Lost Cause

by Callie Sparks

  “Stop, Noah, you—“

  “I have stopped. Finally. I’ve stopped denying that I want you, that I’m dying to be with you. Everyone else can go to hell, for all I care. You’re why I came here, and for the first time, I’m not letting anything get in my way. Deny it all you want. I know you.”

  I’m glad I’m wearing sunglasses, so he can’t see my eyes. Still, probably every other part of my body is screaming how right he is, including the three million goose bumps that have sprung out on my flesh. I tell him, “Noah, please,” but my voice is weak.

  “I guess I’ll see you at home, then,” he says, his voice heavy with disappointment.

  We go our separate ways, and when we get home, I spend the rest of the day in my room, while he helps my mother with washing the car and weeding. Every so often, I look outside and see him out there, wearing some of my dad’s old clothes since everything of his burned in the fire, and I keep thinking the same thing, over and over again.

  I’m not really happy.

  I look up the ceiling, thinking. Dammit. There is no other way out of this. Every avenue that comes to mind either feels pointless, or involves him.

  I skip dinner. By evening, I feel so stifled I’m ready to explode. I need to get out and get fresh air. Grabbing my jacket, I take a walk in the woods outside. I walk through the remnants of his home, the blackened logs and scorched grass, the big empty hole that was once the foundation of that beautiful home. When I get to the treehouse, I hesitate whether to climb up. It’s not like I need to think of him any more than I already do.

  But I climb up, anyway.

  I sit at the opening, legs dangling down, and pick at a mosquito bite until it bleeds. Now, the only lights in the distance are the ones from my house. I wonder if I can stay out here until they’re all gone, until only fireflies and stars illuminate the way.

  Shivering, I throw myself back on the cushion. And that’s when I see the wall.

  The blank wall. The one that was meant to tell our story of after.

  I blink to assure myself it isn’t a dream.

  Written there, in very tiny lettering, Noah’s careful and neat handwriting, is line after line of words. Squinting in the darkness, I move closer and read a line. She wears her hair in a ponytail and I go crazy. Actually she wears her hair any way and she makes me crazy.

  And there a hundreds, no, a thousand of these things. Standing, I read another: She thinks I’m the clumsiest guy on Earth but it’s because my world tilts whenever she’s around.

  The light wavers. I realize it’s because my hand, holding the lantern, is trembling. I step back to take it all in and see a picture he must’ve drawn, entirely in Sharpie. It’s a picture of a girl in thick glasses and a scrawny boy in tube socks standing next to bicycles. . . everything, right down to my ratty t-shirt and his Noah license plate, exactly the way I remember it. It’s the day we met, ten years ago . . . and yet it couldn’t have been more right had he snapped a photo in that moment.

  It’s as if the image is burned in his head, the way it’s been burned into mine.

  Permanent. Unalterable.

  Perfect.

  I’m sure as hell not. And neither is he.

  But I know now that together, we’re as close as we’ll ever get.

  #

  I got my first period when I was fifteen and a half, right before sophomore year let out. Lucky me, it coincided with bathing suit season. But the good thing was, my chest also got the message, and when I tried on bathing suits that spring, I was happy to see a little cleavage.

  I didn’t say a word to anyone, so nobody knew. And yet, Gabe Hill must’ve been watching me very closely, because during the first pool party of the season, even though I was still wearing a t-shirt, he sidled up to me and said, “Why do you always ignore me?”

  I stared at him. I’d barely talked to him at all since we entered high school, mostly because it was a big place and he had his choice of new girls to pursue. The school was so large that it was entirely possible to get lost, which I had. Gabe, though, wasn’t the type to do anything wrong. I’d seen him around, but I didn’t think he saw or even remembered me.

  “I don’t know,” I said, trying to play it cool, even though my pulse was racing. “Maybe because I don’t like you?”

  He smirked. “That can’t be true. Everyone loves me.”

