You're Always in the Last Place You Look (14 page)

“No, um...” He scrabbled the rest of the way up. “What the fuck happened?” His fingers fluttered down my back while I tried to crank around to see what he was looking at. “Jesus, Gabe, that’s one ugly bruise.”

“Oh that, I fell off of AJ.” My cheek hit the pillow again. “Pure stupidity on my part.”

“Onto
what
?”

“A rock.” I yawned.

“That must have been one big-ass rock.”

“It felt pretty big when I landed on it.” I yawned again. Now that Zane was here, where I could experience him in actual privacy, all I wanted was to cuddle up to him and sleep for a day or two. 

“I’m glad you’re safe...” His lips touched down, and he placed a trail of soft kisses along my spine while his hand traveled gently across my lower back, beneath the soreness. My eyes drifted closed, the sensation carrying me under rather than inciting me. Man, how screwed up were my priorities right now?

I had a moment of lucidity when Zane re-positioned me, and his bare chest touched the skin of my back. My body made a pitiful attempt at rallying, then gave up and sank against him. I fell asleep cradled in his arms with his lips pressed to my shoulder. It was as close to heaven as I could get after glimpsing hell.

*

I rose to consciousness on the tail of my mom’s raised voice. Zane was gone, and I actually felt abandoned, even though I was sure he was just outside, presumably waging war with my mother. Turning over, I found his spot still warm, and the lingering scent of him provided a comfort I never expected. It was a gift, this thing, what my father had given me. Solace. And based on the dueling voices, Mom had managed to shatter the small amount of serenity we’d found.

Anger rose over that, my skin warming in its wake. I glanced at the door, and knew if I opened it I would say something hurtful. Something she would never forget, and I’d never recover from. Thankfully they were far enough away from the trailer that I could only catch a word now and then, not enough to put together what volleyed between them.

After the incident with his aunt, I trusted Zane not to cut her too deeply. Pulling the down comforter over my head, I added the pillows to the pile in an effort to block out the sheer volume of the voices
discussing
me outside. It must have worked because suddenly everything was blissfully quiet. Then I heard the heavy click of the door, felt the trailer shift as Zane stepped in, and heard my mom’s voice as crisp and clear as a winter’s day.

“Answer me one thing.”

“What?” Zane’s reply was curt.

“Do you love him?”

The pause that ensued was long enough for my heart to begin an emotional tumble. I clutched the pillows, fearing the impact.

“I care about him—a lot. Probably more than you can understand right now.”

The door shut as my heart meekly righted itself. Removing the pillows, I propped myself up on an elbow. “Ditto, only I care about you more than I seem able to understand.”

He smiled, and I smiled back. “You’re an incredibly fast learner then.” Zane’s eyes followed his fingers as they outlined the trim on the fridge. “You’re actually a bit of an enigma to me.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

He nodded slowly. “It is,” he admitted then rolled his eyes to the ceiling and began shaking his head. “Now, your mom? What is it with the women in this town?” Continuing his perplexed expression, he went to a box on the counter. “I had no intention of arguing with her, but she wouldn’t let up. You know she doesn’t like me very much, and I’m pretty sure she blames me for you not attending prom.” He pulled out a dozen eggs, then hummed appreciatively at the bacon he removed next.

“Of course it has nothing to do with the fact I’m gay, and didn’t feel like getting groped by a girl all night.” I sighed.

Zane gave me a peculiar look. “I didn’t even think—I just assumed. I should have considered...”

Would he have gone with me, had I asked him? I never would have been able to gather up the nerve though, not soon enough to buy tickets anyway. I fingered the privacy curtain that closed off the bunk. “Honestly? I’d rather be here, even without the day I’ve had.”

He shot me a smile. “Yeah, me too.” Turning back to Mom’s care package, his face scrunched up. “You eat this stuff?” He held up some snack packs.

“Yes, I like it.”

He shivered in disgust. “Are you hungry?”

I glanced at the snack packs he still held. “For tapioca?”

“No, genius. I was thinking eggs, toast, bacon—I don’t know—do you have a toaster?”

“Yeah, in the cabinet under the sink.” Kicking my legs over the side, I sat up. “Actually I have to pee.” I’d been ignoring it, but now that I was fully awake.

He looked perplexed. “How does that effect whether your hungry or not?”

Snorting a laugh, I slid to the floor. “It doesn’t. It’s just all consuming right now.” Glancing at the bacon my mouth watered, and I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since the pieces of cheese last night. “Actually I’m starving.”

