Authors: Megan Erickson
I canted my hips, feeling out Landry’s body while he did the same with mine. And I must have hit something good, because Landry’s mouth opened on a silent moan, his neck arched and then a long, low tone sounded from the depths of his throat.
Our rhythm was a little awkward, me thrusting up as Landry rocked up and down. He smiled at me, and I knew he felt it, too. And then . . . as we moved . . . it was like something gave way and I was all the way in, and Landry had taken all of me.
It was that moment we both froze and our eyes locked, his eyes wide as I’m sure mine were.
Landry swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then he made a sound in the back of his throat, something like a sob or a groan. Something dripped onto my chest and I didn’t know if it was Landry’s sweat or tears. But when he reached forward, swiping the corners of my eyes, I realized we were both crying.
He smiled, that hiccupping sound turning into a smothered, strangled laugh, and I did the same. So when we started moving against each other again, this time it was to the same beat.
Eventually Landry winced less, moaned in pleasure more, and then I was spurred on when Landry’s hand moved down to stroke himself. I lost all sense of time as we moved together, lips moving.
My muttered
I’m sorrys
and his soothing
I forgive yous.
Our names and our moans.
The sounds of us together, the harmony only we could create, rose above us, tip-tapping down my spine.
And then Landry came, his inner muscles squeezing me, and I followed, throwing my head back as my brain oozed out my pores and I lay in a puddle on the mattress, my best friend collapsed on top of me.
We shifted onto our sides and wiped ourselves clean. I ran my fingers along his jaw and he stroked my hip. We didn’t talk because there were no words to say, nothing to describe the moment where we grew from boys who were best friends to men who were lovers. I nuzzled his cheek and he chuckled and brushed his lips over my eyes and nose and chin.
When he pulled back, a brightness flashed over his features and he grinned, then rolled to the side of the bed. I heard rustling. “What are you doing?”
“Hold on,” his voice carried over the side of the bed. I smacked his ass and he yelped. Finally he righted himself, his curls like a halo around his head. Something in his hand crinkled and he grabbed my left hand. With a smile, he took my fourth finger and slid on a ring he’d made weeks ago with Twizzlers wrappers while muttering about Mordor.
“Have to make an honest man out of you now, I guess,” he said softly, kissing the ring.
I rolled onto my back and flexed my fingers. “Should we say some vows?”
Landry propped up his head with a fist on my chest. “I promise to rub your shoulder when I make you win me ponies at amusement parks. To keep as quiet as I can while you take pictures of ugly rodents. To take my allergy medicine so I can give you blow jobs—” I started laughing, the vibration of my chest shaking his head, and he laughed with me. When I stopped, his smile faded. “And I promise to love you, Justin Alexander Akron. Always.”
I didn’t know I wanted to hear those words until they hung in the air between us, filling, expanding until they wrapped around us like a warm cloud. I was dizzy from the height and the thrill and the clear depths of Landry’s eyes.
I swallowed and somehow coaxed my tongue to move. “I promise to never give you ketchup. To always tell you that your hair looks great. To never borrow your clothes without asking . . .” I swallowed again. “And to tell you, every single day, that I love you, Landry Aaron Jacobs.”
We kissed, a press of lips and a tangle of tongues. I pulled back and we touched foreheads. “There’s one thing I have to confess, though.”
He lifted his head from mine and raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah?”
I nodded. “When I tell you I hate your singing . . . I’m lying.”
He flung his head into my chest and burst out laughing, the vibrations buzzing on my skin. He raised his head and wiped under his eyes. “I always knew you were lying.”
We took a quick shower together, too spent to do anything but wash ourselves, and then collapsed into bed, tangling our legs together, Landry’s curls tickling my chest.
***
I woke up to a heavy, hot weight on my legs. I moaned and swore I heard a laugh. And then I felt hands massaging my thighs, murmuring something about muscles, and then a warm breath on my balls.
Before I could open my eyes, my cock was engulfed in wet heat.
“Oh my God,” I moaned, and an answer vibrated down my shaft.
I opened my eyes and saw the top of Landry’s head, his curls bouncing as he bobbed his head. The wet sounds filled our hotel room, and all I could do in my groggy state was lean back on my pillow, allow my orgasm to build, and then let it out slowly, blissfully, in Landry’s mouth.
He rose up from between my legs with a grin.
“I can’t believe you woke me with a blow job,” I said.
He shrugged. “Me either, but . . . it felt right.”
I tugged him to me and kissed him, sweeping my tongue in his mouth and tasting the bitterness of my release lingering on his tongue. “What are we going to do today?”
