Between Everything and Us Page 23

  Today is supposed to be a good day. I was feeling great, so why now? Why does everything have to fall apart now?

  I yank off my coat and sink to the ground, hoping that if I cool off maybe I can get my shit together so we can keep hiking. We only have a few hours left before it gets too dark.

  Mati must be upset because she rips off her boots and chucks them to the ground, then hops around on each foot to pull off the sock on the opposite.

  “Damn. Stupid blisters.”

  It would be easy to be a smartass right now. I should be a smartass. I keep quiet because, in the end, Mati deserves better and I’m not giving up yet.

  She jumps up onto a fallen log, balancing as if she’s on a tightrope. When she reaches the end, she whirls around and dips into a dramatic bow. I can’t hold back the small laugh that erupts from my chest.

  “That’s better,” she says smugly.

  The way she dances forward over the mossy log reminds me of that movie she made me watch last fall. She wiggles from side to side, the perfect picture of balance. I’m hit in the core with a sharp pang of jealousy, then an instant stab of guilt.

  “I don’t know if I’ve ever been this happy,” she confesses. It pulls me out of my quick descent into self-pity.

  “No?”

  “I can think of plenty of times I’ve been happy, but today… I don’t know. I feel free.” She looks up and pulls off her beanie, ruffling her short hair. “That sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

  I shake my head. It doesn’t sound that way at all—hopeful, maybe.

  “There aren’t any rules out here or deadlines. I don’t have to rush from job to job and go to class half-asleep and then go home and write a ten-page paper.” She jumps off the end of the log, then strolls over to me, pausing before she sinks down and nestles herself between my knees. “At least here I can listen to myself think.”

  She has a point, one that I’d agree with since she’s somehow uncovered my secret. I came out here growing up because I liked being independent, I enjoyed the quiet and the easy purpose of hiking from one point to another.

  I don’t say anything, too tired really to do much of anything besides close my eyes and rest against this tree. I do manage to wrap my arms around her though. It’s a small comfort, but I take it.

  “We all have shitty years,” she says suddenly.

  I’m half-asleep—at least I feel that way. I’m weighed down, pinned to this spot in the middle of the woods, and I don’t think I could move if my life depended on it.

  “When I was in Chicago, I got caught up in everything and lost myself, forgot to focus.”

  I feel her reach to the side, then her arm jerks and I smell fresh earth. I pop one eye open to catch her examining a fern leaf.

  “I wasn’t even doing anything terrible while I was there. I walked around the city a lot because it was so different than Maine. I lost myself in all of that. I arrived as Matisse Evans and then, overnight, vanished into some nameless girl.”

  Mati sits up and adjusts herself so she’s straddling my waist. I lose myself, too—in the cool air, the damp earth, the sound of the sparrows, the slip of light filtering down through the trees to my face. It’s the small things, I remind myself.

  She tickles my face with the tip of the fern. I reach up, surprising her, and pull it out of her hand to do the same to her. She wiggles over me, laughing and ducking away as I tip forward and try to kiss her until we’re quiet here, together.

  She grabs my hands and pins them together. I don’t fight off her touch. I let Mati gather them and raise them above my head. “I think it’s so easy to fall into the world when you’re not ready,” she says seriously. Her free hand brushes over my brows, then sweeps down my nose. “It’s such a big place, and we’re all very tiny in the scheme of things.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “It sucks being an outlier, Beau. I get it. But in spite of everything, we’re always going to feel a bit lost. It’s the part of growing up that no one ever tells you about.”

  “You’re very wise today, Miss Mati.”

  “I’m lots of things, mister. I’m…” Her voice drops off, and she nervously glances down at my chest. “I think I’m a little bit in love with you actually.”

  At least I’m sitting. That doesn’t help the way my stomach drops though.

  I snake my hands out of her grip and brace them around her face. There’s a reason why outliers exist on the outside—they can’t find their way in.

  Mati is no outlier to me.