“I figured. I’ll make food while you go shower.” He began opening cabinets, finding what he needed.

“That bad, huh?”

He glanced at me as he grabbed the spatula from the top drawer. “No, well, you have pine needles in your hair, smell rather horsy, and your face is—a
tad
dirty.”

I hit the switch for the hot water heater, and heard the
whoom
as it ignited. “It takes twenty minutes for hot water, but I’ll try to make myself presentable for dinner.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Is clothing optional?” I asked, laughing when Zane fumbled the fry pan. I closed the door on his “
uhhmm
.”

Chapter Sixteen

I watched, amused, as Zane put away twice as much food as I did. This was our first meal together, and wide-eyed, I marveled at the machine working across from me.

Swallowing the last bite of toast—his fourth—he blinked at me. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering where you put it all. You’re not that big!”

He smirked, glancing at his lap.

I rolled my eyes. “Are we to
that
part of the evening already?”

“No?” He picked up his soda, and shook the empty can before setting it back down. “Yeah, probably not the right time to be thinking about sex.”

Suddenly I was thinking about nothing else, and my fork became awfully fascinating. “I didn’t say that.”
Did I just say what I think I said
? The fork pumped between my fingers as I shifted in my seat. Was I even ready for what I’d implied? Probably not. Did I want to? Absolutely, positively, maybe. The butterflies that had hatched in my gut the day he first truly kissed me let me know they were still alive. I wasn’t a virgin, no thanks to Amy, but I sure felt like one.

Zane yanked my fork from my nervous fingers, and gathered up the paper plates. “Let’s take a walk.”

I blinked at his demand. “Bossy...”

After dumping the paper plates he sat back down, and proceeded to put on his socks and shoes. His head shook a slow negative as he concentrated on tying his shoes as if he’d never done it before.

“No, not bossy. It’s just...your actions spoke louder than your words.” He gave me a tenuous smile that I assumed he intended to be reassuring, only I felt a smidge rejected, okay a lot rejected. “Socks, shoes.” His eyes traveled to my worn brown ropers still in the middle of the floor. “Or rather boots. Don’t you even own a pair of tennis shoes?”

Yanking on my socks I tried to remember. “I think I have a pair still in the box actually.”

He shook his head as he opened the small wardrobe and rifled through the meager contents. I always left a few things in there, mostly by mistake, but they came in handy at times.

“This’ll have to do.” Pulling something out, he tossed it to me.

I caught the grey quilted flannel. “Hey, I forgot this was in here!”

“You sound excited—
over flannel
.” His look was dubious.

“Of course I’m excited over flannel. It’s warm and soft and cuddly. Who doesn’t love flannel?” I slipped it on, hugging my arms around me.

He rolled his eyes.

Standing, I stomped my heel into my boot. “Oh come on, touch it.” This particular jacket had been my favorite last fall, and was teddy-bear-soft from tons of trips through the washing machine.

“I’m not touching it,” he grumbled.

“Oh come on. You know you want too!” I rubbed my hands up the sleeves. “
Sooo sooofft
. Just touch it.”

“I refuse to touch it.” His lips flattened as he tried to keep from grinning, but the tease was there in his vibrant blue eyes.

I rubbed against him. “Pleeease.”
Oh God
,
where had that voice come from
? I
sounded as if I were four, begging for a new Tonka truck
.
Talk about whiney
.

“Stop,” he laughed as he shoved me. “Wow, that
is
soft.” A hand traveled appreciatively down my arm.

“I told you you’d want to touch my flannel.”

He shook his head as he pushed the door open. “I’m not touching that one.” A hand propelled me out the door, one that lingered against the fabric. “And so help me, if you turn into a twink, I’m gone.” He flicked on the porch light.

“What’s a twink?” I turned it back off, unwilling to give my mom anymore ammo for her arsenal.

“I was just joking.”

I slid my hand in the one he offered, relishing the ease of such things when the only ones around to judge us were God and the stars.

“You’re as far removed from twinkdom as you could be,” he added.

Twinkdom
? We began sauntering down the driveway, the low lying spring fog swirling around our legs. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I know. My description is rather jaded. Makes me seem judgmental, but I’m really not. I just have a very narrow view.” He laughed ironically. “I guess that
is
being judgmental.” His phone buzzed. Releasing my hand, he pulled it out of his back pocket, then began texting whoever back. Sliding it closed he returned it to his pocket. “Merrill.” Rather than taking my hand, he linked arms with me as we headed across the road. “Okay, so—”

“What did you tell him?” I was holding my breath still worrying about the complications of implications when I should have been looking at how to move past them.