His eyes shifted and he fingered the grooves of my abs. “I thought we could hang out here until we leave for lunch with Tomás and . . . work on your portfolio.”
The end of his sentence was said softly and quickly. “What did you say?”
He raised his eyes to mine. “Work on your portfolio.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Because . . .” God, why did he have to do this? Pressure me. Before coffee, too. “Can I at least get some coffee first?”
His face brightened, because I guess he took that as a yes and hopped out of bed. He tugged on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt as I raised my torso, bracing myself on my elbows. “They have continental breakfast in the lobby. I’ll go and get us some food. You can get my laptop and maybe get started. Okay? Great!” And then with a wave and snatch of the hotel key card, he was out the door.
I collapsed back onto the mattress, trying to sort through my sleep-roughened thoughts. I needed some caffeine to really grasp this, but I was pretty sure Landry had just used a blow job to get me to do something.
That manipulative little shit.
And now I couldn’t go back to sleep because I was irritated. I got out of bed with a growl and walked into the bathroom, going through the motions of a quick shower.
I was just pulling on a pair of boxers when the door opened, and Landry walked in, all smiles with a plate full of food and a carrier full of steaming Styrofoam cups.
He looked around the room and I knew when he didn’t see the open laptop, his face fell. But then he quickly smiled again. “Oh, you wanted to get a shower. Good idea. I know I always think better after a shower. And I got plenty of brain fuel. We have some bran muffins and some yogurt with granola and—”
“Landry—”
“And these bananas look a little, er, right off the tree, but whatever—”
“Landry!”
He dropped the food on the table and looked at me. “What?”
I pointed my finger at him. “Don’t do that again.”
All innocence, this one, with his big eyes. “Don’t do what?”
I threw up my hands. “You totally used a blow job to get me to do something.”
He placed a hand dramatically on his chest and opened his mouth, surely to deny it, but I cut him off. “You want me to do something, ask me. As much as waking up to a blow job from you is pretty much the best thing that ever happened to me in my life, I don’t appreciate feeling like a chump.”
He pursed his lips and looked down at his feet.
The fight left me, and I walked over to him. I wrapped my arms around him and nuzzled his temple. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t like how it made me feel.”
His shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “I’m sorry for pushing. I just . . .”
“I know.”
He pulled back, his face etched with regret. “I just gave you another reason to put it off now, too.”
“No, Landry—”
His eyes were huge. “I’m just trying to help you so that your future doesn’t feel hopeless.”
I released a breath and touched our foreheads together. “It doesn’t. Not when you’re with me.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
We spent the morning in our boxers on the bed, huddled over the laptop. I got on a roll, selecting my favorite photos, and set them up on this online portfolio thingy Landry made for me. I gathered all the pillows behind me on the headboard, in a zone, while Landry lay on his stomach at the foot of the bed, watching a movie.
When it was time to check out and eat lunch with Tomás, I was almost finished.
I pressed the button on the elevator and readjusted my grip on our bags. “I need to give it another look, make sure they are in the right order.”
“Okay.”
“And make sure I spelled stuff right.”
“Okay, Jus.”
I knew he was pleased with me, and that made my chest swell. Although, I wasn’t sure if I was proud of myself for doing it, or proud because he was happy with me.
I needed to analyze that later.
We met Tomás at a little diner near the hotel. I sat on one side of the booth next to Landry and Tomás sat across from us.
We all ordered the special, a BLT on thick toast, which we’d seen on the whiteboard over the counter. The waitress took our orders with a nod of her head and walked away with our untouched menus.
Landry sat on the inside of the seat and pointed at the ketchup bottle in front of him, which was an old-fashioned glass one. The lid hadn’t been screwed on tightly and ketchup dripped down the side. He fake gagged and I rolled my eyes as I reached for the bottle and moved it away from him.
I looked up at Tomás, and he smiled at me.
I fingered the straw wrapper, twisting it around my fingers. “So do you think the guys knew?”
I didn’t look at Tomás. I didn’t have to, and I knew he’d know what I was referring to. Our teammates.
Movement across from me made me look up. Tomás leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him on the table. He didn’t anything.
“You shrugged before,” I pointed out. “That wasn’t very convincing.”
His lips pressed together and then he loosened them. “Guys talk,
zurdo.
I don’t know what to say. This past year, it was the freshmen who didn’t know any better. Spouting off about seeing you with him. And all the guys had come to accept it, but I think they started letting doubt creep in when you didn’t have a steady girl.”
My stomach rolled. That had been my fear, that my teammates would find out. “Lots of guys didn’t have steady girls.”
Tomás looked me in the eye. “But they weren’t best friends with Landry.”
