Surviving Us

  “You weren’t too bad with your mouth either . . . I guess,” I tease, knowing damn well the reaction I’m about to get.

  “You guess?!” His hands fall to my hips and he whirls me around to look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I shrug my shoulders, trying not to giggle at his distraught expression. “Well, I mean you haven’t actually made me see stars with your mouth alone.”

  Mischief flickers in his hungry eyes as he moves forward, backing me into the wall. “Are you issuing me a challenge, Miss Criswell?” he rasps, running his nose across my jawline.

  Barely noticing the roughness of the surface my back is pressed against, my chest heaves up and down with desire and anticipation. “Take it however you want,” I pant.

  He places one finger under my chin, tilting it up so I’m staring deep into his eyes. “Well-played, Trouble.” Closing the distance between our mouths, a soft laugh blows across my lips before he claims them in a bruising kiss, his need matching my own as our tongues circle in a dizzying dance.

  His fingers tangle in the hair at the base of my neck and tug my head back gently, causing our lips to break contact. “Enjoy your stars, babe,” he rumbles as he dips his head, nudging my chin to the side with his nose, nipping at the delicate skin down the length of my throat.

  A slow descent down my wet frame, his lips and teeth alternate to tease the hardened peak of each nipple as he works his way down my belly, until he’s on his knees in front of me. Fingertips skim up my inner thighs, spreading them in the process, until they meet up with his mouth atop my smooth mound.

  He parts my slick lower lips with his fingers, lapping once, twice, then a third time at my aching clit, quietly chuckling as my hips jerk with each swipe of his tongue. His thumb slides over, pressing into the tiny pleasure center as his mouth moves farther down, tongue slipping through my swollen entrance to push inside my burning core.

  “So fucking sweet,” he murmurs into my heat, sending a shot of fervent lust rippling through my veins.

  Two fingers glide down my slit, his tongue and digits switching places seamlessly. Catching a lip in his mouth, he sucks hard, eliciting a deep moan from the back of my throat. His fingers trace around my entrance, a wide smile curving his lips as he teases me, slowly pushing a knuckle deep inside. My eyes are glued to him, enthralled with each brush of his hand, every stroke of his tongue, my senses overwhelmed as he worships my body.

  “Davis,” I whisper breathlessly.

  He gazes up at me, looking damn near Adonis-like as the moonlight bathes his face in a lustrous glow and the water droplets from the shower glisten on his handsome face.

  He works his wrist in a twisting motion, keeping our stares locked on each other, fingers hitting the back wall and curling up to smooth over my sweet spot. I inhale a sharp gasping breath, alerting him of his discovery, and his teeth clamp gently around my clit for maximum effect.

  “Look up, babe,” he rasps. “The stars are waiting for you.”

  I lift my face to the sky as his fingers and mouth change places once again. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of twinkling beauties blanketing the night’s ceiling above and the mind-blowing things he’s doing to my body, my release builds rapidly inside me. Licking, sucking, flicking, and pinching, he holds nothing back as I lose complete control, soaring higher and higher into oblivion. With one final stroke of his tongue over my most sensitive area, my hands grasp his head and I squeeze my eyes shut as I shatter into a million different pieces of ecstasy against his mouth.

  “Oh my God, Davis,” I cry out as my entire body trembles uncontrollably. I’m not sure if the stars fell down all around me or if he shot me straight up into the sky, but I’m definitely floating amongst them in a blissful glimmering haze as I ride out my climax.

  Minutes, lots of minutes later, I finally reopen my eyes to a very-proud-of-himself Davis with a big grin on his face. I release his head, and he slowly stands up, kissing his way up my body.

  “Did you get your stars, babe?” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine.

  I slam my mouth on his, tasting a mixture of my arousal, the shower water, and the distinct flavor of him, showing my appreciation. “I think you gave me my own damn constellation.”

