Adonis Line: Filth series

by Dakota Gray

  I break the kiss. “What are we doing, Nina?”

  The brightness in her eyes dims a little. I try not feel the pit that’s suddenly settled into my gut.

  “I don’t know, Tarek. We were just supposed to hike, and I would take pictures. I’m hesitant to agree to anything deeper or more, but I have felt joy with you these past few days. I can acknowledge that and want more of it. Outside of that…” She shrugs.

  I don’t hate the answer. I’m not happy about it either, but I get where she’s coming from. “It’s in my nature to lock shit down.”

  “Oh, I didn’t catch that at all after talking to girlfriends and not just hookups. But go on.”

  I want to kiss the shit out of her, but I refrain. “And, I understand you’re not there yet, but know whenever you’re ready, so am I.”

  She nods, solemn. “Thank you for that.”

  “What?”

  “Not pressuring me or making me feel guilty.”

  And that’s just fucked up. She shouldn’t have to feel grateful I’m respecting her boundaries. I scratch at my beard instead of responding.

  “Anyway,” she says, “We need food and to get going. There’s a waterfall with my name on it, and I don’t plan to miss out on that picture.”

  Movement down the aisle catches my eye. A short pregnant woman is trying to reach the top shelf. Nina shifts and follows my gaze. I excuse myself and head down the aisle to see if I can help. A short conversation ensues, but it lasts less than two minutes.

  When I turn around, Nina’s gone. Our basket is right where I left it.

  NINA

  * * *

  I’M TRYING SO hard to shake off the day before as I enjoy the view of the waterfall. My camera is a hefty weight around my neck as I wait for dusk to break through the trees surrounding the lake. The sharp, crisp scent of trees, dirt, and open water sinks into me, soothing anything beneath the surface that’s threatened to bubble up.

  I’ve made a home in the perfect spot to showcase the panoramic view that’s encouraged tourists, even in this colder season. I’ve watched the families and couples splash around and eat, surreptitiously taking shots of them, not for the contest, but as a personal memory of my time staked here since morning.

  It’s only a side benefit I’ve avoided camp with Tarek after the long and frustrating trail just to get to this waypoint. He’s smart enough to know I needed space after his announcement. But the space and time has given me way too much to think about it.

  Like, I haven’t had anything longterm relationship-wise in years. I’ve dated, but once the man has lingered for more than a few months and it feels like we should move on to something more serious, I lose interest. I don’t mean to. I’m not actively looking for reasons to end things. Or at least I don’t think I am. We just sort of fade from each other’s lives and eventually I can’t remember the last time we called or texted each other. “U up?” included.

  So, yeah, maybe I’m terrified of what’s going on with Tarek. At least I’m getting some good shots out of it.

  As though I’ve spoken the devil into existence, Tarek plops down on the blanket beside me. He offers a turkey sandwich wrapped in a Ziplock and a bag of chips without speaking.

  “Let me set up my tripod just in case.”

  He doesn’t say anything. Tarek remains quiet until I finish eating. “We’re going to be a day behind.”

  I figured as much. We’d arrived the previous day shy of dusk. I’d been too tired to set up right away for one night of camping and a quick turnaround. “I’ll take the lumps. I ended up with some amazing nighttime shots of the waterfall.”

  “We’ll head out tomorrow before dawn.”

  Brutal but again worth it. “Our next stop is close to home. Should we spend the night there, or…?”

  “Up to you. We’re on your dime.”

  I can’t take this all-business Tarek. “Are you pissed at me?”

  He glances at me, and I can’t read his face. I never can, yet I won’t ever stop trying to figure him out, trying to spot the moment he’s angry. “Not even remotely.”

  I stuff the empty bag of chips into the small bag. He puts out his hand and what’s become the norm in a thoughtless way—well until now—I give it to him. He stuffs the trash in his front pocket.

