The Art of Hero Worship

by Mia Kerick

  ***

  Lying in bed, I toss and turn, knowing that if Liam were near, I’d drape myself across his burly chest and be fast asleep in a few seconds. Liam is probably tossing and turning in his own bed right now, and it hurts to acknowledge this.

  My phone buzzes. It’s after midnight, so I’m both surprised and alarmed. I pick it up and read the text.

  Liam: I miss having you in my bed so much, Jase. I think I’ll sleep on the futon tonight.

  Jase: I miss you too. But I just don’t think I can live without you, and when you risk your life, you also risk my heart.

  Liam: You’re living without me right now.

  Jase: I don’t know what to say…

  Liam: I do. I love you. Night.

  My heart does this crunching-up thing that I didn’t know it was capable of, and if I weren’t suffering serious emotional trauma right now, I’d go to the emergency room to check it out. But I know the pain comes from the simple fact that he’s there and I’m here, and it’s by my choice, and I don’t yet know whether it’s a permanent situation.

  ***

  I decide it’s in my best interest to skip classes, at least for the beginning of this week. I went about my class-skipping in a responsible manner, though; I emailed all my professors and told them that I’d been at the Oakwood Theatre downtown where there had been an emergency situation on Friday night, and thanks to my experiences at Harrison Theater last spring, I needed some time to deal with my emotions. The professors were all very kind and allowed me the time off to overcome my anxiety. But what I really need is to sort out is whether I can continue to love a hero.

  Mom is at work today, which comes as a relief to me. I don’t have to pretend I’m okay and that being separated from Liam isn’t tearing me apart. I guess I hadn’t realized what a friend he’d become. Sure, our relationship has blossomed significantly in the romance department, which had originally been my big concern, but our friendship started on the night he saved me at the theater and it has grown, as well. I had no idea how much his daily presence meant to me, until now.

  So, what do I choose to do with my solitary freedom? I stretch out on the very same couch on which I spent the better part of the summer wasting away. And I think and remember. I weigh and measure.

  The memory of Liam’s eyes is vivid; I can close my eyes and see him looking at me… studying me. In the past I always laughed when guys said things like “her eyes could see into my soul, dude,” but Liam’s truly can.

  “Shit, if I worship the guy this much after knowing him for barely six months, how would I survive if he decided to rescue a bunch of nuns from a fiery bus crash and died doing it?” I’m alone in our house, so it makes no difference if I speak aloud, which I don’t hesitate to do. “I’m no good at dealing with stress without Liam. And if he was ever gone for good because he sacrificed his life saving someone we didn’t even know…. Well, I know I couldn’t deal with that.”

  On the coffee table beside the couch, my phone buzzes.

  Liam: Missing you today, Jason.

  Jase: You aren’t alone in that feeling.

  Liam: Last night in bed I was thinking… part of what you love about me is that I’m a hero—you always tell me that I’m your hero. How can I stop being who I am?

  Jase: I know who you are. I love who you are. That’s the problem.

  Liam: How can loving me be a problem?

  I have no answer for this.

  Liam: Let me just come and see you. We can talk. I can hold you.

  Jase: Part of loving you right now means keeping my distance from you.

  I can’t decide something this huge while looking into his eyes and listening to his voice. I need to be alone.

  Jase: And you need to stop texting me, Liam. I broke up with you because loving you hurts. Give me some space.

  I can almost hear his pained gasp and see his watery eyes. But I put the phone down and decide it’s time to go for a run.

  ***

  I haven’t been this much of a wreck since last summer. On my run, I suspect every driver of every car that passes me of having a secret desire to run me down. When my mother drops a brownie pan on the kitchen floor, I run for cover behind the reclining chair. A dog barks in the yard next door and I leap to the window in search of blue lights. I’m not doing well.

  I’m not doing well without Liam.

  Mom comes into the room and sits beside me on the couch. “How long are you planning on staying home? I love having you here, but you must be missing a lot of classes.”

  “I figure I’ll go back on Wednesday. Or Thursday, maybe.”

  She pats me on the knee. “Pardon the expression, but you are a hot mess here without your friend Liam.” The timer goes off in the kitchen but the awesome smell signifies that the brownies are done. “I’m not telling you to go back to Batcheldor on Wednesday, Jason, but I really think you should go back sooner, rather than later.”

  “Point taken.” I experience déjà vu because this isn’t the first time I’ve spoken these words to Mom this week. Looks like I’ll be going back to school on Wednesday.

  ***

  It’s been five days since we last saw each other and this time, Liam has not given up on me like he did last summer. After a half-day text hiatus on Monday, Liam’s messages resumed. I get texts from him… pretty much hourly. They inform me that he loves me. That I’m his priority. That he would never choose to save another above me because he is my hero. That I’ll always come first in his mind, in every way. And the weird thing is, I believe him. And I’ve surprised myself by responding to each and every one of his texts, but maybe not in exactly the way he wants. Especially when he asks would I please just talk to him face-to-face? Because, like I told him, part of loving him right now requires me to keep my distance, and if I communicate with him at all, it’s by using neither eyes nor smiles nor voices nor bodies. But it looks like I’ve allowed the stripped down, texting method of word exchange.

