Goode Vibrations

by Jasinda Wilder

  Errol was never far, and always allowed himself to be pulled into the fun.

  It was just…we never got any time alone. We crashed in the van and were too tired to talk much less anything else, which we didn’t have time alone to talk about…

  So two weeks to the wedding turned into another two weeks, and those two weeks sort of morphed into me going to the gym with Cassie while Errol went hiking with Lucas and Ramsey, and me and Torie going to Seattle together and Errol was everywhere with his camera, and I was waiting tables with Kitty, and he was helping with a remodel and…we were just living life.

  It was easy, natural.

  But it was also anything but. The tension of a new normal without sex was beginning to wear on us.

  Finally, a full month after the wedding, the tension snapped.

  It was after midnight, and I’d been helping Torie remodel her house and Errol had been off with Brock doing something risky involving a two-seater stunt biplane and high-speed photography.

  We’d parked the van in Mom’s parking lot, and went in for showers once in a while but mainly lived out his van. So that’s where I was, in the van, waiting for him to come back. Dozing, pretending to read a book.

  Lounging in the back, reading by a clip-on light.

  I woke up suddenly, and he was there in the darkness.

  “Hey-a, Pop. Sorry to wake you.”

  I set the book aside. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

  He snorted. “You were snoring.”

  “Oh.” He had something to say, I could tell. “What is it?”

  “D’you remember when you talked about a cabin in the woods?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.” I bit my lip around a grin. “I said we’d need a cabin in the woods and a week alone.”

  “You ready for that?”

  I sat up higher. Held my breath. I could only nod, until my voice returned. “Errol, I…I need that so bad. Things have been so crazy, and two weeks has turned into a month and a half, and…how did we get here?”

  “Just living, I reckon. You have a crazy family, Poppy.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I do.” I moved to sit closer to him. “We, Errol. We have a crazy family.”

  His face pinched. “I like them. A lot. They make me feel like…like I belong.”

  I brushed my fingers into his hair. “So why do you look like you bit into a lemon?”

  “Because what are we?”

  “We’re…we’re going to go find a cabin in the woods and not come back until we know.”

  He smirked. “Well. I happen to have found just such a place.”

  “You have?” I sounded shrill with excitement, but didn’t care to try and tamp it down. I was excited. “Where? When can we go?”

  “Brock helped me find a place, way out there, way up in the bush, the wop-wops we’d call it, back in New Zealand. Apparently your sister Cassie’s man Ink owns a place, but it’s a bit more remote and off-grid than I’m in the mood for, so we’re renting this one I found. It’s accessible only by seaplane, but has its own generator and indoor plumbing, which is a plus.”

  I grabbed his hand and squeezed hard. “Quit dragging it out, Errol. When do we go?”

  “Brock is waiting as we speak. Get your things.”

  I packed in record time, and then, instead of driving off in the van, we went to a truck that had been waiting across the parking lot, and in it was Brock Badd, a walking GQ advertisement, and a pilot. We drove across town to the docks, where Brock’s seaplane was tied up. A preflight checklist, and then we were taking off, my stomach dipping as we rose.

  The moment we were airborne, Brock sat back and glanced at Errol, who was in the copilot’s seat. “Go for it, bro.”

  Errol glanced back at me as he took the copilot’s steering yoke. “You buckled?”

  “Yeah?”

  “The gear is stowed?”

  “You did it yourself, Errol. Do what? What are you doing?”

  He just grinned. “Hold on, Pop.”

  And then he twisted the yoke and the aircraft rolled, and we were upside down and my hair was drifting down to the ceiling, and then we were upside right, but diving, and he was punching the throttle…

  I think I was screaming, but then my scream caught in my throat as we dove and dove—and pulled up abruptly, rising, rising, stomach now falling into my toes as we came up, up, upside down again, and back down again, diving faster than ever as we completed the loop.

  “I may have taught your man some stunt flying,” Brock said. “He’s a natural.”

  “Of course he is,” I snapped, when I could breathe or speak again. “Don’t do that again.”

