Strong Enough

by Melanie Harlow

  He slid under the covers and we reached for each other, our bodies coming together like fingers clasped in prayer, arms and legs and tongues intertwined. We lay on our sides, kissing and stroking and clinging, until Maxim pushed me onto my back. He buried his face in my neck and inhaled deeply. “God, I missed you.”

  I missed you, too. I wanted to tell him, but he was kissing his way down my chest, licking my nipples, sucking them, teasing them with the tip of his tongue, and it felt so good I couldn’t speak. My hips thrust beneath him, my cock grinding against his torso. Oh, fuck. I’m too close. Too close. If he kept doing that, I was going to come all over us within seconds. I could feel it starting already.

  I wanted to be inside him again. No—I needed it. Needed to be surrounded that way, accepted that way, embraced that way. Physically, I craved the heat and aggression of it, but some other part of me ached for the connection, to him and to myself.

  Mustering my strength, I flipped him onto his back and began to kiss him everywhere, seeking out tender, hidden places on his body. Beneath his jaw. The side of his ribs. Behind his knees. I licked my way up his inner thigh, along his shaft, over his crown. I traced those veins on his lower abs with my tongue like I’d wanted to before.

  He rewarded me with soft moans and sharp breaths and his fingers in my hair. He groaned and cursed and growled my name when he came in my mouth. He panted raggedly as I poured warm, slick lubricant into my hand and breathed deeply when I penetrated him with my fingers.

  But none of it compared to the way he held me as I buried myself endlessly in his body, the way he took my head in his hands as I dangled over the edge, the way he whispered baby as I fell to pieces inside him.

  And it was crazy and backward and illogical—I was a full-grown man, twelve years older than he was—yet nothing had ever felt more true. Because I no longer knew where he stopped and I began, who was moving and who was still, whose breath was on my lips, whose taste was in my mouth, or whose heart beat relentlessly inside my chest.

  It was just ours. All of it was ours.

  “Don’t go.” My voice sounded needy and desperate, and I hated it, but I didn’t stop. “Don’t go back to your room tonight. Stay with me.”

  “Okay,” he whispered, touching his lips to mine. “I’ll stay.”

  Twenty-Eight

  MAXIM

  He fell onto my chest, and I wrapped my arms around him. Neither of us spoke as our breathing slowed, steadied, and synced, both of us inhaling and exhaling at the same time. The moment was peaceful, the calm after a storm.

  And it had been a particularly intense storm.

  Had he missed me like I’d missed him? Had he thought about me? Our schedules were so opposite, we’d gone days without even seeing each other. When he’d walked into the bar last night, it was like seeing a movie star come through the door. Actually, it was better than that. There was no movie star who excited me the way he did. He’d looked happy to see me too, but I hadn’t missed the careful way he guarded himself around Ellen. He was so afraid of what people would think if they knew about us, about him. I wished he could see himself the way I did.

  He kissed my shoulder and lifted himself off me, separating our bodies. “Be right back.”

  While he was in the bathroom, I stretched out in his bed, sore and tired but happy. He wants me to sleep next to him tonight. I could count on one hand the number of nights I’d slept in someone else’s bed, and those times had simply been a matter of falling asleep before I remembered to get up and go home. This was different. This was on purpose.

  I wondered what had prompted him to ask me, but didn’t want to read too much into it. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe he just wanted to have sex again in the morning. But I was tempted to see it as one more barrier broken.

  The bathroom door opened and he joined me in bed again, immediately pulling me close. Surprised but glad, I tucked myself along his side, my head on his shoulder, my arm around his waist.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “I feel like I was pretty rough on you.”

  “A little sore,” I admitted. “But not too much.”

  “Good.” He was silent a moment. “This is nice. I’m not usually a cuddler.”

  I smiled. “Me either. And it is nice.”

  A minute ticked by, then he spoke again.

  “I can’t sleep. Will you sing the Russian song for me?” He couldn’t even get through the question without laughing.

  I kicked him gently. “Be nice or I’ll go back to the guest room.”

  “No.” He squeezed me. “I like you here. I’ll be nice—for now.”

  “You’re always nice.” I kissed his chest.

  He sighed. “My sister thinks I’m a grumpy old man.”

  “No, she doesn’t, not really. She wants you to be happy. And she thinks you’d be happy if you found someone.”

  “She’s talked about me to you?” His tone was slightly defensive.

  Careful. “Not too much. She said what you said—that you’d like a family.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “She thinks you’ll make a great dad.”

  Another sigh. Then, “Do you ever think about having kids?”

  “Not really.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t either when I was your age. Forty seemed light years away. Fuck, thirty seemed light years away. But time flies. Priorities change. We get old.”

  “You’re not old, Derek.”

  “I’m older.”

  “I like that about you.”

  He made a noise. “Why?”

  “Because it makes you wiser and more mature and more experienced. You’ve done things. You’ve made mistakes and learned from them. You’re not some stupid twenty-year-old who doesn’t know shit about life and doesn’t care because he just wants to get through the day, get drunk, get laid, whatever.”

  “You’re not like that either,” he said.

