Go Your Own Way (19 page)

“Those things are so bad for you.” As he watched, Lennox finished off his cigarette and stubbed it out on the concrete.

“So is life, if you think about it,” Lennox said as he eased the door shut. “It always ends the same way. Just by existing you’re setting yourself up for a painful end. At least with those, I’m making my choice.”

A dull ache throbbed in Will’s throat. It was difficult to believe any of it, to accept that each bent piece that Lennox placed before him all fit together in the same puzzle. But they did.

Will grabbed the spilled notebooks from the floor and stacked them between them. He dug into the trunk for the last few. As he rummaged, something fluttered out onto the comic books. It was an old Polaroid, but unlike the books and notebooks, it wasn’t bent or torn. Will glanced over at Lennox, who was busy flicking his lighter and tongue ring in time with each other. He snatched up the picture.

A cheerful-looking young woman sat at a piano, facing the camera and away from the keys. Her curls were full, dark and thick, much like Lennox’s in the way they framed her face. A small boy sat in her lap, no older than four or five. His skin and hair were lighter than hers, but the resemblance between them was uncanny.

It was Lennox.

Which meant that the woman must be Lennox’s mother. Will ran a finger over their faces, taking in the untamable curls, the same noses and eyebrows. The only difference between them was their eyes; the woman’s were dark, almost black, whereas Len­nox’s were that familiar bright brown. That was what struck him most. In the picture, his eyes were warm and kind, not lust­ful, cocky or angry. His smile could have put the sun and the stars and the moon to shame. It was a galaxy all on its own, uncharted, radiant, basking in a light that had dimmed before his brightness could ever reach the world.

In two months, Will had never seen Lennox smile like that. He’d never seen him look happy for a second. Not happy as he was in this photograph—in his mother’s arms—his face bright with laughter.

“What’s that?” Lennox shifted closer to stare into the trunk. Will handed the picture to Lennox and waited. Lennox froze. His eyes came to rest on the people smiling up at him. It was a hard moment to watch, and it grew worse when a fond smile flickered at the edges of Lennox’s mouth. He’d never seen that smile either, but it was nothing like the little boy’s in the photograph. For a moment, Will saw brightness in Lennox’s eyes and then it was gone.

“Junk. Tuck it back in one of those notebooks or something. I don’t care.”

Lennox handed it back and busied himself stuffing his ciga­rettes and lighter into his pocket. Will, however, couldn’t ignore this picture.

“Lennox,” he began. So many questions had already been answered today and pressing for more answers didn’t seem wise. But Lennox was ready to brush this picture off, this last vestige of a smile Will had never seen. Lennox looked up at Will, the pack of cigarettes half in his pocket, and in that instance, Will let himself want. He wanted to know this boy, to learn and grow with him and to understand him with the same ease with which Lennox seemed to understand him.

“Is this your mother?” Lennox ran his tongue ring over his teeth.

Click click click.

“It was.”

Was.
Was
because she was dead now—had been dead for years. Just like his own mother, only he didn’t have that thundering ache in his gut at the thought of her: the ache that Lennox seemed to have. Will had stories his dad had told him about her and pictures of her holding a bald, colicky baby. He didn’t have any memories of her that were his own. Not like Lennox had of his mom. For ten years, Lennox had grown and changed and learned without her: He’d changed into someone unrecognizable as the little boy whose picture Will held in his hand.

“She—”

Will hadn’t expected anything else from him. Yet for the first time, Lennox seemed interested in keeping up this conversation and giving—trusting him—without being prompted.

Lennox stared at the photograph for a long moment. He looked more like that little boy than ever before. Right now, his arms were looped around his knees, drawing them into his chest. A shadow darkened his face, as if the little boy in the photograph were there with them, draping himself over Lennox in the best hug he could offer from such a distance. Another reminder, another memory like the ones Will kept seeing of his dad. At the movies over the summer throwing popcorn into each other’s mouths, riding horses at a farm in the valley, cookouts in the backyard. None of them left him, and none of them held any comfort.

“She was a concert pianist. That,” Lennox jabbed a finger at the photograph still in Will’s hand, “is one of my only memories of her. Playing with her, I mean. She started teaching me when I was three, maybe four. I was probably five in that picture.” Len­nox shrugged; his fingers twisted together as he pulled his knees closer to his chest.