  Errol laughed. “No? I think it’s fun.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ve also been skydiving. And shipwrecked. And in combat. So a little stunt flying is nothing.”

  Errol lifted a finger. “Never been shipwrecked. Airplane crash, yes. Kidnapped by pirates? Yes. Shipwrecked, no.”

  “Kidnapped by pirates?” Brock said, eying him sidelong. “For real?”

  The rest of the trip was occupied mainly by Errol telling stories. Which was honestly fine with me, because I loved hearing his stories. What I loved more was seeing him flying, at ease, Brock occasionally taking over to adjust our heading or whatever. I liked listening to Errol talk. It took my mind off other things.

  Like wanting him.

  The past several weeks we’d both sort of found a status quo, an uneasy truce whereby we avoided doing anything outright provocative. Sex took a back seat to just getting to know each other. Learning each other.

  He hated apples, I found. Hated the noise they made eating them, hated how the skin got between his teeth.

  Lots of things like that. How to just…be, together.

  Without sex.

  But that didn’t mean I didn’t think about it. I did. All the time.

  I just didn’t do anything about it, not even by myself. I wondered if he had—I hadn’t asked, not really wanting to know the answer. Or rather, afraid the answer would instigate something.

  But now, the farther we flew, the more things started to bubble up within me.

  I got antsy. Uncomfortable. Impatient.

  I lost track of the time, and even dozed off a little, until I felt us dropping. Apparently Brock and Errol had already made a trip out here—that’s what they’d done all day. Flew out, got the cabin opened up, lights on, wood stocked, food stocked. Set some lights around the perimeter of the lake that would be our landing area. It was pitch black, and even Errol seemed a bit nervous, but Brock was cool as ice, watching his gauges and adjusting the throttle and all the pilot-y sort of things. My heart was in my throat as we descended toward a darker patch of black in the night, lit only by a perimeter of small, dull orange lights.

  The dark patch grew bigger, and then the aircraft’s lights lit up a glassy surface and how the fuck he managed to land a seaplane on an inland lake in near-total darkness was a mystery to me, but there we were, skidding and skipping and then settling to slow, and then gently coming to a stop at an angle, the side door facing a small cabin like something out of a fairy tale. There was even a plume of smoke rising from the stone chimney, and little squares of yellow light on either side of the door.

  “There’s no dock,” Errol said. “Or at least not one we can tie up to. The water is shallow here, though.” He grabbed all of our things. “Just wait here.”

  He hopped out onto the float, and then into the water, carrying our things ashore and into the cabin.

  Brock eyed me. “He’s a good dude, you know.”

  I nodded. “Yes, he is.” I smiled. “Thank you for flying us here.”

  “No problem.” He grinned back. “Have a good time out here. There’s no cell reception, no Wi-Fi, no neighbors for dozens of miles…just total privacy and peace.”

  I shivered in anticipation. “Sounds perfect.”

  Brock just laughed. “I bet.”

  Errol returned then, and held his arms up to me. “Hop do
wn. I’ve got you.”

  I would’ve dived in if it meant getting ashore faster. But a chance to finally get his hands on me, his arms around me? Yes please.

  I slid out of the aircraft and into Errol’s waiting arms. Right where I belonged—my legs around his waist, his hands under my ass holding me aloft. His heartbeat against my breast, his breath on my lips.

  “Oooookay, well now,” Brock said. “That’s my cue to go. You don’t have to get a room, just wait till I’m in the air. You kids have fun getting reacquainted.”

  I heard the door close, but I was more concerned with the scent of Errol’s skin as I nuzzled his throat, the feel of his shoulders under my hands, his chest against mine. I heard the engine roar and water spray, then the quieter splash and distant buzz as he lifted off the water and banked away.

  Brock was nowhere in my mind, now.

  I buried my face in Errol’s neck as he walked with me ashore. But I couldn’t wait. I had to taste him. I kissed his neck, and sighed at the firm salt of his flesh. Kissed another spot, and another. His hands tightened on my ass, and his heartbeat quickened—I tasted his pulse under my tongue, pumping faster and faster.

