by Dana Delamar
“Stop fooling around, Damon.” Sky’s voice held humor and a note of anxiety.
The creaking of the ropes made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Damon stopped swinging the bridge. “Okay, okay. I’ll be good.”
He grinned at us and continued to walk backward until he reached the middle of the bridge. Then, he gripped the guide ropes and flipped arse over teakettle. I’m not too manly to admit I closed my eyes and screamed. Jules joined me.
The others laughed. Laughed.
“What kind of bloody idiot does something like that?” I asked.
“A fucking Yank,” Mick said, as he wiped the tears off his cheeks.
Tommy was bent in two, laughing his fool head off, hanging onto Jules’s shoulder. My gaze locked with Jules’s, and I saw my apprehension reflected in his eyes.
Fuck. I looked away. Anywhere but at the prat doing tricks on the flimsy suspension bridge. Finally, Damon stepped onto terra firma and the vise around my chest relaxed. I could finally draw breath again. Not that I gave a shit about the bleeding arsehole anyway.
“I’m next,” Mick volunteered. He crossed the bridge like a proper Brit. Stiff upper lip and all. No fuss. All business. “Good man,” I said once he’d joined Damon on the other side.
“Who’s next?” Sky asked.
Jules swallowed. “I’ll… I’ll go.” I could see his bottom lip quiver, and I knew exactly how he felt. Better him than me though.
“You sure?” Sky asked. I wanted to lunge across the rocky dirt separating us to slap a hand over her mouth. Jules needed to be next, because it put the deed off a little bit longer for me. Yes, I was just as much of a bleeding arsehole as Damon. I glanced down into the yawning jowls of Hell and shuddered. Could anyone blame me for trying to hold onto life for a moment more?
Jules clamped his lips together and nodded in response to Sky’s question. I felt an urge to kiss him but restrained myself. In all honesty, it wasn’t too difficult as my feet seemed to have grown roots and my arms were now wrapped around the tree trunk.
The poor fucker approached the bridge cautiously, testing the first wood plank with his toe.
“Take a step, dude. It won’t bite,” Damon called out, oh-so-unhelpfully.
“Ignore him, mate,” Tommy said. “You can do this.”
Jules looked at him over his shoulder, his eyes imploring. “Tell my wife I love her.”
“You’ll tell her yourself,” Dev encouraged him.
“Don’t worry, dude,” Damon said. “We’ll bring gifts to your kids every Christmas.”
“Damon!” Sky scolded even as she pressed a hand to her mouth. Her red face and the shaking of her shoulders gave her away though. How could she be so blithe about our upcoming demise?
Halfway across the bridge, Jules stopped and looked back our way. “Tommy, you’ll marry my wife and raise my little ones, right?”
Tommy smirked. “Get on with you now.”
“Promise me!”
“Fine.” Tommy grinned. “I promise to take great care of your lovely wife.”
“And the babes.”
“And the babes.”
I wanted to laugh. I really did, but I was too busy trying not to puke. Christ, in a few minutes that would be me out there, shitting my pants.
“Good. Good.” Jules took another step.
“Almost there, mate,” Mick said.
“Whatever you do, dude,” Damon said, deepening his voice like the narrator of a bad horror film, “don’t look down!”
Mick shoved Damon and shot him an admonishing glance, one I totally agreed with. Damon was being a prick. My stomach churned, my lunch threatening to make an encore. I certainly didn’t want to admit that he was getting to me. But, fuck, he was.
“Mate, the Arsenal match begins at half three,” Mick told Damon sternly. “If I’m not in front of the telly with a pint in hand when the match starts, I will wring your fucking neck.” And he had the size and strength to do it too.
Damon’s gob snapped shut and he raised his hands in surrender. He actually looked pretty doing that. And for the first time since this sodding nightmare had begun, I drew in a deep breath, one that filled my lungs and expanded my stomach.
“Eyes on me, mate,” Mick said, and moments later, Jules stepped off the bridge.
