by Jude Sierra
Erik, with his jagged smile but sweet eyes, who sometimes shook after sex and often laughed like he was surprising himself—walking away from him might very well prove to be an easier choice. At least then River might feel like he controlled the narrative. He didn’t have ultimatums to give even if he wanted to, because there was so much he didn’t know. The secrets Erik kept close made it impossible for River to read the terrain.
What if he shared his secrets, or even just the shape of them, with River? Trusted him with more than he had, and the promise to keep trying? Boundaries would be much more doable if he knew the situation. River wasn’t close to done loving Erik. But he couldn’t hurt himself to do so. Somewhere deep, his own secrets twisted beneath his skin, a reminder that neither of them had been particularly fair in this. Not really. Not completely.
Maybe that was the simple start. To ask how much trust Erik was willing to give, and to trust himself to give Erik the same.
Hey pretty boy, Erik whispered. River woke up to those words at three a.m. He came home with them tucked in his pocket, screen still lit, waiting to meet Erik at the door. He’d inked Erik through a sheepish smile when teased with them. They’d been a promise and laughter and breathless lust.
They were an olive branch.
Watermarked: Hi tough guy
…
They were crossing Lake Washington on I-90 before Erik spoke again. “Where are we going?”
River cleared his throat. Haze rolled over Mercer Island ahead of them. “Little Si. You ever been?”
Erik shook his head. His eyes were busy on the horizon. “Never really taken the time to get out of the city.”
“Well,” River said. He swallowed. Loneliness hung between them both; loneliness and something too tentative and too unreachable to name. River’s finger itched to touch Erik’s, to feel the tendons on the back of his hand. He’d imagined before that maybe he, too, could feel the prick and sting of those hand-drawn tattoos, the bite of branding himself. Erik was something beautiful, something haunted, shrouded in uncertainty.
“Is this—” Erik cocked his head and then reached for the volume dial. “Are you listening to the Lumineers?”
“So?” River batted his hand away and blushed.
“Oh my God, that’s adorable.” Erik laughed that punched-out, breathless, and unexpected laugh.
“Why, what should I be listening to?”
“I don’t know,” Erik said honestly. “I’d never thought about it. I guess I could see you as an emo kind of kid.”
River shrugged and bit his lip, looking out his own window briefly.
“Oh, you were!”
“Look,” River said through a laugh, “I had a lot of big feelings in a little body. Besides, what did you listen to?”
Erik’s head turned toward him, lazily reclined on the headrest. His eyes were guarded but kind.
“What?” River prompted. The silence spun long and hard. River’s own centrifugal force, so often, was this, a top spinning out of control, falling apart. Erik put his hand on River’s wrist, testing and more careful than he’d ever touched him before.
“There’s so much about you that I don’t know.”
River straightened his shoulders. “Yeah,” he looked over. Erik’s brows were bunched and his eyes dim. “I know.”
Maybe the center couldn’t hold. Not here, not in this moment, not with choking silence verging on out-of-control. But still, Erik kept his hand on River’s, and River didn’t let go.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The sky was closer here.
Trees stretched from the mossy forest floor. Moonlight fractured into white shards. It slipped between heavy, wet branches, broken apart by leaves and twigs and flowers. Night made the woods feel like a sanctuary. Even in the darkness, Erik saw vibrancy. Silver mushrooms sprouted beneath dainty emerald ferns. Dark vines climbed tree trunks, and tiny blue pine trees wore beaded frost like jewelry.
River pulled the key out of the ignition and turned the headlights off. “It’ll take our eyes a few minutes to adjust.”
“We can still get out and look,” Erik said. He undid his seat belt and slid out of the car, thankful for a few gulps of fresh air. They were parked on the edge of a dirt road near the Little Si trailhead. Chirps and hoots echoed around them, the rustle of a critter in the brush, the breath of wind whispered through leaves.