  We’re in my bed a little later, once we’ve actually scrubbed ourselves clean and gotten dressed—and by dressed, I mean he’s in boxers and I’m in a camisole and panties—swapping stories about when we were younger as we sip on the wine he brought over.

  “Tell me about the first time you got drunk,” I say, sitting with my legs crisscrossed as he lounges on his side, propped up on an elbow. Jesus, the boy might have the nicest abs I’ve ever seen.

  “Oh, it was terrible. I was fourteen, a freshman in high school, and it was the first real party I’d ever gone to with my teammates,” he begins, laughing at the memory. “It was at this senior girl’s house that I had a crush on, so of course I wanted to impress her and act like I was older than I was by drinking shots and doing keg stands like everyone else. At some point, I ended up talking to her in the kitchen. I’m not really sure how we got there, but with all the liquid courage pumping through me, I was feeling uber-confident. So I decide to make my move, and I—”

  “Wait!” I interrupt. “Does this story involve puking? Because you can totally leave out the details when you get to that part if it does. Just sayin’.”

  “Hush! Let me finish,” he playfully scolds.

  I grin and nod, giving him the go ahead to keep on.

  “So I lean in to kiss her, and I guess the double vision thing was really screwing with me, ‘cause basically I just missed and face-planted into the wall next to her, breaking my nose.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Oh, yes I did . . . in front of most of the varsity football team, I might add, who didn’t let me live it down for most of the year. It was not my proudest moment for sure.” He covers his face with his hand, shaking his head as he continues to laugh. “Oh, and there was lots of puking later that night too, but most of it made it into the toilet.”

  “That’s a pretty good first time story. It makes me wish I would’ve been a little more social in high school,” I admit. “I wasn’t big in the party scene, nor did I run with the popular crowds then.”

  “What?” he exclaims in disbelief. “I don’t believe that at all. A gorgeous girl with your body, brain, and sense of humor, I’d have scooped you up in a heartbeat, Trouble.”

  “Well sadly, it’s true, though I didn’t try hard to make friends with many people either. I was a quiet girl who preferred my books and writing to pep rallies and parties.”

  He taps his lips, indicating he wants me to lean down to kiss him, in which I happily oblige. “Okay, my turn to ask you about a first,” he announces once I sit back up. “Hmmm . . .” I know exactly where this is going, even though he pretends he’s thinking about what to ask. “Tell me about your first boyfriend.”

  “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

  “You’re lying,” he balks.

  “I’m not lying.” I hold my stare on his, not wavering even a little bit.

  “Well, you weren’t a virgin when you showed up here, so there’s some kind of story somewhere,” he baits me.

  I lift my eyebrows at him and smirk. “You want to know about the first time I had sex?” It’s exactly what he’s asking, but I want him to say it.

  He sips some wine and nods. “Yeah, I think I do, unless it’s some terrible story you never want to relive. If that’s the case, just say so.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I reply. “There’s not really much to tell to be honest. It was my junior year, and I was supposed to be tutoring the running back of the football team in English and History, but we ended up spending most of the time reviewing game film. I would critique his previous week’s game, tell him what he needed to work on, and give him a scouting report of the next week’s opponent.”

  “Are you serious?” Davis asks, sittin
g up with wide eyes.

  “Yeah, it was when I really learned the most about football. Before that, I knew the game, but I didn’t really know the game. You know?”

  He bobs his head in agreement, and I continue the story. “So anyway, one day during one of our tutoring sessions, he just started kissing me, completely out of the blue. One thing quickly led to another, and before I knew it, I was naked in his bed and no longer a virgin.” I look down at the sheets, suddenly embarrassed about telling the story. “The whole thing lasted maybe five minutes. Afterwards, I got dressed and we picked up in the film where we left off. That was it.”

  “And it never happened again?”

  My face heats up as the embarrassment morphs to shame. I’m not sure why I’m telling him any of this. “It became a pretty regular thing after that until he left for college, but it was always casual between us.”

