Chapter 6
six
I brought the last bag of firewood and my guitar down to a section of dry beach hugging the bottom of a bluff.
Micah lit a fire and sat on a beach towel, then retrieved a beer from the cooler. “Ready?”
“Hell yes.” I set the bag of wood in the sand and my guitar out on a towel, then sat on another towel close to him.
He popped the can open and handed it to me, then dove into the cooler for another one.
I looked over the ocean waves, a lingering fog bank and the sun getting ready to plunge below it all. As I sipped my beer, I gazed at him, his hair blown off his face, exposing the large, brown eyes and striking features in the golden light. My heart skipped a beat. I drank more beer down.
He sipped beer from his can, glanced at me, and a shy smile spread over his face. “For someone who just started surfing, you know you sure look the part.”
I chuckled. “Yeah?”
In a low voice, he said, “Yeah. I do like the look.” He continued the shy smile. “I was surprised to see you trying to surf down here.” He gazed out at sea.
“I didn’t know any better. Good thing you spoke up.” I crept closer to him, doing my best to hide the movement.
“I had to. You literally would have killed yourself if I hadn’t.” A gasp erupted from his mouth, and he flung his hand to cover it. His eyes shimmered. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
I stared at him, my chest tightening. What was that about? Hopefully, our little romantic picnic wasn’t about to end. I shimmied close to him and hooked an arm around his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
He clenched his jaw and hung his head, rocking once. “I didn’t mean to say that. I just need a moment.”
“Okay.” I held him closer. “I’m here, you know. If you ever?—”
“I know. I don’t.” He blinked a few times and gazed into my face, then to my lips. “I should, uh, get our sandwiches.” He crawled out of my hold and opened the cooler, taking out both sandwiches, still wrapped in slender plastic bags. “Here.” He handed me a sandwich, averting his gaze.
I took it and scooted to my towel. Best to give him some space for now. I opened the bag, unwrapped the paper and took a big bite of meat, cheese and bread, mixed with dressing. “These are always so good.”
“Yeah.” He opened his sandwich with unsteady hands. Breathing in deeply, he stared at it.
I watched him closely. What was going through his head? My phone buzzed, and I slid it out of my pocket. The sexy photo of Wells blazed across the screen, the tousled bed-head, the bare chest and the Playgirl magazine pose with one arm raised over his head and the hint of a smirk. “Shit.”
Micah glanced at the phone, and his nose wrinkled. “Who is that?” He pointed at the phone.
“Um, it’s ah, my bass player, well, and my friend, Wells.” Shit, that photo was pretty indecent when you really looked at it.
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” He scoffed.
Should I? Maybe I should let it go to voicemail. But what if it was important? I accepted the call. “Hello?”
“Hey, Ash.”
“What’s up?” I peeked at Micah.
“Not much. Thought I’d call and check in. How was surfing with the hot neighbor?”
I stared at the towel and lowered my voice. “Not now. I have to go.”
“Oh, are you still with him? Guess it went well...”
“Yes. I’ll call you later.” I hung up and winced, then took a bite of my sandwich.
Micah’s sandwich lay next to him, wrapped back up and uneaten. His gaze drifted far away, out at sea.
“Micah?” Which Micah would turn around? Did I already screw this up somehow? My pulse picked up.
“Who is that guy, really?” He twisted around to glare at me.
I’d play dumb for as long as I could. “What do you mean?” I ate my sandwich as if there was no tension at all between us.
“Nothing.” He picked up his beer and guzzled the whole thing down, then opened the cooler for another.
I’m such an ass . I pursed my lips. Should I have been more upfront? But how would that work? He’s the guy friend I fuck . No, that didn’t sound good. Not yet. My gaze swept the area, words failing me. “Hey, aren’t you going to eat your sandwich?”
He drank his beer down and glanced at his sandwich. “Eventually.” He scowled.
Maybe I could fix things. I picked up my guitar and set it on my lap. “So, what song do you want to hear?”
He eyed me. “How about Nowhere Fast?”
Pain pricked at my insides. That song always made me sad since it was about Lane. If I were onstage, I’d have a cheerful song following it to fix my mood. “Uh, how about we skip that one?”
He glanced at the waves, then focused on me. “Do you know anything besides your own songs?” He pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry, I don’t know that many of your songs. I haven’t kept up with new music since college.”
“No worries. I’ve been in my share of cover bands.” I snickered. “Of course, there are a few songs I refuse to play.”
“Like what?” He shifted closer to me.
It was working. “Well, like Mustang Sally or Free Bird.” I let out a belly laugh and set my beer on the sand. “No one plays those songs unless extra money is involved. It’s a band thing.”
“Oh. I don’t even know those songs.” A faint smile played over his lips.
“Good.” I sipped my beer. “So, what do you want me to play?”
