24. Oli
Oli
Drag The Lake
I broke down in Dr. Langley’s office today.
It shocked both of us because, for the first time since I’ve been his patient, I was crying in relief. Having omitted private details, I told him about Jorge—how we’d been intimate and how patient Jorge had been with me. I admitted to my therapist that, at that moment, I felt so safe, and I sobbed. That hasn’t happened with any sexual partner.
Only Jorge.
So when he kisses me now, those earlier feelings bubble to the surface, dampening my lashes. He tilts his head, gently prying at my lips with his tongue, and I open them for him. It’s a sweet kiss, kind and warm. A languid dance of shared desire and care.
This man is it for me. I’ve known it for most of my life, ever since I was a wide-eyed little boy standing on my front lawn watching Jorge sing to his action figures while my parents unloaded their U-Haul.
Reaching to cup the back of his head, I deepen the kiss. He moans against my lips, holding my neck reverently, carefully avoiding my ears. Thousands of memories rush through me while we taste and feel each other.
I remember the first time Phoenix brought him over, introducing Jorge as his best friend (Jorge was his only friend at the time). Then I remember being invited to one of his family’s many parties—how Jorge danced with his grandma.
The first time, I watched him practice with my brother in the garage. How terrible they sounded. A laugh bubbles out of me, causing him to pause his kisses. Not letting him go, I spear my tongue into his mouth, coaxing a sweet moan from him.
I was thirteen when I discovered his physical beauty. My heart beat so hard and fast because I’d never felt raw attraction before. Jorge’s wet curls, sunkissed skin, and the low-rise swim trunks had me squirming miserably.
I don’t think about high school. But I remember the longing, the pining, the hoping and wishing that one day I’d get to have him. Yearning for the day, he would look at me and see everything I could offer.
Pulling myself from the past to the present, I guide my right hand down to his lower back, sliding it under his shirt to feel his skin.
“Babe,” he pants and kisses my bearded cheek. “I really want to touch you. Please let me touch you.”
And just like that, everything…stops.
My lips grow stiff, my stomach solidifies, and I start shoving him off me. A cold sheen of sweat forms over my skin, my muscles trying to lock.
Panic. This is panic.
I choke out a stop . That's all I can say.
Jorge immediately gets off me, wide-eyed and panicked. I stuff my head between my legs, sucking in lungfuls while my vision goes black. The trickle of water rushes in my ears. I see the grout so clearly in my mind that I can count the individual grains. Hot breaths fan over my neck, and firm fingers dig into my waist. And the pain. God, the pain.
I whimper and shake while I try everything to get it to go away.
“Oli,” I hear, but it’s distant. Too far away.
“Stop crying.”
“You love it like this.”
Bile surges up my throat, and I claw at my hair. I don’t want to be back there. It’s over. It’s not happening to me anymore. Just go away! Go away!
“LEAVE ME ALONE MORGAN!” I roar so loud it feels like blades slicing my throat.
I shoot to my feet, needing to run. To hide. To disappear.
Spinning in place, I search for an exit. Somewhere to go.
There’s a door, so I sprint to it. I throw it open and see a bed. Dropping to my stomach, I crawl under it just like I used to. Footsteps approach, and I cry out.
Don’t touch me. Don’t do it again. Please. It’s over.
Over. Over. Over.
“Oli,” I hear while I hide. “Oli, please tell me what to do.”
I shake my head and stay right where I am. He’ll have to tear me out. He’ll have to work for it this time. That always makes him mad when he has to work for it. He hates it when I hide. But I can’t make him go away. I can’t tell anyone.
“Fuck,” I hear again. The footsteps leave, and I wait. Straining my ears, I hear a faint voice. “ Phoenix. ”
Not my brother.
Please don’t call my brother.
He’ll be so angry .
He’ll take his side.
He’ll never believe me. Never.
Never.
Never.
Never.