Once I hit the outside, sun shining down on us even though it’s still so cold out, I make the ten-minute walk to the Ryker Center a jog, which takes half the time and warms me up. I keep a locker there, so I don’t have to bring a change of clothing every day. Only on wash days. The gym has thinned out, mid-day, most students have class. I’m so amped up, after I make the quickest change possible into my T-shirt, shorts and cross trainers, the treadmill calls to me first.
Sweat drips from my forehead, stinging my eyes and off the tip of my nose, leaving a salty aftertaste in my mouth. This would be the point I’d normally move to weights, but I can’t get myself to move from the damn machine, punishing myself by pushing even harder, going even faster. Like I think I’ll actually be able to work Kip out of my system? Kip can’t be worked out.
Fuck, I miss him.
My feet pound harder against the wide conveyor belt.
What if he doesn’t take me back?
My feet pound harder still.
“You look stressed,” a voice startles me, coming from the next treadmill over.
I turn all my attention to a girl who frequents the gym as much as I do, causing my feet to stumble a few steps. Once recovered, I slow my pace to a more manageable one. We talk every so often. She’s not hitting on me. Finally a girl with a clue.
“Yeah. I need a great apology, and I’m not sure what to do.”
“A friend apology or for that hot guy you’ve been seeing?”
I laugh. Everyone who sees Kip is blown away by his angelic face. “It’s for the hot guy.”
“Ah… well love apologies are the trickiest.” The use of “love” has me wincing without even meaning to. If she only knew how apropos a statement she just made. “John Hughes had the best love apologies.”
“Like the director? He made all those eighties movies, right?”
“Uh, yeah. He’s the best. If someone gave me a John Hughes apology, not only would I forgive the bastard, I’d probably jump him on the spot. And I’m guessing the way you’re punishing that poor treadmill, you could use a good jumping.”
How astute.
“Any apology in particular?” I ask, and not lying here, mentally taking notes.
“You ever seen Say Anything?”
I shake my head no.
“Watch it. I think it’s on Netflix. If he doesn’t forgive you after that, you two are never getting back together.”
“It’s that good?”
“Oh yeah.” She fans herself.
Well there we have it. I know how I’m spending the rest of the afternoon. Thank you gym girl and John Hughes.
***
It took me a day to hunt down everything I’d need at the thrift stores. The movie, I mean sure it’s a chick flick, but it’s actually pretty good. So back to my here and now, the moment of truth standing out front of Kip’s apartment. His car is here so I know he’s home. Wearing jeans, chucks and a long, tan trench coat, I feel more like Inspector Gadget but my getup is what that dude wore and got his girl back.
I’d set myself up for the virtually impossible task of finding the song I needed on cassette tape in my timeframe. Without any better options, I taped my iPhone to the top of an old boom box I’d bought yesterday, downloaded the song I needed and plugged a cord one end in my phone and the other into the mic jack so the speakers would play the song.
I hit play.
Holding the boom box over my head, the sounds of Peter Gabriel’s In Your Eyes drifts up to his window, the window I’m standing outside of looking like a complete ass. People begin appearing in windows all over the building, just not the face I need to see. Women, mostly. Swoony faces and all. The song plays to about three-quarters of the way through before a figure appears in the window above me.
Kip.
He showed. He’s beautiful and sad and my knees buckle at the sight of him. But just as fast he’s gone from the window, and I can feel my heart crashing to the ground. It didn’t work. Gym girl was wrong. I wait until the song finishes, turning my iTunes off.
“Was that so hard?”
My head whips around to look at the man standing just out of reach. “I miss you so damn much, Kip. I’m so sorry. You can’t know how sorry I am.”
“Few ground rules,” he says, stepping closer. “You shove me again, I will beat the shit out of you, and we are done. Forever.”
I breathe out a shaky breath, relief.
“Next?”
“Let me inside you. My hand is no substitute. Ten days, I’m dying here.”
The old boom box cracks as it hits the ground.
Kip doesn’t stand a chance, not when I launch myself at him capturing those lips. We’re outside, but he lives on student apartment row, part of the campus. So we’re okay. I’m counting on all the ways we can be okay.
He leans his forehead against mine. Jesus, it feels good to have him back in my arms. Then he backs up, taking a hold of my hand and begins walking back toward the apartment.
“And third?” I ask as we pass into the old warehouse turned apartment building.
“With all the women living around here, someone had to have recorded it, I need a copy.”
Once we’re up in his loft, all bets are off. We start out fast and furious, in a frenzy to tear each other’s clothes off. Kip is so used to taking care of me, I realize, that he falls back into our pattern. But I’m the one who needs to apologize. I’m the one who fucked up.
We flop onto the bed, Kip lying on his back because I pushed him. From here, I slow things way down. Take my time using my hands and mouth generously. He tries to flip me but I press harder to stay exactly where I am.
“No,” I whisper.
He doesn’t try to get up again.
When I get him to the point where he looks ready to come—it’s the third time I’ve built him to that point—after having my mouth on him, I climb on top to begin riding him. Kip sits up, and my breath hitches.
We continue to move. It’s fucking amazing.