“I don’t know. Pick something.” He drank more beer.
What could I play that would be sort of romantic? “Okay, how about this?” I started strumming the intro of I Will Follow You into the Dark by Death Cab for Cutie, swaying back and forth in time. I sang through the first verse, hitting every note perfectly.
“Stop!” He tensed his face and twisted on the towel, then drew up his knees and wrapped his arms around them. A sob escaped him.
“Holy shit.” I rushed to his side, leaving my guitar behind on the towel. “I’m sorry. What did I do?” I draped my arms around him from behind, sitting on my knees, and held him.
He took a ragged inhale. “Not that song, okay? Not that one.” He twisted into my hold, resting against my shoulder. “L-let me just get my head right.” He inhaled a few deep breaths and straightened his spine. “Pick something else. Something happy.”
I released him and crawled back to my place on the towel, picked up the guitar and set it in my lap. I breathed deeply, drank some beer, then set the can on the sand. “Okay, so, something happy.” I started whistling the tune to Bobby McFerrin’s Don’t Worry, Be Happy and tapped my guitar to make a beat.
He broke out in a smile, then a laugh. Falling backward on outstretched arms, he said, “Stop, that’s stupid.”
I halted my motions. “Why don’t you pick a song, then? I obviously suck at this.” I raised my brows.
He kneeled forward and added a few slabs of wood to the fire, making it hiss and expand. “How about...I don’t know?” He hung his head and picked up his beer, gulping it down.
“What kind of music do you like?” I absently strummed a few chords.
“Oh, bands like Imagine Dragons, Coldplay, Green Day...” He focused on me.
How many times had I played songs by those bands in a bar? Too many. With a quick smile, I started up the first verse and pre-chorus to Demons by Imagine Dragons. Only my voice, along with a background of waves and fire crackling.
He widened his eyes and parted his lips, then crawled in close to me as if captivated.
As I came to the chorus, I thumped on the guitar and strummed, building up a perfect acoustic version of the powerful song. I sang the chorus, my voice ringing out strongly over the pounding of the waves, swaying with the beat. As the chorus ended and the second verse started up, I used only my voice again, singing softer. As the chorus returned, I belted it out with my voice and the guitar. I came to the bridge and took it down a notch still thumping and strumming the guitar, then gave it all for the third chorus, my hand strumming hard on the strings, my mouth wide open, my head rocking, my body swaying, with the rhythm of the song. This was where I lived. This was where I was most comfortable. As I sang, my heart soared.
The song ended, and I took deep breaths.
Clapping sounded around me.
I peered beyond the fire. Maybe five to ten people had gathered, shouting their praise.
“That was fucking awesome.” Still wide-eyed, Micah drank me in. He sat on folded legs, leaning toward me on straight arms.
A young couple stepped across the sand to us. The woman, a young blonde, stepped closer. “Are you Ash Oakley?” Her hands wrapped around each other on her chest.
“Yeah,” I said, still trying to catch my breath.
“Oh my God, I love you.” She peeked at the young man behind her. “I mean your band. The Swarm. I love you guys.”
“Thanks.”
The young man tugged at her arm, then gazed at me. “You guys are cool, man. Love your music.” He shook his head. “And that was something, man.” He grabbed her arm and drew her away from me. “Have a great night.”
“Yeah, have a great night,” she said, walking backward.
The others went their separate ways down the beach.
I focused on Micah and took a long drink of beer, soothing my throat. I hadn’t sung like that in a while and hadn’t warmed up.
He repositioned himself on the towel, sitting with his legs wrapped in front of him, and popped open a new beer. “This is really weird, being with someone who gets recognized.”
“Yeah? Is it a problem?” I finished my beer.
“Ah, n-no.” He stretched and grabbed my empty beer can. “Want another?”
“Sure.” My attention drew to the horizon, the sun now a sliver of orange. Darkness closed in around the fire. “By the way, I’m not usually recognized this much. It must be this area. My band is pretty popular here. If we were in Dallas or something, I bet no one would know me.” A shiver worked its way up my spine. “Damn, it’s getting cold.”
He handed me a new beer, the top already opened. “I’ll put more wood on the fire.” He picked up a few chunks of wood and set them up in a teepee pattern. “You are amazing when you sing. I can see how your band is as popular as it is.”
“Thanks.” I raised my beer to him and drank some down. I beamed internally. I might suck at surfing, but I had his full attention when I sang.
“Are you going to sing anymore?” He crept closer to me, almost touching me from the side.
“Do you want me to?” I smiled at him and fingered my silver necklace, noting the closeness.
“I do, but I don’t want anyone else coming around.” A shy grin spread over his lips.
“So, you don’t want to share me with anyone?” I sipped my beer and quirked one side of my mouth.
