The Road That Leads to Us

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “I don’t like to see you sad.”

  Willow was the stubborn flower that grew even when there was no water, so when she began to wilt I came in to take care of her so she could flourish again.

  “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not sad often then.” She cracked a smile. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, but I appreciated the effort.

  “Are you good now?” I nodded back towards where the trees thinned and our camp waited. “If you want us to leave and find somewhere—”

  She put a hand over my mouth. “I overreacted because I wasn’t expecting that to happen. I’m good now, I promise.”

  I stared at her, still unsure.

  “Promise.” She crossed her fingers over her heart.

  “Okay.” I let my hands fall.

  When we emerged from the cover of trees Alexis rushed forward.

  “I’m so, so, so sorry for coming off sounding nosy. I didn’t mean too, but I couldn’t help myself. Please forgive me?” She crossed her hands under her chin and waited.

  Willow cracked a small smile. “It’s okay. I know I probably seemed like a weirdo. It’s just…I view myself as normal, so sometimes I forget that I’m not.”

  “Totally understandable.” Alexis nodded. “Are you hungry? Want a beer?” She pointed to the table. The food had finished cooking and plates sat around waiting. They’d even started a fire and lanterns sat scattered around illuminating the area.

  “I could eat.” Willow nodded.

  “Me too,” I agreed.

  “I hope you made enough for him.” Willow jested as she pointed at me. “He eats more than anyone I know.”

  “Chase and Jacob too.” Alexis nodded, as we joined the others. “I don’t know where they put it all.”

  “Always room, babe.” Jacob patted his stomach and pulled her down into the chair beside him when she got close enough.

  Willow and I took the two empty seats side by side.

  “You guys are really kind to do this for us,” Willow said bashfully, tucking her hair behind her ear. Willow was normally never so subdued around strangers, but I knew she was still slightly embarrassed. It wouldn’t be long until she was over it, though.

  “You want a beer?” Chase asked me, reaching for one himself. “You?” He glanced at Willow.

  She shook her head, but I nodded and he handed me a bottle.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink,” Willow commented when I tipped the beer back.

  I shrugged as I sat it down on the table. “I don’t drink often.” I actually wasn’t that fond of it and only drank it on occasion. At the moment, after our crazy day, I felt like I needed one.

  Willow nodded at this and set about making her burger.

  We all chatted while we ate and cleaned up.

  “You know what makes this view even better?” Chase asked after the table was packed away.

  “What?” Willow asked. Her cheeks were flushed a pleasant pink and her eyes were now free of sadness. There had been no more talk of fame or rock stars, and she’d been able to relax and let loose.

  “Come on.” Chase nodded and we followed.

  The six of us ended up standing on top of the camper.

  The full moon shimmered largely above us, so close that if you reached out you might be able to brush your fingers against it.

  I felt the warmth of Willow’s hand slide into mine, and my lips lifted into a smile.

  She laid her head on my shoulder a moment later.

  I took a moment to take a mental picture of this moment. I never wanted to forget this view, or these people, or the feel of Willow’s hair tickling my chin.

  “Everything happens for a reason, right?” She asked softly, and I knew she was thinking of my car sitting miles away broken down.

  I nodded my head in agreement. “It certainly does.”

  Willow

  I slipped into the tent in front of Dean and collapsed on the large double sleeping bag Chase had given us to use.

  Dean crouched down and zipped the tent closed.

  Inside the tent everything was shadowed but not completely pitch black thanks to the large full moon that hovered above us. I’d never seen the moon look so large before. Back home it looked impossibly far away. Unreachable. Not here. I felt like we’d entered another realm or something, one where humanity and nature cohabitated peacefully.

  Dean burrowed into the sleeping bag while I rifled through my backpack for my journal.

  Even though it was hard to see the pages, I wanted to get everything down before I forgot.

  I heard the sleeping bag rustle and glanced to see Dean trying to get a peek at my journal.

  “No.” I pushed at his chest and he lay flat once more.

  He grinned up at me, his brown hair tumbling over his forehead, and tried to appear boyishly innocent.

  I knew better.

  “No peeking. You are not allowed to read this ever.” I jabbed a finger at the notebook.

  “I’m going to read it.” His grin widened. “One day. Mark my words.”

  “And then you’ll die because I’ll stab you in the eye with my pencil.”

  He merely chuckled.

  I finished writing and doodling in my notebook and put it away.

  Before I had my backpack fully zipped Dean’s arm had wound around my waist and he pulled me down onto the sleeping bag beside him.

  He lifted the open flap and covered us both.

  Darkness surrounded me like a protective blanket. In the dark I felt free to do whatever I wanted.

  He hovered above me and my hands slid down his chest to his stomach and under the smooth cotton of his shirt.

  His body shook and his eyes fell closed.

  He lowered his head and his hair brushed against my forehead before his lips descended to my neck. Their pressure was soft, almost hesitant.

  The sound of my blood rushing through my body roared in my ears.

  His lips ghosted over mine, asking a silent question.

  “Please,” I begged.

  His body tensed and then he applied more pressure, kissing me harder, more urgently. Like this moment in time might evaporate out from under us.