  “No, I’m not. But I don’t think I’m a typical twenty-four-year-old. Another reason I came here was because I felt like I’d outgrown my friends. They didn’t seem to have any ambition. It’s not entirely their fault, because there isn’t opportunity there like there is here, but I found myself bored and restless a lot of the time. I wanted something better.”

  “You’re going to get it. It might take some time, but you’ll be a success story here. I know it.”

  I gave him a squeeze. “Hush. You’ll jinx me. But thank you.”

  We fell asleep just like that.

  When I woke up the next morning, Derek was gone. For a moment, I was nervous he regretted asking me to stay the night in his bed and was off somewhere punishing himself for it. But then I saw the note on his nightstand, written in black ink on a white notepad. His handwriting made me smile—perfectly formed, angular letters, all caps. The paper had no lines, but his words didn’t slant in any direction.

  At the gym. Didn’t want to wake you. Breakfast when I get back?

  P.S. You’re cute when you’re sleeping.

  My heart thumped happily, and I smiled as I stretched out in his bed again. The sheets smelled like him, like us, and I loved it. I loved the memory of last night, how passionate and powerful he’d been—and how vulnerable, too. He’d shown me he’d missed me, even if he hadn’t said it. I loved that he’d asked me to stay with him and the way we’d held each other as we’d gone to sleep.

  I really hoped he felt the same. At the same time, I also thought it was important to stick to the plan—I would rent my own apartment as soon as possible. In fact, I had appointments to visit two complexes this afternoon before work. The sooner I wasn’t dependent on Derek for things, the better. I wanted to stand on equal footing—well, as equal as possible. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be equal to someone like him. But I had to try.

  After a shower, I got dressed and went downstairs as Derek was coming in the back door. In the kitchen, our eyes met, and we both smiled. Relief—he wasn’t sorry. And God, he looked good, even sweaty and windblown.

>   “Morning,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

  “Like a baby. You?”

  “Great.”

  “How was your workout?”

  He groaned. “Tough. But good. I need to clean up.”

  “Okay. I could make breakfast if you’d like.”

  “Syrniki?” His face lit up like a kid about to blow out the candles on his birthday cake.

  I laughed. “Sure.”

  As he passed me on his way to the stairs, he gave me a quick kiss. “Sorry, I’m sweaty.”

  “I like you sweaty.”

  He grinned and left me alone in the kitchen, where I put on some coffee and got started on the pancakes. It was ridiculous how much I enjoyed cooking for him. After I moved out, I would invite him to my new apartment so I could continue to do it.

  He came down about thirty minutes later, inhaling deeply. “God, that smells so good.”

  I poured him a cup of coffee. “Perfect timing,” I said, handing him the mug. “Everything is almost ready.”

  He sipped the coffee and sat down at the table, which I’d already set. When I put his plate in front of him a moment later, he moaned. “Good thing I did a few extra sets this morning at the gym. How the hell do you eat like this and stay in such good shape?”

  “I don’t eat like this all the time,” I explained, taking the seat across from him. “And I do like to work out, I just haven’t had time here yet. But I’ve always had a fast…” The word wasn’t coming to me, and I looked at him for help. “You know, what your body does to burn what you eat.”

  “Metabolism,” he supplied.

  “Yes. A fast metabolism.”

  “I probably had a fast metabolism at your age, too.”

  “If I can look half as good as you in ten years, I would be thrilled,” I told him honestly.

  He rolled his eyes. “I don’t think you need to worry. So tell me what you’ve been up to this week, besides taking the bus. We haven’t had a chance to talk for days.”

  As we ate, I filled him in on what I’d been doing the last three days. Jake had gotten in touch when he returned from the mountains, and he felt so bad about what had happened to me that he volunteered to get my four hundred dollars back.

  “And did he?” Derek’s expression was shocked.

  “He did.” I shrugged. “I have no idea how, but he gave me the cash yesterday morning.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “It is. It means I can pay you the rent we agreed on, which makes me happy. And with what I’m making at the bar plus what I have saved already, I am confident I can afford an apartment. I’m looking at two places this afternoon.”

  Two lines appeared between his eyebrows. “Are you? I didn’t know that.”

  “I didn’t want to bother you. But I called two of the complexes we found the other day when we were looking, and they both have availability.”

  “Oh.” He poked at some fruit on his plate. “When would you move out?”

  “Both places start leases on either the first or the fifteenth. The first is a week from Monday, so that’s what I asked for.”

  He nodded slowly. “Want me to go with you today?”

  “That would be great, but you don’t have to. I understand if you’re busy.”

  “I’m not busy. What time?”

  “One is at two, and one is at three. I have to be at work by five-thirty.”

  He nodded and continued eating. “What about screenwriting classes? Have you looked into those? Don’t you want to save for those?”

  “I did a little research, yes. Classes are very expensive, so it will be quite a while before I can enroll. And I might want to take some English classes first, to make sure I know what I’m doing when I write. Speaking is one thing, but writing is another. It’s much harder.”

  “What about a laptop? Don’t you want a new one?”

  “I do, but the old one you gave me works great. If you’re okay with me using that for now, I will save for a new laptop in the future.”

