Focus on Me

by Megan Erickson

  I shrugged. “Means something to you, and I’d be a bastard to abandon you to sweat your ass off by yourself. And I want to see what the fuss is all about.”

  Riley smiled. “What a good guy you are, Col.”

  “I must be a masochist.”

  He chuckled softly and continued to tap away on his phone with a small smile on his face.

  ***

  He was in the best mood I’d ever seen him in that night. I didn’t know if it was that I agreed to the sweat lodge or what, but his eyes were bright and his mouth wouldn’t stop moving long enough to eat.

  We were at a Laundromat, eating subs we’d picked up at a deli across the street. I was scarfing down my ham and cheese sub as quickly as I could so we could get back on the road.

  Riley wouldn’t stop talking about the damn deli. Admittedly, the place had been weird. Really weird. There were mounted animal heads all over the walls, and I almost got gored by a set of antlers when I walked into the store. Riley had thought it was hilarious, because he said I “squeaked” with fright as I jumped away from getting pierced. I had done no such thing and told him that as gruffly as I could, which only made him laugh harder.

  Riley stood out here. No one looked like him in this small New Mexico town. Well, no one really looked like Riley anywhere, but most definitely not here. He still had on his skinny jeans and a button-down shirt, one half tucked into the waistband in a way that would look sloppy on me, but like a catalog page on Riley. The deli hadn’t been crowded but everyone there stared at Riley as he bounced on the balls of his feet and stared at the menu over the counter, muttering to himself as he read it. He kept asking my opinion on what I thought was good there, which was hilarious, because I was only concerned about getting something that wouldn’t give me listeriosis.

  Riley had asked the deli employee for a vegetarian sub, and the man just blinked at him like he’d asked to eat a plate of cotton balls. I worried we were going to be chased out with pitchforks. I’d hurriedly told the man to throw everything on the sandwich that wasn’t meat. Riley did eat meat, so I wasn’t sure what his deal was today, but I wasn’t going to argue. I wanted to get out of there in one piece.

  The employee hadn’t been happy about it, so I’d ordered extra meat on my sub to make up for it.

  Lame, I know, but whatever.

  Now Riley sat in the Laundromat, the sound of our drying clothes spinning behind us. I could see my jeans, the ones with a hole in a knee, as they spun.

  Wap. Wap. Wap.

  Riley bit off the end of a pickle. I watched him lick the juice from the corner of his mouth and I lowered my gaze.

  “You know, I didn’t really need a vegetarian sub,” he said. “I just wanted to see how the guy would react.” His voice shook with repressed laughter.

  I glared at him. “Could’ve filled me in ahead of time. I thought that guy was gonna shoot you and mount your head on the wall.”

  Riley’s eyes twinkled. “I did see him checking out my ass, so maybe he did want to mount me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please.”

  Riley laughed harder.

  I polished off the rest of my sub and threw away our trash. Riley was humming along to music from a radio that sat in the corner of the Laundromat. I found a toothpick dispenser and put one in my mouth as the dryer buzzed.

  I shoved a wheeled laundry cart under my dryer and began dumping in my dried clothes. Riley did the same, his singing growing louder. He’d thrown in some hip movements too, and I shook my head with a smile at his antics.

  A club song came on with a pounding beat and Riley whooped. He latched onto a pole that was in the middle of the Laundromat and began to shimmy along its length like he was a stripper.

  We were alone in the Laundromat, which was good, because Riley sure as hell wasn’t holding back. He worked the pole like a pro, and by this time I’d stopped pretending like I was folding. I stood with my hands on my hips and watched him.

  He moved like a cat, all fluid and boneless. His expression was dreamy, like he was caught up in the music and happy to be that way. I wasn’t sure anything had ever made me feel that transcendent. And that was exactly how he looked.

  His back was to the pole and he dipped down in a squat, separated his knees, and then rose back up. Now his hot eyes were on me, the brown showing a fiery ember beneath.

  He beckoned to me with one finger, and I hesitated for a minute when I remembered his rejection. But this was harmless. We were just goofing off, playing around, and dancing to fun music in a Laundromat in the middle of nowhere.