Erik had memorized what he planned to say. He’d rehearsed every word the night before. But now those words were lost to him. He sat on the hood of River’s car and gazed at the sky above them, littered with faraway stars and an almost-full moon. The memory of a small circle of blue sky, River’s head tucked against his shoulder, and the peace they found that day lingered. His heartbeat was slow but heavy in his chest. It shook him from the inside out. River leaned against the car beside him. As soon as he turned to look at the emerging stars, Erik turned to look at him. It lasted longer than he thought. River let Erik’s eyes wander over his face and neck and soft mouth. When he steered his attention back to Erik, Erik focused on the sky again.
They were so close. To each other. To something. To a future.
“Lee died when I was seventeen,” Erik said. River watched him carefully. “It was a Friday night. We were at a party, raising hell like always. A dealer I knew ended up there. He always had the best shit… We’d hooked up a few times, so he gave me a good deal.” The stars peered down at him, waiting. Erik stopped to breathe. Memories rushed at him—the sound of Lee’s laugh, the way he tried to catch himself on the sink before he fell. “I…” He hadn’t said the next part out loud before. “I bought some coke. Lee asked if we were going too fast—ecstasy and alcohol in one night were enough. Coke, too? We were asking for it.”
Erik’s tongue was trapped behind his teeth. River’s fingertips touched the hood of the car, close to Erik’s hand.
“But we thought we were invincible. We did lines in the bathroom.” Erik cleared his throat. He closed his eyes and dug his thumbnail into his palm. “They make it look like there’s time, you know? In movies. Like overdosing is this…this gasping, eyes-rolling-back, labored breathing bullshit. It’s not. Lee hit the floor so fucking fast, and I couldn’t catch him.” Erik rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. “There was nothing. His heart stopped beating, and that was it.”
He heard River take a breath. In the distance, thunder barreled across the sky.
“When we were thirteen, Lee wanted to kiss a boy. He never had before, and I’d never kissed anyone, so.” Erik opened his eyes. “It was clumsy. He missed on the first try. Got my nose.”
River’s smile was soft and near.
“We’d been best friends since fifth grade, and like that”—Erik snapped his fingers—“he was gone. I didn’t stay for the funeral. Couldn’t face his parents or our friends. I bought a train ticket to San Francisco, got so fucked up I couldn’t stand, woke up in a hotel room the next day with two people who were probably twice my age, got on a bus and went to Arizona.”
“Erik—”
“I’m not done,” he said gently. He glanced at River and then back at the sky. “If I stop now I won’t get to the important part.”
“All right,” River whispered.
“I got to Portland, started fighting, and then came to Seattle. I’d been using before, whatever could get me high enough to feel close to Lee again, but the fights let me distance myself. That pain was my own. I got to control it… I could tell myself that I was in control.” He licked his lips and thought of Beverly’s hand on his cheek. “Beverly’s been looking for me for years. I still have the voicemail she left me on the day of Lee’s funeral. The only reason she found me was because I didn’t run. Something kept me here. Something is still keeping me here.”
River’s gaze was steady on Erik’s face. He sighed through his nose. Erik caught the pull of River’s shoulders out of the corner of his eye. He saw River’s mouth twitch into a sad smile, the honest kind that Erik was still getting used to
. River’s fingers dusted Erik’s knuckles.
“This is… I…” Erik heaved a sigh. “When I told you that I was ruined—that you’d ruined me—I meant… I’m…” He paused to laugh because he didn’t know what else to do with the truth. “You’ve got me,” he whispered, defeated. “I’m so fucking in love with you, and I don’t understand it, but I know that this is it. The shit people start wars over and fight for. Me and you. I’ve been trying to figure out how it happened, where, when, whatever, but it doesn’t matter.”
River’s fingers stilled on Erik’s hand. His breath stuttered. He didn’t look away, unblinking, unmoving. Erik kept looking at the stars.
“The moment I saw you, I wanted you. That was obvious. You’re”—he made an irritated noise, a snort followed by a huff, and slid his gaze sideways, glancing from River’s feet to his eyes—“gorgeous and smart and creative, and there was no denying that. But then… I don’t know.” He blinked away, hoping the moon might give him courage.
