Chapter Fourteen – Aston
Why did he have to bring it up? Of all the things he could have discussed, he brings her up. Every time.
I don’t want to talk about her. Not to him. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know the same person I did. His ideals are different to mine.
His memories are a thousand miles apart from mine.
I kick at the sand, pulling my jacket tighter around my body.
Megan speaks for the first time since we left Gramps’ house and drove north where no one would find us. “You okay?”
I shake my head. “No. Every time. Every f*cking time he brings her up. I thought he wouldn’t in front of you, but he did.”
“He has his own pain,” she says softly. “It doesn’t excuse it, but he does. He feels guilty for what happened to you – that he couldn’t stop it.”
My mind reels for a second and I look down at her. “He told you that?”
She nods, letting her hand drop from my back and standing in front of me. I stop.
“You’ve never let him tell you.” She reaches up and cups my face. “He hurts, too, Aston. You both hurt. It’s not something that will go away, but you can’t let it rule your lives. If you let pain rule you you’ll get lost in it.”
“What if I’m already lost?”
“You’re not lost. You’re hiding, but you’re not lost. I won’t let you get lost.”
I let my hands come up and rest on her back, pulling her into me. “What if there’s no map?”
“Then I’ll get lost with you,” she whispers. “I won’t let you let them win, Aston. I won’t let you get sucked in by those demons. I won’t let that happen. I care too much.”
And she does. I can hear it in her voice.
She wraps her arms around my neck, and I hold her to me tighter, our foreheads resting against each other.
“I’ll try, Megs,” I promise. “I can’t say I won’t, but as long as you’re here, I think I’ll be okay.”
“And you’ll talk to your Gramps? Just once?”
“I’ll think about it. How about we just focus on stopping me from getting lost for a bit?”
“You just need a place to aim for, that’s all. You need a place to go to.”
“Go on then.” I smile. “Give me a place.”
“Okay.” She pauses for a second, closing her eyes and chewing her lip.
“I’m waiting…” I tease her.
Her blue eyes open, shocking me with their vitality. “Aim for the moon, because even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.”
“I don’t need to aim for the sky. The only star I’ll ever need is standing right in front of me.” I brush my lips over hers. “Maybe the place I need to aim for is nowhere other than where I am right now.”
“Maybe I’d go with you wherever you ended up.”
“Maybe I’d never ask that of you.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t need to ask. Maybe you’ll never need to ask me for anything, because I’ll always be here.” She silences my upcoming argument by pressing her lips firmly against mine, holding me prisoner in her kiss. Her fingers tangle in my hair, her body fitting against mine perfectly.
My arms tighten around her waist, one of my hands moving up her back to cup the back of her head. She stands on her tiptoes and her tongue meets mine, never relenting in the pressure of her movements.
For the first time I’m not thinking about sex. I’m not thinking about how I could rip her clothes off on this deserted beach and make love to her.
I’m thinking that she’s sliding between the cracks of me, gripping hold of the mismatched pieces and tearing them apart. She’s studying them, getting to know them, to know me, and then she’s carefully lining them all back up and holding them together.
What she’ll never know, is that she’s the glue that holds it together.
She’s the glue that holds me together.
~
“So, it’s Sunday evening, we’re on a deserted, dark beach in Northern California, it’s freaking freezing, and we’re eating ice cream,” Megan summarizes, running her finger around the top of her cone and licking it off.
“That sounds about right.”
“And why are we eating ice cream instead of oh, having a coffee in Starbucks?” She raises an eyebrow at me.
I shrug. “I don’t think they have a Starbucks in… Wherever we are.”
“Wherever we are? Oh, God. Remind me never to let you drive anywhere again.”
“Let me?”
“Yes. Let you.”
I scoop my arm around her waist and pull her into me. “You didn’t let me do anything. I didn’t see you offering to drive.”
“Why would I offer to drive when you could do it for me?”