  “So y’all never went on a date or anywhere together? You just went to his house, taught him how to be a better quarterback, and let him fuck you?”

  My eyes shoot up to his, tears pricking the back of them. “Well, when you put it like that it sounds awful.” I laugh to hide the hurt.

  Davis scoots closer to me until our knees are touching and reaches out to grab my hands, lifting each one to his mouth to kiss them. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I just don’t like the thought of someone using you like that.”

  “Don’t worry,” I shrug nonchalantly, “I learned my lesson after that. I swore off jocks from that point on, and have never broken that promise.”

  “What about me?” he asks, cocking his head, puzzled.

  “Well, some promises can’t help but be broken.” I flash him a bashful smile. “Plus, I’m happy when we hang out together.”

  He rocks forward to gently kiss me, his gaze soft and thoughtful. “I’m one hundred percent positive I’m not worth breaking any promises over, Trouble, but if you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

  We both reposition ourselves in the bed, lying on our sides facing one another, propped up with pillows. “Okay, your turn.” I take a big gulp, finishing my glass. “First girlfriend and first time, if they’re not the same.”

  Following my lead, he empties his glass and then just lies there, staring at me as if I’m supposed to answer the question.

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, th-that’s cool too,” I stammer, knowing I crossed a line I wasn’t supposed to without him saying a word.

  He blinks hard several times and then swallows loudly before eventually answering. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I’ve never told anyone before, not even all the doctors and counselors. I’m not sure if I can.”

  His eyes plead with mine, begging me to say something reassuring. “Whatever you feel comfortable sharing, Davis.” Now it’s my turn to reach out and touch him supportively. “I’m here to listen.”

  Closing his eyes, he inhales a deep breath through his nose, and then exhales out of his mouth. My pulse quickens with nervous anticipation, wanting to know what he’s going to say and not wanting to all at the same time, as well as hoping he doesn’t feel uncomfortable around me afterwards.

  “Her name was Emma.”

  AS SOON AS I SAY her name, I’m not sure I can talk about it. My throat constricts as my heart races, and all I want to do is cry.

  But I won’t. Not this time. I’m going to be strong for Bristol . . . and for me.

  “Emma and I met our freshmen year. We had algebra together,” I begin, my voice filled with false courage. “I remember the first time I saw her I thought she was an angel. She had this long, curly blonde hair with rosy cheeks and crystal blue eyes, and I swear there was a glow that radiated from her. Of course, being the arrogant ass I’ve always been, I took the seat right next to her—the one everyone else, guys and girls alike, were too afraid to sit in—and struck up a conversation.” I stop for a moment, a small smile tugging at my mouth as I remember that day, a day I haven’t thought about in a long time.

  Bristol waits patiently for me to continue, her soft, reassuring expression soothes my soul and encourages me to continue.

  “We quickly became friends. Well, of course as a horny fourteen-year-old boy, I wanted more, but she had a boyfriend at a different school. So anyway, we were friends, ran around with the same crowd, and the moment I found out she and her guy broke up, I was there to take his place. We got together at the end of our sophomore year, and yeah, she was my first, even though I wasn’t hers.”

  I sit up as I get to the hard part of the story, the part I’ve never told another soul. Rubbing my hands briskly across my face, I take a deep breath. “Even though we dealt with usual high school drama bullshit, we had a pretty good relationship. She was a cheerleader; I was the quarterback—you know, we went together like peas and carrots.” I chuckle at the ridiculously stupid famous pairing. I hate both peas and carrots.

  “Who knows if we would’ve stayed together?” I shrug, the sadness seeping back in. “We were going to different colleges, so probably not, but I wish we could’ve made that decision for ourselves. Ya know?”

  She nods understandingly, but remains quiet, knowing I need to work through this myself.

  “After I signed with OU, things were different between us. Even though I was always honest with her about not deciding on schools until the end, I think she always believed I’d end up going to A&M with her. Plus, it pissed her dad off, ‘cause he was a big-shot alumna at A&M and thought I’d base my decision off that.”