Lennox ran a hand through his thick hair and rubbed at a burn spot on the rug. “Her name was Lyra.”

He’d never heard that tone from Lennox—so soft and melodic in its gentleness. It made him more sure than ever of the truth. Lennox’s mother had been his entire world. Will couldn’t imagine that. He couldn’t remember being hugged by his own mother, but his dad had filled that place in his life. In some ways, his dad still stood at the center of his life.

Will didn’t quite understand what it meant to miss his mother the way Lennox seemed to. His mother hadn’t been there to bake cakes with or to paint his toenails when he was seven. Try as he might, his dad had never managed to fill that role, but he’d allowed Will to do as he pleased. That had been enough for a while. But still, Will could remember crying at night after the boys at school teased him for having painted nails or for wearing his beautiful new scarf to school the first day of sixth grade. Ben had comforted him, talked to him and encouraged Will to be him­self, but he’d never understood it. Not as his mother might have, and not in the ways Karen had.

His mother’s memory existed all around his life, but never in it. Eventually, that wound had scabbed over. Every now and then, though, something would pry that scab off and remind him of what he’d missed. He’d miss the mother his father had always tried to create in his head. Perhaps it was the same for Lennox in some ways. And perhaps this was what Lennox had meant in that empty classroom when he talked about memories and kindness.

Except Lennox had nobody. At eighteen, he lived alone. He had no smiling mother hugging him and no encouraging father to talk with. One of his grandfathers seemed to be around, but he didn’t appear to be too eager to check in on Lennox. He was an orphan from everything Will had seen, legal adult or not.

Will took it all in for a moment, from the piercings glinting in the lamp light to the hollow gaze staring back at him.

Was this what he had to look forward to if his dad died?

At eight, Lennox had lost his mother. Will had lost his at three.

Lennox’s father had died only a few years ago, and now Will was probably going to lose his, too.

Everything he was feeling now, Lennox had already felt—had already spent years dealing with and working through. Lennox under­stood what was happening to him in a way Natasha, Rox­anne, Aaron and even Karen didn’t.

A hand caught Will’s wrist. He was shaking, though he wasn’t sure when it had started, or when his eyes had clouded over with tears.

“Hey,” Lennox said, “it’s—shhh.”

A hesitant arm circled his waist. It was the last wedge that broke his resolve. Will buried his face in the crook of Len­nox’s neck as the tears fell. He clutched at him, desperate for support. Lennox stiffened and Will hung on tighter, but Lennox didn’t push him away. For right now, that was enough.

Lennox’s hold tightened and Will found himself being pulled into Lennox’s lap. His arms were stiff around Will, but they held him. For a long time, they sat there, Will crying until he ran out of tears and Lennox holding him, uncertainly at first and then tighter. Hiccups racked Will’s body after the tears stopped. As he sat up to wipe his eyes, a car door slammed outside. A few minutes later, a door creaked open and then shut. The people next door shuffled around as Lennox’s shoulder shifted against his cheek.

Will wiped his face on his shirt collar as Lennox stretched. The warm hand still around his side moved to the top of his thigh, rubbing gently.

“You know that blow job offer still stands, babe.”

“Oddly enough, I’m not feeling very aroused,” Will said. He stood up and cleared his throat. “I should probably go.”

“No, come on. I’ll, uh, help you catch up on all of your math homework. You’re complete shit at it.”

Will frowned as Lennox stood up, stretched his arms over his head and then scratched the patch of stomach hair that was suddenly visible. Lennox pulled his shirt down when he caught Will staring and flopped back down onto the bed.

“Grab your book,” Lennox told him. “Let’s erase some of your zeros.”

Lennox wasn’t sure how it happened: All week, Will drove him home and hung around his place for a few hours after school. For the first two days, they worked on Will’s pre-calculus home­work. Although he still struggled with the foundation of the prob­lems, Will managed to work his way through most of them. Their English analysis was finished by the end of the third afternoon, and on Friday Will waited for Lennox to pack his backpack at the end of chemistry. They walked out together and downstairs to Will’s locker.

“More math today?” Lennox asked. “Or can I blow you this time?”