I don’t know if it’s the best orgasm of his life, but it damn near has to be at the top of mine. The way we fit, the way we move together it’s like we can feel each other’s responses before we make them.
At the end of it, I hold him in my arms. His head resting on the pillow by my neck, turned to face me so we can talk. And normally, I’m not a post coital talker, but today we definitely have things to talk about.
“Don’t ever leave me again.”
Kip kisses my cheek. “Don’t give me a reason to. I need you Col, I need to be with you. But…” he sighs. “But I’m not a punching bag either. And I don’t just mean when you put your hands on me.”
I wince.
“If I could take that back, Kip. I swear to you I would.”
“But you can’t take it back, baby. It’s done. What you can do is promise me, we’re back in this, we’re in this together. No more shutting down on me. I’m the guy you’re building a life with, which means I’m the guy you turn to when you’re happy or sad or scared or pissed off at the fucking world. We talk or fuck, or hell, do both until you feel better. We don’t break up. You have to trust me, Col. You have to let me in.”
“I’m trying.”
“You’ve got to do better than try.”
He’s right. I have to do better than try.
***
Two weeks later…
Having him back so I can hold him every day, sharing a bed every night, no words exist to describe the feeling. And frankly, I’m not sure I want to name it. Naming it makes it real, and I’m too much of a coward to make that feeling real—again.
Okay, maybe I haven’t been able to do more than try.
We’ve been on an upswing, so Kip hasn’t seemed to notice. Everything else about us is real, isn’t that enough? He’s the only one, the only one in my life. I mean, hell, I’m on my way to the foc to meet up with him for a lunch date. Been trying to show more outward affection here on campus. No one gives us any shit on campus.
>
Errol and Ben sneak up on me after class, each snagging an arm, dragging me along with them outside.
“What are you doing? Kip’s meeting me for lunch.”
“We’ve already called him,” Ben says.
“It’s a Kipervention,” Errol joins him. “We’ve forgotten what you look like, man.”
“Don’t you two have women to be servicing?”
“Listen,” Errol stops us and says as straight faced as I’ve ever seen him, hand on my shoulder. “I get it. The man is hot. If I were gay and not totally in love with my fiancé, I’d trip your feet right out from underneath you and take off with him.”
Ben and I both start laughing. Fiance still sounds so foreign. Only once has Errol been serious in his life. While I was freaking out on my man, Errol was purposing to his woman.
“But?” I ask, reluctantly.
“Bros before hoes, dude.” Errol states, flatly.
“Kip is a bro.”
“Yeah, sorry. That was insensitive.” He starts to walk again. “How ‘bout bros before… bros?”
“You just think that one up?” Ben asks, snickering while he leads us to wherever destination they have in mind.
It’s not as cold today as it has been. We’ve actually gotten a few decent warmups. The problem with Michigan winters, it’ll lure you in with a few warm days in a row, giving a false sense of spring. Then bam! Blizzard.
“Okay… okay, I got it. Sass before ass?” Errol’s an idiot.
I can only shake my head.
“Really guys. We were apart for like a week and a half. I just need him to know I’m serious about us.”
“And that’s respectable, but we miss our friend.” Again. Errol. Ben’s been pretty quiet throughout this “Kipervention.”
“You want to hang out, great. But why isn’t he here with us?” I realize I’m beginning to lose my temper, but how else do they expect me to respond? “I’m all for guy time, but Kip’s a guy, and you can’t stick him in the role of girlfriend by not inviting him.”
“Who’s girlfriend?” Kip. They did invite him.
“You did invite him?” I feel like shoving my foot in my mouth about now.
“Brother, is that how you think I ever saw you two?” Ben looks me straight in the eyes.
“Well how should I have taken it, when you essentially kidnap me, even though you knew he and I had plans?”
“You should have known me well enough after nearly a decade of friendship, to know that I’d never not include him. You’re a guy. He’s a guy. We like guy things like sports. When have Errol or I ever thought of or treated either of you as anything different than the men you are?”
Never. I should own up to my mistake, admit it out loud. Ben waits on me to give him that, but how can I with Kip standing right there? The last thing I need is for Kip to think I’m starting to shut down on him again.
Ben shakes his head at me, clearly disappointed. “Don’t ever put that shit on me, of all people, again. Who you are, who Kip is, who Andrew was, none of it has ever been different in my eyes.” Then he takes off by himself.
I start to go after him but both Errol and Kip hold me back.
“I’ll go, if you don’t mind,” Kip says, and jogs to catch up to him.
We watch Ben drop down on a cement bench several yards away from us. He looks every bit as pissed as he should be. Forget Errol, now who’s the idiot?
Chapter 21
Kip
“Hey.” I stand in front of Col’s friend, his brother.
Ben looks up, shooting a half nod my way but doesn’t say anything back.
“Can I sit?” I ask, then.
“Sure.”
I wait on him to talk to me. God, what is it with these men? If you’re pissed off, how hard is it to say you’re pissed off? We just sit looking at the ground, at the piles of snow where it had warmed enough for some of the grass to show along the fringes. The clumps of green are so saturated from the melting snow you can just hear the squish in your head at the thought of stepping on them.
