Landslide

by Jenn Cooksey

  Her teeth move out of nipping range when she lets out a short humph of laughter before elbowing me in the ribs. “Punny.”

  “Thanks, I try. Seriously though, neither of us is getting up. I am legitimately done.” I yawn again and pull her to me once more. “I hath spoken and doth decree it.”

  “Oh, fine.” She sighs and yawns a little herself, nuzzling her way back to her cozy spot and lightly kissing the spot on my chest that I’m sort of hoping will be bruised in the morning, just so that there’s proof tomorrow in case I need it for some reason. “Have sweet dreams, Your Majesty.”

  Fighting back another huge yawn so I can kiss her on the corner of her forehead, I murmur, “You too, beautiful.”

  So with that; with me soaking up every breath she takes against my skin and continuing to allow her body’s warmth to fan the low burning embers of my fresh start, yet still knowing that nothing’s really changed between Erica and me, that proof or no proof, tomorrow and the coming days will be a categorical bitch to get through now…a quiet sense of serene peace surrounds me, allowing me to finally close my eyes and hold her to me without an ounce of shame for the duration of the night…a night that will prove to be the first night of truly restful sleep that I’ve had in months. Because despite being weak and made powerless, heartwarming hope is finally rising to the surface, thawing me out with the understanding that the boy I used to be was right.

  It’s never too late…

  17

  “Let Me Go”

  —Erica—

  I gave complete strangers the best of me and saved for my best friend the worst. I showed him the unsightly despondence inside me and he would kiss away the ugliness of his own volition and without question. He’s been feeling some of the same loss and emptiness I have, but unlike me, he gave of himself and comforted me. He made me feel alive and wanted…and beautiful. And I gave him nothing of that compassion in return; gave nothing of myself.

  Performing the first blow job of my life on him might’ve been an odd way to say thank you, but the market in town still didn’t have those raspberry powdered donuts he likes so much and after hearing how distraught he was last night, I felt saying something like, “Hey, I really appreciate all you’ve done to help me heal and the sacrifices you’ve made to do it, so here, I got you a radiator,” just really wouldn’t carry the same sentiment I don’t think. So, I went a different route. Sue me.

  The weird thing is, I expected to feel guilty or wrong doing it. Like, by doing something I always got squeamish about just thinking about doing to Holden, I thought I would feel badly about myself. I didn’t. Not in the least.

  I’ve always felt safe with Cole, even in my earliest memory from when we were little, although the trust we mutually showed each other last night was unlike anything I’ve ever felt with anyone before, including Holden and my grandparents. I didn’t feel uncomfortable or awkward asking him if what I was doing was right or if it felt good. I wanted to get it right for him. I mean it’s not rocket science, I guess, and I’ve seen porn, but I didn’t want to be a spaz and hurt him or go too slow or something either. I obviously don’t have a penis and until he showed me, I didn’t really know the first thing about what one might like, so what better way to find out than by asking and making sure what I was doing was being done the way Cole’s penis likes it done. And that’s another thing… A guy’s penis is practically sacred, and by trusting me with his the way he did made me trust and have faith in myself as well, and that’s something I haven’t had in a long time.

  I’ll admit though that I was apprehensive about actually putting his priceless equipment in my mouth. I felt vulnerable. Really vulnerable, but, when I heard him tell me to wait and I looked at him, some of the same vulnerability and uncertainty was reflected back at me, and in that moment I wanted nothing more than to show him in no uncertain terms just how much he means to me. I had no clue if I was doing that right either, although rather than asking again, I just thought back to the night we first got to this campsite and tried to, in a way, mimic what he did and how it made me feel.

  It was before we met our new friends; the sun had gone down hours before we checked in and got settled, but it was really warm still. We’d been close to overheating again; however instead of trying to find the problem at night with a flashlight, like he’s actually done before, Cole chose to go check out the part of the river we’d been fortunate to get a campsite close to. I met him down there after I threw some trash away and put a bathing suit on and grabbed a couple towels. Come to find out, fortunate doesn’t cover being given twenty-four access to what is actually a breathtaking cove that during certain quiet hours of the day or night, a person might feel as if they’ve been blessed by somehow stumbling upon Eden.

