Always Forever

  It’s a tight fit—our bodies pressed firmly together, my back to his front. I can’t summon any guilty feelings because he’s so warm. I slip my hand down and start working on closing us in.

  “You should take the sweatpants off, you’ll get too hot.”

  I pause, my eyebrows lifting in surprise. “I’m freezing.”

  “You won’t be.”

  “I am not taking my pants off.”

  “I’m not hitting on you,” he murmurs and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Trust me, there’ll be no doubt in your mind when I do that.”

  “You’re the one with all the leverage here,” I utter.

  “I’m not trying to take advantage of you either. Yet.”

  “You plan on taking advantage of me?” My stomach tightens and my pulse throbs in my throat.

  Do I want him to take advantage of me?

  I’m not running away.

  “For all I know, you’re trying to seduce me. You climbed inside my tent,” he reminds me.

  “Because I was cold.”

  “And I’m only trying to warm you up.”

  I tilt my head, trying to look at him though it’s too dark to make out his features. “Now are you hitting on me?”

  “Is that a question? I told you you’ll know.”

  I sigh, lowering my head. Kellin’s arm slips underneath, tucking me more securely to his chest. I’m sure his only intention is comfort, his and mine. It doesn’t mean anything.

  “Sweet dreams.” I feel the rumble of his chest against my back. The sound of his voice, low and raspy, stirs something inside of me I know I shouldn’t be feeling with him.

  Desire. Longing. Need.

  Every rise and fall of his chest is distracting. Every breath that tickles my neck even worse. My body wants to react. It wants to arch into him, stretching my neck, and sliding my legs over his. It wants to press up against all his most sensitive spots and find out how good it feels.

  I can’t breathe.

  I drag the zipper down, flinging the sleeping bag off of me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m hot,” I hiss. I sound angry, but I’m not. I’m frustrated. Partly because this is the umpteenth time I didn’t listen to him and he was right. And partly because I’m probably only this hot because he’s turning me on without doing a damn thing.

  He laughs quietly as I wiggle out of my sweats, dropping them beside me on the tent floor. I settle back into the cozy little bag, assuming the same snuggled position.

  “Better?”

  “Mm,” I mumble, neither confirming nor denying. My body is still on fire, now verifying it has nothing to do with the way I was dressed. I can feel his bare legs against mine and that skin-to-skin contact makes it so much worse.

  I want Kellin. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to make it through this trip. It’s even harder knowing I have my boyfriend’s permission.

  God, that makes me sick to my stomach.

  “Goodnight,” I breathe.

  Sleep. I just need a good night’s sleep.

  “Goodnight, Misty.”

  18

  Kellin

  Day Six

  We fall into a pattern over the next few days—spending the daylight hours playing hard, having fun in the sun, and the evenings getting drunk, stuffing ourselves with hot dogs and S’mores while playing games around the fire. Then at night, Misty goes to her tent. I go to mine, and I wait. Because when she’s away from the warmth of the nightly fires, the cold sets in and she crawls into my tent, into my sleeping bag, nestling close to me. It has quickly become my favorite part of this trip so far.

  The mornings are torture, feeling her pressed up against my body, her scent all over me, and my morning wood looking for relief as it’s tucked snugly up against her ass. Nonetheless, I look forward to waking up with her just as much as I anticipate falling asleep with her in my arms.

  Every time we stop at a store, I know I should pick up a sleeping bag for her, but I like our routine too much. I’m not willing to give it up yet. Her reluctance to purchase one as well hasn’t slipped my notice.

  I don’t know what happened, but since we’ve gotten past that initial awkwardness, it’s like old times. This feels a lot like when I was seventeen and saw her again at Hope’s graduation. We were able to pick up right where we left off almost as if no time had passed. Social media helped a lot with that—a luxury we didn’t have the first time I had to leave. At twelve, I didn’t have a Facebook account or a Twitter. Hell, I didn’t even have a cell phone. I had an ancient computer and no Internet service for the first year and a half after we moved back to Chicago.