“Should I go?” I finally ask. “I’m not trying to cause trouble here.”
“No. You know I like you. And I want us to be friends. He’s important to us both.”
I nod, then lean forward to rest my elbows on my knees.
“But,” Benton continues, “What I don’t like, what I don’t want is to ever be accused of what he just accused me of. Have I ever treated you any less than I’d treat, say, Errol?”
“No. Never that I’m aware of.”
“Have you ever seen me treat Col less than I treat Errol?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what the hell is his deal? It feels like I don’t even know him anymore. He’s my best friend, the brother I don’t have anymore. I’m not going to lie and say that shit wasn’t a punch in the gut.”
“Benton.”
He should know this already about his “brother” since they have known each other for so long. But here it goes anyway.
“He’s projecting. It’s not how you feel about him. It’s how he feels about himself. That man is so scarred, like loving me makes him less than a man somehow.”
“But it’s me. All the shit he and I have lived through.”
“I’ll talk with him again.”
It’s then Benton slumps against the cold cement bench, and sighs. “How are we going to get him past it?”
“I don’t think we can. That’s something he has to get to on his own, ya know?”
“You’re a good man, Kip.”
Well on that note, I stand up and motion for him to follow. We need to get those two to make up. There’s been entirely too much drama for one day. “Come on, let’s go play ball.”
Playing ball sounds exactly like what we need right now.
The two on two pickup game lasts about two hours before we all collapse to the floor of the gymnasium, shirts and shorts dripping with sweat. Benton and I were a team because Errol insisted I was, and I quote, “too ridiculously hot to be on his team.”
Sometimes I wonder how exactly straight he goes.
Without a towel to wipe himself down, Collin flips his T-shirt up to wipe his face and neck. He looks happier, less stressed than I’ve seen him in a while. He and Ben didn’t so much talk or hug out their problems, more they bumped shoulders and went on as if there’d never been a disagreement.
A happy Collin is one of his best looks. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at the beautifully disturbed man in front of me. I only break away from my admiring long enough to pull my shirt up over my head.
That’s when I hear Benton ask, “Is that how I look at Elle?”
A curious question which has me pull the shirt off the rest of the way even faster to get a look at who or what he’s referring to. It’s Collin who looks at me exactly as I’d been ogling him moments before.
When Errol walks the few steps to Benton’s side and slaps him on the back, he does it laughing. “Exactly like that. Kip my friend, you are a sirloin cooked to medium perfection.”
It’s kind of embarrassing to hear Errol say that, but what he’s referring to is the blatant hunger in my man’s eyes. That look he reserves only for me. So yeah, I feel special.
“Can I ask you something seriously?” Benton asks, eyeing back and forth between me and Col.
I nod, continuing to rub my shirt over my sweaty body.
Col says, “Sure. You know you can.”
“So how does it not just kill you to have some other guy touching all over your man like that?”
Before either of us answers he goes on to explain himself. “Because if someone put their hands on Elle like we just had to—doesn’t matter it’s a game—I’d get fucking stabby.”
“She’s a girl, though,” Col answers straight away.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “Love is love. So how do you keep from getting stabby?”
“I guess it’s just different. Neither of you want Kip or me
like that.”
“But you don’t want Elle like that, and I’d still break your nose.”
“Yeah well, I’m not a caveman, I guess.”
“And,” I take over. “I know that when we leave here, it’ll be me in that shower with Col. Nobody else matters.”
I freeze for a second, worried I’ve overstepped with that comment.
But no, Benton takes it in stride as he walks past me. “Then you’re a better man than me.” And he claps the back of my neck.
Errol continues behind him clapping my neck, too, as he passes. “Hope Bri’s home now. I definitely need a shower.” He calls over his shoulder.
Then it’s just me and Col.
“That offer good?” he asks. “We going to shower?”
“Absolutely.”
“Just so we’re clear, is shower code for something sexual?”
“Absolutely.”
***
“What’s up?” He asks while pulling on a pair of tight, red boxer briefs. The ones with the gray waistband.
We’d stayed in that shower until the water ran cold. Until I left him to blow dry his hair. He uses that pomade to style it exactly so.
“You look troubled.”
“Got a call from my sister,” I tell him from where I’ve been sitting on the bed staring blankly at my phone for the past five minutes. Lucky for me I have him to snag my attention away.
“Kay?”
I nod, only once. “Well actually, I got several calls from several family members. First Kay, then a call from each of my parents. My three brothers and my other two sisters.”
“Wow. What’d they want?”
“Me to come home for the weekend, my niece’s christening.”
Collin drops down on the bed next to me and wraps his arm around my waist. He places a quick kiss to my shoulder. “Thought you weren’t religious.”
“I’m not, but you know I come from a large Catholic family. It’s important to them.”
And I don’t have to tell him how much I miss my family. He already knows. Michigan, GHU, is where I’m meant to be, but that doesn’t stop the sting of having to miss another family moment from stinging.
“You gonna go?” he asks, then.
Underside of Courage (Beautifully Disturbed Series Book 2) Page 14