  And the best part of all of this was I didn’t see one damn demon in Riley’s eyes. Not one.

  So I sauntered over to him, spitting out my toothpick as I went. He rolled his eyes at me, which made me grin.

  I grabbed him around the waist, his slender body easily crashing into mine as I curled my bicep. He wrapped his arms around my neck and continued to swivel his hips. I made a scrunched face and strummed a little air guitar on his back, and he arched his neck and laughed.

  I loved how carefree he looked, his hair in disarray from dancing. He was only wearing a plain T-shirt now and an older pair of jeans since his good ones were all in the wash.

  And we danced. As we swayed, I didn’t even have to guess what he’d do next. Our bodies fit like a puzzle, our rhythms in sync as we moved to the beat.

  Everything about this felt right, and I wondered what had happened to me—that I was somehow falling for this man who looked like he’d stepped off of a catwalk, who had demons and sad eyes and kissed like an angel.

  Maybe it was the caretaker gene that Jess always talked about, because I wanted to hold Riley like this forever. I wanted to dance with him while doing laundry and joke about delis with mounted animal heads.

  It was reckless and a little stupid but I’d spend my last dime to follow this guy around the country. Maybe I could do this—for once in my life, succeed at something. And if that was taking care of Riley while he got rid of his demons, then so be it.

  The song ended and a slower one filtered through the speakers. I heard a piano and some kind of stringed instrument like a violin. The singer’s voice was melancholy and Riley’s mood seemed to sober right with it. It was like he felt the music internally as he clung to me and swayed in my arms, all traces of the earlier joy gone.

  I rubbed my hand up and down his back, feeling the knobs of his spine through his T-shirt. I was glad I’d bought that pack of cookies at the deli because I might have to force-feed Riley later.

  But now I enjoyed the warmth of his body against mine as he rocked back and forth to the music. This was okay, this dancing. It didn’t have to lead to more. It felt good to want him, to enjoy this moment, knowing it wouldn’t progress further. He’d made his feelings clear.

  His breath was hot on my neck, and I could feel his erection hard against my thigh. He shook slightly, and his fingernails dug through my thin T-shirt.

  He turned his head, and my lips brushed the hair at his temple as his lips brushed my neck, so softly, so slowly, but enough to make me close my eyes. Enough to make me groan. Enough to make my hard cock throb.

  I kept my mouth shut as those soft lips coasted over the front of my throat, then up to the lobe of my ear. His hand rose from my shoulder to cup my neck, and he pressed even closer, aligning our bodies. “In another life, Col, I-I think it could be you. I swear.”

  That hurt. That hurt a lot, each word like arrows into every sensitive bit of flesh. I stepped back, separating our bodies. Riley’s hands dropped lifelessly to his side. I ran my fingers through my hair and tugged a little, the pain taking the focus off of where Riley had bled me. He stared at me, biting his lip, and his hand clenched his thigh. This felt too soon. I’d only known Riley for less than a week, and I barely knew anything about him. But he made me ache. There was something about him that called to me. So I swallowed my pride and I threw out the only parting shot I had. “I guess our timing is off, then, because
I think it could be you, too. In this life.”

  I shoved the rest of my clothes in my bag, not giving a shit if they were folded, and headed toward the front door. “Get your clothes and let’s head out,” I called over my shoulder.

  I didn’t look back as I pushed the Laundromat door open and heard it slam shut behind me.

  ***

  Landry,

  Have you ever tried to order a vegetarian sandwich from a deli with mounted heads on the wall? It’s amusing, just FYI. Have Justin as your bodyguard (I’ve seen his guns) because it could get ugly.

  Have you ever danced in a Laundromat? With nothing but a scratchy radio for your soundtrack and the blurred colors of the spin dryers in the background? I recommend it. Because I can still feel Colin’s thigh between mine. I can still feel his breath on my neck. I can feel his hips pressing into mine.