  We kiss for what seems like hours. I don’t care if it’s for days. We kiss until my mouth wipes away the nervousness in that confession of hers, while I still cowardly hide behind mine.

  In the wild, in the sun, Mati and I are… Well, we’re something I never thought I’d have or find. And that’s everything.

  Matisse

  The rain patters against the tent, slowly hugging the sides before each drop gathers speed and cascades to the ground. I think about what it would sound like if the noise weren’t wrapped up in earth. I wonder if it would sound like being in a crowded concert, how the music strikes you at the core and the last notes sink deep into your bones and you can’t shake off the feeling once you leave.

  Tonight is like that—it’s a sea change.

  The air is damp and thick with the musk of rotting leaves. The thick wool sweater I have on is swallowing me up, enfolding me in the lingering smells of earth, campfire, and sheep’s oil. It’s natural and calming, and maybe that’s why I feel as though I’m drugged as I lay cuddled in the sleeping bag, listening to Beau softly exhale now that he’s asleep. I never noticed how long and girly his eyelashes are, but they softly sweep the top of his cheekbones.

  I’m afraid that tomorrow won’t be as great as today. I’m afraid that I might lose Beau now that we’re finally together. I’m scared of a lot, but I relax a little when his eyes open and meet mine.

  It’s dark in the tent, but I can see the curve of his face, the white of his eyes, the shape of his lips when he smiles. “Your thoughts are too loud.”

  I push up onto one elbow, my fingers clutching tight to the cuff of my sweater sleeve. Beau rolls over to his side with a sigh and tips up my chin.

  “What has you tangled up now?”

  I swallow back my panicked answer. I liked it better when he was sleeping. I’m not ready to deal with this round of questioning. I’m not ready to deal with a lot when it comes to Beau.

  “Thank you,” I whisper instead, “for today.”

  “It was great, wasn’t it?”

  I should turn on the lantern so I can see better, but that would change this quiet slice of time between us. I like being uncomplicated in the dark. It makes the knots slip free a little easier. We always seem better under the stars.

  That’s why I lean in closer and press my lips chastely to his, a whisper of what has my chest tied up so tightly. It’s why his lips meet mine in equal measure, soft and undemanding. It’s another hidden part of Beau—this gentle side. We were rough and tumble from the start, but now it feels as though we’ve been jumbled around enough that our edges have worn down. In this kiss, this moment, we’re like the sea glass we gathered on the beach today. We can see through each other, but we’re still opaque. There’s still more to be discovered.

  I drop my head and tuck it close to his chest, his chin resting on top of my silky hair. I wasn’t expecting to find that I fit so well here, up against his body. I didn’t expect his touch to transform from a wave of lust into reassurance. It’s all quickly tumbled into meaning more, and maybe that’s why I keep fluctuating between nerves and utter calm.

  I’ve let him in, but what now?

  This new space in my heart has opened up and Beau has moved in, motorcycle boots and all. Looking at him now, the little light casting over his face to reveal his reverence, makes me think he won’t be leaving anytime soon either.

  “I can still hear you.” Beau cups the side of my face.
I lean into his palm and close my eyes, listening to the soft rhythm of his breath and the rain.

  “I like it out here, don’t you, Mati?” he asks. I nod into his hand. “It’s quiet.”

  I curl up against him and burrow under the covers, resting my cheek on his chest. He links our fingers together, held out before us like spider web. We’re stuck together, moving around each other’s fingers but stubborn enough to never let go.

  “What are you worried about?” His question rumbles against my ear, ringing so loudly it vibrates through my body, and that knot in my chest gives another uncomfortable tug.

  I’m worried that this is too good to be true. I’m worried this might end. I’m worried that I’m in love for the first time in my life and I don’t know if I’m ready.

  “I’ve never been camping,” I say instead.

  “I used to go all the time. Do you like it?”

  “I like that out here everything is simplified, you know? I like that for one day I didn’t remember what I needed to do, that I simply lived it.”

