Chapter 15 #2
“Nine! Not bad, right? I wish I’d paid more attention in physics, but I think the key is to get a good first bounce. Oh, and to use a flatter stone.” I motioned Gus over to a pile of shale near the shore, having long ago abandoned my earlier skeptical outlook.
I felt my shoulders drop into place as we strolled the lakeside, pausing to gather and skip stones. We egged each other on with silly taunts.
“My ninety-year-old grandma could throw farther than that with one hand tied behind her back,” Gus teased.
“And yet that was still farther than your last throw.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“It was. Watch this.” We counted together, hooting at the twelfth skip.
Gus picked me up, spun me in a circle, and blew a raspberry on my cheek as he set me down. Of course, he laughed at my irritated glower and the muffled, “Gross.”
“You’re funny, Rafey. Loosen up that arm. I promise you, all your problems will fade away.”
“Hmm.” I sifted the cool stones through my fingers and tore my gaze away with a sigh. “Good. ’Cause I have another problem—Eli.”
“What’s going on with pinky man?”
“He wants more finger action,” I deadpanned, then spilled the beans.
To his credit, Gus was a great listener. He nodded, pausing every once in awhile to throw a stone.
“Weird. Do you really think a faux-bromance or romance would help?”
“I don’t know. It’s association, I guess. It’s probably the only reason he was interested in me in the first place. The worst part is that I could actually use some good publicity to make up for being out of commission for a year. I don’t have an agent anymore.”
“Then do it,” Gus said matter-of-factly.
My jaw dropped. “Really? You think I should pretend-date Eli?”
“I don’t like it…but I wouldn’t want to hold you back. Look, I can talk to Walker about doing an interview for What’s New, Smithton? with you. I mean, if you’re going to get any publicity he’s your best bet.”
I shook my head emphatically. “No, no. I can’t talk to Walker. He’s got too many followers, and as you know now, I’m not skating my best at the moment. I need to fix my mechanics before I invite extra scrutiny on the ice. I’ll just freeze. I know I will.”
Gus hummed sympathetically. “I get it. Do whatever you gotta do to get your shot, Rafey. Think of the long game.”
The ‘I’m not your long game’ was unspoken yet so damn loud that it reverberated through my skull. It was true, of course, but I didn’t want to discuss the particulars of our temporary liaison.
“Maybe you’re right,” I choked out, flinging another stone.
“Nice, Rafey. If you beat fifteen, you get to name your prize.”
“Anything I want?”
“Anything.” He flashed a wicked grin that made my breath catch in my chest.
I was suddenly humbled by his kindness.
Gus Langley was a good man.
“Thanks for this. I appreciate it.”
He pivoted, oozing mischief and mayhem. Something in his eyes dimmed, though, and when he spoke, his tone was surprisingly serious.
“You’ll get past this, Rafe. The yips, the pressure, the noise. Sometimes you have to step away from it all and reset. This is a good place for it. Nothing but birds and fish and deer. Skunks too, but I steer clear of them.”
I smiled and sent another stone skittering across the water. “Smart thinking.”
“I have my moments.” He held up a stone, shook it between his palms and tossed it. “Gimme sixteen, baby.”
We counted to seven together and groaned in unison.
“Do you do this often? I mean…to relax or…whatever.”
“Not really. The last time I was here I was with some teammates celebrating a win with a twelve-pack and—” He squinted at the lake and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I guess it’s been a while.”
“Is that on purpose?” I ventured cautiously. “I’ve noticed there haven’t been many parties at the house lately. If that’s for my sake, thank you, but…it’s your place too. You’ve gone above and beyond, and I appreciate—”
“Don’t thank me.” Gus faced me, his eyes stormy and readable. “I was a jerk, and we both know it. And anyway, I didn’t quit drinking for you—I did it because I got tired of blacking out and wondering what I’d missed.”
“You quit drinking?”
“I quit everything. Booze, weed, drugs…” He ticked the items off on his fingers.
“Cold turkey, too. I haven’t had so much as a sip of warm Bud Lite or a puff of a cigarette, although I hate Bud Lite and cigarettes are nasty.
My cravings run more toward Coronas, Johnnie Walker, Patron, and mary-juana.
I never minded popping a pill every once in a while either or taking gummies. But…that’s the old me.”
“Okay. Um…why?”
“I’m trying on sobriety and seeing how it fits.”
“And?”
“It sucks,” Gus huffed, his lips twisting in a weary self-deprecating smirk.
“I wake up in the morning stressed out, worrying about shit I can’t control.