  It kind of hits me then, he’s never given me any speech about respecting nature. More than once, irritation has flickered over his expression when anyone littered within eye shot or that he’d do a quick trash sweep whether or not it was our mess at a campsite. He hasn’t expected, asked, or pressured me to take on his belief that man should leave nature as they found it.

  I lean over to press a kiss to his cheek. One brow creeps up, and I know there’s a silent question. “Were you on the satellite phone with Nate this whole time talking about your feelings? Is that how you came to be not even remotely pissed at me?”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “I did talk to Nate. He was having dinner with Duke and Kennedy.”

  That didn’t answer my question, so I ask, “You needed three people to give you counsel? Had I known you were that tender of heart—”

  “I hope you would have still told me you weren’t ready.”

  I hate how he cuts through my jokes or bravado to tell the truth. Why can’t he let me hide behind my well-honed armor? “But to Nate, Kennedy and Duke?”

  “Nate was teaching Kennedy how to play Spades. Duke was smart enough to know it was a trap.”

  “You taught Nate how to play Spades?”

  He laughs. “He sweet-talked my mama into teaching him during one of my family reunions. He’s a fucking beast.”

  I’m shook. “She taught him during a family reunion? That’s high stakes.”

  “He offered to assist her cooking, put on that Southern charm to talk her into teaching him, and then helped her decimate anyone dumb enough to challenge them.”

  “I’m too amused by this.”

  “So was I.”

  Then we’re smiling at each other, and I go soft on the inside. I look away first. “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be out here.”

  “Hence, why I’m here. I figured you’d want to get some shots of sunset and would try to make your way back to camp after it goes dark. You didn’t have a flashlight.”

  But now I have him. I’m still not ready. That thought isn’t fear. My skin doesn’t have a sheen of cold sweat. My heart isn’t racing. Years have passed since I escaped my ex. Hell, since he’s been in prison. And I had therapy. Some wounds, no matter the amount of time has passed, will ache like they are fresh and deep. Time definitely can’t build trust.

  I do what I always do when that wound aches. “Oh, a flashlight is the lump in your pants. I see.”

  “Take your damn pictures, smart ass.”

  I do. We make it back to camp and I don’t try to keep my hands to myself. But I’m not ready. We only have less than a week with each other. So let’s just say if tents had windows, they would have ended up fogged after I was done with him.

  It wasn’t enough.

  19

  Tarek

  * * *

  “Do you want dibs on…” Nina’s words are broken with a laugh.

  My limbs flail as I fall face first into the hotel’s mattress. My body is simply grateful for the reprieve. Some distant part of my brain points to the endless ways I’ve pushed my trekking groups when we hike. The many, many ways I’ve looked at them at the end of a long, hard trail and felt no sympathy, much less empathy for their exhaustion.

  But the past six days, Nina and I have fallen into a rough rhythm. We travel. We hike. She takes photos, we camp, and practically crawl into the tent out of sheer we’re-over-this-trip exhaustion. Either she shifts, or I breathe in a certain way and then we’re doing something X-rated.

  But this hotel will be our last. She had to snap a picture of a preserve in San Diego. It’s been a wet, cold day, and I’m a grumpy shit and trying not to be. Almost every muscle I ha
ve pangs, and I’m so fucking tired. My muscles and brain have tapped out. This is who I am when I’m pushed past my limits. This is me when I’ve shattered myself during a trek.

  And Nina has enough energy to attempt a question and laugh. She plops down beside me. Dark circles beneath her eyes bruise the skin, and still there’s the twinkle in her eyes. “I was going to say do you want dibs on the shower, but I’m guessing you’re fine swimming in the muck of boggy California and sweat.”

  I turn my head into the pillow. “I really don’t give a fuck what happens.”

  Her laugh starts out as a snort. “Is this all it took for you to become Mr. Grumpy Pants?”

  I grumble in answer.

  “My bunions have bunions. I ache in every place and some I didn’t know existed.”