  My fingers wound into his hair, holding him to me. My body arched against his. I couldn’t get close enough. I wanted to sink inside him, lost forever in the depths of his heart.

  His hands brushed down my sides, exploring ever so slowly and carefully, like I was something to be treasured.

  “I want this to be perfect for you,” he whispered into my neck before raining kisses along my collarbone.

  I took his face in my hands and my chest brushed his with each harsh intake of breath.

  “It will be perfect because I’m with you. That’s what matters. The rest is just technicalities.”

  His green eyes searched mine and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

  “Are you sure?”

  Was he crazy?

  I nodded, reaching up to run my fingers over the harsh stubble on his cheek. “Yes.”

  He nodded once too and then his lips were on mine again.

  He took his time, rubbing his hands up and down my sides and kissing me thoroughly. He wasn’t going to rush this. I was the one that dove headfirst into everything, barreling through straight to the finish. Not Dean. Every single brush of his fingers and caress of his lips was carefully thought out.

  When his fingers finally glided under my shirt I shivered from the feel of his fingertips on my bare skin.

  As he lifted the shirt he kissed every inch of skin he exposed.

  When my shirt was off I grabbed his face, my movements frantic, and kissed him hard.

  His tongue brushed against mine and I nearly cried in relief.

  My brain had turned to mush and I was reduced to mere syllables.

  “Please.”

  “Touch me.”

  “Dean, Dean, Dean.”

  And the most important of all, “I love you.”

  I ran my fingers over his st
omach and up over the coarse hairs on his chest.

  “Off,” I begged, pulling at his shirt.

  He obliged, rolling his hips against mine in the process and I whimpered.

  He lowered and his chest pressed against mine. I wanted to rip my bra off so I could I appreciate the feel of him against me fully, but I knew he’d get mad at me for rushing and torture me by going even slower. As it was I felt as if I might combust from the slightest strike of a match.

  He rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip, his eyes dark with lust.

  “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed into the darkness, his lips stroking against mine with each word, “I never thought it would happen, didn’t dare to let myself believe it would be a possibility.”

  I inhaled a breath. “And now it’s real.”

  His lips closed over mine and his body formed a shield around me.

  And I was lost.

  So lost.

  But found at the same time.

  Found because I was where I belonged in his arms.

  ***

  I woke before the sun had risen.

  I smiled over at the sight of Dean sleeping on his stomach, his arms crossed beneath his head. I reached out and brushed a lock of dark hair off his forehead.

  My body still hummed from the road map of his touch across my skin. I felt tired, but happy, so inexplicably happy. Even now, my smile was so large it nearly split my face.

  Last night felt like a dream, but the soreness in my muscles reminded me that it was very much real.

  Every touch, every kiss, every moan and every breath, would be imprinted in my mind for the rest of my existence.

  I knew I was too giddy to fall back asleep so I reached for Dean’s t-shirt and slipped it over my head and put my panties back on.

  I grabbed my backpack and slipped out of the tent.

  I tiptoed my way over to the boulder I’d sat on last night. I pulled out my journal and began to write. I felt inspired and I found myself writing poem after poem—that’s what most of my journal was, and the reason I didn’t want Dean to see it. No one knew I wrote poetry and I’d prefer to keep it that way. It was far too personal to ever be exposed.

  A twig snapped behind me and I jumped, clutching my journal to my chest, startled by the noise that had dared to disturb the peacefulness around me.

  I relaxed when I saw Dean standing there adorably rumpled. His jeans hung low on his hips and his hair was a wild mess. He smiled crookedly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His glasses sat on the end of his nose—he rarely wore them, but I loved it when he did.

  He was giving me the same once over I’d given him.

  There was no awkwardness in the air around us after the events of last night.

  Just love. So much love.

  Dean slid onto the boulder behind me, like he had last night, and wrapped his arms around me. His chin rested on my shoulder and he bent, pressing his lips to the exposed skin of my shoulder where his shirt had fallen to the side.

  “Why are you up so early?” He burrowed his face into my neck and I giggled when his hair tickled my skin.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” I shrugged against him, “I’m too happy.”

  I felt his smile against my neck. “Me too.”

  I snuggled against his chest. His warmth was welcome against the cool morning air.

  “Something tells me the sunrise will be spectacular here.”

  “Mhmm,” he hummed, gently biting at the spot where my neck met my shoulder and then pressing a tender kiss to the same spot.

  “I’m scared to go home,” I confessed.

  His lips stilled against me. “Why?”

  I turned in his arms to look up at him. “I’m afraid things will be different when we get home…with us,” I clarified.

  His eyes were clear behind his glasses and he shook his head. “Going home changes nothing, Willow. You and me…this is real.”

  “But my dad and—”

  He quieted me with a finger pressed to my lips. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing will change how I feel.”

  “And nothing will change how I feel,” I echoed.

  “Good.” He kissed me, his mouth moving tenderly against mine. His tongue parted my lips and I cupped his cheek, the days old stubble rubbing roughly against my palm.

  I let my fears drift away, carried off by the wind.

  Dean pressed his forehead to mine and his tongue slid out to lick his lips, like he wanted one last taste of me.