Will shrugged and traded books in and out of his locker. “No. To both. I, um, I was going to go to the hospital right after school today.” Will shut his locker and took a deep breath. “I was hoping you’d go with me.”

The hospital. Will waited, his lower lip tucked between his teeth and his books clutched to his chest. After a moment, Len­nox gave him a very hesitant nod. His dad was unconscious so he couldn’t chase him around or shout at him again, but it was still weird. Why would Will want
him
, of all people, to go with him to visit his dad?

“If I can, you know,” Lennox said as they headed for the student parking lot. He shook his leg like a dog, his ankle monitor glinting under the hall lights. “I can only get so far with this.”

“Right. It’s closer to the highway,” Will said. “Twenty-minute drive from here.”

Lennox fixed his backpack around his shoulders and shook his head. “Can’t. Five miles is my limit.”

“Oh.” Will swallowed. Maybe it was Lennox’s imagination, but he looked disappointed. “That’s—it must suck.”

“To want to suck you off? Yeah, since you won’t let me.” Lennox shouldered the door open and they stepped out into the blustery, bright parking lot. “See you Monday.”

“No, let’s hang out at your place,” Will decided. “You take French, right? We can practice together. I’m pretty good at it.”

“I’m good at French kissing,” Lennox said. He glanced at Will, and Will started to smile—until a hand cupped his ass and squeezed. Even as Will jumped away, Lennox laughed and man­aged a second grab. “So firm. Bet you’re even tighter on the inside.”

“Like you’ll ever find out,” Will said, but he let Lennox put his arm around his waist for the short walk to his truck.

The drive was quiet, even with Lennox’s wandering hands, and the motel parking lot was empty when they arrived. Lennox let out a breath as they parked. So far, Will hadn’t met the men a few doors down. If Will was lucky, he’d avoid that encounter for much longer than Lennox had.

Lennox held the door open for him and then shoved the trunk into place against the door as Will unpacked his backpack. He managed to get his French book out before Lennox pressed into him.

“Lennox, we’re supposed—
oh
, I-I can’t stay for v-very long.”

Will shivered as Lennox nuzzled his neck. They stood there, Will’s foot jerking with each suck at his neck. Lennox could never get enough of this spot, of slowing down to taste every pore and sweet inch of flesh as Will melted into him. He groaned a little as his cock throbbed in his jeans. It had been weeks since Will had let him do this, far longer than he’d ever waited for another boy.

Will gasped as Lennox moved his mouth up his neck and flicked his tongue against his ear lobe. “No books today,” Len­nox murmured. “I-I’ve missed touching you.”

He pressed his hips forward and Will’s ass arched back against him. They both moaned, and Lennox couldn’t wait anymore. His hands yanked Will’s shirt out of his pants and popped the button of his jeans. Will wiggled against him and Lennox groaned again. Finally, Will seemed more than just aroused. He was excited and eager, not just physically, but vocally.

Lennox slid his hand into Will’s jeans and cupped him through his boxers. He was hard already. Will whimpered and reached back, one hand tangling into Lennox’s thick curls as Lennox stroked him.

“Can we—bed?”

“Eager for once?”

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

Will stumbled forward and Lennox followed. He caught Will around the waist as they dropped to the bed, tugging at his jeans until Will was half out of them. Will rolled over and met him for a kiss. Lennox’s hands paused at the sensation, and he let Will guide him down until he rested against him.

Kissing Will was existing. This was the essence of something untouched and bursting with warmth, a pulse burrowing into his veins with its claws. For another moment, he let Will control their kiss, let him nip his lower lip and breathe into him.

Then he went back to Will’s neck. Back to skin and pleasure and the familiar. He opened Will’s shirt and moved his lips lower. Will’s chest fluttered and his stomach muscles tensed as he arched up to meet him. That was all the encouragement Lennox needed. He sat back to pull his own shirt off as Will propped himself up on his elbows.

He was panting, his chest heaving slightly as Lennox pressed into him. Will’s hand grabbed his hair, threading through his curls as Lennox nudged him into the bed. His hips jerked up and Lennox met him, grinding against him as Will gasped. For a few minutes, their hips pressed together and rolled. Lennox’s stomach pulsed with the sensation of Will pressed against him. His head was dizzy with him, with his taste and the knowledge that Will was his.