  I’m not heartless. I’m not cruel. And I love Liam more than I ever knew it was possible to love another person. I think the fact that he’s not a hot babe, which would probably cloud my true feelings with a haze of sexual attraction, has allowed me to see him more clearly, to know him more thoroughly, and to love him more completely.

  Another text from Liam comes in. According to his class schedule, he’s texting me in his weekly Info Systems Workshop.

  Liam: Are you back at school now?

  Jase: Yeah. I’m in my dorm. This might seem random, but there’s an old song… “Billy, Don’t Be a Hero.” Every hear it?

  Liam: Maybe I heard it a long time ago. My parents used to have some oldies records, back before the fire.

  Jase: Well, the song is about a girl who begs this guy named Billy not to be a hero when he goes off to fight in a war. So he can come home to marry her.

  Liam: Is this a proposal? LOL

  Jase: I just mean that I’m not the only one who feels this way, and who wants the one he loves to stop trying to save everybody else, and to just save himself.

  Liam: I don’t need to save myself. The way you love me saves me every day.

  After a short pause, another message.

  Liam: And I promise, Jase. I’ll come home to marry you.

  Jase: OMG. Come to my dorm after class. Okay?

  Liam: I’ll be right there. And I mean right there… cuz I’m at your door now. And I talked to BJ. The room is ours for the whole afternoon.

  I hear a soft knocking.

  Am I ready for this? Have I decided how… or if… I’m going to let Liam back into my life?

  I open the door before the third knock and stare at him. He looks better than he’s ever looked before, but that could be because I missed him so much. Not only is he wearing a crisp black jacket and a dark plaid bow tie, his hair is pushed off his face in soft spikes, to indie rocker perfection. Plus he’s wearing my favorite pair of butt-hugging jeans. And he’s holding a dozen long-stemmed red roses, partiall
y hiding the sexiest pout ever.

  “I’ve never received flowers before,” I admit softly. My voice breaks twice in this short sentence.

  “Another first for us.” He steps through the doorway, places the flowers on a shelf, and takes me in his arms. “Oh, yeah…. this is where you belong.”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking… about you.” I reach up and drape my arms around his rugged shoulders.

  “I promise I’ll never foolishly risk my safety again, Jase. My life with you means way too much to me.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that promise.”

  “What I did the other night had a lot to do with my little sister,” Liam confesses, but I already know this. “I’ve been thinking about Lucy this week, and what my family allowed the loss of her to do to our lives. Being with you has definitely short-circuited my pain—you make me feel more at peace than I ever have before. Sometimes I tell you that you saved me as much as I saved you, and it’s true, but I’ve still decided that I’m going to go to the College Counseling Center. I’ve lived with a lot of guilt about Lucy’s death, and so much pain because of how my parents treat me—I don’t need to live this way. And I don’t want to make you live this way.”

  “I think counseling is a good idea. It’s helped me a lot.” Now I’m going to say what really needs to be said. “I’m sorry I shut you out this week. I really needed some space to think.”

  “I knew you’d let me back in, but what you did, staying away, gave me the time to realize that I live like I owe it to Lucy to save the world. I need to deal with Lucy’s death, once and for all.”

  “We both had issues to sort out this past week, and I think we did. But… are you trying to tell me that I did you a big favor by refusing to see you? Because I could go home for a few more days.” I blink up into his eyes a couple of times in an attempt to look perfectly innocent.

  Liam laughs. “I wouldn’t go that far…. cuz it hurt not to be able to hold you last week, but you’re right—I needed space to come to terms with everything I’ve lost, and what I’ve gained.” He releases me from his arms, keeping hold of my hands. “But I also know there’s no way two people can love each other the way we do and not ultimately end up together. Does that make sense?” Liam lets go of my hands before I answer, and approaches my bed. “I’d like you to lie down flat on your bed, Jase. On your back. Am I gonna get what I want?”

  Still overwhelmed by the fact we’re here together, it starts to hit me that Liam is already moving us in the direction of reconnecting in bed.

  “What are you waiting for, Jason? Get on the bed.” I can tell he’s fighting an urge to smile because he wants to shift our reunion into a higher gear.

  I scramble to the bed.

  “Lie flat.”

  I do.

  “You know I love you.” He sits on the edge of the bed, looking down into my eyes. “And I want your body, but not because it’s perfect and sexy and the best body at Batcheldor College, which it is, but because it belongs to you. And you belong to me.”

  That’s all he has to say to get me hard and ready for whatever he has in mind. I like it that he decides what we do in bed. And he likes it that he decides, too. I can tell by his leer.

  “You have way too many clothes on, Jase.” And then his hands are on me. They’re rough and needy, stripping me down more than undressing me.

  “You left my socks on,” I say when he looks down at me as if he’s well pleased with my naked body.