  Kissed his jaw, the underside. And then his stubble, or what was now more of a real beard. Scratchy yet soft, and I dearly desperately wanted to feel it between my thighs. For now, I just wanted to kiss him. I let him hold my weight, let him carry me and focused on kissing more of him. Slid my hands into his hair and caressed his scalp, over his ears, his jaw, cupped his chin and kissed his cheek.

  He fumbled at the door, but with my weight in his hands couldn’t quite get it. “Pop…could you—Pop—Poppy, the door.” He had to dodge my lips as I greedily snapped kisses over his lips, his nose, his cheeks. “The door, Poppy, and then I’ll hold still for you to kiss me all you want.”

  “What’s wrong with the porch?” I muttered, but reached behind me for the doorknob, got it and twisted and pushed so it creaked open.

  He stepped through, kicked it closed.

  Firelight was the only illumination; I was still focused only and entirely on Errol, on kissing his temple and forehead and then his throat and neck and shoulder as he slid me to my feet.

  “Pop.” He caught at my face. Smiled down at me.

  “You want me to stop kissing you?” I asked, plaintive, childishly annoyed.

  He grinned wider. “No. Just the reverse. I just wanted to say…welcome home. Or, home for the next two weeks.”

  “Two weeks?”

  I peered around his body—it was tiny. A kitchenette in the back right corner, a fireplace dominating the left wall, a bed on the right wall, a door that led to a bathroom in the back wall opposite the kitchenette. That was it.

  But, it had plumbing, electricity, and, most importantly, a bed. But the way I felt in the moment, a bed was only a bonus. I just needed Errol.

  When I’d finished taking in the cabin, I smiled up at him. “It’s perfect. Thank you for setting this up.”

  He smiled. “We’ve got it for two weeks. We’ve got everything we need, and Brock will come back to get us in two weeks from today. Till then? It’s just us.”

  “Two weeks alone with you?” I rested my hands on his chest. “I can’t think of anything more perfect.”

  He gave a thoughtful frown. “I can.”

  “Oh? What would that be?” I glanced at the kitchen. “Food, I see a bottle of wine…did you bring condoms?”

  “Only about a year’s supply.”

  “Then what else could we need?”

  He grinned at me. “You, naked, on that bed.”

  I bit my lip, tugged at the hem of his shirt. “Weird thing is, I seem to have forgotten how to undress. You’ll have to do it for me.”

  His answering smile was everything.

  Errol

  It was silly to be nervous, considering we’d already been naked together, had sex. But this was different.

  This wouldn’t be a hookup.

  This time, I wouldn’t be watching for the opportunity to bug out. There’d be no dodging the deep stuff.

  So, I was nervous.

  Horny as a motherfucker, but nervous, too.

  I wanted it to be everything it was supposed to be. I wanted this to feel like us, like the beginning of something.

  I had her all to myself, and we were alone, and this was it—she was ready. So ready.

  Throwing herself at me.

  And I wasn’t sure where to start. How to make it different from what it had been before.

  She saw. Sighed. Took my hand, laced her fingers into mine, and led me to the bed. “Talk to me. I thought you’d be as raring to go as I am.”

  “I am.”

  “Then why am I not naked?”

  “We took this time away from sex to establish a real relationship.”

  “Yes, and I think we have, don’t you?”

  “I do—we have.” I sought the right words. “I guess I’m just feeling like…like isn’t it supposed to be…different? Not just jumping right back into sex. But…something more?”

  “Oh, I see what you mean. I was so focused on wanting you that I didn’t even think about that.”

  I held her hand, lifted it to my lips and kissed the back of it. “I want to do this right, Poppy.”

  She frowned, but thoughtfully. “So…we just go…slower?” A laugh.

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m hesitating. I don’t want you just jump you, maul you, and have you think I’m looking at this as just like...finally the wait is over, we can fuck again. You know what I mean?”