He stared into the fire. In a soft voice, he said, “No, I don’t.”
I smiled. It was definitely working. I lightly strummed the guitar a few times, then tucked the pick into a spot at the head and broke into a mixture of strumming and plucking the strings, my head rocking to the beat, my body swaying with the guitar. I sang the first verse of Say by John Mayer, starting out in a softer tone. In between verses, I gazed at Micah and smiled.
As the second chorus started, I strummed harder, with more rhythm, and sang louder, building the song. As I sang the bridge, I gazed directly into his eyes. The third verse started, and I brought the volume down but kept my voice strong. As I strummed and rocked my head and swayed, singing the chorus over and over, I closed my eyes, fully immersed in the song.
Warm pressure crushed my lips. I fell backward onto the sand, my eyes opening. He gazed back at me. The guitar slipped from my hands.
He covered me with his warm body, placing his hands on my cheeks, parting my lips and exploring my mouth with his tongue.
My mind raced. It was happening. I wound my arms around him, pulled him closer, kissing him harder, moaning.
He pressed his hard cock against my hip and kept his hands on my cheeks, his mouth laying claim to me with demanding kisses. He groaned into my mouth.
I rocked my hips, my cock swelling with pressure and friction. The images my mind had already played were on full display. I stole a breath, then came back to give him passionate kisses, my hands resting on the back of his head, my fingers twining in his soft, straight, black hair. I roamed my hands down to his ass, pressing our hips closer, increasing the friction on my aching cock. His kisses, a mixture of opposites, passionate and tender, mirrored his personality.
With wide eyes, he released me. “Stop.” He raised his head and looked around, breathless. “Shit.”
“Shit, what?” I kept my arms around him, not willing to let him go, already missing his kiss.
He focused on me. “Are you...I mean, gay?”
“You’re asking me this now?” I let a smile creep over my mouth. “I consider myself bisexual, actually.”
“Oh.” A coy grin spread over his lips. “I’m gay.”
“Yeah, I think I got that much. At least I hoped for something like that.” I lost myself in his dark eyes. I’d finally tasted him. I had to have him now. “So, kiss me some more.”
He pressed a long kiss on my mouth, parting his lips and claiming me fully. He stopped again, drew his brows together, and chewed his lower lip. “This probably isn’t a good idea.”
“Why not?” My gaze darted between his eyes, brushing my palm over the back of his hair. “Is this too much for you?” Please say no . God, I wasn’t above begging at this point.
He dulled his face. “It might be too much for both of us.” He released a soft growl. “I’m sorry.” He rolled off me to sit on the towel, his fingers tapping his forehead.
As he left me, the cool night air shivered over the front of my body, leaving an ache where he once was. I lifted and edged to his side. “Hey, won’t do anything you don’t want to.” I placed a hand on his back.
He scoffed. “Oh, I want to, believe me.” He glanced at me.
“Then what is it?” Twisting, I got a better look at his face, the light of the fire flickering off his perfect features. The urge to drown his face in kisses almost overwhelmed me.
He slumped and his eyes darkened. “I’m not in a good place right now. I came here to be alone. Not to start something with someone new.”
My chest pinched. “What do you mean?” Not after all that had happened. I couldn’t accept that. I clutched at his sweatshirt, my eyes prickling. “Micah?” My voice broke.
“See? I’m doing it already.” He gazed at me and frowned. “I’ll only hurt you.”
“No, you won’t. I-I won’t let you.” I blinked and swiped at my eyes. Damn my emotions right now.
“You won’t have a choice.” A tear raced down his cheek. “I told you, I’m not worth it.”
“That’s not true. Stop saying things like that.” I wouldn’t and couldn’t let him go that easily. I attempted to draw him into my chest.
He shoved me away. “Stop it.” He glared at me, his eyes glassy.
I fell back on my hands. Pain ripped at my heart. “Why don’t you let me decide about what’s right for me?”
“Because you don’t know what you’re getting into.” His gaze flicked out to sea. “Just like with surfing.” He straightened and glared at me, swiping his face with the back of his hands. “You bulldoze your way into things without first figuring out if you should.”
Heat swarmed my chest. “That’s not true.” I had to find something to counter his argument. Something to change his mind. I clenched the towel with my fists.
His voice became soft. “It’s probably why you’re so good at what you do.”
I blinked. Was that supposed to be a compliment? “I-I don’t know what to say.”
He stared at the fire, lost in thought. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what? When will you tell me what’s going on?” A sense of loss grew inside me. I had to get close to him again somehow.
He grit his teeth. “I can’t.” He turned to me. “I just can’t. If I do, you’ll probably hate me.”
“S-So, you don’t want me to hate you?” Maybe I could get through. My heart fluttered with warmth. I shimmied closer to him.
