I canted my hips, feeling out Landry’s body while he did the same with mine. And I must have hit something good, because Landry’s mouth opened on a silent moan, his neck arched and then a long, low tone sounded from the depths of his throat.
Our rhythm was a little awkward, me thrusting up as Landry rocked up and down. He smiled at me, and I knew he felt it, too. And then . . . as we moved . . . it was like something gave way and I was all the way in, and Landry had taken all of me.
It was that moment we both froze and our eyes locked, his eyes wide as I’m sure mine were.
Landry swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then he made a sound in the back of his throat, something like a sob or a groan. Something dripped onto my chest and I didn’t know if it was Landry’s sweat or tears. But when he reached forward, swiping the corners of my eyes, I realized we were both crying.
He smiled, that hiccupping sound turning into a smothered, strangled laugh, and I did the same. So when we started moving against each other again, this time it was to the same beat.
Eventually Landry winced less, moaned in pleasure more, and then I was spurred on when Landry’s hand moved down to stroke himself. I lost all sense of time as we moved together, lips moving.
My muttered I’m sorrys and his soothing I forgive yous.
Our names and our moans.
The sounds of us together, the harmony only we could create, rose above us, tip-tapping down my spine.
And then Landry came, his inner muscles squeezing me, and I followed, throwing my head back as my brain oozed out my pores and I lay in a puddle on the mattress, my best friend collapsed on top of me.
We shifted onto our sides and wiped ourselves clean. I ran my fingers along his jaw and he stroked my hip. We didn’t talk because there were no words to say, nothing to describe the moment where we grew from boys who were best friends to men who were lovers. I nuzzled his cheek and he chuckled and brushed his lips over my eyes and nose and chin.
When he pulled back, a brightness flashed over his features and he grinned, then rolled to the side of the bed. I heard rustling. “What are you doing?”
“Hold on,” his voice carried over the side of the bed. I smacked his ass and he yelped. Finally he righted himself, his curls like a halo around his head. Something in his hand crinkled and he grabbed my left hand. With a smile, he took my fourth finger and slid on a ring he’d made weeks ago with Twizzlers wrappers while muttering about Mordor.
“Have to make an honest man out of you now, I guess,” he said softly, kissing the ring.
I rolled onto my back and flexed my fingers. “Should we say some vows?”
Landry propped up his head with a fist on my chest. “I promise to rub your shoulder when I make you win me ponies at amusement parks. To keep as quiet as I can while you take pictures of ugly rodents. To take my allergy medicine so I can give you blow jobs—” I started laughing, the vibration of my chest shaking his head, and he laughed with me. When I stopped, his smile faded. “And I promise to love you, Justin Alexander Akron. Always.”
I didn’t know I wanted to hear those words until they hung in the air between us, filling, expanding until they wrapped around us like a warm cloud. I was dizzy from the height and the thrill and the clear depths of Landry’s eyes.
I swallowed and somehow coaxed my tongue to move. “I promise to never give you ketchup. To always tell you that your hair looks great. To never borrow your clothes without asking . . .” I swallowed again. “And to tell you, every single day, that I love you, Landry Aaron Jacobs.”
We kissed, a press of lips and a tangle of tongues. I pulled back and we touched foreheads. “There’s one thing I have to confess, though.”
He lifted his head from mine and raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah?”
I nodded. “When I tell you I hate your singing . . . I’m lying.”
He flung his head into my chest and burst out laughing, the vibrations buzzing on my skin. He raised his head and wiped under his eyes. “I always knew you were lying.”
We took a quick shower together, too spent to do anything but wash ourselves, and then collapsed into bed, tangling our legs together, Landry’s curls tickling my chest.
***
I woke up to a heavy, hot weight on my legs. I moaned and swore I heard a laugh. And then I felt hands massaging my thighs, murmuring something about muscles, and then a warm breath on my balls.
Before I could open my eyes, my cock was engulfed in wet heat.
“Oh my God,” I moaned, and an answer vibrated down my shaft.
I opened my eyes and saw the top of Landry’s head, his curls bouncing as he bobbed his head. The wet sounds filled our hotel room, and all I could do in my groggy state was lean back on my pillow, allow my orgasm to build, and then let it out slowly, blissfully, in Landry’s mouth.
He rose up from between my legs with a grin.
“I can’t believe you woke me with a blow job,” I said.
He shrugged. “Me either, but . . . it felt right.”
I tugged him to me and kissed him, sweeping my tongue in his mouth and tasting the bitterness of my release lingering on his tongue. “What are we going to do today?”
His eyes shifted and he fingered the grooves of my abs. “I thought we could hang out here until we leave for lunch with Tomás and . . . work on your portfolio.”
The end of his sentence was said softly and quickly. “What did you say?”
He raised his eyes to mine. “Work on your portfolio.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Because . . .” God, why did he have to do this? Pressure me. Before coffee, too. “Can I at least get some coffee first?”