  That first night was one of those peaceful times and after soaking in the tranquility and majesty before me, I couldn’t take my eyes off the glowing white of the huge moon. It brought out conflicting emotions of devout appreciation and simple sadness because it was so pristine…so perfect, and I was allowed to be a part of its beauty. Yet, it also made me think of how much splendor Holden is going to miss out on now. I don’t know how Cole always knows because I never say anything, but he waded up to the shore where I was standing ankle deep in the water. He didn’t even have to ask. He just knew.

  He took one of my hands in his, threaded our fingers together, and then brushed my hair back from my face before kissing me once softly. I clung to his lips though, not wanting to be alone with my thoughts again just yet. As if he could read my mind, he kissed me again and again, deepening each one until I was breathless and he’d picked me up. I wrapped my legs around him and he backed us out into the water so that we were in up to our waists. I don’t even know how long he stood there kissing me like that; letting his lips aid the magic of the cove in dispelling everything unpleasant from not only me but the world.

  His giving didn’t end there though. The fingers of one of his hands kept getting tangled and caught in the tie of my bikini top, so I just took it off. I didn’t think about it really, because it wasn’t the first time I’d ever taken my top off in front of him, and it wasn’t the first time I’d ever had his lips on my naked flesh either. It was the first time I felt heat from his eyes though. And it did something to me. It evoked something inside me that I still haven’t found a word for.

  He took the top from me and put it in his hand that was at my back. With his other hand, he started at the top of my neck to lightly and slowly trail his fingers down my collarbone and over my left breast, moonlight catching and playing in every drop of water his fingers left behind on my bare skin, and he watched what he was doing. I think that’s what gave me more goose bumps and spread more warmth inside me than anything else. He carried me back to the shore and laid me down on the water-soaked sand so that he was hovering over me, yet he still hadn’t kissed me again or taken his eyes from my body.

  It was electrifying to be looked at and touched like that. He repeated the same torturous finger trail on my other breast and just barely glanced up at me before dipping his head and bringing my nipple full into his mouth. His tongue circled and licked it two or three times, making the goose bumps I already had turn into a full-body shiver. I audibly gasped though and arched my back to bring myself closer to him, and I held his head to me when he pulled my throbbing nipple deeper into his mouth and suckled on it for a moment before transferring his attention to the other one. However, it wasn’t like just having my breasts passionately kissed, although that’s exactly what he was doing; he was doing the same thing he does sometimes with my tongue when we’re kissing, only he was doing it with my stimulated and overly sensitized nipple…but, I don’t know…it honestly just felt more like he was paying some kind of homage to me as a woman.

  I wanted him so badly that night. I hadn’t truly wanted another person like that since the night of Holden’s funeral, but that was a completely different kind of desire. It was twisted and dark, and I’m still having a har
d time coming to grips with how I treated Cole that night. The night at the cove I wanted him because as a byproduct of his compassion, he inadvertently seduced me with a sense of virtuous eroticism. He made me feel sexy and sensual, but even more than that, I felt like I was unquestionably and irrevocably revered.

  I know where the line is though and I won’t ever cross it again. I don’t ever want to be so inherently disrespectful of someone who cares about me as much as Cole does, and I know he only does what he does to distract me from being sad or feeling alone. Most of the time it works. Other times, all I can seem to do is think about Holden and how badly I miss him.

  So, even if we hadn’t heard whispered voices and footsteps approaching, I wouldn’t have tried to get Cole to give me more than he already had, and I didn’t say a word of protest either when he lifted his head from where he’d been feeding my soul. His eyes seemed to melt time and space when they looked into mine, and although he was already out of breath, his lips stole mine for one last, inebriating kiss before he snatched our towels, hurriedly bundled me up, and led me by the hand back to the camper without a word...our moment fading until it finally became more of a dream than reality.