  I rolled my eyes, surprised that I was no longer freaking out like I’d done when I was twelve. Okay, yeah, my palms were still sweaty, but I’d actually formed a complete sentence around him. It had to be all those years I’d spent cursing his name for humiliating me the way he had. I’d practiced what I’d say to him next numerous times, and in my fantasies, I’d tell him where to go and he’d always walk away, completely wrecked by my denial. I leaned back in my chair and said, “I think you’re going to be disappointed.”

  He smiled at me full-bore, and those dimples went into maximum overdrive. Oh, shit.

  I could feel it. I could feel all sense of reason slipping away, and there I was, completely defenseless. I tried to steel myself, to put Operation Wreck Him into effect. I told myself that no matter what he said, my response would be “Fuck you, you egotistical asshole,” and I’d stroll off in the other direction.

  He said, “Swim with me.”

  And stupid me. A voice inside me, but not mine, said, “Okay.”

  I followed him into the pool. Jacy’s pool was huge, with a bunch of grottos and waterfalls. All the other girls sat on the edge, afraid of getting their make-up ruined. I dove in, right after him.

  He loved that. He loved it so much that he spent the rest of the time lifting me up and tossing me into the deep end to show me how muscular he was. I didn’t hate it. I didn’t hate it when, just as the party was winding down, he led me under a waterfall and kissed me. It was only my second kiss, but despite his hands roaming under my shirt, trying to feel me up, it was a nice one.

  I hardly thought of Noah at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Are you planning to have any more contact with your abusers?

  No. Like I said, I’m moving on.

  At the sentencing, Annie had the opportunity to address you. What did she say?

  She declined to say anything. She wouldn’t look at me the entire trial.

  Why do you think she did that?

  Guilt.

  She wrote you a letter, though, from jail, is that correct?

  Yeah. She told me she’d always love me and was sad it hadn’t worked out. Like we’d just broken up or something.

  No admission of guilt or apology for what she put you through?

  I don’t think that it occurred to her that I’d been put through anything untoward. Her childhood was similar, since she’d been raped when she was a kid, but the way she saw it, she hadn’t physically held me down and forced me into anything, so I was a willing participant.

  In other words, she didn’t see anything wrong with what she did?

  Yeah.

  She gave an interview earlier this month where she said you two were soulmates, and would always have a connection. Do you have a comment on that?

  Yeah. Fuck no. It’s been a long time since I’ve believed in that sort of thing.

  #

  Late that night, when my parents are asleep, I creep into his room. He’s lying on his back, all the sheets pushed down by his feet, and he’s only wearing boxer briefs. I suck in the humid air when I see him, and it’s the sound of my breathing that alerts him to my presence. He cocks his head toward me. “Hey.”

  I’m trembling, weak. I know if he touches me now, I’ll melt. “I saw the wall,” I whisper as he sits up in bed. “All that writing. That picture. When did you do that?”

  He runs a hand through his hair, and in the white moonlight I can see the black ink staining his fingers. “There’s so much more where that came from. If I was going to record my every thought of you, I’d need a much bigger wall.”

  I put a knee on the side of the b
ed and slide to sitting. “Is that so?”

  “You mean everything to me. I was too stupid to—“

  I put a finger to his lips. “Stop. I love you. I love everything about you.”

  He tries to sit up more, but I place a hand on his chest. I lean over and put my mouth where my finger was, kissing his lips softly. He exhales. “Ari, your parents . . .”

  I kiss him again, this time, my tongue probing its way into his mouth. He kisses me back, his hand tangling in my hair. I breathe in that heady sweet smell, not of any cologne, it’s that uniquely Noah scent no one could ever bottle. I can’t believe I’m so close to him, that everything I’ve wanted is just there, waiting for me, close enough to touch. I run a finger down a sculpted muscle, to the rise of his nipple, and the tendons twitch in response. Oh. “Can I . . . ?”

  He nods.

  “I mean, I don’t want to . . . you’re so much more to me than this. If this hurts you . . .”

  “Hell no, Ari. Touch me anywhere and everywhere you like. You never have to ask. You own me.” He’s playing with a lock of my hair. “You’ve always owned me.”

  “All right. I just don’t want to scare you. I want you to do what you want. Okay?” He’s nodding, not fully comprehending, so I add, “Anything you want.”

  His lips part, and his eyes widen. “Anything?”

