blushed and said, “There’s no end to the things we’ll do.” Flexing his arms around me, he brought me in for a kiss.

  “Don’t drop me,” I said.

  “And let you fall?” He sounded incredulous. “No way. You’re light as a feather, Birdy.”

  11

 
Lake

  I came up from the subway half expecting Manning not to be there. Before he’d left my apartment in the morning to go back to his hotel and change for a sales call, I’d drawn him a map designating where to meet me later. Then I’d called in sick to work because today was important—I was going to show Manning my New York. And there he was, outside of the Duane Reade, right under the blue pharmacy sign like we’d planned. He had his hands in his coat pockets and a cigarette between his lips.

  Outside the comfort of my apartment, he was real, and he was waiting for me. I couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being sixteen and having no say in when I got to see him. That he’d appear and disappear based on forces I couldn’t control.

  As our eyes met, he made no sign of recognition except for the familiar stare I’d come to expect from him over the years—until I stepped off the curb, and he looked both ways for me.

  I walked up to him and took the cigarette from his lips. He looked at it, almost daring me to take a drag. I dropped it in the snow. “I can’t believe she hasn’t made you quit.”

  “Nobody makes me do anything, Lake.”

  “You almost quit once. For me.”

  “That was a different time.” He nodded at me. “Put your coat on.”

  It hurt that Manning wouldn’t stop smoking for me, if not for himself. It wasn’t an unreasonable request to want him around as long as possible. “What if I won’t kiss you after?” I asked.

  “You said you didn’t mind the taste.”

  I hesitated. I liked the taste, actually, because it reminded me of him. That wasn’t enough of a reason to risk his health. I didn’t want to start a fight, though. I wanted to be in his arms. We weren’t at the point where I felt I could reach out and touch him whenever the urge struck me, so I just stepped close enough to break the barrier of politeness.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked when he stayed where he was.

  “You wasted a good cigarette.”

  I pursed my lips. “Really.”

  “I’ve fought a man for the same thing.”