“You don’t have to tell me.”
But I do. He’s given me way more than I’ve given him. Not all of it, though. I won’t burden him with the why of it. “It’s stupid, really. It was just me being a fucked up kid. You know I used to fight a lot. I was angry. A guy pissed me off. We fought. His sister was there and said she was calling the cops. I ran. A lady left her car running while she checked her mail and I guess I thought I’d be really fucking smart and jump in it. It was a third strike kind of thing. Judge wanted to send a message. I’m lucky I was seventeen. If I’d have been eighteen, it could have been a lot worse.” And I wanted to pretend I didn’t care about anything. I’d been angry at Gabe, feeling sorry for myself and took it out on that kid. I’d thought, who fucking cares if I get into trouble? And jumped into that car. Because at the time, I’d felt abandoned. He was the only person who knew me and he’d walked the fuck away.
But he hadn’t walked away, had he? And because of my hot head, my mom died alone, so I got released as an eighteen-year-old who was fucking lost.
Needing something to say, I add, “I’ve never been known as the smartest guy around,” before nudging him with my elbow.
“Don’t do that.” Gabe stops walking. I watch a bead of sweat roll down the side of his head. “You’re not stupid. You made a mistake. You were a fucking kid. We all do stupid stuff, Lucas.”
“Thank you,” I tell him. Fuck, I needed to hear that. What is it with him? Why does it feel like we’ve spent our whole lives entwined with each other? “I promised myself I’d be better, though. I won’t let myself fuck up like that anymore.” For my mom. I at least owe her that much.
I take a drink of my water and then say, “Come on. Let’s keep going.”
19
Gabriel
I wipe the sweat from my brow and think, I should tell him. I really should tell Lucas that I haven’t been on my meds for the past couple of years. First, it was because I didn’t have health insurance and I was just trying to survive on my own.
But now it’s because it’s…I don’t know. Better is not the right word. It’s not necessarily better not to have your fucked-up brain regulated. It’s freer. That’s the word. It’s so liberating to be the only one in charge of myself yet also scary as shit.
I should tell him. But Lucas is reaching for my hand and it feels fucking amazing. Nobody has ever wanted to hold my hand before. Plus we’re outdoors, there isn’t a cloud in the sky as we’re hiking up this canyon, as if we’re coasting farther into the clouds, and it’s perfect.
I feel him squeeze my fingers as we maneuver around a shrub and I nearly trip over a protruding rock, but he keeps me balanced. Steady, yeah, that’s how I feel with Lucas, outside of completely fucking electric. Stable. Like he’s my metric stick. My compass. My true north.
My past colliding with my present and angling for my future. Hell, I would never tell him those ridiculously lofty thoughts. Not now, so early in our reunion. But I can’t help my brain from short-circuiting every time I’m with him. From hoping this is real.
“We’re almost to the top,” he says, grinning from ear to ear, like we’ve just accomplished a great feat, instead of climbing a popular canyon. There’s sweat rolling down his temples and the hair near his ears is matted to his head. He doesn’t have on his beanie and I didn’t bring my hoodie, which was a smart compromise because we’d both be perspiring like crazy. “This is fucking awesome.”
I love seeing Lucas smile. He just told me something important at the beginning of our hike. Something personal and I feel like it’s just one more piece of the Lucas puzzle to help me understand the person he’s become.
But I want to know other things about him as well. Everyday things. Trivial things.
“Do you like to dance?” I ask him as we separate momentarily on opposite sides of a group of older ladies heading back down the canyon. I notice how they look at us, trying to size us up, wondering if we’re boyfriends. Boyfriends. One woman even genuinely smiles at us.
“Do you mean at clubs?” Lucas asks when our bodies align again on the path. I don’t reach for his fingers a second time because even though he initiated contact, I’m not sure if he was only tolerating holding my hand for that long of a stretch. I need that type of physical contact. Crave it, especially from him, but Lucas isn’t built the same way. At least not the Lucas standing beside me right now.