I looked down at my fingers and tilted my hand to look at the Twizzlers wrapper Landry had placed around my finger. Why should it bother me anymore that my teammates had doubts? I had been lying to them.
It was good proof that lies never lasted.
I looked up at Landry, whose brow was furrowed in concern, but when I smiled, his return grin was pure relief.
“What are you two gonna do now?” Tomás asked
“We have to finish the trip,” I said. “We have six places left to go.”
“Oh, so halfway?”
I waffled my hand. “Yes and no. The rest of the trip will go a little faster because the places are closer together.”
“And after that?” He let the last word extend a little longer.
I shrugged and stole a glance at Landry. He was focused on stripping the condensation from the outside of his drink. “I’m working on it,” I said.
When we left Tomás, he gave me a handshake and a pat on the back. We climbed into Sally and I looked at Landry, who was gazing out of the window at the traffic. “You still with me?”
He blinked out of his thoughts. “Of course, Jus. Always.”
But he seemed distracted. I chalked it up to too much bacon grease and we lit out onto the road again.
***
June 12
[Picture]
[Picture]
Hello from Illinois!
We had a great time with some of Justin’s friends while visiting Chicago. There’s a picture of us visiting the Bean. We both always wanted to see it, and had a great first time.
We also visited Starved Rock State Park for our photo with Justin’s dad. What a beautiful place. I wanted to stay there forever but we have places to go. Pictures to take. Ashes to spread.
You were good to us, Illinois. We shall visit again.
7 Down
5 To Go
—L
Comments
Tomás: Good to see you guys. Have a great rest of the trip. Proud of you.
We cruised into Indiana belting Pink. Well, Landry sang in his clear tone and I squeaked and squawked my way through. But it was fun trying and Landry cracked up at my voice, so I kept going.
On one stretch of road we barely saw any cars, so we stopped along the shoulder and completed a Sally photo shoot beside a farm field in the setting sun. We secured the camera to a tripod and set the timer, so we got shots of us together, sitting on Sally’s bumper, leaning against the side, kissing at the open door.
“Why don’t you ever look at the LCD screen?” Landry asked.
I fiddled with the dials on the camera. “Sometimes I do. But my dad used to always say,
trust your focus
. I think he meant . . . trust my talent. Trust my eye. Trust myself. So . . .” I shrugged. “I trust it.”
Landry blinked and I swore I saw wet. “I like that,” he whispered.
Landry made me put on my faded and frayed Phillies baseball hat and do my windup as I threw a baseball against the side of Sally while he took photos.
Click.
Whomp.
“Do you miss pitching?” Landry asked, stopping down the camera like I showed him so the sun in the background was just a huge blurry fireball.
I rolled my shoulders. “Sometimes.” I threw again.
Click.
Whomp.
A slight breeze ruffled his curls and his eyes were crystal in the fading sun. “What did you like most about it?”
There were a lot of things I liked about it. The feel of my cleats, the chalk on my palms, the leather ball that fit so right in my palm.
Everything about baseball fit right. At least when I was on the field. As soon as I entered the locker room, I was reminded of the sacrifice I’d made playing the part.
I spun the ball in my hand. “Other than taking pictures, playing baseball was the only time I felt like I found something that was right for me. I knew what I had to do and I could do it. I was good at it. I mean, sure, there was luck involved, but baseball is numbers and stats and streaks and slumps.” I chuckled. “I was always on a streak with baseball. The rest of my life felt like one huge, endless slump.”
The camera hung loosely at Landry’s side, the strap trailing along the burnt grass. “You thought your life was a slump?”
I shrugged. “Mom was a cold bitch. Dad was always gone . . .”
He took a step closer. “What about me?”
“What about you?”
He licked his lips. “Where did I fit into your life?”
I smiled at that and tossed the ball in front of my face. “You were like a lucky glove.” His face softened, so I redirected the question before we headed to Mushtown. “Or good-luck socks I never washed.”
He scrunched his nose. “Ew.”
I laughed. “I aired you out sometimes.”
He held up his hand. “Stop, this analogy is going too far.”
“You got a little crusty, though.”
He rolled his eyes and slugged the camera into my chest as he walked past me. “Come on, weirdo.”
“You’re the smelly one!” I called after him.
He gave me the finger over his shoulder and I laughed harder.
***
“I don’t want to do this,” Landry pouted, arms over his chest, eyes on the horse like it was going to bite his ass.
I peered down at him from my perch on a pretty bay-colored horse and tipped my baseball hat like it was a Stetson. “C’mon, Yankee. Git a move on.”
Those blue eyes sparked fire at me. “Quit talking like that.”
“I reckon it’ll take us ’bout two hours to mend the fences and round up the heifers.”