“Len, I’ve never—I’m not sure—”

“About what?” Lennox did stop this time, and part of him wasn’t sure why. Usually, he kept kissing if the other boy was unsure and timid. But Will wasn’t just some boy. He was—he was— “Let me taste you.”

Will’s hand brushed over Lennox’s chest for a moment. “I like you. I’m just—I’m new to this stuff.”

“And you taste fantastic,” Lennox said. He dropped down and kissed Will’s cheek and then his jaw. “I want you so much. Let me?”

For a moment, their eyes met. Finally, Will nodded. Lennox grinned and started a sloppy line of kisses down Will’s chest before he reached the waistband of his boxers. They were tented slightly as Lennox pressed his mouth against the thick bulge beneath. Will inhaled sharply.

His face was flushed as he stared down at Lennox. “Please.”

“Finally.” Lennox helped Will out of his boxers. He dragged his tongue against the underside of Will’s cock again and held his hips as they jolted. Will whined, his hips seeking Lennox’s mouth. Lennox flicked his tongue and caught the bead of pre-come on the tip. For a moment, he made Will wait, made him squirm and grab at the blankets. Then he parted his lips and sank down.

Will groaned, rising as Lennox hollowed his cheeks and pulled back. He breathed through his nose, relaxed his jaw and sank down until the tip of his nose brushed Will’s navel. A trembling hand wrapped into Lennox’s curls and tugged. Will panted, his legs shifting under him, trying to find the leverage to thrust into his mouth.

“Len, I’m—I’m—”

Will came with a hoarse shout. He jerked and his cock twitched as Lennox swallowed eagerly and then gagged as he tried to take him deeper. Will sank into the mattress with a weak groan, and Lennox pulled off and took a deep breath. He slid back up Will’s body, his own cock still aching in his jeans.

“Can see why you’ve been so insistent,” Will muttered. He smiled a little, and Lennox’s chest caved in. It felt like an ava­lanche, with the same power and rumble, but instead of making him ache, it made him fuller.

Lennox bowed his head and captured Will’s mouth for another kiss. It was soft, salty and warm. Will groaned against his lips. They kissed slowly, Lennox easing himself down as Will cupped his jaw. No boy had ever touched him like this, had ever been so gentle and caring. He held his hips away from Will despite how much he wanted to thrust down and rut against him. Not now. Later, when he was… what?

“You’re still hard,” Will said. He pecked Lennox on the lips and stroked his cheek. Lennox shuddered and tried to hold himself back. “No, let me.”

Will’s leg tangled around his and Lennox found himself staring at the ceiling. A warm thigh pressed against his jeans and he groaned as Will pressed a few hesitant kisses to his neck. Lennox let Will guide his movements, let his body fill with Will’s warmth and hesitancy.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “I’m so close.”

He groaned and arched up to kiss Will, much rougher this time. Lennox traced his hands over Will’s ass and held Will’s thigh against himself as his stomach tightened.

“Shit!” Lennox tore his mouth away, pressing his face into the curve of Will’s neck as his hips jerked faster, chasing that friction, the delicious swirl in his stomach, until the rush hit him. He came hard, his hips jerking to a halt. Will caught him on the way down and settled against his chest as Lennox shuddered. Fingertips traced over Lennox’s chest, drawing letters, patterns, something a few steps out of reach.

They lay until their sweat cooled. Lennox hummed as Will rubbed his chest, listening to the thump of his heart and the way his lungs filled. Then he heard it, from just outside—the sharp squeal of a fan belt as a car pulled into the lot. The drunk who lived two doors down was here. His car always made that noise.

“You should probably get going,” Lennox said as he sat up. He looked at the front of his underwear and frowned at the damp stain. “Get to the hospital to see your dad.”

He stood and fixed his jeans, and then picked up Will’s shirt and helped him to his feet. Will clumsily pulled up his boxers and pants, frowning.

“Is this all this is going to be?” Will demanded. “We make out or get off and then you get rid of me? Because that is not—”

A bottle shattered against the door and popped it open. It wasn’t a big gap because of the trunk, but it was wide enough to see through. Will jumped and fell back on the bed as Lennox hurried toward the door. He knocked it closed as fists hit it. Quick as he could, he popped the trunk open, pulled out all of his clothes and wedged them into the slim space between the trunk and the door. Another bottle hit the door, but it stayed closed.