  “Maybe I want your socks on.”

  “Or maybe not… you’re addicted to my feet.” Even though serious intensity is sexy, I love it when we laugh together during sex, which we’re doing right now.

  “Maybe so.” Liam reaches down and pulls my socks off, one by one. “I should start by tickling you—it’d serve you right.” But instead he lifts one foot with his hand and takes my toes into his mouth.

  I’m getting more turned on by the second, but I still tease him. “You have a lot of faith in me.”

  He stops sucking and looks at me quizzically. “How so?”

  “You trust that I washed my feet this morning.” And with those words, Liam strips off his clothes with the same vigor that he removed mine, and is on top of me, looking down into my eyes. I’ve never seen so much love in my life as I see in his dark gaze.

  Today, when he makes love to me, it’s not with demands that I stay still. I know what he likes—when I keep my hands by my side, when I arch my back when I come, when I tell him I’m his after he comes—and he knows I’ll do these things for him. Just as I know that he’ll take his time and be careful to prepare me, and hold me until I’m finished with my climax.

  He lifts my chin and gazes into my eyes. “I want you to look at me… in the eyes… from beginning to end of this. Do you understand?”

  I nod.

  “I’d like to hear your answer.”

  “Yes. I’ll look at you.”

  “I may have to look away when I’m getting you ready, but you’re not to take your eyes from my face.”

  “Okay, Liam.”

  I fix my eyes on his as he grips my dick and starts to jerk. I slip quickly into heaven, and have to concentrate on looking at him. When he places his dick against mine, licks his big palm and rubs them like they’re one, all I want to do is squeeze my eyes shut. “Don’t look away.” It’s a struggle to stay focused, but it’s worth it when I see the expression in his eyes. Passion, ownership, tenderness and, of course, the backbone of our relationship, love, are all visible there. He releases us.

  “I’m going to get some things we need from the drawer by the bed. Don’t look away.” I study his handsome face as he reaches for the condoms and lube. He looks young today, very boyish, as he is lost in his passion. And then his eyes are back on mine. He kneels between my legs and lifts my ass onto his thighs, and watches my face very closely as he penetrates me with his fingers. I can feel his dick against my thigh. Its presence is like a constant reminder of what I need to prepare myself to accept.

  “Can I close my eyes?” I ask when he touches a certain spot inside me that makes me feel like exploding.

  “You know the answer to that question.” His eyes search mine as his fingers invade me and I see more desire in his eyes than ever before. He shakes his head slowly and says, “I need to put a condom on, Jason. Now watch my eyes as I do this.”

  I nod and my gaze clings to his eyes as he open the small package and unrolls the condom on his sturdy erection.

  He then separates me enough to enter and once again, the battle between his dick and my ass begins. As he pushes inside, I dare to blink a split second too long for Liam’s liking, and he demands, “Eyes on me.” And our gazes are again connected.

  I see such vulnerability in his expression as he drives into me suddenly and deeply, which I don’t expect at all. It’s a paradox—a blend of tenderness and aggression—that’s unique to Liam. So badly, I want to raise my hand to touch his cheek, and I tell him. “I want to touch your face.”

  He replies, “Touch me with your eyes.”

  And I do. I let the love in my heart pour out through my eyes and I can tell by his gentle smile that he feels it. Without glancing away, he takes my dick in his hand and squeezes it firmly to let me know that he’s going to start to pleasure me, and his hand begins to move.

  “We were never really apart.” This is what he says just before his thrusts become more powerful and his wrist moves with the same commanding rhythm. His dark eyes challenge me to deny this, but I can’t.

  I know he’s right; trading a week of eating meals together and lounging on my dorm room bed together for texting one another our innermost thoughts could never begin to damage what exists between us.

  We have come so far… this is the message in his eyes as he moves into me relentlessly, time and again. “I’ve protected you and saved you, Jase. And you’ve done the same for me.”

  “This is true, Liam.” He likes it when I answer him aloud. �
��You’re my hero, and I’m always gonna worship you.”

  He likes my response, and thanks to the blush I can see through his beard, I know it. “I wanna try and come at the same time. When you see what’s in my eyes, you’ll understand why I won’t let you look away.”

  He knows my body, as I know his, so it’s no surprise to either of us when our mutual orgasm begins. It’s intense and so sweet, but I’m not even slightly tempted to close my eyes. Instead, I bite down on my lip when I’d normally tell him that I belong to him, and see what is meant for only my eyes.

  My hero…. These words surge through my mind when I see the way he looks at me. And it’s unforgettable.

  From the expression in his eyes, I think I might be his hero, too.

  CDP: As always, Cooldudes Publishing is fascinated by Mia Kerick’s ability to write compelling stories. And, as always we took the time to ask Ms. Kerick about The Art of Hero Worship.

  This is a HUGE step for you to have taken, Mia. Adult fiction is so different to Young Adult fiction, the question on everyone’s mind right now is, why the change in direction?