  She nodded. “I do.” She crawled up onto my lap, legs curled against her chest, draped her arms around my neck, hands in my hair at the back of my head. “Want to know what I think?”

  I ran my hands over her shoulders, her back. “That’s why you’re not naked. Yet.”

  “I think maybe we’re overthinking it. I talked to my mom a while back, on the plane back from LA. She made it seem like…how do I put it? She said so much more eloquently than I can. What I gathered from what she said was that we give this meaning, Errol. I don’t think the pace or the…style of how we have sex is what gives it meaning. It’s the emotions we put into it. Before, it wasn’t really emotions, it was just desire. Chemical attraction. You’re hot, and I want you, and I like touching you, and I want to get off with you. That’s all I was really feeling. Now, though? It’s way more, Errol. I’ve learned so much about you since the last time we did anything together. I know about your parents, how you grew up. I know, now, the sadness and the struggle that has helped shape the amazing person you are.”

  A pause, and she nuzzled her nose against my jawline, near my earlobe. Kissed there, softly.

  “I’m rushing into this because I’m horny as hell, Errol. Make no mistake. I haven’t had an orgasm since the last time you made me come, okay? And that’s the longest I’ve gone without even giving myself one since I discovered masturbation at like twelve years old.” Another pause to kiss under my chin, and then my throat, now whispering between kisses. “But…no matter how fast or slow this happens, it’s going to mean something for me. Like, I’m nervous, and a little scared, because…because what if you’ve changed your mind? What if it doesn’t work out with us? What if…” She pulled back, rested her forehead on mine, and I felt her words as much as heard them. “What if you can’t or won’t or don’t love me?” Her voice broke. “I want to be loved, Errol. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I just…I never knew it. Not till you. And I’m scared of letting myself be in love with you because it’s all happened so fast and it’s so much and—and—”

  I cut her off with my mouth on hers, silencing her words with my lips, my tongue. Slashing across her lips, tasting her tears and inhaling her whispered sob. I had so much to say to that, but I had no clue how to put it into words.

  And that’s when it clicked.

  That what made this different than the last time—not only did I have things to say that went beyond words, thing
s I felt that couldn’t be framed in human speech, but now…now I understood how to express them.

  At first I just kissed her, lips on lips, and then tongues tangling. But soon, I needed more. I cupped her face and wrapped my arm around her shoulders and turned with her. Lay her on the bed, beneath me. Now, it wasn’t just kissing. It was…sharing oxygen, mutual breath through the lock of our lips. Tasting her, giving her myself. Opening.

  It went beyond a kiss. Beyond making out. It was diving into her, sliding beautifully into discovering the us of touching, tasting, taking.

  How long? Until we couldn’t breathe, until we were left gasping, panting. I let her lips go, but only an inch or two. Held her gaze.

  “But, I do, Poppy.”

  “You do?” She feathered my hair in her fingers, traced my temple, touched my lips, traced my chin. “You do what?”

  “Love you,” I whispered.

  She sobbed, clung to me, face in the side of my neck. Legs around my waist, arms around my shoulders and hands in my hair, she sobbed my name.

  “Errol…” She let her head drop back down to the bed after a moment.

  I touched her lips with my finger. “Don’t say anything back. Not yet. Just…let it be.”

  She sighed, smiled. “You love me.”

  “Yep.”

  A laugh. “Why?”

  “Because…a million reasons. Mainly, though, because of who you are. You’re funny, you’re brave. Fearless, really. You have such an amazing eye for beauty, for art. You’re talented. You understand me. You accept me. You inspire me.”

  She let go of me and cupped her breasts, shook them. “And here I thought it was going to be all about these.”

  “Poppy, I’m being serious.”

  Her smile faded. “I know. I was just teasing.”

  “You need to understand that me loving you is…it’s not about what you look like.” I palmed her cheek. Captured her hands. “You being the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known isn’t why I’m in love with you.”

  She gazed up at me. “I think I’m starting to understand.”

  “How else can I help you understand, Pop?”