And as the moments passed, silence eerie and unavoidable, everything that was us came to a halt.
All of Nik’s carefully placed and meaningful words—straight into the void.
It was cowardly and immature and indirect in a way that was so unlike the two of us. When we disagreed, we did it, telling one another, schooling one another, or in my case, emphasizing the point with a slap or a shove. But I couldn’t bring myself to confront this talking point. I couldn't look at it, couldn’t listen to it, or accidentally touch it with a ten foot pole.
I was leaving for training camp tomorrow.
It wasn’t like I was off to war or anything, but it was a destination of isolation and distance. And it required a plentiful amount of focus that I couldn’t afford to sacrifice to thoughts and wonderings about him.
He must have sensed my panic—it was hard to miss—and moved on without reproach or penalty.
The more time I spent with him, the more I started to wonder if he had been to some kind of saint training.
His patience seemed endless, the depths of its pool stretching all the way to the center of the earth.
Wanting to give him something in return, some confirmation that he meant something to me even if I couldn’t find a way to say it, I leaned over slowly and settled my lips onto his.
A breath left his lungs almost immediately, a mixture of relief and happiness and satisfaction.
As much as we fought each other and as much as I fought myself, it all came down to this.
A connection, tried and true and real in every possible sense of the word.
Some people bring you peace and others mix it up, but what Nik showed me was that I had never really lived either.
Safe but unsatisfied, gymnastics had been just that as the years passed—a place to be.
I wasn’t content but I wasn’t scared either, and the combination of the two was enough to keep me there much longer than it probably should have.
His hands moved to my neck, pulling me up and into his lap, a leg straddling each side and my lips firmly on his. He kissed and I kissed back, opening my mouth to him and allowing his tongue to take control.
From turmoil to need, my belly shifted and coiled and begged me to give it some kind of absolution.
Down the front of my shirt, his hands skimmed the fabric with care and reverence, hooking at the bottom of the hem and retracing their steps up when they did.
The night was quiet and deserted, only the two of us and the sounds we made to keep us company. His groans fed my moans, and his touch mirrored the direction of mine.
My hands went to his hips, and his followed suit, squeezing and kneading my exposed flesh with the pads of his fingertips.
One hand left my hip to pull the shirt over his head, his skin clinging to mine with the damp of the air nearly immediately.
We moved together and apart, friction heating the connection and making my entire body flush with need.
He laid his shirt on the sandy ground and me on top of it, stripping my pants and panties in one smooth motion and kissing the path left exposed.
My eyes closed as his tongue lapped between my legs, and the arch of my back stretched as though on a tightening string to the moon.
The air around us shimmered, water droplets and lightning bugs and bright flashes of pleasure all mixing together to create one of the most impressive shows I’d ever been privy to.
He stood, shoving his own pants down and rolling on a condom, and then settled back between the waiting space between my legs.
His eyes held mine as he entered me slowly, his lips a scant millimeter off of the surface of mine. Our breaths mingled and mixed, concocting a new recipe of scent and sensation that I would forever associate with this moment.
A slow burn built in my belly, sliding into my limbs and spreading into my chest with each thrust. In a test of flexibility he ran his hand down my leg to my calf and lifted, up and out to the side and around, until the center of that muscle settled fully onto his shoulder.
My legs in a full split, I marveled at the feel of him, deeper and thicker and even more present in this position. I could feel his every inch, and he could feel mine, and the only thing that would have made it better was being able to admit that he was it for me.
That the rest didn’t matter—not the things or the expectations or the people.
He started to shake, and his lips met mine, urging me to find my pleasure faster before he found his.
I pushed myself and fought it at the same time, wanting the ultimate high without wanting it to end.
“Callie,” he whispered, desperately close to his climax. The seconds immediately after seemed empty, desperate to be filled with more words of declaration. Of promises, of dreams, of love.
But I closed my eyes and let go, welcoming the freedom of my release as I orgasmed, screaming into the silence and breathing heavily into the shell of his ear.
He groaned just as I finished, my peak driving him to his with laser like precision.
I could feel him twitch and pulse inside me at the same time that my body held onto him and refused to let go.
Breaths mingled as we came down, kissing and pecking and sucking at each other with gentle affection.
His hands felt like heaven, and I’d finally gotten over the fear of using mine. They scratched and pulled at the smooth skin of his back, but he keened, relishing the feel and letting me know it.
Brief moments turned into long minutes as he reluctantly pulled out of me and lifted his weight to the side.
Looking into his eyes with the sky dark and glittering behind him, I felt complete.
Until I remembered something.
“I’ve just realized what we’ve done.”
“You’ve just now realized?” he asked through a chuckle, smoothing the sticky hair out of my face and trying not to cover me in sand.
“No, not that. I knew we were doing that the whole time.”
“Thank God,” he laughed with a close of his brilliant blue eyes.
“I just remembered what you told me the first night we came here.”
“What did I tell you?” he asked, at a loss.
“You know!”
“I’m afraid I don’t, Cal.”
“That you come here to be close to your parents!” I whisper-yelled.
His eyes widened slightly just as I spewed the rest of my panic. “You don’t think they saw us, do you?”
“No,” he comforted, wrapping his tan arms around me and squeezing.
My eyes closed in relief and my head settled onto the perfect pillow of his shoulder.
“They probably heard you though.”
“Nik!”
“I’m just saying,” he teased, and then mouthed, “Loud,” directly against the salty skin of my cheek.
Feeling properly teased and content, I leaned into him and lie there, counting the stars and the bugs and the times the ocean rolled in and back out again.
I think I got to a thousand of each before I even considered moving, the late hour of the night and the pull of responsibility making me cringe all the way down to my toes.
“I just want to live in this moment,” I admitted as we climbed on the back of his motorcycle to go back to the gym for my car.
I wanted to stay there on that beach with him and spend the night in his arms, and for now it wasn't a possibility.
I felt trapped by circumstance and freed by feeling.
I’d never felt this complicated in my life.
“Calia,” my mom’s soft voice called out of the darkness, sounding like a gunshot in the dead silent house.
My hand shot to my chest, and I took a panicked step back.
“Geez! Mom! You scared me.”
Out of the dark and into the light, she padded softly from her spot in the living room to the opening in the hall. Her nightgown peeked out from underneath her robe, and the satin of her sash tangled loosely at her waist. Her feet were bare, and her long brown hair hung neatly in front of one shoulder.