Landslide (20 page)

We’re just kissing, barely at that. There’s no heat or intensity building; it’s one of those moments of intimacy that’s harder to get through. It’s innocent—mostly.
 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers across my only partially parted lips, and as strange as it may be, it’s not uncommon for us to share minor conversation when we’re like this, although we’ve never apologized to one another.

“For what?” I breathe back across her mouth and use the fingers of my free hand to gently comb through her hair a few times, having learned early on that it’s soothing to her. I start at her temple and brush back a little ways, stopping to curl my fingers into the hair at her nape for a moment, lightly massaging the back of her neck before letting her hair fall strand by strand through my fingers as I lift my hand to repeat the process.
 

“For a lot of things.” I close my eyes, raising and turning my chin so that she doesn’t have to go through much effort to kiss the hollow at the base of my throat. “Mostly for not being here for you like you are for me.”

Bringing our lips back together, I swallow the sardonic rejoinder that immediately leaps to mind. I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about. She has nothing to be sorry about. I know whose fault it is. And up until today, she and I have been more or less on the same page in that regard. But things are different now. Today didn’t just have me turning the page to a new chapter; it had me burning the fucking book. My understanding though doesn’t allay how I feel about it.

Going through all this with her and having to share a very small part of her has been one thing. However, it’s maddening to know that now Holden has her feeling a whole new level of demoralization in that she feels guilty for not being here for me. I mean seriously, what the fuck? Even more infuriating is that at this point, there isn’t a goddamned thing I can actually do about it without the inordinate risk of losing her to him altogether. I’ve weighed the pros and cons, calculated the costs, and the price is just too high. It’s not a chance I can see myself ever being willing to take. Even if I did though, I’m not the kind of person who will ever have the kind of funds required to cover what that purchase would cost. I can afford the status quo, and just renting the treasure she is will have to be enough for me.

“Come here.” Twisting a little so that I can get both arms around her, I pull her to me; done for the moment with letting him further castigate her…or me.

Her parting lips and my tongue touching the tip of hers for the first time tonight marks the point when things start to become easier to handle, for a time. My one hand at her back and the other in her hair, holding her lips to mine and not giving words the opportunity to be spoken by either of us, we consensually give the flames of the home fire their requisite spark and heat begins to build.
 

Having her in my arms is medicinal. Kissing her is therapy. But, her reciprocation… Her running her hand freely and slowly down my chest, exploring every inch of flesh covering my torso with her fingers, like she’s memorizing what every rib and band of muscle feels like in case she gets lost in the adventure; the route safely learned, her hand then sweeps to my back and shoulder, and then down past my ribcage where she pauses, gripping my waist and catching her breath before she blazes a new trail back up, all the while she uses her other hand to caress the side of my face and cup my cheek as she kisses me back…
That
is nothing short of bliss.

It’s a costly high that’s not easy to come down from, yet…feeling her hand flutter across and then slide underneath the invisible boundaries we’ve adhered to ever since that wretched night has me remembering what gravity feels like. It hurts. Better to burn and crash into a lake or grassy plains than a frozen tundra made of iron ferrite though.
 

“Erica…don’t. I can’t. I’m too drunk to—”

“You’re not that drunk.”

She gently wraps her hand around my erection to call my bluff, and of their own accord, my eyes shamefully squeeze shut. I’m not Superman, though, and I can’t go through this with her. No matter how much I want to give in, I know I shouldn’t. Things might be different in my eyes now, but they’re not in hers. When she closes her eyes, it’s Holden she sees. And, I just don’t think that’s a threesome I can handle again. The night of his funeral was different. It was the night I recognized, albeit only in a dark, un-traversed corner of my mind that’s just recently had a flashlight shone in it, that Erica is my kryptonite. I’m all but powerless when she’s anywhere near me. But, that night wasn’t about me—none of the moments we’ve shared have been. Not really, anyway. Sure, I get something out of them, but what I’m getting by masquerading for the moment as someone I want to be in real life is being able to help alleviate the pain of loneliness and abandonment that I know she still feels.