“Just—
fuck
. You can stay here tonight, all right?”

“Who—”

“Aw, come on, queer! Come out and have a good time.”

Drunken laughter shook the door. Will stood up slowly and took his shirt from Lennox, one hand groping until it found Lennox’s arm. They’d be out there all night. Will was here, might try to leave despite them, and Lennox—

If something happened… it would be his fault.

“I don’t have my p-pajamas or a toothbrush.”

Vulgarities ruptured the silence outside. More laughter. Lennox flicked the lights off and made sure the curtains were closed.

“I have an extra toothbrush in the bathroom,” Lennox said. The two-pack was meant to last him through the end of the school year, but if giving Will the second one meant he didn’t try to leave, then he could have it. Lennox pulled out pajama pants from his trunk. “Wear these. I’ll sleep in my jeans.”

The Batman pajama pants hit Will’s chest and then the floor. Lennox didn’t meet his eyes. He picked up the pajama pants and shoved them into Will’s arms.

With a little nudge, Lennox directed him toward the bathroom. After Will disappeared into the bathroom, Lennox pulled off his jeans and soiled underwear, put on a fresh pair of boxers and climbed into bed. On any other night, he’d sleep in the tub, but with Will here… the more comfort he gave Will, the calmer Will would be.

He lay on the still-warm bed, listening to the running sink and the water rushing through the pipes. Outside, the men were still drinking and talking. Lennox could picture them in their lawn chairs with bottles and brown bags in their hands, thinking up new ways to break into his room or coming up with better insults than their usual stockpile. The words didn’t scare him anymore, and some nights, the hammering fists were easy to ignore. With Will here, however, he had a lot more to worry about.

The bathroom door creaked open. Lennox watched Will approach, his ankles revealed by the too-short pajama pants, his bare chest bright in the darkness.

Lennox pulled the blankets back and nodded toward the space beside him. “Get in, perky butt.”

Will slid in without complaint. They both lay quietly, listening to the men outside and a shower running. Someone was taking a shower. It might be Lucy next door. Lennox hoped it wasn’t her. If it was, she was about to come out of her bathroom to a lot of badgering.

“Do they live here?”

Lennox rolled toward him. “Yeah. Well, the one with the crooked teeth does. The other two just show up. It’s no big deal.”

“I’m lying in your bed in your pajama pants,” Will said. “That’s a big deal. Have they—do they—”

“Get some sleep.”

Will rolled away from him and, after a moment, Lennox wig­gled up behind him and wrapped an arm around his chest. Will snuggled back against him but didn’t say anything. For a long time, Lennox lay and listened: to the men outside, to the water in the wall and to Will as his breathing slowed to sleep.

He fell asleep and woke up early. A car outside rumbled into a parking space and shut off. Lennox blinked. It was quiet after the car went silent. Quiet and dark. He stretched and something heavy shifted and rolled onto him. The weight was soft and comforting, but it made it hard to breathe, too. Lennox squinted toward the window. A line of light bordered the curtains. It was morning. He moved to shove whatever it was off his chest, but then a nose nuzzled into his neck and what felt like a feather duster tickled his face.

Hair. Soft, dirty-blond hair. The gentle scent of vanilla and cin­namon reached him as the warmth shifted again and burrowed into his side.

Will.

Soft, even breaths drifted over his skin. Will wriggled a little more and sighed in his sleep. His arm tangled itself around Len­nox’s chest, his fingers pressed tight against his ribcage. Lennox shivered and twisted a little in Will’s grasp. No touch had ever made him feel like that.

It was nice. Everything about Will was nice.

The way his heart raced when Will was nearby or smiled at him—it wasn’t normal. Yet it was there. This feeling, this opening of some part of himself, was unnerving. He didn’t do this. He didn’t spend the night with boys or let them snuggle against him, regardless of who was outside the door. Being close to someone hadn’t happened since that last night when his mother had tucked him in after his father had read him
Peter Pan
. Not since that long-ago life he’d stepped out of like an old skin.