“I knew you could do it.” Damon clapped Jules on the back.
Jules pulled away from Damon, his usually jovial face a mask of anger. “Sod off, you bloody Yank.”
“Oh… such bigotry.”
I smirked. Damon was an arse, but I did love arses.
Sky asked, “Who wants to go next?”
“Not fucking me.” The words slipped out. She sent me a look that would have had me on my knees had we been alone. Hell, I might drop onto them anyway. Put off the inevitable.
“Me,” Tommy said, then proceeded to race across the bridge as though it were nothing more than a strip of grass. He and Jules high-fived each other, laughing with the enthusiasm of survivors. It had to be the adrenaline. The knowledge that they’d stared death in the face and lived.
I was green with envy and the urge to chunder. I bet Sky would want me then. She’d think I’m a right god with sick all over myself.
“Rod, why don’t you go next?” Sky asked. Only she, Dev, and I remained on this side of the chasm.
“No.” I shook my head. “I prefer to go last.”
Dev looked at me for the first time since we’d come up here and scoffed.
I narrowed my eyes. “What?” If the tosser was laughing at me, I’d—
“If we cross first, you’re going to turn tail and head back.”
I had to snort, because he wasn’t wrong. The idea had crossed my mind.
He stepped closer. “I want that telly, Rod, and if I have to carry you across this sodding bridge, I will.”
His gorgeous brown eyes sparked, and he was beautiful. Fucking beautiful. My mouth went dry as I imagined him over me, his eyes sparking for a much different reason. “F-fine.”
Sky gave me a sideways hug. “You can do this, Rod.” Her sweet tone unmanned me.
“Of course.” My voice was small. Too fucking small.
Jesus. This tiny woman had bigger bollocks than I did. I peeled my fingers from their clutch on the tree trunk. I straightened my spine, trying to inject the semblance of bravery into it.
I was Hot Rod Taylor. Lead singer and founding member of King’s Cross, the hottest upcoming band in the UK and America. I could fucking do this.
I wasn’t a child. I wasn’t scared of anything. Christ, I’d faced much worse than a dark valley in my life, even one whose shadows reached out to me like a monster’s claws.
Swallowing down my fears, I placed one foot on the first wooden plank. It moved beneath me, and my hands flew to the ropes on either side.
I could do this. I was brave. Hadn’t my entire life proved it?
I inched my hands forward and stepped fully onto the bridge. I took a few more steps, then and only then, letting out the breath that was trapped in my chest. A drop of sweat trickled down the side of my face. Without thinking, I let go of the rope and wiped it off.
The bridge swayed and, knocked off balance, I fell to my knees.
“Rod!”
I didn’t know who’d shouted my name, but I prayed it wasn’t God calling me to heaven.
Below me, a river rushed over the jagged rocks. The sound suddenly seemed incredibly loud. And far. So far below me. Boulders looked like pebbles.
Jesus. If I fell, I’d be smashed on the rocks. Pulverized into an unrecognizable pulp of blood and bone. My stomach lurched and bile flooded my throat. Fucking hell. I swallowed reflexively.
“Grab the other rope,” Sky called.
Grab what? I was already holding the rope, wasn’t I? I looked up to see that while I had a death grip on the right-hand rope, my left hand was scrabbling at the wooden planks.
But grabbing the rope meant letting go of the wood.
; I tried. I really did. My hand refused to move. It ignored my brain’s desperate commands. I was paralyzed. And worse, my vision was getting fuzzy. How could this be happening?
Get off the bridge. Stand up and walk off.
I tried to encourage myself. Cajole myself. Then order myself. But I couldn’t manage it.
The bridge moved under my knees and terror filled me. My vision went from fuzzy to white. I was going to die. In Tahiti. In fucking paradise. Only I could make such a cock-up of my life.
“Can one die of fear?”
I thought I’d said the words out loud, but there’d been no sound. I had no breath.
Maybe I was already dead.
