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When I refuse to let her tug me back into the tent, Xenia gives up. I hear her moving around, likely packing up the lunch I ruined.
Something brushes against my back. I ignore the first few times it happens. On the third one, I reach around to feel what keeps touching me. I tug back a pink bra. Frowning, I turn around to find Xenia’s tossed all her clothes at me.
“I’m ready now,” she says, using her arms to cover her tits.
My gaze takes in her lean legs. The scar on her calf. The tidy bush just above her slit. The soft skin under her belly button, lifting and falling faster as her excitement grows. I crawl closer as I admire her swanlike neck, those pale freckles across her tanned cheeks, and the gray eyes of a woman who knows better but can’t help herself.
“I love you, too, Hobo. It’s the only thing I know for sure anymore.”
Her words act as salve across my fucked-up heart. I know I’m not the man I need to be to make her happy. I just can’t care when this woman says those words. I plan to hold on and pray she never comes to her senses.
XENIA
Hobo’s erratic moodsleave me no time to obsess over my normal insecurities. He shifts from calm to angry to aroused to depressed to passionate with seemingly no triggers. I don’t consider the reasons behind his behavior, instead clinging to him and enjoying our time together.
Yet, as soon as his passion hits a feral level, I become very aware of how I’m an ace at one-night stands. As usual, I’m not actively participating in the foreplay. I’m too passive. Hobo’s presence in my life has provoked many changes. I figured sex would be the same way. I’d just come alive and go wild.
Instead, I’m scared at how the sex might mean the end of our time together. As his lips and hands claim my body, I feel as if I’m losing him. This can’t be the end. I’m not ready.
My panic flips Hobo’s mood again. He seems in pain now. I get the physical part of that. But emotionally, he’s gone to a negative place, too.
I don’t know how to reach him. I’m not smart about people. I can’t even fix myself.
My brain goes on autopilot. I think of the steps necessary to prepare for sex. I hadn’t even considered we would be together today. Hobo’s moods aren’t easy to read. Despite what I said earlier, I wasn’t a hundred percent certain he would even show up today.
Doing a mental checklist, I clean myself up. I applaud my ability to pee outside without any mishaps. I think positive. I remind myself how I’m happier today than I usually am. Nothing is ending. Maybe it will tomorrow. If so, I need to embrace today.
I return to the tent to find Hobo hunched over, nearly naked, feral, and completely unapproachable.
My gaze takes in the sight of his wide back, covered in scars and tattoos. I consider the life he led to reach this moment. His suffering feels too great of a burden for him to carry alone.
Sinking into the comfort he offers by giving me his number, I replay his words in my mind. Since I fell for Hobo, I’ve stopped feeling alone. He’s gifted me something powerful.
I don’t know if I can ever give him half as much, but I do know he wants to be close. As I remove my clothes and toss them against his battered back, I sink back into the memory of his lips and hands on me. I no longer focus on what I should be doing. I can’t remember the men who used me and walked away.
The past falls away. I only see today, right now, in this tent, on a hot day, with an impossibly handsome man who wants me.