  And I can still hear my voice as I told him it wouldn’t happen in this life. I know I have a serious malfunction, but this self-sabotaging thing is new. It’s like I don’t want myself to be happy.

  So I wonder if this trip is only to confirm what I already know. That happiness isn’t in the cards for me.

  And isn’t that depressing and so fucking futile?

  Bless you for even reading these e-mails. And for responding with encouraging words. Sometimes getting to my computer to e-mail you is one of the only reasons I keep going. The other is Colin. Is that crazy? I’ve never even met you, and I’ve only known Colin for several days.

  I’m rambling now. Try the deli thing. And the Laundromat thing.

  —R

  Chapter Six

  I woke up the next day laying on my stomach on a rock-hard mattress. I’d shoved all my pillows on the floor and the covers were in a wad at the foot of the bed.

  I groaned because my head hurt and my back was killing me. I reached down, grabbed a pillow off the floor, and covered my head with it.

  After the Laundromat, I’d driven until I couldn’t see straight anymore. We’d ridden in silence. A couple of times, Riley would turn to me and open his mouth, like he wanted to say something, and then he’d shut it up and slump in his seat. Normally I’d let shit go. I didn’t hold grudges. I barely held on to anger. But this? This bothered me. He seemed to want me, to want to explore what we could have, but something was holding him back. I couldn’t fight it because I didn’t know what it was.

  And I wasn’t up for punching in the shadows.

  So that was it. I wouldn’t put moves on him again. No dancing. No flirting. I sure as hell wasn’t giving up on him, but friends we were and friends we would stay. I wasn’t a masochist.

  So we’d stopped at a motel. I’d stripped down to my boxers, climbed into bed, and fell asleep before he’d even taken off his shoes.

  Sleeping was one thing I was fucking excellent at, but my subconscious apparently wanted me to fail at that, too. I didn’t feel rested, not one bit. More like I’d run a marathon in my sleep.

  The bed dipped at my side, slowly. “Colin?” Riley’s voice was soft, and I felt a featherweight touch on my shoulder blade.

  I groaned again.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” My mouth was dry.

  “What? I can’t hear you because of the . . . uh . . . pillow over your head.”

  I shoved the pillow up and repeated, “Fine.”

  He paused. “Okay, because you moved a lot in your sleep last night and you usually don’t do that. You usually don’t move at all.”

  I turned my head and looked at him out of one eye. He was showered and dressed. What the hell? “How do you know?”

  His lips moved from side to side. “I don’t sleep much.”

  He did have bags under his eyes. Had they always been there? I rolled away from him and stood beside the bed. After a yawn, a stretch, and a ball scratch, I turned to where he still sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at me with dark, puffy eyes.

  “Well, I’ll get in the shower. You got the address and shit for the lodge thingy?”

  He swallowed. “You still okay with going?”

  I rummaged through my bag for some clean boxers. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “So we’re going. Why don’t you run across the street to McD’s to get us breakfast, huh?”

  I didn’t wait to hear his answer. I walked in the bathroom with my shower kit and shut the door behind me. I stared at myself in the mirror. One side of my hair stood straight up and the other was matted down. I kind of looked a little Flock of Seagulls or something. I heard the door of the motel room shut and figured Riley had left to get food, which was good because I was starving and needed caffeine. I grunted at my reflection and hopped in the shower, quickly soaping up my hair.

  The water pressure was decent, and I stood for a while with the hot stream pelting my neck and upper back, loosening the muscles that were tight as hell from driving.

  I grabbed my soap and lathered up my chest, wanting to wash away the grime of the road. I stared at my feet as the white suds swirled around them and then between them to disappear down the drain.

  I’d woken up with morning wood, which hadn’t gone down. It was like my cock remembered what it had felt like to dance with Riley the day before, and with his light touch on my shoulder blade that morning, muscle memory came rushing back.

  I swallowed and widened my stance as I thought about Riley’s breath on my neck, his hands in my hair. I’d felt his erection on my thigh when we danced, which hadn’t done anything to relieve the ache in mine. As I cupped my balls and rolled them gently, I turned and leaned back onto the shower wall. I stared down as my cock filled with blood, hardening, as my memories of touching Riley began to swirl and mix with fantasies. Of my tongue in his mouth. Of his hands touching me, stroking me.