  His fingers still. “Are you thinking about this summer, too?”

  There he goes again, reading my mind. I pull my hand from his, fighting to unlock our grip. It’d be easier to roll away and deal with that question another day. Except that’s not what I do now, not anymore. I was racing to ignore everything before, but I like the slower pace of things now. I like being in the moment and finding the small things to be happy about. Beau’s taught me that.

  He hauls me up over his body so I’m lying on top.

  “Are you warm?” he asks. I nod, and then his hands roam down the sides of my body, slipping beneath my sweater, my tank top, searching for the small of my back. “Good, this sweater is scratchy.”

  I hear his smile in those words, the hint of a promise. As he slowly peels the sweater off and I fall back against his body, I realize I want to feel him, too.

  He stops his pursuit with the sweater, but I don’t. I sit up and pull off my tank. The cold air instantly chills me, but when his palms settle against my stomach, then climb to cup my breasts, it’s better than being snuggled up in that sweater.

  I bend down and kiss him, deep and slow. His hands slide around my back and curl over my shoulders.

  Kissing him only reminds me what he’s taught me—that the unexpected can be good. I fall a bit more for him, his tongue softly swirling around mine. He’s dragging me under now, and I’ve fallen.

  My heart hammers against my chest, my thoughts spiraling out of control as my body takes over and moves with Beau. He sits up and tugs off his Henley, never breaking our kiss. He still tastes like graham crackers, chocolate, and whiskey from our campfire earlier. He’s dark and delicious against my tongue. His touch might as well as be flames.

  His lips trail down my neck and nip at the bend of my shoulder. I toss my head back. Rain patters the tent’s roof, shaking the fabric. I shake too when Beau sweeps slow circles over the curves of my breasts.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” I confess on a whisper. I meet his stare, the cool air washing over my skin.

  “Why are you leaving me at all?”

  “The semester is almost over. I have to go back to Maine.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it, too.” His fingers twist into my hair, drawing my mouth closer to his. “That’s just space. Doesn’t mean this has to be over.”

  I’ve never been one to dwell on words. I think in pictures and colors, in brushstrokes and the abstract. But the word this slams against me. This in that we’re not a novelty, that maybe what we share is more and can last.

  “Why were you thinking of summer?”

  His chuckle is deep as it sweeps against my skin. “You’re impossible to figure out sometimes.” He pauses before he says, “I don’t want to leave you either,” his voice firm.

  I furrow my eyebrows and gently push against him. He brings my hand up to his mouth and kisses the back of it. My irritation falls away, seeps into that deep-seeded worry that’s gripped me these past few weeks.

  “Have you ever been in love, Beau?”

  His body tenses below mine. “Now I have.” He brushes his hand over my hair, a sheepish smile hiding at the corner of his mouth. In the dark, I can still make out the way his eyes brighten.

  Those words fill up the tent, sink into me.

  When he kisses me, it’s not slow like before, but more frantic, a little rawer. It’s another tipping point because, even if he hadn’t given voice to an answer, I feel it in the way his body searches for mine. I give myself over completely.

  In the dark, in the rain, in the quiet, we find each other. His lips are on mine when he parts my legs, rests his hips against mine, and slips inside of me—a warm drive of heat that hits my core and makes me breathless. He swallows up my sigh as he rocks into me. Our eyes connect as I arch up to meet him, the world quietly fading out around us.

  My doubts and fears quiet, and it’s like our day exploring the wild—everything is possible and nothing is pressing. We have all night to discover each other. We have all night to feel and kiss, here far from everything else. Complications don’t matter now, not in this moment when we’re so clearly making love.

  This is love—this silent understanding between us. Our movements are mirrors, our hearts are echoes, our sighs and moans matched to the pleasure we’re giving to one another. Except this is more than give and take, much more than anything I’ve ever really experienced. Before Beau, I’ve had good sex and bad. Tonight—this—with him—it’s so much more. The guilt I’ve been trying to hide, the fear that is still stuck inside me over our future, melts away under his lips over mine. His mouth is my very favorite mouth on what’s becoming my favorite night ever.