  But when Misty and I came face to face at Hope’s graduation, things were different. Once we had the ability to talk every day, we did. And she once again became my favorite person—even more so than my mom or brother. That’s why it hurt so badly when I thought she had betrayed me and I acted so stupidly, fucking it up.

  And now, here we are, picking up in the same exact way. No, that’s not right. It’s not the same way. It’s easier. Like my feelings grow deeper, stronger, each time I see her.

  It occurred to me last night as I waited for her to come to my tent, that’s all love is. Friendship. It’s not a complex equation. All those people who say they married their best friend—there’s a reason for that. It’s friendship that can stand the test of time, growing and evolving.

  At twelve, I wanted her to be my girlfriend because she was already my best friend. I wasn’t thinking about the future—living together, getting married, having kids—I was just thinking I liked being around her, and that I thought my best friend was pretty.

  At seventeen, it didn’t change much. We were states apart; all our interactions were long distance conversations, getting to know each other again. I wanted her to be my girlfriend because she rapidly became my best friend just like before. She was really fucking pretty, and she was also cool as hell. I still wasn’t thinking about the future. I was just thinking I wished she lived closer because I wanted to make out with my best friend, and hopefully have sex with her.

  Now, after less than a week, we’re falling right back into that same closeness. The friendship. The same desires. Only this time, I’m actually considering the future. The fact that this could be my last shot. Or that it might not work out this time, either. We still live states away. This trip very well could be the last time I see her for another three years. Maybe longer.

  I try not to dwell on it, but it’s difficult.

  So I keep our days busy. Tuesday we drove to Virginia, bought a couple days worth of supplies, and then held up in one of the tents, playing cards as it rained. That night, the weather broke. We ate and drank—Misty and I made up our own private drinking game. Every time Roh eye-fucked Sadie, we drank.

  We were wasted within the first hour. The morning that followed would have been shitty if it weren’t for the fact I woke up with all four limbs twisted with Misty’s. Untangling ourselves was…interesting.

  On Wednesday, we spent the day fishing. Well, Roh and I fished. Misty was excited at first, but ended up getting bored after missing several bites in a row, and Sadie lost interest as soon as she realized there were worms involved. But both girls stayed close by, soaking up the sun and keeping us company.

  We arrived early this morning at the next site in North Carolina. It’s a great little place near a pond. The retired couple that owns the land has a trackhoe at the pond for water slinging. The old man likes watching dumbasses propel themselves from his heavy machinery, so he operates it for the price of diesel. None of us have ever done it before, so we’re getting ready to go try it out. If anything, it’ll be a new experience.

  “I just realized you never told us your first time story,” Sadie says, squinting up at Roh as we head for the pond.

  He smirks at her, his eyebrows shooting upward. “You’re a curious kitten.”

  Sadie makes a purring sound with her tongue, but claws at the air.
I don’t point out the contradiction. I’ve learned over the past few days that Sadie is hauntingly similar to Roh, and just like with him, I need to choose my battles carefully.

  Roh smiles approvingly, pulling her into his side. They walk like that for a moment before he dives into his story. “I was fifteen, horny all the time, and didn’t know shit about sex other than what I watched in porn or learned in school—which, as I’m sure you know, neither one really prepares you for the real thing.

  “I went over to my friend’s house to play video games, it got late, so I just stayed the night. I had done that probably twenty other times before this particular night, and every time we slept in his room. But on this night, for some reason, we decided to sleep in the basement.”

  “Finished basement or creepy basement?” Sadie asks, mimicking his questions to her from the other night.

  “Finished. Sofas, TV, bar.” He pauses as the pond comes into view up ahead.

  “That’s a lot bigger than I was imagining,” Misty says, shielding her eyes with her hands. I’m not sure if she’s referring to the pond or the trackhoe.

  “That’s what she said,” Roh replies excitedly without missing a beat. He sticks out his tongue, flashing his piercing

  “Oh my God,” Sadie laughs. “You’re so stupid.”

