Chapter Twenty
Seth
Iblink my eyes open to the sound of rain hitting the thin fabric of the tent.
My body’s still wrapped around Ripley’s, and an annoyingly large part of me isn’t in a hurry to unravel myself.
The faint smell of the camp fire from last night still lingers in the air, holding on to our clothes the same way we seem to be holding onto each other.
I can’t help but notice how right this feels, being this close to him, letting myself want him.
It’s a heady reminder of the weekends we used to spend together.
Despite lying on the ground in a tent surrounded by woods, I’m just as comfortable here as I was in the hotel beds we got lost in.
More so because I know him in a different way now; I know his life, his home, and the small crevices of himself he tends to hide from the world.
Logically, I realize the common denominator is Ripley.
There’s no way I’d call sleeping in a tent comfortable in any other scenario.
I’m painfully aware of what it means, even if I’m not ready to admit it to myself.
I’d give just about anything to stay like this, pretend it’s possible to have a relationship with him. His words from last night echo in my brain.
“You are good enough. I want you just as you are.”
I wish I believed him. Even if just a little. But I know he’s wrong.
Before I plummet too far into those desolate thoughts, he stirs in my arms. Taking my last moment of solace, I lean forward and place a kiss on the back of his head before he’s fully awake.
Tears threaten to pool in my eyes as I realize just how much I wish I could have him forever.
And not just in the way I had him last night.
I want all of him. Every ounce of chaotic, bubbly energy he has to give.
I want all of his good days, but I want his bad days even more.
I want to be the person he comes to when the world is too harsh and he needs somewhere to take a breath.
Just as a tear forms, he mumbles something about it being too early. I wipe it away, forcing a small chuckle from my lips instead.
“Fuuuuck, is it raining?” he asks, his voice raspy from sleep and gravelly in a way that has my cock sitting up and taking notice. He rubs at his eyes, turning over in my arms. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I tell him, the end of the word cracking with my emotions.
“How long have you been awake?” he asks as he stares into my eyes, as if he’s searching for an answer to a question he’s afraid to ask. And if I’m being honest, I’m terrified of whatever he’s thinking.
“Just a few minutes. The rain woke me.”
“Me too,” he says. “Well, that and your dick pressing into my back, but mostly the rain.” A smirk pulls at his lips.
My cheeks heat. “Fuck, sorry.”
Leaning in to press a kiss to my cheek, he laughs it off. “Don’t be. I like it.”
He has no idea I’m fighting an internal war, no idea the close proximity to him is making me question my entire life.
He’s clueless to what he’s doing to me; his lips touching my cheek feels like he’s waking a piece of my soul I’d given up on.
A part of me wants to tell him, lay down my proverbial sword and surrender it all, give up the fight altogether.
Brooks’ voice filters through the barrier of the tent. We ignore him, and I swear I see the wheels turning in Ripley’s head, looking for a repeat of last night.
“Yo,” Brooks says again because apparently we were supposed to jump out of our sleeping bags in the two seconds he waited before trying a second time.
“Fuck off,” Ripley yells with a smug look on his face as he sinks his hand down between us, palming my cock through my underwear.
“Don’t make me tear your flimsy-ass tent open, Rip,” Brooks snarls from right outside the zipped up flap. “Unless you want Cary to see how cozy you two undoubtedly are right now,” he says in an annoyed whisper.
“Ugh,” Ripley grumbles as he sits up to unzip the sleeping bag, making as much noise as possible so Brooks knows he’s pissed off. Doing my best to hold in my laughter, I readjust myself before grabbing my clothes.
“Why are you being such a cockblock?” Ripley whisper-shouts out of the three inch opening he’s unzipped.
“We’re leaving.”
“What? Why?”
Brooks huffs before making some kind of gesture I can only see from the shadows through the tent lining. “It’s a fucking washout, dude. There’s no point in us staying.” He stomps away. “We’re leaving in fifteen.”
Zipping the small hole closed again, Ripley turns back to me. “Clearly he’s in a great mood.”
Camping sucks, but hiking in the rain is even worse.
The squelch of my soaked socks and the pitter-patter of the falling raindrops is the soundtrack to our trek back to the car.
Even carrying the supplies is worse. The backpack holding the remnants of my useless tent keeps slipping and rubbing the same goddamn spot on my shoulder.