“Please, will you let me?”

My eyes open once again; she still hasn’t relinquished her hold on me, although it’s not that making it more difficult for me to deny her…to not crumble and give her everything she asks of me and even what she doesn’t. It’s the request itself. There’s something different about the tone of her voice and her expression. It has me questioning myself, her, and everything. “Why?”

“Because I want to. It doesn’t have to mean anything, but you’ve done it for me and that
does
mean something. It’ll make me feel good to make you feel good for once.”

My restraining grip on her wrist loosens almost imperceptibly. A selfish voice inside me begins raising a ruckus and clamors to be given the podium, completely disregarding the stinging phrase, ‘it doesn’t have to mean anything.’ As always, it declares my actions as justified if it’s about making her happy, but now it incorporates an argument against what I know to be true. It promises that if I allow myself this one thing tonight, I won’t resent the decision when reality dawns with the rising sun, just like it does after every night my alter ego gets to spend with her…and that tomorrow and every day after won’t be impossible for either him or me.
 

“Please…” And just like that, as if she had a damned map to locate it, her beguiling petition drifts on a kiss light as a feather over the ever sensitive sweet spot behind my ear, shooting a delectable and utterly mouthwatering shiver all the way to my toes, momentarily quieting the prosecution and winning the court’s reluctant favor.

On a soundless, acquiescing sigh, I shift again and gradually lean back to lay flat, my hand grudgingly releasing hers and allowing it to encircle me more completely. I can feel the smile playing on her lips when she places them here and there on my neck and chest as she moves over me and uses her free hand to push my boxers down as far as she can get them before the task is transferred to her feet. Her semi-chaste up and down strokes being made with barely enough pressure begin flooding my mind with memories, though, reminding me of the first time Erica held me like this and all the twisted pleasure and utter despair that was brought to me then.

Her eyes find mine when her pace slows fractionally and I lift the cover of my hand from where it’s been hiding them and blocking out as much as I possibly can. Funny thing about ghosts and feelings though…they can squirm into the tiniest of cracks and crevasses, and are usually more often noticed in the grim black of night.

“Is this right? I—haven’t really done this…you, you know, stopped me. I just…well, does it feel good so far?”

I want to say no; I want her to stop. And I don’t all the same. Because the disgraceful truth is, it does feel good. Her undeveloped technique is halting, neither of us thought ahead enough to grab a bottle of Jergen’s so I’m dry—not counting the droplets of pre-cum that I’m sure were probably brought forth instantaneously when she broke the above the belt rule in the first place—and there are a million and one reasons swirling in my mind that either justify going through with this or why I can term what I’m allowing her to do as an act of terrorism. It still feels good.
Really
fucking good. Her innocence and her forthright question demonstrating her profound trust and desire to please are exciting all on their own, although even combined, they're just not quite enough to drown out the ongoing conflict in my head, or be of any help to me in deciding how to answer her…

You should stop this. This isn’t what you want. Not really anyway.
 

It’s something, though. And uh, by the way, why can’t you just be grateful? I mean, there is something to the phrase, ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,’ you know.

You know it’s not right.

Really? You’re gonna play that card? I think that ship sailed, buddy. Probably the night before your own father threw you out of his house.

Right, for taking advantage of her, which is exactly what you’re doing here.

It’s not taking advantage of someone when they ASK for permission. Besides, it would hurt her feelings to stop her now. And, she’ll cry. You know she will. But this time, you’ll be the reason for her tears, not Holden.

And what about Holden? You might not care if he’s burning in Hell right now, but you were his friend. His best friend. You can’t deny that or erase it, and a friend like you doesn’t turn traitor to suit his own desires.

Seriously? After today, do you really wanna define what a friend and traitor is? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Cole, please. I’m begging you. Stop her. I know I screwed up. I know I did. And I know I hurt you, but…be a better friend than I was. Don’t do this to me. Please.

You hear that? Be better. Do what’s right and be better. Besides, her heart belongs to him. It always has…always will.
 

