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His words are like a surprise kick to the balls.
The kind you feel up in your throat.
“Skylar …” I make a move to take his hand, then hold back, thinking twice about it. “I know it might seem like I … don’t take responsibility for anything. But I’m going to prove to you that that’s not who I am.”
“I don’t need you to prove anything to me.”
I meet his eyes. I’m still feeling the kick to the balls, by the way. “What do you need, then?”
He eyes me. “I just need you to fix this fucking hole before it floods your apartment someday.”
A moment passes where the cars below do all the talking in the form of horns, rumbling engines, and distant sirens. Even on a Thursday at almost three in the morning, the city is loud and alive.
I notice him shivering suddenly, a chill catching him by surprise. I throw an arm over his back and hug his crouched body against mine, rubbing him.
His attitude changes. “Or maybe you’re right.”
“About what?”
“Leaving the hole alone. It not being a big deal. Me making an issue out of … out of nothing.”
I wrinkle my face in thought. Turning everything into a metaphor isn’t really in my mental skillset. “Are we still talking about an actual leak? … Or us?”
Skylar doesn’t answer my question.
Instead, he turns and kisses me.
His kiss is desperate and hungry. I topple over, falling onto my back—Ouch. Skylar crawls right over me, devastating me with his lips. Our bare chests press together. In the cool night air, we make heat as we engage in round three of exploring our bodies, not caring about the discomfort of the cooled tar roof beneath us as he pulls down my boxers.
I feel his lips around my cock, which makes me moan so loud, I’m certain everyone in Mayville hears me—asleep, awake, or otherwise. I take a big handful of his soft hair as he consumes me whole, working me right up to the edge one more time.
With our every fevered taste of each other, the reality of this last weekend together becomes more and more apparent. He’s savoring his last bit of me because he knows this is going to end soon, and we know how he hates when things end. He won’t say it. I won’t say it. But perhaps even from the first instant I heard he was coming into town, I already knew I wouldn’t be able to get enough of Skylar before it was time for him to head back home.
I don’t care about a pinhole in my ceiling. I want this boy to flood right in. Every bit of him. I want to drown in my perfect, precious Skylar.
14
The wedding could not go better. Lena is a gorgeous and pristine vision in white with subtle lilac accents. Emilio is a handsome Latino charmer in a tux. The room is full of tears of happiness—unmatched by the Maid of Honor Maria, of course, who is downright sobbing—when the young couple at last say the words: “I do.”
Sitting with Connor and his boyfriend Alan, I keep sneaking glances at the front row where Sky is with his parents. He hasn’t stopped smiling, and his eyes are glistening with tears of joy for his sister.
I bite my lip as I watch, anguished somehow.
Is it possible to be both floatingly happy and crushingly sad at the same time?
“He really is a cutie,” remarks Alan later at the reception, sparkles in his warm eyes.
The three of us are at a table in the back of the room. You know, the one full of plates of half-eaten cake and a saucer of strawberry stems, since all of the chocolate-dipped strawberries (Sky’s favorite, in fact) have been eaten. At the end of the dance floor stands the DJ I hooked them up with, who spins his thumping tunes, to which it appears Emilio’s spritely grandparents are getting down and dirty together, much to the crowd’s riotous and joyful entertainment—and his parents’ clear mortification.
“Who’s a cutie?” I mutter distractedly.
“Your guy Skylar.” Alan takes a sip of wine. “I can definitely see why you’re into him. He’s kinda like the cute boy-next-door mixed with the class clown. And yet he’s also somehow the perfect guy you want to take home to Mom and Dad.”
“Oh, they met him back in the day,” I tell him. “And yes, they’re in love. He’s totally Mom-and-Dad-approved.” I let out a bitter chuckle. “If only they had realized I could’ve brought him home as my boyfriend and not just my ‘college buddy’.”
Connor rubs my back. Apparently the pair of them think I need consoling today. “Quit sweating it so much, man. What’re you doing sitting here? Aren’t you gonna go out onto that dance floor and spend some time with him? When does he leave?”