His hand traveled down my arm, fingers entwining with mine. Always a perfect fit. “I told him I might stay with a friend.”

“Might...” I said consideringly, thinking about all the assorted entailments revolving around that one word. My father had all but handed me over to Zane and said; here, take my son, go forth and fornicate. The insinuations were rather shocking in context considering the source, but I knew he expected me to make adult decisions.

Over the last hours I had just assumed he would stay with me. Possibly not the most adult decision on my part, but I wanted to fall asleep with him in my arms, and wake to find him next to me—something that my mother had taken from me earlier.

I stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. “I want you to stay. I’m not saying anything will happen...I just...” I glanced towards the creek, the twisted scrub oaks veiled in fog, the eeriness of it all, and felt the comfort of being who I was while hidden safely beneath the blanket of darkness. How did one break from the darkness into the light? I picked at the zipper of his leather jacket. “I don’t doubt myself when you’re with me. And I don’t want to ever doubt
us
.” I felt myself leaning towards him, wanting guidance.

With a cool finger he lifted my chin and searched my face in the starlight. It was an open book, full of empty pages, waiting for him to map our way. Putting pen to paper, his lips touched down on mine.

*

Zane was there, curled over my chest when I woke, the weight and warmth of his body better than any blanket. A smile crawled over me as I watched him sleep. Nothing and everything had happened last night. It had been nothing more than a tentative make out session, well tentative on my part anyway. Zane had kissed and touched me with a confidence I longed to have. My body’s salacious reactions provided the final affirmation I was where I belonged. Everywhere he touched, my body had twisted, seeking a closer connection, begging for more.

With Zane softly snoring into the hollow of my shoulder, I had laid awake well into the early morning hours wallowing like a happy pig in the sensations, the emotions, the truth I had finally found, all while trying not to wake him whenever I started giggling.

This couldn’t be normal, what I was feeling. I’d read my dad’s pamphlets, heard the talk when Gary came out, knew I was a freak in that respect. No one wanted to wake up one day and discover he was gay. But for me, that discovery was less of a hardship than believing I was less sexual than AJ. He at least nickered at Grace when she was in heat. He didn’t know what to do, but he showed interest. I’d never even had that.

Zane stretched, drawing his narrow hand down my side, and leaving a warm trail that quickly spread across my chest.

“Morning,” he said as he wormed around so he could see me.

My fingers feathered through his heavy black hair. “Morning.”

Reaching up, he ran his knuckles down my cheek. “I’m not seeing any remorse...”

I shook my head lightly. “No remorse.”

Smiling, he shuffled up until he was looking down on me. “Good.” He kissed me, meaning it as a leisurely affection, but it didn’t stay that way long. More my fault than his. Possibly because I sought to be more assertive about what I wanted, and I wanted him.

It became something wild and beautiful, passionate and consuming, wonderful and enlightening—then he touched me, just a trace of fingertips followed by a light press of his palm. A squeak ratcheted out of my too tight body, a shudder followed, and turning out from under him, I withdrew into a ball, devastated by my overly quick reaction.

He curled around me. “Someone’s
really
sensitive.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized to the pillow. “No one’s ever touched me there.” Not even Amy had really touched me. She’d just thrown a leg over and took what she wanted.

“Hey,” he nuzzled the nape of my neck, “it just means we have to do this more—a lot more. One of those things where practice really does make a difference.”

I tittered into the pillow. “It takes
me
forever, then
you
—in seconds. I’m so embarrassed.”

His hands traveled up my chest, as he snuggled up to my back. “Don’t be. At least I know you find me emphatically sexy.”

Arching, I allowed his hands to roam, relishing the fact he still wanted to touch me after
that
. “Odd choice of adjective, but yeah, no question about it.” I felt his smile against my skin, the gentle confidence of his touch, and the way it calmed me was a far cry from the anxiety I experienced with Amy, or any other girl that had tried to get close.

“You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to practicing.” He kissed between my shoulders, then crawled down from the bunk, leaving me to ponder if there would ever come a time when he no longer devastated me. I almost hoped that day never came. Almost. Because being more confident had its advantages too—like not dying of humiliation.