  I turn my face to throw her an accusation while meeting her gaze. “You still sound like a ray of fucking sunshine.”

  She beams at me. “I know, right? Now you know how I felt after our first hike. I’m riding on the high that this was our last waypoint. Anyway, sleep.”

  I grunt again then bury my face into the nearest pillow and drift off to sleep. I wake up to canned laughter playing on the TV. My body screams at me in the language of pain. I hadn’t stretched. I’ll be lucky if I can get up with only my bones creaking in agony. Cramps are a possibility, so I remain still, cracking my eyes open enough to blurrily see the room.

  Nina spared plenty of expense on this room. Even though she reserved a non-smoking unit, there’s a faint tinge of ash permeating in the air. There’s a small table and one chair. This is where she’s made a home, since we’ve long stopped sleeping in rooms with twin beds. She’s wearing the robe she brought from home. She’s propped her feet on the table as she bites into a pizza. Two boxes take up space on the table.

  As though she can feel my eyes on her, Nina meets my gaze. “Sleeping Beauty, you’re awake.”

  I hurt too much to chuckle at her calling me the name I called her that first night. I make a noise instead. She brings her feet to the floor then makes her way over to me. I wince at the bed bouncing.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  I close my eyes. I spend most of my life fighting moments like this where I’m reminded of my shittiest mistake. No. Mistake sounds like a lapse in judgment or mindless accident. A mistake is forgetting to sign a tax return or locking your keys in the car.

  No.

  I had tasted restless and reckless for the first time—addictive in a destructive way. Then someone swerved into my driving lane. I thought I can’t control my life. I can’t be a man. I can’t be loved by the woman I love because the world had broken her. End it all.

  I didn’t consider the other driver could be a tired parent with a newborn trying to get their baby to sleep by the monotony of motion, and had succumbed themselves. I hadn’t cared. I didn’t have it in me to. I don’t have the capacity to say depression lies as a blanket excuse, because I was willing to take someone with me.

  Times like this, when my legs refuse to exist without pain, I am reminded of the worse me, the soulless me. For a moment, I let myself sit in the agony of existing. It’s the cautionary tale for me to fight and never forget I’m no saint. I’m not the good guy.

  The moment, the pain leaves me breathless until I can say, “My duffel. I have some muscle relaxers.”

  She gets the pills and a bottle of water. I grit my teeth to turn over and sit up. After a few minutes my head aches from clenching my jaw for so long.

  Worry twists her face into soft lines. “Is there anything else I can do?”

  I try for humor. “Undress me from the waist down?”

  She bites her bottom lip. “I get it now. I give you the massage that turns into the fuck session? That’s kind of diabolical, but a nice twist a girl just won’t see coming.”

  The drug slowly seeps into me. “You’ve caught me,” is the best I can come up with.

  I lay back on the bed and close my eyes. I’m going to regret the morning, but as long as the pills remain in my system, I won’t whimper from pain.

  I jolt at Nina’s hand on my leg. I lift my head high enough to see her pull my shoe off. There’s nothing sexy about the way we get my pants off, but there’s a flirtatious light in her eyes when she asks if I want my boxers off too.

  She climbs in beside and is so gentle when she curls into me. “Let’s sleep, and if you’re still hurting when you wake up, I’m taking you the hospital.”

  “I won’t need that.”

  “We’ll see.”

  The drugs kick in. I don’t fight the sudden fog. When I wake up for a second time, grogginess soaks every part of me, but I feel human. I do my best not to wake Nina as I get up. I’m stiff, but I can get through a short stretching routine. With the TV as my only light, I dig out some clean close and the small box of Epsom salt I brought for this very occasion. I shower off any yuck, let the dirt drain away, and fill the tub. I by no means believe my entire body will fit into that small ass space, but the bath is deep enough for me to soak my shins. It’s enough.

  I don’t turn to the soft knock at the door. “Come in.”