“But you just said…” I shake my head, smiling at her playful grin. “Never mind. I don’t think it’s even worth trying to f*cking understand.”
“No, it’s not.” She beams, kissing me quickly and scooting away. “I’m just one of those people you’ll never understand.”
“That’s because you’re complicated.”
“I am not complicated!”
“If you were simple, I’d be able to understand you.”
She finishes the ice cream and throws the cone towards the trash as we come to edge of the beach. “You win.”
“You didn’t eat the cone?” I half say, half ask.
“I don’t like the cones.” She hops up onto the hood of the car, her legs hanging over the front.
“So why do you order ice cream cones?” I stand between her legs, and she hooks them round my waist, sliding into me.
“Because I like the ice cream,” she says as if I’m stupid. “Why else?”
I grin, and a fat raindrop falls on the car. Another follows it, and another, and another, and she squeals as one falls on her cheek.
Her hands push at my shoulders and she releases my waist as she tries to get away. I laugh as it rains harder, the cold drops soaking us in seconds. My tee shirt clings to my skin, and my eyes flick to the drops of water sliding their way down Megan’s chest, disappearing below the neck of her shirt. I take her hands from my waist and I slide my fingers between hers, still laughing.
“Aston, no! Let me up! It’s raining!”
“And?” I ask. “You’re already soaking wet.” She wriggles against me, her center rubbing against my jeans and causing the blood in my body to rush downwards. She wriggles once more and pauses, looking up at me when she realizes my dick is rock hard.
“Did I, er, do that?” she batters her eyelashes.
“Mhmm,” I hum out, leaning into her.
“Oh, but the rai-”
My lips capture to her mouth in a crushing kiss. My body is taut against hers as I lean forward, pushing her against the hood of the car. Our wet shirts rub together, and hers rides up slightly. Our hands hit the car above her head and she gasps, my tongue meeting hers as I hold her hands still, my hips pinning hers. She moves her legs up, hooking them over my hips and clutching them around my waist. Her back arches into me so every inch of us really is touching.
Rain continues to beat down, covering us both as our tongues battle each other, sweeping and caressing. I release her hands, grip her wrists with one hand, and slide my free one down her wet body. Her shirt is slightly drier where it’s against the car, and I run my hand along the part of her back not touching the hood. My fingers tickle and tease her, my thumb running just inside the back of her jeans, feeling the strap of her thong. My hips press into hers, and in this second, all good thoughts are gone.
A wet Megan – in more ways than one – is sending my dick into overdrive, and it’s the only part of me thinking right now.
She gasps as I run my nose down her neck, breathing heavily against her slick skin.
“Megs-”
“Do you need me, or do you need what I can give you?” she asks bluntly, making my head snap back.
“You,” I reply, looking into her eyes. “I f*cking need you.”
“And if someone catches us?”
“Do you see anyone around?” I let her up, holding her against me and cupping her ass in my hands. “You’re gonna have to open the car door, ‘cause my hands are full.”
I carry her round, my dick straining against my jeans, and she opens the door. I all but drop her in, and she sprawls on the back seat. I climb in after her, shutting the door, and lean over her. Her breathing is heavy as she gazes up at me through heavy eyelids, and I drop my head.
I kiss the spot beneath her ear, letting my mouth go down and down until it reaches the swell of her boobs. My tongue flicks out and runs inside her low-cut shirt and bra, reaching until it flicks against her nipple. She whimpers, clutching at my back, and I reach in and undo the buttons down the front of her body.
Her shirt falls away, revealing her body, and I keep kissing her, even as my hands fall to her jeans and begin to peel the wet material away down her thighs. I sit up, tugging it off the rest of the way, and she kicks the ceiling.
“F*ck,” she hisses, dropping her head back slightly. I laugh slightly, running my hands up her legs. She grabs fistfuls of my shirt and yanks me forward. “Shut up and kiss me.”