“Yeah,” I reply. “When you go to clubs, do you get out there in the middle of all those sweaty bodies? I’d love to dance with you sometime.”
A crooked sexy smile lifts one corner of his mouth just as he reaches for my hand.
“That would be cool,” he says and it’s as if we’re making more plans. “Maybe we can go to The Male Box one night.” He smirks and places pressure on my palm, his thumb tracing a path that makes me shiver. “Will you get on your knees for me in the bathroom, too?” he mutters close to my ear.
“Depends how much you want it.” I laugh, knocking my hip playfully against his. I ignore the question of how many times he’s frequented the restroom in that place. How many other men. But I have no room to talk. “You’ll have to beg me for it.”
His eyes glaze over with lust as he arches a wicked eyebrow in my direction and my stomach flutters. Actually flutters, like some moths have been let loose and are attempting to break free.
The terrain smooths out and as we step up a shallow incline, everything changes. We’ve reached the top of the canyon and I hear Lucas’s intake of breath.
We’re silent as we move toward the edge, where there’s an open spot between two couples in workout gear. I’m slightly shorter than Lucas, and as if he realizes that fact, he tugs my hand and maneuvers me in front of him so that I have an unobstructed view. His arms encircle my shoulders and his breath tickles my neck.
“Look at that,” he says with a bit of awe in his voice. “Those mansions are something else.”
The couple that was beside us leaves, allowing us more room to stretch out. We can see everything up here—the skyline, downtown, even the Hollywood sign and I feel like I’m a tourist all over again in my own city.
Suddenly I get this burst of happiness inside my chest and I impulsively feel like singing or jumping up and down or some crazy shit. Lucas’s hands travel lower to my waist and he grips firmly while rubbing his stubble along my shoulder. I squirm as a surge of adrenaline courses through my veins. I throw my hands up and whoop into the valley and I swear I can hear an echo.
“King of the world!” I mimic the words of the famous movie that was probably filmed on some renowned set down below the hillside.
Lucas chuckles behind me and I can feel the deep rumble reverberate in my ears and chest.
“I fucking hate that movie,” he says against my neck.
“Say what?” I glance back at him with narrowed eyes. “Where’s your sense of romance?”
“Romance? You know what’s romantic?” Lucas scoffs. “Rose moving over so Jack can get on the goddamn raft. Or how about Jack gets on the raft first and she lies on top to create body warmth, and they both survive?”
“You’re serious?” I study him to see if he’s just messing with me. His jaw is clenched and his nostrils are flaring as he considers other options for the two main characters so their story doesn’t end so tragically.
It might just be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.
We hear laughter as a large group of male and female hikers stroll atop the crest, and in their quest to get a decent view, jostle into us. My foot slips toward the edge of the decline and Lucas grabs hold of my shoulders and yanks me back as if I was truly in danger of falling.
“It’s no biggie. I’m fine.” Little does he realize that just the idea of soaring headfirst in a downward spiral is exhilarating to me. Not the end result, of course, just the feel of my stomach swooping and my heart climbing to my throat, the air batting at my face and hair, my skin prickling from anticipation.
“They should w
atch where the hell they’re going,” he growls in my ear and I feel his hands curl into fists.
I hold my breath and grow completely motionless, my heart battering in my chest.
He can feel the change in my posture and he immediately stiffens in response.
“Ah fuck,” he says, his head landing on my shoulder. “Is that really what you think of me? That I’d get pissed enough to use my fist on somebody for bumping into us?”
I’m shaking my head but he doesn’t even give me time to explain that he only caught me off guard. That we’re just getting to know one another—feelings, moods, and temperaments.
“Do I make you nervous?” he mumbles in a regretful voice.
“No.” I twist my head and look him dead in the eye. “Besides, you told me that wasn’t you anymore.”