  “A few days ago you loved my brain,” he reminds her.

  Misty shakes her head, miming the movement of drinking, reminding me of our game. I chuckle, pulling the cap down lower on my head to shade my eyes, and start walking again.

  “What happened next?” Misty urges, trying to get Roh back on course.

  “The sofa sucked,” he says, finally shifting his gaze from Sadie. “I couldn’t get comfortable, so I went upstairs. My friend’s mom was in the kitchen, getting something to drink. She was wearing a t-shirt and panties. Nothing else. I looked, and then things progressed from there. All over the kitchen floor.”

  “You lost your virginity to a girl?” Sadie asks, her voice full of disbelief.

  “You know, that’s not usually the question I get asked when I tell that story.”

  “That’s really…gross,” Misty murmurs. (And it would be if it were true.) Her nose crinkles as if she smells something bad. “Please tell me she’s in jail?”

  Roh smiles wickedly. “You guys are so trusting. Seriously, do you always believe everything people say?”

  “So you didn’t have sex with your friend’s mom?” Sadie asks, confused.

  “No, we had sex, but I was nineteen, and she was recently divorced.”

  She throws her hands out dubiously. “Wait. What? I’m so confused. Were you fifteen or nineteen? Did you lose your virginity to her?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he replies smugly. Sadie opens her mouth to argue, but the old man greets us, halting whatever she was about to say. It’s clear, however, the conversation isn’t over.

  19

  Misty

  Without an ounce of insecurity, Sadie lifts her shirt off, tossing it to the ground, and then wiggles out of her jean shorts, revealing the bikini she’s wearing underneath. Roh makes a slow perusal of her body, from head to toe, rolling the ring in his lip as he whistles through his teeth.

  “I like your brain,” he says, dragging his shirt over his head. There are more tattoos on his well-chiseled torso and I’m a little in awe of his body.

  Sadie takes her time, admiring him as well. “I like your tattoos.”

  I turn around, facing away as I slip out of my clothes. I don’t have body issues, but I feel weird undressing in front of a group of people.

  “Who’s first?” Ed, the owner of the trackhoe, asks.

  I circle around, folding my clothes as I move back into the group. My gaze lands on Kellin, now shirtless, and my breath hitches. He’s not as thick and sculpted as Roh, but his thinner, more toned frame is right up my alley. My eyes trail over his stomach, counting the six contoured muscles of his abdomen. I know I should look away, but I catch sight of the small moles or freckles spread periodically over his chest. I count them, envisioning myself placing kisses to each individual one.

  There are seven, but I wish there were more.

  My thoughts startle me and I’m finally able to shift my gaze away. I don’t look at his face. I don’t want to know if he saw me staring. And if he did, it’s better I don’t know how he reacted.

  I came here for answers. Not to have one last fling.

  It doesn’t matter if Luke gave me permission or not, I don’t want to be that person.

  “I’ll go,” Roh offers. “Just tell me what to do.”

  A thick rope hangs from the bucket of the trackhoe. There’s a large knot at the end of the rope, and that’s what Ed gestures to.

  “Hold on above there,” he says. “I’ll raise you up and swing you out over the pond. As soon as you see water under you, let go or you’ll end up landing somewhere you don’t want to. I had a fellow hang on a bit too long once, he ended up on the other side of the pond in the mud.”

  “Was he all right?” Sadie asks.

  “Sure,” Ed reassures her. “He broke his leg, but he lived to tell the tale.” He scratches his scruffy chin in contemplation. “Had another refuse to let go at all. He wound up flipping right into the bucket. Tore his side up pretty awful, but he walked away.” He waves off Sadie’s look of concern. “Just release as soon as the water’s at your feet and you’ll be fine.”

  I’d like to believe we’re all fairly intelligent people. I’d also like to think none of us have a death wish—or desire for injury. Yet, when Ed fires up the trackhoe, we all stick around.