“Oh my God, stop. Don’t ever say ‘reckon.’”
I stuck a piece of dried grass in my mouth and chewed. “Bet Sally’ll have some chicken and biscuits smothered with gravy for supper.”
He punched my leg. “If you don’t stop talking like that, I’m yanking you off your horse.”
I grinned at him. I’d taken lessons when I was younger, and when I saw the park had stables with guided rides, I hadn’t been able to resist. Landry showed all kinds of resistance.
I waited patiently, knowing he’d do it when he got out all his grumbling.
Our guide, Molly, a five-three wisp of a thing, had helped Landry into the saddle by practically throwing him in it. I snickered at Landry’s shocked squeak. Which earned me another glare.
We were in a group with a family of four, so Landry and I hung back, plodding along beside each other. His horse was black with white stockings. “What’s your major malfunction about horses?” I asked.
His hands shook slightly on the reins. “They’re just so big. Like this horse could throw me off and crush me if he wanted.”
“I don’t think he wants to do that.”
“I know, but—”
“These guide horses are really docile—”
“I know that, Jus!” he hissed. “I don’t know. Horses freak me out.”
I smirked. “So this is a first. I got you to do something spontaneous you didn’t want to do.”
He pressed his lips together.
“Right?” I prodded.
He looked at me and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Fine.”
Landry ended up liking the horseback ride, and we didn’t take the horses above a walk. The morning weather was mild, and the park was beautiful. The parents with us had two girls who oohed and aahed over the squirrels hopping from branch to branch.
When we arrived back at the stable and handed the reins of our horses over, Landry’s smile was huge. So was mine.
We collected Dad’s urn from Sally at the park’s RV campsite where we’d stayed the night before and set off for a particular ravine my father had photographed. The temperature began to heat up, so Landry and I wore cargo shorts and thin T-shirts.
We found our spot, took our photos, then scattered his ashes. Neither of us wanted to leave the fog-cloaked ravine, so we plopped ourselves on the ground.
I turned my face to the sun rising high in the sky and closed my eyes, soaking in the warmth, believing for a moment Dad knew we were here. Knew what we were doing and what had gone on between us and was letting me know he was proud of me with a moment of sunny bliss. The scratch of Landry’s pencil on paper soothed me, and I kept silent as he drew.
I opened my eyes at the sound of his sketchpad closing. Landry bumped me with his shoulder. “What’re you thinking about?”
I didn’t open my eyes. “I think he knows. And he’s happy.”
Landry didn’t answer so I lowered my head and looked at him. He wore a small smile. “Yeah?”
I nodded.
His smile grew. “Me too.”
I loved that I didn’t have to explain. I chuckled sadly. “Mom probably knows, too. But she’s not happy.”
As Landry’s smile fell, mine did, too, and he looked out over the ravine. I dug a rock out of the ground between my feet and rolled it in my hands. When I glanced back at Landry’s face, his lips were pressed into a thin line.
I knew what he was thinking about, because it was on my mind, too. And it twisted my gut and tightened my throat, but I’d come through for him. Somehow.
“I’m going to tell her, you know,” I said quietly, my eyes back on my rock.
He exhaled but didn’t say anything.
I squinted at him. “What? You don’t think I will?”
He turned to face me, eyelids drooping like he didn’t have the energy to keep them up. “I think you believe you will.”
I shifted my body in his direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t get mad.”
“I’m not mad, but I’d like you to explain.”
He sat up and brushed his hands together, the sounds of pebbles and dirt pinging the ground below him. “I think you want to. And I think you intend to. But I’m not sure, when faced with your mom, you actually will.”
I somehow managed to keep the ire out of my voice. “So you think I’ll back down from her.”
His eyes shifted to me, an apology in them, so I knew what came next would be a hard truth. “You’ve done it before.”
I gritted my teeth. “I was nineteen and my dad had just died.”
“I know. But still . . .” His voice trailed off. “I’m sorry.”
He was right, though. What difference did a couple of years make? Landry spoke from experience. What did he get out of this if he thought I wouldn’t carry through on my promise? “Then why are you doing this with me?”
Landry tilted his head. “What?”
“If you think the fall will come and everything will go back to how it was, why are you letting me in?”
One corner of his mouth tipped up. “First, I have hope. And second, I have no choice. You’ve always
been
in.”
I wilted. Like someone had yanked all my bones from my body so I collapsed to the ground in a pile of skins and clothes. “Landry . . .”
He waved his hand at me. “That’s all the sap you’re getting out of me today.”
“Lan—”
“I’m tapped out.”
“I love you.”
“Shut up, Jus.”