“I vote Thea never gets to plan anything ever again,” Brooks says, breaking the silence, after stewing in his own thoughts for the last half hour.
“It wasn’t—” Cary starts before Ripley cuts him off.
“Don’t even. It was the worst idea she’s ever had. You just don’t want to say it because she’s about to be your wife.”
Cary doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t try to defend her again either.
“It wasn’t all bad,” I say, surprising even myself.
“Oh?” Brooks asks, eyes shooting to me, his amused look tells me he’s just dying to stir shit up.
“Yeah, I mean, the food was good,” I amend, sounding entirely too convincing.
“The food, sure,” Brooks mumbles under his breath, shaking his head as if I’m delusional.
I have to admit, it’s a little comforting knowing someone else is in on our secret. Does it also scare the fuck out of me and make my skin crawl? Yeah, but at least I don’t have to hide it from everyone.
I’m not thrilled it’s Brooks, only because he constantly seems like he’s one second away from spilling everything he knows, but I didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter.
“Best thing to come out of this weekend was finding out Seth here believes in the boogeyman,” Brooks says with a laugh.
“Bigfoot,” I correct.
All three of them suddenly bend over in a fit of laughter.
“Remind me to never do anything with you three ever again,” I tell them, stomping away and not hiding the annoyance in my tone. I keep walking, the squelch of my wet socks is even louder now.
“Wait,” Brooks yells, his laughter dying down, the rain slowing to a sprinkle.
“What?” My tone is snarkier than I mean for it to be, but I don’t apologize.
“Don’t get too far ahead, we don’t want mothman or the Loch Ness monster to grab you.” He barely gets out the last bit before he’s cackling again.
Turning around, I flip him off and continue walking, not wanting to be around any of them for another second.
The ride home is mostly silent, though not because we’re hungover this time. When we got in the car, I was still annoyed from their taunting to chat, Ripley and Brooks fell asleep almost as soon as we left the trailhead parking lot, and Cary put on a podcast.
Thankfully, we’re passing the “Welcome to Indigo Hill” sign now, so I’m less than five minutes from getting out of this car.
All I’ve been thinking about the entire ride is how amazing it felt to be with Ripley again last night.
It’s safe to say I’m obsessed with the way his body fits with mine, being wrapped in his malty smell. I’d happily suffocate in him.
I’m equal parts mad and relieved I didn’t try to sit in the back next to him.
I can sneak glances through the mirror from here without being noticed, but I’m not sure I would have gotten away with it if I was right beside him.
I’m not even sure I would have been able to keep my hands off of him if we were that close again.
Fuck, what is wrong with me? Why can’t I get him out of my head? Why do images of last night keep playing on repeat?
It wasn’t even just about the sex. It was the nostalgia.
Things between us felt like they did before I fucked it up.
No matter what I do, I can’t stop the spark of hope igniting in my veins.
His words on repeat in my head, my heart flip-flopping in my chest at the thought of him, it all has me grasping for a life where we can be together.
Fuck. Could I have that life? What would it even look like?
He’d never leave Indigo Hill, and Seattle is my home.
I have a job, responsibilities. Not to mention people who depend on me.
I don’t want to leave my sisters, but they’re older than I was when the abuse stopped, and he’s never laid a hand on them anyway.
So maybe it would be okay, I’m not sure I’d ever stop worrying though.
And what about Iris? I can’t leave her after everything she went through, especially not for this town, it would be unforgivable.
Even just thinking of it has a headache blooming in my skull.
Luckily, Cary pulling into the driveway of Ripley’s house cuts off my spiral. He puts the car into park, reaching back to wake him and Brooks as I’m already exiting the car. The less I’m forced to be in Ripley’s orbit, the better.
I need to think. I need to… process.
I hear his groggy moans of displeasure as I shut the door, and the sound of his voice has my heartbeat fluttering in my chest.
Fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t let him have this much control over me.
This is why our arrangement from before worked so well.
I could drown in him for a weekend then come up for air.
I only allowed myself to talk to him or see him through a phone.
The lack of touch, of being in his presence, it kept me grounded.
I feel like an addict who’s lost control, like I’m one step from falling off the edge of my addiction with no way back and no support system to help me through it.