He tugs my body flush against him, my back against his front and buries his face in my neck. “I still can’t believe I punched you the first day I saw you. I’ll never forgive myself…fuck.”
The guilt is pouring out of him in buckets. But it’s not just the regret about his fist meeting my face. There’s more. Layers upon layers of remorse that he needs to shed. I see that now. If only he’d be brave enough to open up to me. To let me in. To help me understand what it is that’s making him so miserable.
“Luke, no—”
His lips curve along my nape, making me shiver. “I will never raise my hand to you again. Never. Please believe me. For some reason, in that moment, I became the kid I used to be. The one who needs to fight.”
I feel a winging in my chest. His words lift me up and at the same time drag me down. We have so much more to learn about each other. But I’m not ready to go anywhere. Not yet. I want to stay right here with him. In the safety of his embrace.
I turn in his arms and grab his face, kiss his salty lips. “I believe you.”
20
Lucas
I miss my mom.
It isn’t something I let myself think about very often, but it’s true. Ever since my conversation with Gabe the other day, I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s been in my head all the time, a hundred questions bearing down on me, each one of them weighing a ton.
The weight is too much to handle sometimes. She was all I had. No matter what happened, I always knew she loved me. I always knew she hated hurting me, that she wanted something more for me than what she had for herself.
It probably makes me a dickhead that I’m doing nothing to have a better life. I wouldn’t know the first step to making that happen, though. All I do is fill book after book of buildings I’ll never have the balls to try and make in real life. I surround myself with drunks so I won’t become one myself.
She wouldn’t be proud. She’d probably feel like it was her fault.
“I need to chill the fuck out,” I mumble to myself before reaching for my phone.
There’s a text from Gabe. I’m supposed to try and get Saturday off so we can go to The Male Box. Jesus, he scared the shit out of me up at Runyon. I looked out in awe, but for a split second, it almost looked like he thought maybe he could fly…or at least, that he wanted to.
Which makes absolutely no sense, so it’s probably my imagination running fucking crazy. Sometimes, if Mom slept in late a day or two, I would automatically assume she was drinking again. It’s hard not to look for the worst when you feel like you’ve gotten so much of it.
Before I’m late for work, I force myself to shove to my feet. I slip my phone into my pocket, push my beanie onto my head and grab my sketchbook.
The bar is dead when I get to work. It’s only Conner behind the counter and he nods his head at me, a big-ass happy smile on his face. I don’t get him…people who seem like they’re happy all the fucking time. “What’s up?” I ask as I make my way behind the bar.
“Nothing. What’s up with you?”
Not sure what to really tell him, I shrug.
Conner nudges me with his elbow. “You look extra fucking gloomy today.”
I laugh him off because I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. “I’m not gloomy. I’m just not extra fucking cheery, like you.”
We’re both laughing when someone comes up to the bar and orders a drink. Conner makes it while I wash my hands, and then I help the next customer. We have a little flurry, nothing too crazy, but enough to keep us moving before there’s another lull. A few people in the front of the bar dance to the rock music pouring from the speakers.
“I can’t wait to get out of this place,” Conner says.
Yeah…me too… “Any luck looking for something?” My chest squeezes with the question. I don’t want him to leave me behind.
“A few possibilities. Nothing solid yet.” He crosses his arms and leans against the bar. “I met this gorgeous woman at the coffeehouse this weekend. Thinking about taking her out on Saturday.”
“Nice.” I pull my beanie up, scratch my head and pull it down again. “I um…climbed Runyon, with my friend Gabe, the other day. I can’t believe I didn’t do that shit before.” The look in Conner’s dark eyes changes, but I can’t tell what it means, so I change the subject. “Oh, and don’t answer your phone on Saturday. I’m probably going to call in. I think I’m going to hit up a club.” It’s shitty working every weekend. It makes it hard to go out, but this will be the first time I’ve ever called in so they can deal with it.
“You can always ask me.”
My eyes meet Conner’s. “Ask you what?”