  As I tripped along behind him, though, I remember feeling adrift and rather disoriented, but I was happy about it, which wasn’t too much of a surprise actually. I mean the thing is, Cole is a phenomenal kisser. He really and truly is; I don’t know where he learned how to do it or who taught him, if anyone, or if God just decided to bless Cole with a gift he can share with whomever he so chooses, but the range of emotion he can produce at will is mind blowing. In zero to thirty seconds he can go from the sweetest, most innocent kiss you can imagine to something that’s primal and intrinsically raw, and I am being straight-up serious when I say that I have never—not ever—been kissed so thoroughly and so intensely that I would honestly have a hard time remembering my own name afterwards. However, there’s been plenty of private times that my head was literally spinning when his lips left mine, and they’ve made me grateful that he’s never kissed me in a public place like a restaurant because I’d assuredly be too tipsy to even read the damned menu.

  Everything I felt then was what I tried to convey back to him last night. I thought if I could channel even a small amount of his seemingly built-in predilection for making me feel cherished, especially like that night, I could pat myself on the back as having done the job to the best of my ability. I wasn’t sure I was succeeding though until towards the end when I felt him watching me. Instead of becoming self-conscious with his eyes on me, watching every single thing I did, I felt powerful. There was no question about it; I was making him come unglued. It was just like what was happening to me when I was about to have my first orgasm…the one he gave me the night of the funeral. He was frantic and frenzied, and practically trying to claw his way out of his skin because what I made him feel was too much in almost every sense. And being able to do that; elicit that kind of response…me, Little Miss Prissy Pants…? Well, the power I felt was almost intoxicating. I really wanted to see it through to the end; however, he seemed so desperate for me not to and I remembered how I felt the moment before I climaxed, so I granted his wish and kissed him. I almost would’ve preferred to watch him come apart, though…to see him cross the finish line with my own two eyes and be visually rewarded by watching my resulting success, live as it happened.

  Thinking about it after the fact, it’s sort of hard to believe that was me. I mean I always thought giving a hand job or head was all for the guy, and never in a million years did I expect to enjoy it myself. But, now I can kind of see how some girls could totally get hooked on giving blow jobs. It’s a heady feeling, having that kind of power over a person and them knowing you have it, and still they trust you enough to not use that power against them.

  A tap at the screen has me setting my coffee cup down on the words written on the yellow construction paper in front of me. My eyes go to Cole still completely passed out though, and I sigh as Amanda pops her head inside the camper.

  “You about ready? I don’t wanna rush you, but I gotta get Cody out of here…Brian and Alex both have massive hangovers.”

  “Yeah. Gimme like five more minutes, though, okay? I’m gonna try one last time to wake him up.”

  “Okey doke.”

  I wanted to tell Cole last night that I’ve decided it’s time I head back home. I’d talked to Amanda about it—or rather, asked her if she wouldn’t mind giving me a lift to the bus station in the morning. She asked why I was leaving as suddenly as I am, so I just gave her the basic truth. My boyfriend and Cole’s best friend recently died and it hit us both really hard. Cole had decided he was done living at home and I went with him, but just for the summer. I have college starting in a couple weeks and it’s not only time I get back to my life, but it’s also time to let Cole start living his, wherever he decides to do it, and he can’t really do that schlepping me around the country.

  I don’t want Cole to take me to the bus station though because I don’t want to have one of those teary goodbyes or change my mind at the last minute. And I’m pretty sure I would. I’m scared about returning to real life and not having him there to catch me when I fall, because just like I’m sure I’d chicken out of leaving, I’m pretty damned certain I’m going to be falling flat on my face a whole bunch of times. Only, it’ll just be me around and unless I want to spend my life on the floor, I’ll have to learn to pick myself up. It’s a good thing, really, and something I know I need to do; I’m just petrified of doing it. I can’t use Cole as a crutch anymore, though, and that’s one of the things I explained to him in my goodbye letter that I wrote a little bit ago.