Before he could keep rambling, River stepped in front of him.
“Was that the important part?” River asked.
Erik rolled his eyes. He laughed, one short ha, and shook his head. “No, it wasn’t,” he snapped sarcastically. “Yes, River. That was obviously the important part.”
River gripped Erik’s knees, pushed them apart and slid between his legs. Long, elegant fingers wrapped around Erik’s jaw, forcing his attention. Erik met River’s gaze and swallowed, heart racing. He was laid bare, flayed open, vital organs exposed for River’s teeth and fingernails.
“Then look at me when you tell me,” River said. He palmed Erik’s cheek and tugged him forward.
The woods stayed still. River tilted his head, breath warm on Erik’s mouth. His thumb stroked Erik’s cheekbone, a slow, tender touch that Erik felt everywhere.
“I love you.” Erik tucked the words into the space between their lips, a shaky, desperate whisper. “I love you so goddamn much, River.”
River kissed him hard. Their lips met again and again, rough, urgent presses that slowed after Erik leaned forward, after his arms slipped around River’s waist. River’s hands framed Erik’s neck, thumb on his carotid, reading his throbbing pulse. Erik’s mouth opened to accommodate the pass of wet breath, the stroke of their tongues—deep, open kissing that brought chills to the surface of his skin.
The first raindrop hit Erik’s cheek, then his forehead. Another crack of thunder and suddenly, cold, heavy raindrops pelted the car and the trees and them. Erik didn’t stop kissing River, and River didn’t pull back. They kissed until their lips were slick, until they were shivering and pawing at each other. Erik’s palm slipped up River’s shirt, across his stomach. River dug his fingers into Erik’s thigh.
“Hold on, hold on,” River said. He gasped against Erik’s mouth. “I have—fuck, I have shit I should say, too. Get in the car.”
Erik let River pull him. They stumbled toward the back door, pausing once when River pressed Erik against the car and kissed him again, twice when Erik whimpered, flinching away from River’s hand, too close to his stitches. They fell into the backseat. Erik’s back hit the seat cushion. River crawled over him and pulled the door shut with his foot.
“You’re too tall for this,” River teased.
Erik pressed his lips to the hollow of River’s throat. Rain streaked the windows, filling the car with white noise. River eased back. He held himself above Erik, and Erik looked up at him, at his kiss-bitten lips and heavy-lidded brown eyes.
“Your turn,” Erik whispered. Somewhere close, fear burrowed into his bones. “Say what you need to say.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
A little breath punched out of River, a tiny thing, lost in the rain and Erik’s breathing.
“What?” Erik stilled.
“Do you mean that?”
“Mean what?” Erik’s hand was warm against River’s ribs. He shivered violently.
“You really want to hear me?” Water rolled down the back of his neck and soaked his already wet shirt collar. He’d asked to be heard, and now it was right here, too real. Even in this dark, River wished Erik’s mouth was on him. How many wishes had River had in his life that had been granted?
“Yeah.” Erik’s voice was softer than the touch skirting River’s ear. I love you so goddamn much. The words, the rough helplessness in the admission, punctured him. “Of course.”
“I’m sorry I shut you out. I want this,” River admitted. “I want this. I want you and I want us. I don’t want this to be the end of that.” He spoke the last in a rush into Erik’s throat, eyes closed so tight he could see his pulse behind the lids.
“Wanting me?”
“Don’t be dense,” River said, and bit him. “I want to know you, every little piece of you.” I want you to know me, too. It had only been a few days and still he’d missed Erik’s cologne. He remembered the way Erik had smelled in the rain the night he’d kissed him by a food truck—clean and new.
“I want that, too. I can’t promise to be good at it. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted someone to know me. Since I’ve wanted to know someone. Not like this.” Erik kissed him gently. “We both have ghosts, River. And I want to know about yours.”
River smiled into Erik’s lips, into a kiss that was a bigger disaster than they were. A kiss that held a promise of something good, even in their mess. “My mother is an alcoholic,” he said on one long breath.