I twined our Twizzlers-ringed fingers together and leaned in to kiss his neck. “I love you, Landry.”
He huffed. “I love you, too, Justin.”
***
Lan tapped away at his phone in the passenger seat and spoke without looking up. “Want me to heat up some mac and cheese for dinner? How are we doing on time?”
I regripped the steering wheel, placing my fingers in the familiar worn grooves. I’d thought about this all day. Landry had let me in, trusted me with his heart without a guard, knowing there was a strong possibility I could break it.
“Can you search for an Italian restaurant nearby?”
He didn’t look up. “Huh?”
“Lan.”
Head stayed bent, tapping away. “Yeah.”
“Will you look at me?”
He turned his phone off and tossed it onto the dashboard, then leaned his head back on his seat. “What?”
I growled under my breath. “Look for nearby Italian restaurants.”
He perked his head up, eyes wide, and his ears would have pointed forward if he were a dog. “Italian?”
For Landry, visiting an Italian restaurant was a near-orgasmic experience by the time he got to his beloved tiramisu.
“Yeah, let’s go out to eat. Like a real date.”
His eyebrows lifted and a small smile curved his lips. “A date?”
I wanted to give him something he loved, and I wanted to show him I could be with him—
out with him
—in public. “Yep.”
His smile grew to show his teeth. “We’re going out on a date.”
I rolled my eyes. “Isn’t that what I said?”
He clapped his palms on his cheek and opened his mouth in mock horror. “But I have nothing to wear!”
I shoved his shoulder. “Shut up, Landry.”
He laughed and dropped his hands. “You’re serious, though?”
I nodded. “Now get searching because I’m hungry.”
Landry found a nearby Italian restaurant within five minutes. We pulled Sally into the fortunately spacious parking lot. We showered, and Landry gave me one of his quick massages. His fingers dug into my back muscles until I swore my body melted.
We dressed. Or, Landry dressed and I stood there until he told me what to wear.
“I don’t think it’s that fancy . . .” I said as he dug through my bag.
He raised his head with a glare. “It’s a date.”
I knew when to shut up so I did and let him mumble about my coloring and some other crap.
When he’d finally picked out my clothes and I’d put them on, we stepped out of the RV into the darkened parking lot.
The scrape of the concrete under my soles hurt my ears, and I rubbed my sweaty palms on my denim-clad thighs. I could do this. I could be on a date in public with a guy. I didn’t have to make out with him but I couldn’t do anything that would make him think I was embarrassed by him.
I took a deep breath and clenched my fists. We had a right to exist. To be who we were. Fuck everyone else.
With my brave armor slid over my face, I was about to open the door, but Landry bumped me. I glanced up at him and he gestured his head to the side.
We stepped away from the door and Landry took a deep breath. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
His smile was sad. “I wasn’t mad at the B and B because you weren’t out. I was mad because you completely overreacted to sharing a room with me.” He glanced out into the growing darkness of the parking lot and licked his lips. “But we’re in a town we don’t know. In a state we’ve never been. We can’t just waltz in there holding hands. I’m not comfortable with that.”
Landry had always been out and proud. What was he talking about? “But—”
He shook his head, cutting me off. “If people figure out I’m gay, fine. But I’m not going to invite some asshole to hurl slurs at me or try to punch me. Okay? I’m letting you know my comfort level. And I can tell you aren’t comfortable with it either. You’re sweating.”
The beads ran down the back of my neck. “No, I’m not.”
Lan chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Uh, yeah you are.”
I scrunched my lips to the side, then took a deep breath. “Okay, maybe a little.”
He bumped my shoulder in a straight-bro kind of way. “As long as you don’t walk in there and announce loudly like a weirdo that you’re straight and we’re just friends, you don’t have anything to prove to me tonight. Let’s just gorge ourselves on pasta and tiramisu and have a good time, okay?”
I bumped him back. “Okay.”
The restaurant was darkly lit. Flickering candles in glass vases sat on white cloth-covered tables. A hostess seated us at a table for two along the back wall. The place wasn’t crowded and the air was filled with the gentle murmurs of conversations and the soft clink of glass and silverware.
A large mural was painted on the wall beside us, a scene from a vintage winery.
We sat in our seats and a minute later a slender young man appeared quietly at our table, a polite smile on his face, white shirt and black pants pressed. He held his notepad in thin fingers as he introduced himself and asked for our drink orders. Landry opened his mouth before I could and ordered an entire bottle of the house Pinot Grigio. After the waiter excused himself, I stared at Landry. He winked at me. “What? We don’t have to drive anywhere.”
“It’s two of us.”
“Yeah, I can count.”
“That’s a lot of fucking wine.”