He hung his head. “No, I mean yes...I mean, no.” He growled again. “God, this is so stupid.”
“What do you want? How about we start there?” My gaze caught on the beer still stuck in the sand. Maybe if I drank enough, I could numb the pain in my chest. I grabbed it, swigging it down.
“What I want is not what I need.” He snuck a peek at me. “Does that make sense?”
“I suppose.” I furrowed my brows. It made sense in a way I didn’t like. “You need to be alone, but you don’t want to be alone?”
His gaze locked on my lips. Then he twisted away. “Yes.”
“We could just be friends, then?” And later, friends with benefits. Wasn’t that my usual situation, anyway? It was better than nothing and then I could convince him to be more. It hurt, but I’d take it for now.
He huffed. “I guess so.” He turned to face me, his lips bowed down. “You’re okay with that?”
“I have to be, right?” I reached for his hand, then stopped and drew my arm back. Fuck, this hurt. My voice was soft. “I won’t lie. I want more, but I don’t want to push you away altogether.”
He nodded, clenching his jaw. “Okay.”
I forced a chuckle. “Hand me a new beer. I’m about done with this one.” And I need to get drunk. I tensed my lips and repositioned myself on the towel with my knees drawn up.
After opening the cooler, he reached in and grabbed a beer, then snicked it open and handed it to me.
“Thanks.” I looked at his sandwich. “You ever going to eat that?” I pointed at it.
He picked it up, opened it and took a bite. “Almost forgot about it.”
We sat in silence; him eating his sandwich and both of us drinking beer and watching the fire.
He threw a few more logs on the fire, then crawled to my side. “Friends can sit next to each other, right?”
“Sure.” I rested an arm over his shoulders. Maybe it would be easier than I thought to change his mind. At least I could take comfort in that.
He laid his head on my shoulder. “Do you still want to hike tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
* * *
I fluttered my eyes open. A pounding ache rippled behind them. “Damn.” I shut my eyes tight, then opened them again. Too much beer. Memories flooded my mind. “Oh, shit.” I rubbed my temple. “Fucking Micah.” Hot and cold Micah. Came on to me, and then wanted to be friends. One thing was certain, until he opened up about whatever happened, I couldn’t could get any closer. If I did, I might fall for him without knowing what I was in for. My stomach knotted. The pain of last night was too real. Maybe it was already too late. This could turn bad.
I should shower and see when he wanted to hike. Rolling to my side, I climbed out of bed. I’d have to keep my wits about me and keep a wall around my heart.
I slipped into my black striped board shorts and a white t-shirt with a Grateful Dead skull and lightning bolt design on the chest, then stepped across the walkway dividing my front door from his. I rapped on his door. Nothing. I rapped again. “Hey, you up yet?”
The knob twisted, and he opened the door. He stood shirtless, wearing only black boxer briefs, his hair poking out at an odd angle. He stared at me.
I took him in from head to toe. Damn. Hot, even like this. My cock ached and swelled in my shorts. Apparently, it wasn’t listening to my head this morning. I wrapped my hands together over my groin. “So, we hiking or what?”
“Yeah, sure. Come on in.” He left the door and walked across beige carpeting strewn with discarded clothes and fast-food bags to the hallway leading to the bedroom.
As I entered, I tucked locks of my hair behind my ear and surveyed the place. The apartment’s layout differed from mine. The kitchen was on the left, while the main room opened onto a patio on the right. Beneath clothes, pizza boxes, and general trash, lay nice modern furniture in black, brown, and chrome. “Bro, you ever pick this place up?”
I strolled to the kitchen and scanned the mess. Stacks of dishes with dried food lay in the sink and on the counters. Discarded mail sat in a pile in the corner.
He strolled from the hallway, brushing his teeth. Sliding the toothbrush out from his mouth, he said, “What?”
“This place is trashed.” My gaze cut to his. Wasn’t this how my brother lived, before... I narrowed my eyes. Was he really okay, or was he on drugs I didn’t know about?
“Shut up.” He turned and walked down the hallway.
At least it gave me ammunition for the fight I waged in my heart. I frowned, moved clothes from the black leather couch in the main room, then sat.
“I’m going to take a quick shower, then we can go. Okay?” He called out from down the hall.
It would be better if I wasn’t in the same apartment while he took a shower. I’d only want to join him. So much for the internal pep talk this morning. “Yeah. Guess I’ll just go back to my place. Come and find me when you’re ready.” With a sigh, I stood and stepped to the door.
“Okay,” he called out.
I left his apartment and strolled into mine, then dropped onto my couch, twisting my lips. I shouldn’t think about Micah naked in the shower. How about his apartment? Depressed people can have messy places, right? Was he depressed? Or maybe he used more drugs than he let on? Or maybe he was just a slob. I grinned.