  Although now, I’m a tad irked with both him and myself this morning. I didn’t want him to watch me leave or me watch him fade into the distance, but I did want to say goodbye in person. Except, the big, lovable dummy won’t wake up. I tried telling him last night when I finally came to bed, but then…well, oral sex happened, and afterwards, he turned into a typical guy. I actually did tell him that I was going to be leaving in the morning, but I only remembered after he told me to have sweet dreams, and by then I was too late. He was out cold and has been ever since. I’ve tried nudging him, making noise packing my stuff up, blowing in his ear, poking him, pulling his leg hair, tickling him, and the most response I’ve gotten so far is that he’s rolled over twice, grunted a few times, batted my hand away once, and mumbled something about Scooby Snacks. One of the times he rolled over, the sheet pulled away and presented me with an eyeful of naked guy bits.

  At first I averted my eyes, but then wondered—out loud actually—what the hell I was thinking. I mean, I just got intimately and expressly acquainted with the important parts last night, so why would it be a big deal to look this morning? Excepting last night, I’ve actually never seen a live penis, and because it was nighttime, I didn’t really get to see it. Like, I did, the moon coming through the window at the head of my bed was really bright, but I guess I just wasn’t thinking about thoroughly checking out his junk before sticking it in my mouth. Not that seeing one has been on my bucket list or anything, but I’m curious now, which is curious in itself because I never used to be.

  I inadvertently walked in on Holden in the shower once and immediately turned on my heel and left. And when he and I almost had sex at Christmas, except for the low flickering light from the fire, the room was dark and I was glad it was. I remember feeling almost bashful I guess you could say about even the idea of looking at that part of him, and I felt the same way when he took my panties off me…grateful that his eyes weren't watching what his hands were doing. I don’t know if any of that unease was because I was nervous or anxious because we were going to have sex for the first time or what, though.

  Anyhow, my findings on further inspection are that the male form in all its glory is really pretty magnificent, and, kind of intimidating. For a split second, I considered trying to wake Cole up a completely different way, but…my um…my
jaw is a little stiff this morning. So, considering his substantial intimidating magnificence in the light of day and all, I thought I probably shouldn’t push my luck and do anything to make it even more sore. Plus, neither of us are truly in need of consolation at the moment, and it’s daylight, thus against our unspoken rules.

  Walking over to the bed and then staring at him blissfully snoozing his day away, I decide to almost jump on the bed and plop myself down right by his head. All I get is some sleepy utterances.

  Setting the letter down on the box on top of the small nightstand table, I nudge his shoulder. “Cole. Cooole. Wake up, sleepy head. I’m leaving now.”

  “Mmdgldmsos…”

  “Those are just sounds, Cole. You’re just making sounds. I’m leaving and you’re just making incoherent sounds…” my finger moves to wipe the corner of his mouth, “And you’re drooling a little.”

  Dejectedly sighing again, I lean down to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Thank you for everything, and being the best friend anyone could ever ask for. I’ll call you or text when I get home, but I’ll miss you so, so much. And, I love you.”

  “Mmgjk…I lub schyou, Ercahksk.”

  “Humph. I’m just gonna assume that’s me.” I kiss the dry, non-drooling corner of his mouth and then push to my feet, trying my hardest to clear the enormous lump in my throat.

  Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

  With a deep breath, I pick up my purse, small rolling suitcase, and one incredibly stuffed duffle bag, and shoulder my way out of the camper, bumping into and bouncing off of cupboards and the narrow doorway. I make such a ruckus getting out of the camper, I think for sure it would’ve woken him up, but I don’t look back. I count to thirty and then to sixty. At one hundred when the only sound I hear coming from inside is disappointing silence, I have to swallow once and blink the tears back before I can take a step and then another one. Just one slow step after another until I’m in Amanda’s Jeep. By the time I count to 463, the campsite is in the review mirror and I’m finally able to put my head in my hands and cry.