  “I’m fine with that. I just don’t want you to think you have to rush out of here and pay rent somewhere if there are things you need to save for.”

  “I don’t think that at all. It’s tempting to go buy a shiny new laptop with the money I’m making, which is more than I’ve ever made before, but it wouldn’t be a very good decision. I need a place to live. A new computer and screenwriting classes are just things I want. They can wait.” I grinned at him. “This is me being practical and making a smart decision.”

  He smiled, a little grudgingly. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

  We finished breakfast, mostly in silence. It seemed like Derek’s mood had deteriorated a bit since he’d come downstairs, and I wondered if it was something I’d said. Could he be upset that I’d made appointments to check out apartments? Maybe he was offended I wanted to leave? Maybe he wished I’d told him about it first? But that had always been the plan, and as far as I knew, the plan hadn’t changed just because we were…whatever we were. Involved.

  And I wasn’t an idiot. Equal footing aside, the longer I stayed here, the harder it was going to be to leave. Already I was thinking ahead to tonight, wondering if he was going to ask me to wake him again and hoping that he would. Maybe he’d even want me to sleep in his bed again, too. And maybe tomorrow morning, he’d sleep in and we’d wake up next to each other. It was the kind of romantic thing I’d never thought about before, but wanted to experience with Derek.

  Everything was different now.

  Twenty-Nine

  DEREK

  He wanted to move out.

  I knew it was the right decision, but I hated the thought of it. A week from Monday, he’d be gone. Nine days. That’s all I had left.

  Shouldn’t I have been glad? After all, this had been my plan from the start. He was making this easy for me, leaving of his own accord and not forcing me to ask him to go. Because whatever this was, it had to end soon. I’d never been in denial about that, never once considered that anything more could come of this. As good as it was, nothing could.

  But still—I didn’t want to let him go. I wasn’t ready yet. He wasn’t out of my system.

  I couldn’t say that to him, of course. But what I could do was be a dick about the apartments we saw that afternoon. And I was. Both of them were perfectly fine and either would have suited him, but I shot down his enthusiasm by finding things wrong at every possible opportunity.

  Sure it’s close to public transportation, but not much else. God, this place is noisy—listen to that traffic!

  The kitchen is okay, but the tiles in the bathroom are all cracked.

  See that stain on the ceiling? That means a leak.

  This carpet looks like it hasn’t been replaced since the fall of the Berlin Wall.

  Definitely better in the photos online.

  Even so, Maxim liked the second place well enough to leave a deposit in cash and sign a lease. It was mostly furnished, since the previous owner had left suddenly for a job out of the country, so he could move right in on Monday. All he’d really need were some new sheets and towels, which he planned to buy this week.

  Inside the dingy little office of the complex manager, I watched him sign the lease with a panicky sense of dread. He was really going. I’d be alone again. Alone and drifting and scared I’d never find this kind of connection with anyone else. My throat was so dry. I wanted to speak, but couldn’t. Wanted to tell him not to sign, not to go, not to leave me. I wanted him to need me, because who else would?

  Are you fucking crazy? You can’t say any of those things! You shouldn’t even be feeling them. What the fuck is wrong with you? He wants to leave, and you need to let him live his life. He didn’t come here for you, asshole. Now pull yourself together!

  Summoning every ounce of strength, I pressed my lips together to keep myself from saying anything stupid. I co-signed the lease. I pushed back at the feelings trying to surface, feelings of inevitable loss and loneliness. Feelings of w
armth and affection. Feelings of what if and I wish and maybe we could. I drowned them without mercy at the bottom of my heart.

  I couldn’t let myself hope. I just couldn’t.

  “You like it, right?” Maxim asked as we walked back to the car.

  “It’s fine.”

  “I think it’s perfect. I know the carpet is pretty worn and the appliances aren’t new, but it’s good enough for me.”

  It’s not. It’s not.

  “And I’m glad you came, because I needed to hear the other side to make a good decision.”

  “Yeah.”

  “God, I can’t believe it.” He stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk and shook his head. “I signed a lease on an apartment here. It doesn’t seem real!”

  “Congratulations,” I said shortly.

  “How far from the ocean are we?” He looked around as if he might be able to spot it.

  “Maybe five, ten miles.”

  “Really? That’s it?” He smiled, his cheeks flushing. “It’s probably no big deal to you, but I grew up so far from the water, the ocean has always been something exotic and incredible to me. As a kid, I used to dream about living on a coast, even before I knew what I wanted to do. And when I learned that there was a place near the ocean called City of Angels, and it was where stories were brought to life for people to watch all over the world, I knew that’s where I wanted to live. At the time, it seemed impossible.”

  “Well, you did it.” I wanted so badly to be happy for him, but all I could think of was myself. God, I’m such an asshole.

  “I did it. I’m doing it.”

  By the time we got in the car, I’d made up my mind to say something supportive. “You should be really proud of yourself, Maxim. Plenty of people talk about dreams and never do anything about it.”

  “Well, they should. Because it feels really good.” He looked at me. “Did you make an appointment to see that house?”

  “Not yet.” I started the car, focusing my attention on the rearview mirror as I backed out.

  “Derek,” he admonished. “Why not?”