Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
taylor
True to his word, Harrison wouldn’t let either of us put on clothes for the whole next day and the night that followed.
That first morning, waking up still in his arms, I was doubtful. Not about the things we’d done, but the idea that we were so free of our own minds that we could walk around naked and unshowered and very occasionally hard and horny.
I guess some of the things I’d spent my whole life learning and knowing were hard to ignore.
It was an impulse to sit up and search for my underwear, to dress before he woke up and saw me in such a vulnerable moment.
But then I thought about what he would say to this.
He would tell me to use that instinct as a trigger to do the opposite.
So I surrendered to his hold and stayed the way I was.
Embarrassment was the great killer of personality and individuality.
It was so easy and tempting to melt yourself down and be like everyone else, not stick out in any way, never draw the bad kind of attention.
But who decided what kind of attention was good and what was bad?
And why should I not let myself be vulnerable with someone who offered the same to me?
When he woke up, Harrison rolled onto his back and pulled me in close to himself.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Better than I can remember sleeping in the last three years,” I admitted.
He chuckled softly.
“I can’t believe we had sex again,” I said. It was true. And I didn’t fear that Harrison would take it the wrong way. There was nothing regretful about the thing I said.
“Why?”
I glanced up at him. “Um, we’re so different. You’re not at all the type I go out with.”
“Is this about my dick?” As if to emphasize it, he moved his hand down and gave himself a hard squeeze, semi-erect and growing closer to inviting me to forget about breakfast and coffee.
I shrugged. “You’re rich. Like really rich. One of your shoes is probably worth more than my annual salary.”
“You don’t work.”
“But if I did.”
Harrison thought about it. “I’m not sure what the inherent value of one shoe is.”
I shot him a don’t-be-an-ass look. “Half of what a pair is worth?”
“Is it, though? Would it be exactly half of a pair? What would it be worth to me if I only had one?”
“A lot after I bite your other foot off,” I grumbled.
We brushed our teeth together, standing side by side and looking in the mirror, where our naked figures looked back at us. Whenever I had a passing moment of concern that this was just silly and pointless, I knew that I should use that feeling to affirm myself.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Harrison ground the roasted coffee beans in an electric grinder, which was a shame, frankly, because I would have paid good money to watch him turn the grinder naked.
He had a cute, vintage espresso machine that he used for our morning shots while I stood next to a high chair by the kitchen island.
“You can sit,” Harrison said while the dark brown liquid dripped into a cup.
“I know,” I said, but I didn’t move.
He crossed his arms on his chest as he leaned his ass against the kitchen counter, and I was jealous of the counter. “Are you being shy?” he asked, pushing himself away from the counter and walking over to me.
“No,” I said, my voice a little too eager to make it sound like the truth.
Harrison came near me and put his hands on my hips and tugged me close to him until our bodies touched. “If you really want to, I won’t be mad if you dress.”
I laughed. “It’s not that.”
“What is it?” he asked.
I shrugged.
“You can tell me.”
I knew I could. I just didn’t know the words for it. “I love this,” I said honestly. “It’s out of my comfort zone, that’s for sure, but it feels good. It feels good to step out of the everyday normal.”
“That’s exactly how I feel,” Harrison said.
I leaned in, letting the tip of my nose brush gently against the tip of his. “And I’m just trying to figure out where it all comes from, embarrassment or whatever it is.”
“We’re taught to be prim and proper, to be polite, to keep it all down, right?
You can’t use a toilet without asking for permission.
You can’t kiss boys without first making a big announcement.
You should always be quiet, be still, listen, not upset anyone, ever, under any circumstance.
I say, to hell with it. My favorite artworks upset people the most. I want to feel things, even if they’re bad.
I want to know what it’s like.” The feverish look in his eyes, the passion, the humanity of him swept me away.
“Me too,” I said.
His hands moved to my ass, cupping it gently. “So, sit. Feel the leather. Let your scent remain on it. Be a little uncomfortable because it’s worth it.”
“Yes,” I said, filled with the same yearning that I saw in Harrison.
“I want the traces of you everywhere,” he said. “I want to come here someday and be haunted by you in every corner.”
I laughed. “Oh, I’ll haunt you, I promise.”
“I know you will.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose, so gentle and sweet. Then he stepped back from me and finished making our espressos.
At his suggestion, we had coffee on the deck facing east. It was only a little chilly at first, but the sunlight kissed the skin on our outstretched legs, and the morning air brought my mind to a level of clarity I had rarely experienced in recent years.
For this one day and one more night, life slowed down and broke into its most basic, most fundamental things.