  What we share is slow and twisting, and when I come, I shatter in a long deep burn that runs through my body like the rain that gathers and races down the sides of the tent. Our kisses taste like salt, and our hands and bodies are beaded with sweat, but we never let go.

  We’ve been missing from each other from the start, passing hearts and empty beds, emptier arms…until now. This is what I’ve been falling toward.

  He tucks his head to my chest, his lips pressing against my skin in a groan as he comes. His hand is gripped tightly around my calf, one of my legs wrapped around his waist. The moment deflates and the quiet seeps in around us, our bodies cooling.

  “That’s what we have, baby,” he whispers. Beau rakes his hands through my hair and draws me in for another slow, lingering kiss. “I can’t put words to it yet, but I’m not ready to let you go. I’m not worried about a few months apart.”

  I’m worried about everything. Worried that we’ll never have this again. Worried that the silent space that’s slowly been blooming between us will return when we leave the magic of the mountains. Worried about what happens now that we’re together because the only thing left to happen is for us to fall apart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Matisse

  In the morning, I feel as if I can conquer the world. We’re packing up our tent to head back out and drive home to Portland.

  He keeps catching me peeking at him. I can’t stop. Not when he fits so well out here in the wild, so hot in his lumberjack flannel. I like how the sun hits his face and fills his dark eyes. They light up like sparklers on the Fourth of July.

  “Stop looking at me like that.”

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “Like you want to undress me.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  “You can when we get back.” He smirks, then continues to break down the rods of the tent. I’m packing my backpack when I notice how his hand trembles and goes slack. The tent poles crash to the earth at his feet.

  He’s spoiled me on this trip. Even though I’ve tried to make sure he’s comfortable, I know he’s pushed himself too far and that that’s the last thing he wants to hear from. I don’t want to get in a fight right now. I’d rather we get home so he can rest.

  I go back to stuffing t
hings into my pack, dread weighing on my stomach

  “You okay?” I ask as we hike out. I try to be casual, but of course it comes out full of concern. Beau doesn’t want me to be his caregiver; he wants a girlfriend. In his head, they’re two different things. We spoke about this at group, but it doesn’t make it easy for him to keep letting me in so far only to put me in a box again.

  “Fine,” he snaps back. He keeps opening and closing his palm. Even in a fist, his arm is shaking.

  “We can stop—”

  “I’m fine, Mati.”

  “I guess so. You’re back to being a grumpy asshole.”

  He turns around and grins. I almost forgive him. I hate when he gets this way. It’s been happening a lot. I’d take it personally, but I know it’s not because of me. I wish I understood better.

  “Come here. Sorry.” He reaches out to pull me close by my backpack strap when his face suddenly goes blank. I edge closer, my chest tightening. He tries to move his mouth to speak, but for whatever reason, everything is stuck. His bottom lip droops awkwardly to one side.

  “Beau? You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

  His answer is jumbled, like feedback when you’re surfing radio frequencies. I place a hand on his shoulder while I fumble for my phone. “What are you talking about?”

  Beau’s miles away, then lifetimes away, when he crumbles under my touch. He collapses in an awkward heap, rolled to his side, seizing.

  “Beau? What do I do? What’s the matter?”

  His eyes rolls back into his head, then he loses consciousness.

  My leg muscles tighten, as if my body has already decided to run. I cut through my panic and grab my phone, my hands trembling so badly I can’t dial three numbers.

  Thankfully, even with only one bar, I manage to get through to 911. I explain where we are and what’s happening, and it feels like hours pass while I watch Beau. I clean the drool away from his mouth with my sleeve and resist the urge to gather him up in my arms. The responders keep telling me to leave him alone so I don’t hurt him, but watching him like this is killing me.