Same as always. Working through the bullshit without alcohol is really fucking hard.
I’ve been going to the gym like a fiend and drinking more coffee than I think is technically healthy, but…
I’ve stayed away from the bottle, so I’m calling it a win.
I wish I knew what the prize was, ’cause feeling like crap twenty-four seven can’t be it. ”
I opened and closed my mouth. “I…I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” He bumped my arm playfully and ruffled my hair. “I’m the one with the supersized issues. Maybe I should have told you earlier, but I haven’t told anyone. Not even my best friends.”
“Why not?”
Gus scoffed. “ ’Cause I’m their captain too, and they don’t want to hear that their captain is a head case who’s been drowning out real life with booze on the regular.
I’m supposed to be their rock. I’m supposed to build morale, remind them to have fun, keep perspective.
What I’m not supposed to do is wake up in the clothes I wore the night before and hope I didn’t do anything too stupid… every damn morning.”
“Your friends will understand. And they’ll support you.”
He raked his fingers through his hair and shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe. But I’m taking it one day at a time. I started talking to my therapist daily again. She wants me to go to AA meetings.”
“Will you?”
“Probably. I want to do this…for my own sake. I don’t want my parents involved.
I don’t want to hear about how I’m disappointing everyone or what a relapse will do to my career path and their reputation.
I get it…I’m a fuckup, but I’m the one living in this body, and I’ve got to listen to my own advice and be happy.
Waking up hungover does not make me happy. ”
I dropped the stones in my fist and set a hand on Gus’s hip. “What can I do?”
He quirked his chin curiously. “What do you mean?”
“How can I help? Tell me what you need.”
Gus exhaled and closed his eyes briefly. “You don’t have to do anything. You’ve already been doing it for weeks. I should have been honest, but…I feel pretty ashamed. I hate the way I treated you.”
“What? That’s silly. You’ve been perfectly nice and—”
“Dude, I spent most of this year high. Always high. I’m finally sober, and the best thing about that has been being with you.
” He stepped aside, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.
“I mean it. I’ll admit that it started out with me just trying to stay busy and out of the way of danger.
I didn’t care if you got a date with Eli.
It was an excuse to talk about something that was harmless and outside of my normal routine.
And when you went out with him, yeah…I kinda hated it, but I figured that was because I’d lose my distraction.
If that sounds cold and selfish, that’s ’cause it is. ”
“So you’re using me to stay sober?”
He winced. “No. I never thought of it that way, but maybe at first that was true. The thing is…I didn’t think we’d end up in bed.
Me and you. I definitely didn’t plan on us being friends with benefits…
if that’s what we are. Now that you know I’m a hot mess, I won’t be offended if you want to rethink our situation.
I don’t want to be a complication, but I like you, Rafe.
I like hanging out with you. Fuck, you make this shit feel doable. Like maybe I’m on the right path.”
“You are,” I replied, unthinking.
“Thanks.”
“I…I had no idea you were struggling, Gus. I wish I’d known. I wish there was something I could do, something I could say, or—”
“No, no. I don’t want that. The last thing I need is sympathy. I just want to be honest with you, so…I dunno, maybe your uphill climb won’t feel as lonely. Everyone carries baggage…that’s all.”
Instinctively, I slipped my hand in his and squeezed his fingers. “You’re not alone either.”
Gus’s smile was sweet and a touch vulnerable, and his kiss was tender. Gone was the earlier desperation and the manic horniness that had become our trademark.
We were quiet on the drive home, but the silence wasn’t awkward in the slightest. It felt poignant, as if we’d entered a new phase where words weren’t required.
The only person I’d ever had that with was Celine.
But I wasn’t attracted to Celine, and I was unprepared for the heady juxtaposition of physical desire and friendship.
We didn’t hurry. We undressed in between languid kisses and came together with a gentle push and pull, soft sighs, and deep kisses. We lay on our sides, Gus moving inside me, his left leg hooked over mine. He nudged my prostate, countering each powerful thrust with whispers of “So good, so good.”
Pleasure built slow and steady. I did my best to hold on, but I lost the battle, crying out with the force of my orgasm. Gus was right behind me, trembling with his head on my shoulder.
We didn’t budge for a few minutes, and then Gus made a crack about the wet spot I’d made on his mattress and suddenly, we were us again.
We grumbled about the right way to put a fitted sheet on a bed and whose turn it was to choose a show before settling on the sofa with our feet entwined, passing a pint of ice cream back and forth.
I liked us. I liked this new friendship. We were an odd pair for sure, but I was beginning to think we were good for each other.
At least for a little while.