My gaze dropped to the river below. Maybe I was down there. My body on the rocks, broken and bloody.
Something touched my shoulder. I gave a silent, breathless scream.
A soft voice whispered in my ear, “Rod. It’s me. It’s okay.”
Oh God. Dev.
“Am I…” A bare squeak emerged. I cleared my throat. “Am I dead?”
“Not unless I am too.” Dev’s warm breath brushed my neck.
“Are you?” If we were dead, would we know it? If we were alive, would he be on this bridge with me? “I must be dead.”
The hand, Dev’s hand, stroked my back. “You’re not dead. Do you trust me, Rod?”
“With my life.”
“Then trust me to get you across the bridge?”
I started to nod, but when the bridge moved beneath me, I reconsidered any unnecessary movement. “Okay.”
He covered my back with his body, completely surrounding me, then placed his hand next to mine on the wood plank. “Put your hand atop mine,” he instructed.
Not daring to even breathe, I slid my hand horizontally until I touched his, then slid it over his fingers.
“Nice work, mate,” he said. “I’m going to lift my arm. Keep holding my hand.”
“I might never let it go.” I tried to joke, although I heard the truth in my words. Had he? I didn’t care anymore. If my life was to end today, at least it would end with Dev holding me.
Dev remained silent and raised our hands to the rope. He gripped it with my hand on top of his. “Now, try to stand.”
My stomach roiled at the mere thought. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You can. I’m right here, Rod. You’re safe. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
“You have though, haven’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m already dead.” My breath hitched.
His arm came around my body and held me against his chest. “You aren’t dead, Rod. We’re both here. Feel me. We’re alive.”
I closed my eyes, memorizing his heat. He hadn’t understood my meaning, but at least he’d given me something to hold onto. “Okay, I’ll stand. Just don’t let go.”
“I won’t.”
With a death grip on the two ropes and with Dev’s reassuring arm across my torso, I forced my legs to obey, forced the frozen muscles in my thighs to unclench. Dev helped me and soon I was upright. Shaking, but vertical.
“Brilliant,” Dev whispered. Once again, his warm breath washed over the back of my neck, and my emotions went into a tailspin. I was scared out of my wits and turned on all at once. My brain was a bloody scary place.
“Slide your hand forward,” Dev ordered.
I did as he asked.
“Now your right foot.”
We continued this way, with Dev’s strong body molded to my back, his groin to my ass, his arms and legs against mine, until both my feet were once again on solid land. His arms squeezed my waist, and I could’ve sworn I felt his lips against my neck, but perhaps that had simply been wishful thinking.
He separated himself from me, and I knew then that he was taking my heart with him.
And I also knew that I’d have stayed in the middle of that damned bridge for the rest of my life, be that a minute or a century, if it had meant having Dev there with me.
DEV
Another day, another failed challenge, but at least this time we’d both given it our all. After yesterday’s bridge challenge, something had changed between Rod and me, and I was glad of it. We were becoming a team again.
Rod whipped off his soaking wet T-shirt and dropped it on my head as I shut the door to our bungalow behind us. “Prat,” I said, laughing as I pulled it off my hair. We’d both been pathetic at the standing paddle board challenge. We’d spent more time in the water than we’d spent out of it.
Everyone else was off with Sky, enjoying a boat ride and a fancy meal. At least she’d taken pity on us and allowed us to order room service instead of having protein bars for dinner.
Rod eyed his sinewy arms, which were starting to darken a bit after the sunburn from yesterday’s hike and bridge challenge. He was looking much healthier than he had when we’d first arrived. He looked… sexy.
But then he always did. That was his thing. The bloke practically oozed it, his sleek body so graceful and sinuous when he performed.
Had I ever been that comfortable in my own skin?
That confidence, that swagger, Rod had—it’d always attracted me. It had been the thing that had sparked our friendship. The way he’d fearlessly defended me in the schoolyard, when I’d been the smallest chap in class, the little brown boy no one had wanted to befriend.
Except Rod.