Everything was simpler now. We ate when we were hungry, then we basked in the sunshine on the deck again, and then Harrison threw his leg over me, climbed me, and rode me senseless until I was out of breath and coming inside him.
Then he led me to the hot tub, which had been heating up since last night, apparently, and we simply enjoyed the bubbles and the heat.
That night, Harrison showed me Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon.
He half lay on the long sofa facing the canvas screen, and I sprawled across him, hugging his torso and resting my head on his chest. His heart thumped steadily against my ear while we watched.
Occasionally, Harrison’s voice would rise softly, and I could feel it vibrating in his chest as he spoke.
He told me about the cinematography that was now considered legendary, about lighting the scenes with nothing but candles to capture the authentic look of the period, and to create the images that looked like paintings.
“They used state-of-the-art lenses to capture enough light to make any of the footage usable,” Harrison said. “The lenses at the time were not so sensitive to light, so they had to get creative.”
“I never would have guessed,” I said. “It looks…perfect. Just perfect.”
And later, after the movie was finished, I crawled higher to kiss him. Our lazy kisses turned into more, then more again, until we were a mess of sweat and exhausted limbs, a heap of hyperventilating bodies and happy souls.
Even then, Harrison wouldn’t let go of me. He turned us around, laying me on my back and kissing and licking my chest, then kissing me with lips that were salty with my sweat and cum.
And I finally relaxed with him. At this point, there was nothing more I could worry about. There was nothing lingering in the corners of my consciousness.
Now, we were equals. And we were as close as two souls could be. In the span of three days, we had gone from near strangers who had a strong sense of one another to a complete whole made of even halves.
We had kissed one another. We had fucked each other.
We had scratched and slapped and choked and tormented each other in the sweetest, hottest ways, then soothed the frustrations with filthy kisses and passionate caresses.
And we had let ourselves be around one another in our most natural forms, sweaty, flesh on flesh, tongue against tongue.
There were no secrets between us.
Another night in his bed, another symphony of pleasures I’d never thought could exist, and another dawn in his arms, followed by more of the same. We stayed in his house late and showered together finally in the afternoon, then dressed for our return home.
Harrison had made it clear, this thing he was trying to prove. I felt good with him, though I hadn’t doubted it. I felt new and relieved. At the risk of sounding trite, I felt reborn.
Before loading our things into the car, Harrison suggested we take a walk in the forest. So we did, holding hands just because, and I decided that I would have followed him over the edge of the world if only he dared me to go with him.
We reached a clearing facing west, and Harrison sat us down to watch the sunset.
My head rested on his shoulder as the sun turned orange and dipped behind the horizon, clouds and sky switching through the flaming colors until pink and deep purple finally took over and cooled down the heavenly fires.
“Thank you,” I said, overwhelmed with the need to let him know what it all meant to me. “This was such a unique thing, Harrison.”
“Just a house in the woods,” he said, but there was amusement in his voice. He knew what I was trying to say.
“It’s you,” I clarified. “Us. Here. Like this.”
“I told you the other day that you’ve enchanted me, and I don’t really know what else to do,” he said.
I shrugged. “No need to know.”
He smiled, though maybe a little sadly. “I don’t like endings.”
“Neither do I,” I said. “So I tell myself we’ll come back.”
“We will,” he assured me. “As soon as you say so.”
If it were up to me, we would just stay forever. We would stay here, like this, forever. Never growing older and wiser, never growing ashamed of ourselves, never having another worry in our lives. Never having to remember how to tie a tie or have a loose shoelace or think about making the rent.
But the real world waited for us back in the city, and we had to go back to it. We wanted to, as well, even if that was not the ideal life I could imagine for myself.
I’d never been particularly bothered by having to know where I was going and what it was all for. My studies were intentionally broad, options postponed, relationships kept at a distance, and friends treated as family that would forever be around.
But now, as we sat in Harrison’s car, driving away from heaven back to Earth, I had to wonder where it was all headed.
And as soon as my mind found her, I shut her out of it.
I didn’t know if Emma was a factor; Harrison had told me that she was not.
Not really. But Harrison was like the sun, burning bright and beautiful, and I couldn’t stand here and bask in his light without knowing that I could never be the only one who would be blessed with his warmth.
When we arrived on campus, I kissed him softly on the lips and promised to see him tomorrow.
“I’ll make plans for us,” Harrison said. “Something with people and madness. Something new.”
I wanted to tell him that I didn’t need people.
Didn’t need madness or fun or anything new at all.
But I feared that saying those words was too revealing, too soon.
And as I stepped out of his car, I realized that there still was some fear in me.
There still was some degree of self-awareness and worry.
Only, this was the kind I didn’t dare share with him so soon.