  “Look,” he said softly, and pointed.

  I turned away from him and gazed out at the mountains. A bird flew above the horizon, its body a big black shadow haloed by the slowly rising sun.

  I grabbed my Polaroid camera and took picture after picture. Even making Dean pose for a few with me. He was reluctant, but I never wanted to forget what we looked like in this moment—hair messy, eyes happy, hearts full.

  ***

  Luckily, whatever was wrong with the car didn’t take long for him to fix. We got on the road early, and took turns driving all day, arriving in Malibu around seven in the evening. We could’ve gotten there sooner, but we’d stopped a few times and also enjoyed an hour-long breakfast at a restaurant with Chase, Alyssa, Jacob, and Alexis. They were all actually pretty cool and I was happy I’d gotten the chance to get to know them. Even if things had started out shaky.

  Dean was driving now and I read off the directions on my phone that my Uncle Mathias had given me.

  We wound up a cliff, the homes large and imposing with lots of windows.

  Dean let out a low whistle. “These are nice.”

  They were more than nice. Grand was a more apt word.

  “His parents helped him buy it.” I shrugged. “They wanted him to live somewhere he’d be protected from the media.”

  The media had always been harsher on my Uncle Mathias and Aunt Remy, and therefore Liam as well. I’m sure, in part, it was because Mathias was the lead singer of the band and therefore more at the forefront. Also, after a major secret of Remy’s was exposed to the media years and years ago they kept expecting their relationship to fall apart. If the media and everyone else saw what I did they’d know those two were madly in love.

  As we drove, I noted that while the neighborhood was gated even some of the driveways leading up to the homes were as well. It must’ve sucked to be forced to live in such isolation.

  We came to the top of the cliff where the road ended and only one last home stood. There were no other homes around it, but I was sure Liam loved that fact.

  Dean parked in the driveway and we got out, opting to leave our bags in the car for the moment.

  My Uncle had told me where the spare key was kept and I grabbed it from its hidey spot before letting us in through the front door.

  It was quiet inside and I glanced around.

  It was decorated in mostly whites and grays with a few hints of navy now and then. The floors were wood in a medium tone brown and were so shiny it looked like you could eat off them—Liam was a bit of a neat freak…or a lot of one.

  A staircase led upstairs with wrought iron railings.

  The family room sat to our left with a white sectional, a large TV, and an endless amount of gaming systems. There were built-in bookshelves lining one wall, filled with books, family pictures (an added touch from his mom, I’m sure), and old cameras that he collected. Surfing might’ve been Liam’s passion, but photography came a close second. He was the one who got me my Polaroid camera.

  The family room had windows looking out at the front yard, as well as the back, and I could see what looked like an infinity pool. Um, yes please.

  We moved further into the home, passing a dining room and entering into the spacious kitchen.

  I heard rustling and turned to see someone in the pantry.

  Someone who was definitely not Liam.

  “Who are you?” I shouted at the guy.

  He screamed—and I mean screamed like a five-year-old girl—and
dropped the bag of Cheetos he’d been eating. His hand was covered in orange cheese powder and now his feet as well since he’d dropped the bag.

  “Who are you?” He asked.

  “I asked you first.” I stuck my chin up haughtily in the air.

  Dean stepped forward, grabbing my wrist and angling his body in front of mine.

  The guy in the pantry straightened his shoulder and took three steps so he was now standing in front of us. He had wild curly blond hair that was rather long and warm brown eyes. Scruff coated his chin and cheeks and it too was covered in the cheese powder.

  “I’m Oliver Malcolm McGruff.” He stuck his hand out for me to shake it. “But I prefer Ollie.”

  “I’m Willow.” I stared at his hand and pointed. “Uh…”

  “Oh, right. How rude of me.” He shook his head and rubbed his hand over his white shirt leaving behind an orange handprint. He extended his hand once more and I took it this time, figuring I shouldn’t be so rude.

  “I’m Liam’s cousin,” I started, “do you live here?”

  He shook his head so hard he reminded me of a Golden Retriever shaking its body after it had a bath.

  “Nah, he’s my friend. He’s out surfing.” He pointed towards the windows so I safely assumed that meant he was down on this beach. “We were supposed to go to Mo’s to get something to eat, but he probably forgot…again.” Ollie shrugged, completely unaffected.

  “That explains the Cheetos.”

  He grinned and nodded. “Exactly. I’ve got to eat.” He turned his head, studying me. “Does Liam know you’re coming? He never mentioned visitors…or that his cousin was so hot.”

  Dean stiffened beside me and glowered at Ollie.

  “Whoa, dude.” Ollie held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I have a girlfriend and she’s the love of my life, just making an observation here.”

  Dean relaxed, but only a little bit.

  Behind us a set of doors slid open and Dean and I turned to see Liam step inside.

  His head was bowed so he didn’t notice us at first. His dark hair was wet, looking nearly black, and his wetsuit was undone on top hanging around his hips. My eyes roamed over him, trying to see if there were any major differences since the last time I saw him. His lean frame had filled out more, but overall he was the same old Liam that was more like a big brother than a cousin to me.