Rod hadn’t given a toss what anyone thought.
So why did I care so damn much?
He plucked the room service menu off the low table the TV sat on. “What’s your fancy?”
We settled on the “sampler feast,” a hodgepodge of seafood, meat, and vegetable appetizers. And of course we ordered some beer.
The order placed, Rod hung up the phone and shucked his swim trunks, not caring that he was bare underneath. I tried not to look, but Sky’s words and Rod’s lyrics kept going ’round and ’round in my brain. I saw you… heard you tell Rod you loved him… You said we’re “just friends,” a bigger lie there’s never been…
That week with Sky, I’d seen Rod starkers dozens of times. But Sky had always been with us. Except for the morning when she’d left. When I’d woken up in Rod’s arms, our bodies pressed together, his hard cock touching mine, the few moments I’d let myself lie there before I pulled away, before we had the fight that had driven us apart…
Rod smirked at me and wagged his hips, his cock flapping back and forth, slapping his thighs. “Like what you see?”
I grinned and shook my head, peeling my own wet shirt off and flinging it at him. “Not everyone wants you, you bloody tosser.”
“That so?” he asked, then strolled out of the room to the shower like he knew full well my eyes were glued to his creamy white arse.
My cock stirred. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I was just… confused. Seeing him in the nude again was reminding me of that week we’d spent with Sky, that’s all.
I sat cross-legged on the floor and grabbed my guitar, picking out the notes to “Unfinished.” I had the music now, but the lyrics had eluded me. I started to hum, and then then words began flowing:
There are things I want
There are things I have
There are things I can’t
There are things I crave
And then…
There’s you…
I launched into the chorus:
You left, you think you won
But I have to tell you
We’re far from done
You walked away from all of this
But you and I, we’re unfinished
My fingers found the notes, but my chest was aching, the words that slipped out a hoarse whisper:
You’re in my heart, in every beat
You are the life I long to keep
But life’s not fair, it’s never been
And you and I, we’ll never win
Rod stepped around the corner, a towel in hand, still gloriously naked, and my fingers stilled on the s
trings. How much had he heard? I’d completely tuned out the sound of the shower. When had it shut off?
Rod dried his hair, his voice half-muffled when he spoke. “Interesting choice.”
My face was on fire. “Yeah, well…”
“It’s a great song, mate. A hit, no doubt.” He started drying his chest and arms, his eyes meeting mine. “And with your voice, that rawness…”
I closed my eyes. He’d heard it all, hadn’t he? “I won’t be singing it.”
“Why not?”
I opened my lids and met his gaze. “That’s your territory, not mine.”
“We never said we had to stay in boxes. You should sing it.”
He dried his legs and midsection, utterly at ease. Or was he teasing me?
“Having a laugh, are you?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’m not taking the piss. I mean it.”
“I’m not you. I can’t be out on stage singing.”
“Why not?” He wrapped the towel around his waist, then sat on his bed mat.
“I’d make a fool of myself.”
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You’d drive a saint to drink, Devkinandan. You’re a bloody rock star.”
I plucked at the strings of the guitar. “It’s not the same.”
A knock came at the door and Rod answered, letting in the guy with our food, which he placed on the table in front of the sofa.
I tipped the guy and he left. Rod grabbed the remote and flipped on the telly, scanning the satellite channels until he found a game of footie. He settled on the couch and patted the seat beside him, then cracked the top off a bottle of beer.
When I didn’t move, he tipped the bottle at me. “Am I going to be drinking alone?”
Fuck. You can do this. You can sit next to him and have a meal and a laugh and a beer. And it doesn’t matter that he’s practically naked. Nothing’s going to happen.
I rose, then remembered my wet shorts. “Give me a sec.”
I jumped in the shower and rinsed the salt off my skin, then toweled off quickly. I’d left my clothes in my rucksack in the other room. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I went out to get them.
Rod whistled long and low when I appeared. I couldn’t help laughing. “Wanker,” I said.