  “Wait,” she interjects, sitting up next to me. “You weren’t ever planning on going to UT? That’s what scout-dot-com and all the major sites reported.”

  “Nope,” I shake my head, loving that she’s so interested in this stuff. “My choice was always between OU and A&M, but I didn’t tell another soul other than my parents until signing day.”

  “Oh, okay,” she lies back down on her side, dark hair fanning out over the pillow. “Sorry I interrupted your story.”

  “There’s not really much left to tell,” I say, picking at an invisible string on the comforter. “In the month after I signed, we went through the motions, but both of us started planning for our futures. I mean . . . I loved her, and I know she loved me. Neither of us ever talked about breaking up, we just didn’t know what was gonna happen.”

  I lift my eyes to meet Bristol’s as I admit for the first time that Emma’s death, as well as the others, was my fault, my stomach knotted up with nerves. “It was all my idea to go on that spring break trip. Emma and her friend Mel, who was dating my buddy, Jason, wanted to drive down to South Padre, but I insisted, since it was our last spring break all together, we do it big. They all finally agreed, giving in to me like they usually did, and Emma talked her parents into chartering us a plane there, cause they never did anything like normal people, and well,” I close my eyes as the sick feeling settles inside me, “you know the rest.” Slumping over, ashamed and overcome with guilt, I can’t believe I just admitted it aloud. I’m not sure how she’ll ever look at me the same way again.

  Bristol says nothing, fully aware that no words can change what happened. And I’m grateful for her silence. However, she does pull my listless body down into the bed next to her, resting my head on her chest as she gently runs her petite fingers through my short hair—a gesture so simple in form, but precisely what I need right now.

  The tears come without warning, first a single droplet, then a steady flow pouring from under my closed lids, soaking her shirt. She never stops touching me, never stops the soft, tender strokes of her hand, and never says a word. She’s just there for me. She’s just . . . perfect.

  We fall asleep like that, and when I wake up sometime in the middle of the night, neither of us has moved an inch. I don’t even consider shifting either of us. I simply cuddle in closer to her and drift back off to dreamland, feeling changed somehow . . . better even.

  The morning sun arrives much earlier than I care for; I don’t want to
leave this bed all day. Burying my face into Bristol’s side, I try to block out the bright ray of light shining through the sliding glass door. She tightens her hold around my neck and kisses the top of my head.

  “Can we just sleep through breakfast?” she mumbles sleepily.

  “Mhmm,” I groan into her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

  She giggles lightly as she rubs her foot against my calf like a grasshopper. “I’m afraid Isaac may come looking for us if we do.”

  No longer able to keep my mouth and hands to myself, I brush my lips across her clavicle and squeeze her ass cheeks, drawing her even closer to me. “We can tell him we’re having a one-on-one session that’s very important.”

  “I’m sure that will go over well,” she teases, scooting down on the pillow so we’re closer to eye level with each other. Reaching out with her free hand, she presses her palm to my cheek and asks, “How do you feel this morning?”

  I know what she’s asking without truly asking, so I answer her honestly. “Surprisingly I feel better. I know it doesn’t change things, but I think our talk was a good thing for me.” I kiss her soft lips, showing my appreciation for everything she did last night. “What about you? How are you feeling?”

  “Honestly,” she smiles brightly, “ever since waking up yesterday, I feel great. It had been a long time since I talked about what happened that night, and mixed with my fear of something really devastating happening with the storm, I realized it’s silly to think my parents wouldn’t want me to live my life to the fullest. Instead of feeling guilty for ever having fun or experiencing things, I should live enough for all of us . . . enough to make them proud.”

  “That’s awesome,” I reply, her positivity downright contagious. “That makes me happy.”

  “You make me happy, Mr. McKay,” she says seductively, dropping her hand from my face down to my boxers, dipping her finger inside the elastic waistband and running it back and forth.