  I sit up, straddling him, and pull my nightgown over my head. I cast it to the side.

  His eyes trail lazily down my body, and I’m hit with the first pangs of nervousness as I feel his erection springing up between my legs. “Tell me what you want to do. If I have to go back to school without knowing what it’s like to be with you, I will. But it’ll drive me crazy.”

  “Be with me,” he repeats, raising his eyebrows. When I nod, he closes his eyes and groans. “I don’t know if—“

  “You are,” I tell him, running the pad of my thumb over his tattooed scars on his upper arm. “You’re so much more than enough. Please. Noah. Touch me.”

  He reaches out and touches my breast, very gently, as if he’s sure I’ll disappear the second he makes contact. He cups it, gazing at it hungrily, the weight of his eyes heavy on my body. “You hated yourself so much, Ari. I never knew why. These are the most exquisite tits I’ve ever seen.”

  “I was a freak,” I whisper.

  “You think two glands make you who you are? They’re beautiful, but . . . just one of about a billion beautiful things about you. I was the freak,” he says with a sheepish smile. “I couldn’t even keep my balance around you. Oh, God, Ari, Do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about this? About you, like this?”

  He dips his head down and tentatively licks my nipple. Then he opens his mouth and sucks on it as I arch my back, responding to the desire welling inside me. He cups my other breast and starts to move his mouth on my skin, and God, that tongue. It’s enough to make me lose all sense. “Your skin is so sweet,” he mumbles.

  His warm breath ripples on my skin. I thread my fingers through his thick hair and hold him there as his mouth gets hungrier and wilder. “Keep going,” I urge. “Make love to me.”

  He lifts me easily and rolls atop me on the bed, and now it’s his skin, hot and slick against mine. He’s still kissing my boobs, making me squirm with anticipation. His tongue trails lazily down my breastbone, to my navel. His fingers find the band of my panties. He slowly tugs them down, and I lift my ass to allow him to pull them down my legs and to my ankles. “Oh, shit,” he murmurs, tossing them aside as he gazes lustily at my cunt. His hands delve between my legs, spreading me wide, and I’m open to him. “You’re beautiful. I need to taste you there. Okay?”

  I nod shyly. “Well, I’ve never—“

  “I know. It’s all right,” he says. Nibbling on my inner thigh, he gradually works his way upward, his breath raising each and every goosebump along the way. When he reaches the place where my legs meet, he kisses the trimmed hair of my pubis. I feel his hands slide under my ass, lifting me to him, and before I can back out, he begins to kiss my folds.

  I know this isn’t all, but it feels like the pinnacle. I can’t imagine a better feeling. This, alone, is enough to make my heart beat nearly out of my chest. If there’s more, I’m sure to explode. And yet every second that passes unfurls a new level of ecstasy. My hand tenses and he must see it because he grabs it at the same time he flicks his tongue over my clit. I throw my head back, speechless and exhilarated. Then his tongue finds a rhythm, licking its way around my flesh. My whole body tingles with feeling. “Oh, my gosh . . .” I murmur.

  “Good?” he mumbles, but I can’t bring myself to say anymore. Because just then, his tongue spears inside me, forcing a moan from my throat.

  Shit. I can’t forget where I am. I can’t forget that there’s only one floor separating us from my parents, and that the windows are open. I can only hope the chorus of crickets and frogs and other animals outside is enough to deaden the noise. I bite my tongue as his explorations get wilder, as I start to feel my own wetness. The blood is pumping madly through my body. He’s going to make me come again.

  When I do, I try to muffle the noise, but it’s no use. Though biting on my fist muffles my scream, I thrash against the mattress, and the headboard bangs noisily against the wall. “Shit. That was loud,” I whisper as he snakes up next to me and lays his body against mine. His face is wet and glistening, his gaze hot on me. He has me on his face, my taste. I kiss him hard, and his tongue and mouth are on fire from me, filled with my musky, pungent essence. That he can’t get enough of that taste, that he sucked on my clit like a greedy, hungry animal, is enough to make this kiss deeper and more erotic than any I’d ever experienced.