His face brightened, because I guess he took that as a yes and hopped out of bed. He tugged on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt as I raised my torso, bracing myself on my elbows. “They have continental breakfast in the lobby. I’ll go and get us some food. You can get my laptop and maybe get started. Okay? Great!” And then with a wave and snatch of the hotel key card, he was out the door.
I collapsed back onto the mattress, trying to sort through my sleep-roughened thoughts. I needed some caffeine to really grasp this, but I was pretty sure Landry had just used a blow job to get me to do something.
That manipulative little shit.
And now I couldn’t go back to sleep because I was irritated. I got out of bed with a growl and walked into the bathroom, going through the motions of a quick shower.
I was just pulling on a pair of boxers when the door opened, and Landry walked in, all smiles with a plate full of food and a carrier full of steaming Styrofoam cups.
He looked around the room and I knew when he didn’t see the open laptop, his face fell. But then he quickly smiled again. “Oh, you wanted to get a shower. Good idea. I know I always think better after a shower. And I got plenty of brain fuel. We have some bran muffins and some yogurt with granola and—”
“Landry—”
“And these bananas look a little, er, right off the tree, but whatever—”
“Landry!”
He dropped the food on the table and looked at me. “What?”
I pointed my finger at him. “Don’t do that again.”
All innocence, this one, with his big eyes. “Don’t do what?”
I threw up my hands. “You totally used a blow job to get me to do something.”
He placed a hand dramatically on his chest and opened his mouth, surely to deny it, but I cut him off. “You want me to do something, ask me. As much as waking up to a blow job from you is pretty much the best thing that ever happened to me in my life, I don’t appreciate feeling like a chump.”
He pursed his lips and looked down at his feet.
The fight left me, and I walked over to him. I wrapped my arms around him and nuzzled his temple. “I�
��m sorry, I just didn’t like how it made me feel.”
His shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “I’m sorry for pushing. I just . . .”
“I know.”
He pulled back, his face etched with regret. “I just gave you another reason to put it off now, too.”
“No, Landry—”
His eyes were huge. “I’m just trying to help you so that your future doesn’t feel hopeless.”
I released a breath and touched our foreheads together. “It doesn’t. Not when you’re with me.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
We spent the morning in our boxers on the bed, huddled over the laptop. I got on a roll, selecting my favorite photos, and set them up on this online portfolio thingy Landry made for me. I gathered all the pillows behind me on the headboard, in a zone, while Landry lay on his stomach at the foot of the bed, watching a movie.
When it was time to check out and eat lunch with Tomás, I was almost finished.
I pressed the button on the elevator and readjusted my grip on our bags. “I need to give it another look, make sure they are in the right order.”
“Okay.”
“And make sure I spelled stuff right.”
“Okay, Jus.”
I knew he was pleased with me, and that made my chest swell. Although, I wasn’t sure if I was proud of myself for doing it, or proud because he was happy with me.
I needed to analyze that later.
We met Tomás at a little diner near the hotel. I sat on one side of the booth next to Landry and Tomás sat across from us.
We all ordered the special, a BLT on thick toast, which we’d seen on the whiteboard over the counter. The waitress took our orders with a nod of her head and walked away with our untouched menus.
Landry sat on the inside of the seat and pointed at the ketchup bottle in front of him, which was an old-fashioned glass one. The lid hadn’t been screwed on tightly and ketchup dripped down the side. He fake gagged and I rolled my eyes as I reached for the bottle and moved it away from him.
I looked up at Tomás, and he smiled at me.
I fingered the straw wrapper, twisting it around my fingers. “So do you think the guys knew?”
I didn’t look at Tomás. I didn’t have to, and I knew he’d know what I was referring to. Our teammates.
Movement across from me made me look up. Tomás leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him on the table. He didn’t anything.
“You shrugged before,” I pointed out. “That wasn’t very convincing.”
His lips pressed together and then he loosened them. “Guys talk, zurdo. I don’t know what to say. This past year, it was the freshmen who didn’t know any better. Spouting off about seeing you with him. And all the guys had come to accept it, but I think they started letting doubt creep in when you didn’t have a steady girl.”
My stomach rolled. That had been my fear, that my teammates would find out. “Lots of guys didn’t have steady girls.”
Tomás looked me in the eye. “But they weren’t best friends with Landry.”
I looked down at my fingers and tilted my hand to look at the Twizzlers wrapper Landry had placed around my finger. Why should it bother me anymore that my teammates had doubts? I had been lying to them.
It was good proof that lies never lasted.
I looked up at Landry, whose brow was furrowed in concern, but when I smiled, his return grin was pure relief.
“What are you two gonna do now?” Tomás asked
“We have to finish the trip,” I said. “We have six places left to go.”
“Oh, so halfway?”
I waffled my hand. “Yes and no. The rest of the trip will go a little faster because the places are closer together.”
“And after that?” He let the last word extend a little longer.
I shrugged and stole a glance at Landry. He was focused on stripping the condensation from the outside of his drink. “I’m working on it,” I said.