  Warm air rolls in from the AC she must have turned on. “I hate to even say this…”

  I turn slightly to get her in my sights. She’s cringing. Only takes a second for me to guess. “You need to pee.”

  She puts up her hand when I move to leave. “Just close the curtains, and I’ll turn on the faucet.”

  She’s the one who tugs the shower curtain against my back, turns on the faucet and then hums as though all that isn’t quite enough. I’m smiling by the time she rips the curtain back after washing her hands.

  “Need anything?” she asks.

  “I’m good.” I add after her frown, “I’m much better. What time is it?”

  “Around four in the morning. We slept most of yesterday away.”

  She lingers. I glance down at my legs. I know what she’s thinking about. I told her the unfiltered truth. How could she not pick through those ugly facts I offered her? At the time, she hadn’t flinched from my touch, my mouth. She hadn’t looked at me any differently after we left the bed. I can contribute her reaction now to a lot of things, but the main one is my truth is no longer a distant past.

  I am and will always be a man who was hurt and didn’t care about my outlet for pain or who else that might damage. I can make all the amends I want, and none of that can change the past. That truth lives in me.

  My breath stalls when I consider that being her reason why she doesn’t want anything after today. We’ve lived in each other’s skin for the past two weeks and some change. I won’t lie and say we know everything about each other, but we know the most important bits. The ones only married couples on the rocks might trip over years into their relationship. She doesn’t want that—me. Fuck.

  That hollow space inside me that needs a feeding hungers for me to lay out what happens next between us. It needs surefire answers about what we’re going to do after she drops me off at my place. I ignore that garbled voice.

  “More sleep?” I ask. “Or do we head out?”

  “We’ll go when I don’t have to half-carry you to the car.”

  She leaves it at that and goes back into the main room. I try to fight off that monster.

  20

  Nina

  * * *

  I don’t question how we end up at my house. I should have dropped Tarek off at his home. We had simply talked and talked and talked on our way toward the city limits that my muscle memory headed home. Plus, it’s so easy to talk about everything but what happens next and roll with what’s actually going on.

  And despite what Tarek and I look like on the surface, I’m not ignoring my fraught emotions about him. I’ve simply decided to follow the loudest yearnings clamoring for attention—lust and happiness

  That last is wild as shit for me. Happiness is such a buoyant thing. As an emotion, it’s a bubble that will pop if you let something
sharp near it. I’m not. He’s not.

  We just so happen to be on my doorstep.

  It’s all a surprise when he pins me against my front door. If not for Tarek holding me up, I’d be a puddle of lust on my welcome mat. Something like giddy pleasure fills and terrifies me. I’m so out of practice of being happy.

  I mean, he’s a man who took me on a two-week journey to take pictures of secret places in California. At times he fucked my brains out and often I returned the favor. We lived in each other’s space and didn’t want to kill one another at the end of it. That, in and of itself, is some kind of miracle.

  Tonight will be the first night we sleep without each other. I’m not sure we can. Hence the kiss, the pinning against my door. It’s all to prolong our imminent separation.

  Eventually, we do have to breathe without our lips locked. When he inches back, his gaze is soft, his lids half-open and his mouth is swollen from the way I’ve nipped at him.

  I rest my hands on his chest. “Thank you for bringing my luggage to the door.”

  “No problem. I would hate to imagine you dropping me off at home and then you can’t even bring your stuff inside your house because it’s too heavy. I wouldn’t want you to break any of the souvenirs.”

  We both know he’s telling the truth and being full of shit. The half-lie bolsters me to say what I couldn’t during the entire car ride home. “You can come in.” I smile and give up on being shy or hesitant. “Then just come.”

  He sighs, his shoulders lowering as he fits our bodies together. “I want to come…in.”

  I snort then turn around to unlock my door. Within seconds I know my sister has come by more than once. My mail is stacked on the table with my key bowl. Because my sister is efficient beyond the telling of it, I go by the order she’s put them in. Behind me, Tarek snuggles my neck.