  “You’re perfect,” he tells me, cupping my tits again. “Even more beautiful than I even imagined. And trust me, I imagined you a hell of a lot.”

  I’d blush if I wasn’t flushed all over, feeling my body come down from the orgasm. I’m shivering and satisfied, but not nearly satisfied enough. “I want to . . .” I hold my hand against his hard abdomen, pick up the band of his boxer briefs, and dip my fingers inside. I can’t help but think of the last time I did this, how scared I was, how embarrassed he’d been. His eyes widen; maybe he’s thinking of it, too. But none of those feelings is here now. It was wrong, then. But now, after all these years, it’s finally right. His cock is erect and . . . so thick. “Oh, my God.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Um. Just . . . you’re huge. I mean, either you’re really big or Gabe was . . .” I blush. Why am I even talking about my old lover? Way too ruin the mood.

  He chuckles. “I’m about average, but thanks for the extra vote of confidence.”

  “Oh.” I finger the mushroom head, the spongy softness which gives under pressure from my fingertip. He breathes harder at my touch. I grab his thick shaft and then run my finger over the tip, feeling the wetness of his pre-come. When my hand cups his balls, a small groan escapes his mouth. All the while, he’s watching me with this look of wide-eyed disbelief on his face.

  I don’t want to do anything wrong. I know how close all of this is to what he did with his stepmother, and that’s the thing we’re trying to move past. But I also know how right and natural all this feels. “Is this okay?”

  He nods. “More than that.”

  I bite my lip as I free his cock from his briefs and look at it in the moonlight. It’s so very beautiful, like the rest of him, like something a sculptor would labor a lifetime to perfect. “I love your cock, Noah. Would you like to be inside me?”

  A lazy smile spreads over his face. “That’s the only place I want to be, Ari-Bari.”

  “Oh. I mean. The medication . . .”

  He chuckles. “Nothing can deaden this feeling, Ari. No way.”

  He poises himself over me, resting on one forearm as he kisses me deeply. He kneels between my legs and slowly I’m spread open by him. He’s there at my entrance. He’s always done everything slowly and methodically, and I’ve always been the
hothead, but for once we can agree. He doesn’t waste any time. I feel myself stretching to welcome him, and he’s so different and big, on the verge of being painful. A welcome pain. He pushes into me and the look on his face is that little boy, again. I can’t imagine that he was any different, his first time. He looks like he’s experiencing this all, so new.

  “I’m not hurting you?” he murmurs, back to the Noah I know. I can tell he’s tense, he wants so much more. But he’s being slow and methodical, for me, letting his cock stretch me inch by inch. He doesn’t want to hurt me.

  “No. Oh, no,” I whisper, savoring the feeling of his hot, damp skin against mine. “I love this. I love being like this with you.”

  He buries himself completely in me. His forehead falls against mine, and he kind of crumples there, motionless for a while. “Oh, Ari. I’ve never felt anything like this. Like . . . I’m finally home.”

  A tear pricks the corner of his eye right then, and he closes them to contain them. “It’s okay,” I tell him. His face leans into my fingertips as I wipe the tear away, and when he opens his eyes, he’s shuddering. He lowers his mouth against mine and kisses me. My hand trails down the smooth curve of his back, to his hard ass, and I feel a tremor between us. I can’t be sure where it starts, because we’re one, now.

  “I’m . . . God,” he starts. “You were made for me, you know that? I don’t want to move ever again because you fit me so well.”

  “Then don’t.”

  I don’t know how long we stay there, eyes locked, hips flush, hearts beating together. This moment is frozen in eternity, one I’ll never forget, all my remaining days. He slowly pulls out, and I feel the slick, frictionless slide of his cock leaving me, coming out halfway, an emptiness that can only be filled by one thing. My hand gently nudges his ass back, and he suddenly gets my hint thrusts into me, forcing all the air out of my chest. “Oh,” I moan. “Oh, fuck.”

  He’s moaning in pleasure, too, in chorus with me, a sound that only makes me want more of him. His next thrust makes my pussy clench in pleasure, and the next time, I rock in rhythm with him, meeting each thrust with my own.