“F*ck yes,” I answer, taking her mouth with mine. Her fingers flick down my stomach, slipping under my shirt and caressing my stomach until they finally unclip the button on my jeans. She pushes my jeans down with her feet and pushes her body against mine.
My dick jumps at the contact and I mutter a garbled curse into her mouth, ripping my boxers down and sliding her thong to the side. My fingers slip along and inside her tightness easily, and in seconds I replace my fingers with my cock and push into her. Her legs tighten around my waist and she grabs at my lower back, taking me in one easy swoop.
Judging by the constant clench of her muscles and the wetness surrounding me, sex outside turns Megan on.
My fingers dip into her wet hair, my tongue dips into her mouth, and our hips grind together rhythmically.
In this deserted place where no-one knows her, where no-one knows me, we are as one.
And I realize it really is her I need.
~
Mommy was mad. I’d heard her shouting at him for a long time. I didn’t know what many of the words meant, but they were words Mommy said were naughty and only for grown-ups. Words I mustn’t say.
“They’re coming tomorrow!” Mommy shouted. “What am I supposed to tell them this f*cking time?”
“I don’t f*ckin’ know! He’s five years old – he fell out of a damn tree for all I care!”
“And got a black eye? From what? A freakin’ tree root?!”
“Think of something!” he yelled at her, his feet stomping against the floor. Mommy always said not to stomp. Stomping is naughty. “They always believe you anyway!”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving this f*cking shithole before you get a black eye to match your little bastard of a son’s!”
The door slammed and I jumped, rubbing Bunny’s ear against my cheek. Soft.
I didn’t like this man. I didn’t like any of the men, but he was the least nice. He was really big and had lots of funny pictures all over his arms. I asked him what they were once and he shouted at me. I just wanted to see the pictures.
“F*ck! F*cking useless jackass!” Mommy yelled the naughty words, and the door slammed after her.
I didn’t mind her going. She was going to get money for food, she said. She said she had to work, but usually a nasty man stayed with me, drinking horrible beer.
I got up and pushed my door open slightly, looking around. I was really alone and it was dark. I didn’t like the dark. The horrible men said big scary monsters were in the dark ready to eat little boys like me.
I looked towards the kitchen, shaking, my stomach hurting. I wanted to eat something. I was hungry. Mommy didn’t have any food this morning, apart from a biscuit she gave me. Just a plain biscuit. I wanted some gravy.
I hugged Bunny even closer and looked around again. Maybe if I looked I could find some food.
Someone knocked at the door and I screamed. The big scary monsters. I started to cry and ran back into my room, pushing the door shut. I took my blanket from my bed and crawled under the bed, moving right to the back corner. My blanket wrapped around me and I curled into a ball.
No one ever found me here.
I was safe from the monsters.
Darkness. Monsters.
I pat the bed beside me. The bed. Not the floor.
I lean over, turning my bedside lamp on, and look around. My room – in the frat house. At college. In Berkeley – not my tiny room in San Francisco. No monsters, no men, no Mom. Just me, alone.
I bury my face in my shaking hands, adrenaline still running rife from my dream.
Fell from a tree. And they f*cking believed it. The a*shole had put his fist in my face – the first ever time – because I’d walked in front of the television and he’d missed a touchdown. That was all it took, five seconds, and I had another bruise, another memory, another scar to add to the collection.
And she still never did anything about it. She still covered. She still never checked on me.
Monsters.
It amazes me I was so f*cking afraid of monsters that didn’t exist. The real monsters were the tattooed, alcohol and drug dependent dicks she brought home again and again. They were the monsters – not the things a five year old boy’s mind could conjure up.
The monsters in my mind then were much less worse than the ones I faced daily. They were nicer than the monsters I still face now.
I roll over, leaving the light on, and bring my knees to my chest. My thick blankets cover me the way my thin ones used to, and I curl up the way I used to under the bed. My need to protect myself, to protect my body outweighs all else.
In my mind, I am five again.