“Mom’s got a bad streak in her, huh? Like me? I get it now.” Vulnerability peeled back the kindness, putting teeth into Erik’s words.
“Could you just shut up for a second? I’m not telling you this so you’ll…” River pinched Erik’s ear. “You don’t have a bad streak anywhere in your body, no matter what you think. A shit way with words, maybe, but not that. That’s not why I’m bringing it up. It wasn’t just my mom. I… Remember when I told you about Brigid? She had a lot of her own issues—”
“I’m not sure you’re helping your case,” Erik said, prompting River to put his hand over Erik’s mouth.
“It was bad. She cheated on me, more than once, and I kept… I kept trying to fix it. Fix her. It took me a long time to realize that that wasn’t on me.”
Erik’s lips didn’t move behind River’s palm, and he made no move to speak when River pulled it away. He let the silence spin out.
“There’s a lot I could say. Should say. But right now, I just need you to know, I’m a mess, too. I don’t know how to love someone without it being a mess, and I have to figure that out.”
“Say that again.” Erik’s voice was rough, breaking on the consonants.
River felt the rigid scar on Erik’s cheekbone. He’d seen it split and reopened in the weeks he’d watched every kind of light play across Erik’s face. It would probably remain. Erik’s face fit perfectly in River’s hands. River spread his knees as much as he could in wet jeans. He wanted to feel every place they could possibly touch. To feel grounded by the thing that was easiest between them—not to get lost that way, but because it was strong and true and, despite everything, good. For the first time, River trusted that words could make it even better.
“I love you. So fucking much.” Funny, how even fear could taste sweet, paired with honey like this.
River didn’t know what he expected, but the sharp sting of Erik’s teeth on his lip wasn’t it. He laughed, breath skittering across Erik’s mouth and cheeks.
“Have you ever felt like this before? I don’t know how—”
“No, I haven’t,” River said, sealing the rest of the words between them.
“But you’ve been in love.” Erik was already inching River’s soaked shirt over his torso. River pushed his hands away and flipped on the light in the backseat. Erik’s eyes were pooled shadows.
“Not with you. I’ve never been in love with you. Nothing will ever be like this.” River’s excitement shivered up and out of him, bleeding through the pads of his fingers and pulsing over his chilled skin. He
ground down, useless and confined in their clothes but powerful in intent.
Erik grabbed his thighs. “We should talk about all this, probably.”
“We will. It’ll suck, but I will if you will.”
“Yeah,” Erik said. Anxiety like reluctance but with the tang of fear and skittishness trembled out of him. “I’ll talk.”
“It doesn’t have to be all at once. Just, promise it won’t end here, and we’ll figure it out. That you want to learn how to do this with me.”
Erik nodded.
“There’s too much to say right now. I’d never get it right. All I need is to know you’re willing to go there with me.”
“I am. You are. I’ll even try not to be an asshole about it.” The corners of Erik’s eyes crinkled. River huffed out a laugh. Erik’s hands on his hips gripped too hard, the edges of his waistband biting into River’s hip bones.
“Can you hold still for me?” River draped his arms over Erik’s shoulders. “Can you be good?”
“I don’t know if anyone would ever claim I’ve been good, but I can try.” It was so much lovelier to see Erik’s smile than to hope for it in the dark. River turned, anchored with a hand on Erik’s shoulder, and flipped the center console open. “You carry condoms with you everywhere?” Erik asked.
“How are you shocked by this?” River popped the button on his own pants. His skin was damp under them. Erik’s help removing them was nothing more than a hindrance. River pushed and pulled his pants off on his own before pulling Erik’s down. “Don’t move,” he commanded when Erik tried to help.
It was nothing to put himself into Erik’s hands. He guided Erik’s fingers between his legs and kissed his swollen lips, listened to Erik’s whispers with his skin instead of trying to parse their meaning with his ears. Erik flicked the light off; River swallowed his protest. Everything was magnified like this—Erik’s touch and his scent. Rain lashed the roof of the car. In the darkness, River heard everything Erik had been saying with his body for weeks now.