  Roh grabs the rope, overlapping his hands above the knot as instructed, and Ed lifts him into the air. The whole cab spins slowly, the arm sliding out over the high grass. Roh dangles about five feet in the air, swaying back and forth. Without warning, Ed swings back in the opposite direction, flinging Roh out over the water, well over the five feet he started at.

  I hold my breath—half out of fear, half out of excitement.

  Sadie gasps as Roh relinquishes his grip, plummeting into the pond below with a splash. The seconds feel like minutes as we wait for him to resurface.

  “Is it deep enough?” Sadie asks.

  I shake my head, unsure, as I stare out at the pond. Roh’s head breaks the surface, a wide grin on his face.

  “WOOH,” he shouts as he treads water. “That was FUN. Can I go again?”

  “Get in line,” Kellin calls back.

  ~*~

  After two hours of water slinging and another three swimming, we finally make our way back to camp. I’m tired, hungry, and my hands have blisters. And it was completely worth it.

  Sadie and I change into warm, dry clothes while the guys get the fire started. I towel dry my hair and comb through it, trying to work the tangles out.

  “He’s not really gay, is he?” Sadie murmurs, staring into her lighted compact to make sure there are no bumps in her bun.

  I huff out a surprised laugh. “It took you this long to figure that out?”

  “Well,” she replies slowly, “I didn’t want to believe my best friend would lie to me about something like that.”

  I hold my hand to my chest. “I didn’t lie,” I whisper. “He told me he was. He likes messing with people.”

  “I’m going to have to mess with him now,” she says quietly, her tone almost apologetic.

  20

  Kellin

  Day Seven

  We spent our last day in North Carolina swimming down at the pond. That was my idea—a good excuse to get Misty back into her bikini. This time, when we split into two separate groups—me with Misty, Roh with Sadie—it happened naturally. We talked, we swam, we had fun. And every chance I got to touch her, I did. Small, casual touches—my hand brushing her arms or back as I swam past, my thigh pressed against hers as we sat in the grass, my shoulder alongside hers while we found shapes in the clouds.

  It’s been a good day.

  “Wh
at’s the game tonight?” Roh asks as he adds kindling to the fire.

  Sadie brushes past, hips swaying as she brings Misty a beer. “I have a fun idea,” she offers, her smirk assuring me I probably won’t find her idea fun at all. “Everyone familiar with spin the bottle?”

  I know what spin the bottle is. I think everyone over the age of eleven knows what it is. The rules are easy and straightforward—someone spins the bottle then kisses the person it points to.

  I’ve never actually played before. I always found the idea pointless. Where’s the fun in allowing a bottle to control who you’re allowed to kiss. I want to make that decision for myself.

  However, I see the possibility in it now. I’ve kept things perfectly platonic with Misty, not wanting to rush anything, even when it was painfully difficult. Spin the bottle is a game changer. It’s the opportunity to take our friendship to a new level. One we’ve never made it to before.

  But I have no desire to kiss Sadie or Roh.

  “Pass,” I say.

  “Me too,” Misty agrees. “I’ve never gotten over my horrible experience.”

  Roh settles down on the ground next to the girls. “Sharing is caring,” he states, blatantly prying. And I’m glad he has no shame because I want to know as well.

  Her lips curve up in the corners. “It was awful.” She cringes and smiles at the same time.

  A burst of laughter spills from Sadie. “Only because you kept landing on Jamie Alexander.” She leans toward me covertly. “He had chronic Halitosis.”

  I feel my whole face contort.

  “Ugh,” Roh groans. “Did you make him chew gum or eat Tic-Tacs at least?”

  Misty covers her face, shaking her head. “Nobody had any,” she squeaks, peeking around her fingers. “I only used tongue once,” she adds.

  And an image of her using tongue flashes through my head, turning me on and making me unreasonably jealous at the same time. I understand it making me horny—I’m a guy, it doesn’t take much—but I shouldn’t give a shit about what she did in her past.