When we left Tomás, he gave me a handshake and a pat on the back. We climbed into Sally and I looked at Landry, who was gazing out of the window at the traffic. “You still with me?”
He blinked out of his thoughts. “Of course, Jus. Always.”
But he seemed distracted. I chalked it up to too much bacon grease and we lit out onto the road again.
***
June 12
[Picture]
[Picture]
Hello from Illinois!
We had a great time with some of Justin’s friends while visiting Chicago. There’s a picture of us visiting the Bean. We both always wanted to see it, and had a great first time.
We also visited Starved Rock State Park for our photo with Justin’s dad. What a beautiful place. I wanted to stay there forever but we have places to go. Pictures to take. Ashes to spread.
You were good to us, Illinois. We shall visit again.
7 Down
5 To Go
—L
Comments
Tomás: Good to see you guys. Have a great rest of the trip. Proud of you.
Chapter Fourteen
We cruised into Indiana belting Pink. Well, Landry sang in his clear tone and I squeaked and squawked my way through. But it was fun trying and Landry cracked up at my voice, so I kept going.
On one stretch of road we barely saw any cars, so we stopped along the shoulder and completed a Sally photo shoot beside a farm field in the setting sun. We secured the camera to a tripod and set the timer, so we got shots of us together, sitting on Sally’s bumper, leaning against the side, kissing at the open door.
“Why don’t you ever look at the LCD screen?” Landry asked.
I fiddled with the dials on the camera. “Sometimes I do. But my dad used to always say, trust your focus. I think he meant . . . trust my talent. Trust my eye. Trust myself. So . . .” I shrugged. “I trust it.”
Landry blinked and I swore I saw wet. “I like that,” he whispered.
Landry made me put on my faded and frayed Phillies baseball hat and do my windup as I threw a baseball against the side of Sally while he took photos.
Click.
Whomp.
“Do you miss pitching?” Landry asked, stopping down the camera like I showed him so the sun in the background was just a huge blurry fireball.
I rolled my shoulders. “Sometimes.” I threw again.
Click.
Whomp.
A slight breeze ruffled his curls and his eyes were crystal in the fading sun. “What did you like most about it?”
There were a lot of things I liked about it. The feel of my cleats, the chalk on my palms, the leather ball that fit so right in my palm.
Everything about baseball fit right. At least when I was on the field. As soon as I entered the locker room, I was reminded of the sacrifice I’d made playing the part.
I spun the ball in my hand. “Other than taking pictures, playing baseball was the only time I felt like I found something that was right for me. I knew what I had to do and I could do it. I was good at it. I mean, sure, there was luck involved, but baseball is numbers and stats and streaks and slumps.” I chuckled. “I was always on a streak with baseball. The rest of my life felt like one huge, endless slump.”
The camera hung loosely at Landry’s side, the strap trailing along the burnt grass. “You thought your life was a slump?”
I shrugged. “Mom was a cold bitch. Dad was always gone . . .”
He took a step closer. “What about me?”
“What about you?”
He licked his lips. “Where did I fit into your life?”
I smiled at that and tossed the ball in front of my face. “You were like a lucky glove.” His face softened, so I redirected the question before we headed to Mushtown. “Or good-luck socks I never was
hed.”
He scrunched his nose. “Ew.”
I laughed. “I aired you out sometimes.”
He held up his hand. “Stop, this analogy is going too far.”
“You got a little crusty, though.”
He rolled his eyes and slugged the camera into my chest as he walked past me. “Come on, weirdo.”
“You’re the smelly one!” I called after him.
He gave me the finger over his shoulder and I laughed harder.
***
“I don’t want to do this,” Landry pouted, arms over his chest, eyes on the horse like it was going to bite his ass.
I peered down at him from my perch on a pretty bay-colored horse and tipped my baseball hat like it was a Stetson. “C’mon, Yankee. Git a move on.”
Those blue eyes sparked fire at me. “Quit talking like that.”
“I reckon it’ll take us ’bout two hours to mend the fences and round up the heifers.”
“Oh my God, stop. Don’t ever say ‘reckon.’”
I stuck a piece of dried grass in my mouth and chewed. “Bet Sally’ll have some chicken and biscuits smothered with gravy for supper.”
He punched my leg. “If you don’t stop talking like that, I’m yanking you off your horse.”
I grinned at him. I’d taken lessons when I was younger, and when I saw the park had stables with guided rides, I hadn’t been able to resist. Landry showed all kinds of resistance.
I waited patiently, knowing he’d do it when he got out all his grumbling.
Our guide, Molly, a five-three wisp of a thing, had helped Landry into the saddle by practically throwing him in it. I snickered at Landry’s shocked squeak. Which earned me another glare.
We were in a group with a family of four, so Landry and I hung back, plodding along beside each other. His horse was black with white stockings. “What’s your major malfunction about horses?” I asked.
His hands shook slightly on the reins. “They’re just so big. Like this horse could throw me off and crush me if he wanted.”
“I don’t think he wants to do that.”
Trust the Focus Page 14