“To work for you.”
Why would he want to do that? “You just said you might go out on Saturday.”
He pushes off the bar and steps closer. “So? I can go out anytime. Friends do stuff like that for each other, Lucas. If you ask me, I’ll say yes.”
He smirks and I know the bastard is really going to make me ask him. “I’ll just call in.” I sneak around him to help a customer who approached the bar. I get him two bottles of Coors, take his money and then he’s on his way again.
“Don’t pretend we’re not friends. You know we are. Ask me. And hell, maybe if you go out and get laid, you won’t look so miserable all the time.”
I roll my eyes at him. He’s right. I know he’s right. Not about the getting laid part or the being miserable part, though I really fucking wouldn’t mind getting laid. But he means about the fact that he’s my friend, and that I should just ask him for a fucking favor. It’s not that big a deal. “Fine,” I tell him, but then turn my attention to the woman standing there. “What can I get you?”
“I just want to close out my tab.”
“Yeah, sure. No problem.” We take care of business, and after another minute, I’m turning around and facing Conner again. I really want to go out with Gabe on Saturday. I want to dance and kiss and shove money down go-go dancers’ underwear. I want to have fun. As much as I hate this place, if I call in, I’ll be thinking about it all night. Did they get the shift covered? How busy are they? Did I leave someone alone? “Will you work for me on Saturday?” I ask him.
“Nah, I can’t. Have plans.”
I playfully shove him and he cracks up laughing. A second later, I’m laughing too. “Yes, I’ll work for you. Have fun, go out, get your dick sucked.” He cocks a brow at me. “Or suck someone else’s. Are you going with your boy?”
I nearly stumble at that. Gabe isn’t mine. I like him. He likes me, but anything beyond that is scary as hell. “He’s not my boy.” Although I think there’s a part of me that wants him to be.
“What is he?”
My friend. The first person who really knew me. Someone who makes me feel comfortable in my skin. “None of your fucking business. That’s enough of this friend shit for one day.”
Conner smiles, showing me he knows I’m partially kidding. “Fine. But I’m wearing you down, Lucas. You and me? We’re going to be bros before you know it.”
I don’t tell him so, but I think we already might be.
21
Gabriel
“Hope that hoodi
e is staying home,” Ezra says as I fumble around my bedroom, trying to get ready for my night out with Lucas. “You’ll have to store it someplace if you’re going to dance.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll take that into consideration.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he says, laughing. “Just trying to help.”
“Bet you’re a joy to have for a boyfriend.” I duck as he lunges a small throw pillow from the couch in my direction. It hits the side of my bed and lands on the carpet. Ezra can be pretty uptight—except when he’s high—so to see him loosen up a bit is humorous.
Fussing with my hair in the mirror, I push it out of my face, wondering if I still look halfway decent despite these bags beneath my eyes. I’ve been sleeping a lot less lately. Every time I try to close my eyes, I make lists in my head of everything I need to do, hope to do. Kind of like a bucket list. One that includes Lucas. But at least I’m all caught up on my school assignments from my middle of the night sessions.
I even emailed a contact my uncle gave me last year for the local flight school to inquire about lessons in this area. It’d been the last time I talked to him. My uncle had seemed happy to hear from me, glad I was enrolled in classes, and wished me well out here on my own. I ignore that part of my conscience that tells me I need to get my other ducks in a row first. But I can’t bear to think of failing at my dream. Not because of my fucking brain being faulty.
Lacing up my black Vans, I realize that Ezra is still in the doorway, snickering at me. “What?”
“You’re different with him,” he says, shrugging. “Lucas.”
“How would you know?” I shove my wallet in my back pocket. “You’ve only met him one time.”
“Yeah, but you’re always looking at your phone and smiling like some goofball.”
“Whatever.” Before he decides to ask questions, I change the subject. “What do you have going on?”
Touch the Sky (Free Fall Book 1) Page 10