  I closed my eyes and imagined him standing in front of me in the shower, our cocks in my hand as I stroked both of us at the same time. Riley gripping my face, kissing the hell out of me while I groaned and stroked. I felt his cock alongside mine, my calloused hand on our shafts.

  I pumped my hand harder, faster on my cock, and added a twist when I got to the tip, hitting that bundle of nerves under the head again and again.

  I opened my eyes and I could have sworn I was looking right into the depths of Riley’s eyes. And then I shot like a fucking rocket. The orgasm ripped through me as I continued to stroke. I bit my lip so I didn’t cry out, but I had no idea if I’d let any sound slip.

  I breathed heavily and held my hands under the water spray in front of me. I wiped my face and blinked. And I didn’t know why, but it made me feel so fucking pathetic to find myself alone and naked in that damn shower.

  I’d known Riley wasn’t there but . . . the fantasy had been nice.

  What kind of pervert was I?

  We were friends; that was it. I needed to find someone else to fantasize about. Or get laid. Something. Anything.

  I finished washing quickly and stepped out of the shower. I pulled on my boxers and scrubbed my head with a towel as I walked out of the bathroom.

  I stopped when I saw Riley sitting on his bed, eating a cup of yogurt and fruit. He smiled briefly, just a flash, and nodded toward the bag on the table by the TV. “I got you an egg sandwich.”

  How long had he been there? Had he heard . . . ?

  I finished drying my hair and threw the towel on the bed as I walked over to the food bag. Who gave a shit if he heard? He was a guy, too. And it’s not like I yelled out his name or anything.

  At least, I sure as hell hoped I hadn’t.

  I also thought for a minute that I should put on more clothes, but I truly hated clothes as much as I hated shoes and would walk around naked all the day if I could. So fuck it.

  “So you know where we’re going?” I asked, leaning against the table as I unwrapped my sandwich. I took a bite and chewed as I watched Riley.

  He licked his plastic spoon and then dropped it into his empty yogurt cup. He set it on
the bed beside him and then leaned back on his hands. “I looked up the directions. Just a couple of hours.”

  “And this place won’t kill me?”

  He shook his head. “It’s safe as long as you listen to your body and leave the lodge if you start to feel sick.”

  He’d explained it to me yesterday. Large rocks were heated in fires and then placed in the sweat lodge. I was already starting to sweat thinking about it. Hence why I barely had on any clothes. “And what happens when we’re in there?”

  “It’s quiet. It’s a time for meditation. Like a silent dark sauna.”

  “Okay.”

  He squinted at me. “You look like you’re marching to your death.”

  “Honestly, I don’t think it will be a barrel of laughs, okay? But I’ve never done it, and I want to try. So I am.”

  He smiled. “I really do appreciate it. I think . . . I think it will help.”

  I polished off the rest of my sandwich and threw the wrapper in the trash. “You or me?”

  He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Both?”

  I sighed. “Well, good to have a goal, I guess.”

  ***

  There were several huts, all placed strategically so the mouth of the hut faced the large fire in the center. The hut, which would be our place of residence for our “Sweat,” was a simple frame structure made out of wood and dirt. The Navajo who was our guide explained that only natural ingredients were used in the construction.

  We wore almost no clothing, as we were told we’d be soaked by the end of it. I had on a pair of mesh gym shorts and Riley wore a cutoff pair of sweats we’d found at Walmart.

  We started in the visitor’s center, along with a couple of other half-naked people—a man and a woman, who looked to be married, and another woman.

  Our guide, whose name was Yiska, explained how rocks were carefully chosen; they couldn’t have air pockets or they could explode once hot, and they couldn’t be wet. Once heated, they’d be carried to the hut with a shovel and placed around the outside. We’d file into the hut, where a guide would stay with us to replenish the rocks while we . . . sweated our asses off.