You have a point there. All the more reason for you to enjoy it while you can, though.
 

The barrage comes from all angles, and it’s exhausting to argue against the truth; so much so that I’m left without having breath for a lie.

“Yeah, keep going.” I nod and place my hand over hers, helping her to create a rhythm I can use to lose myself within her good intentions, as if the more pleasure I feel, the less bound I’ll be by the ethereal chains of deprivation and a friendship past.

I try to focus on the physical; the sensation of her lips on my body and her untrained touch instead of the contrary voices inside me, all of them declaring in different ways that I’m a thief and a coward for trying to enjoy something not meant for me. When she passionately kisses me until my breathing is ragged and then works her way down my body, I close my eyes tight against the assault within. An all-out war is being waged now; one in which Holden and a frightened little boy are leading together, making it one that I can’t win for losing. Especially when it comes to her, because even when I do the right thing, it’s still wrong and I come out indisputably defeated.

I’m drowning, feeling like a rag doll; lost at sea and battered by waves crashing against me and within that are both delicious and devastating. I hardly notice her take her hand out from under mine to push mine away so she can continue on her own. My hands petrified of touching her but not knowing what to do now, they take it upon themselves to clutch my head and hair in indecision while I pray to the ceiling for direction or help from above. Neither is forthcoming and I feel the warmth of her breath coming from her uncorrupted lips, searing me into action.

“Oh, Jesus. Wait.” Too late are the words and I stare at her in terrified wonderment as she reverently brings me into the safe haven of her mouth.

Her eyes flick to mine, but now I can’t look. Feeling her tongue and lips caress my entire length is shredding my sanity as it is; watching her do it would no doubt eviscerate me. Not only that, but that one quick look was a glimpse; a glimpse of something I think I’ve coveted my entire life, and it burns me through and through to know that I wouldn’t be here today, viciously fighting with myself and a dead man for dominance and the rights to another person’s heart…not if I’d only recognized it earlier and made a different decision. I can’t go back now though and say no. Not a single soul, dead or alive, has ever looked at me like she just did in that fleeting moment…with naked trust, adoration, and yes, even something that could best be described as love. Although none of this is out of reciprocation of my feelings, in that glimpse her eyes told me she’s still doing it all for me. For once, Holden wasn’t there, or if he was, I didn’t see him.

However, he
is
still here. He’s with me.

He was her everything…her love, her life…her future. And now he’s gone. But who am I to try to take his rightful place? The spot I unknowingly, yet voluntarily stepped away from and gave to him? It’s too late and I will never fill the hole he left in her. I’m no one now. And in this moment, I can feel my soul blackening for letting her fill the gaping emptiness inside me, and spending every last nickel and dime I have until my coffers are left with nothing but cobwebs to do it. But for relishing every single dissipated second and scorching sensation of her mouth gliding up and down over me with innocent expertise, my soul is surely being damned for eternity.
 

Well, at least you have the decency to be haunted by it.

Acceptance of the fact that I’m already lost couples with a far off knowledge that I have been for some time now, and my decision to journey closer to the crackling brimstone gates of Hell becomes almost easy. My hips begin moving, rocking in time with the tempo she’s settled into, the two of us combining to strike the perfect chord for me to ignore the clatter and silence the aggrieved apparition wailing in my mind for me to stop her; to stop the person who still loves him with everything she has before it’s too late for either of us.

Let it go. It’s time to say goodbye. It’s time to set everything wrong in the past on fire. Torch it all and break free. You can do it. Look at her. Look at her and know, deep in your heart, it’s never too late.

The words of encouragement—of hope—come from the most unlikely source. The once scared and forlorn boy is suddenly empowered. By what I have no idea and I’m afraid to look at Erica again; afraid to see that during this whole struggle, I’ve been here in the present with her while she’s been with someone else in a different time. Something new she does convinces me to borrow the boy’s confidence; to strike the match he holds out for me and lift my head to look at her. Nothing happens and still keeping myself from touching her, I’m able to cope. That is, until she glances up at me from under her lashes.