Raging Hard(54)

In the distance, the mountains loomed over everything.

I almost walked directly into his back before I realized that he had stopped moving.

"Whoa there," he said, catching me as I stumbled around him.

"Sorry. Didn't realize you stopped."

He grinned at me, his hand clutching my waist. Neither of us moved for half a second, and he cocked his head at me.

"Let's sit." He nodded at a bench.

I shrugged and moved away from him, out of his grasp, and lowered myself down onto the bench. He sat next to me, letting out an audible sigh.

"Legs hurt?" I asked him.

"Fuck yes. I'm not too proud to admit that they hurt like a motherfucker right now."

I laughed. "Very descriptive."

"What can I say. It's hard to be witty when walking hurts."

I leaned back on the bench. "What are we doing here, anyway?"

He reached into his jacket, pulling out a flask. I looked at it and laughed.

"Didn't have to steal this," he said.

I blinked at him, letting the reference sink in. I reached out for it and he passed the silver metal off to me. I flipped open the top and took a long drag. It was whisky, but not the cheap stuff. It went down like honey and oak, smooth and delicious. I passed it back.

"That's good," I said.

"Yeah. With shit like this, it's either tough to drink or it's delicious. Not much middle ground."

"Though the ending is always the same."

He laughed and toasted me. "Here's to that ending," he said, taking a pull.

"Careful. I think you're my ride."

"I didn't drink more than a glass back at that rich person's funeral."

"You mean the charity event?"

"Was that what it was? Sorry, I guess I couldn't tell."

I laughed and shook my head, looking out across the city. We were pretty alone on the bench, with a large hedge behind us and empty, open space ahead. I looked up at the mountains again and sighed. Out in Indiana, the only thing in the distance was more distance and snow. Usually just snow when it fell enough to block out the distance. And for most of the year, there was a thick, dark, permanent cloud cover that sucked the joy out of everything and blocked out the sun.

As much as I was bored at home, I had to admit that Colorado was pretty beautiful.

"Not bad," Lincoln grunted.

"What is?"         

     



 

"This." He nodded at the mountains.

"You ever jump off them?"

He laughed and moved himself closer to me. My heart resumed its frantic thumping.

"Once, yeah. Back when I first started."

"What's it like?"

He was silent for a second, staring off at the mountains. I almost wondered if he hadn't heard me, but then he started speaking.

"It's like freedom. It's terrifying and exciting and you're alive and dead and everything all at once. You know there's the potential for injury or worse, but that feeling you get hurtling toward the ground is totally worth all the risk. When you're up there, it all stops."

"I don't think I could do it."

He laughed at me. "You could. You're the bravest person I know."

I laughed. "Why do you say that?"

His face was close to mine. I could feel his warm breath. "Gorgeous and smart and brave. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you for years."

"Lincoln," was all I could say.

"Fuck, Brie. You know what you do to me."

"I don't."

He moved closer, his thigh against mine. I should have gotten up, but I couldn't.

"You give me that feeling. That same feeling. Freedom and terror and sky all coming up at me. You fucking bring me back to earth, Aubrie. And I'm sick of not having you."

I wanted to say something, but he crushed my reply against my mouth with his lips and kissed me hard.

It was like the last time, all those years ago. I pressed myself back against him, my arms around his neck, as the thrill and rush ran through my lips and chest, tingles cascading down my chest and spine. The air was crisp and his mouth was clean and open as he kissed me, his tongue touching mine, and I couldn't do anything else, anything else in the world, but sit on that bench and kiss him back. It was what I wanted more than anything. All the worry and the stress and the fear and the desire, it was all there and it also wasn't, and it felt so good. I thought it might never end. I was okay with that.

And then his phone started buzzing and ringing.

The old-style tone cut through the night. I pulled back, my forehead touching his, my breath coming deep.

"Silence it," I said. He grinned and reached into his pocket with his right hand, his left hand around my waist. His cane lay forgotten on the ground.

He pulled it up and paused, fingers poised over the button that would silence it. His head turned slightly and I glanced at the caller ID. It said "Cliff," which could only have been my dad.

"What does he want?" I mumbled.

Then Lincoln was gone, his forehead pulled away, his one hand holding the phone up to his face and the other retracting away from my body. I felt empty and wanted him back, but the doubt that had been held at bay by his touch flooded back into me, and I couldn't believe what had happened.

Worse, I couldn't believe how right it felt. That scared me more.

"Hello?" he said.

He paused and listened. "We went for a walk. Aubrie wasn't feeling well."

I stood up and moved a few feet away, trying to get my emotions under control. I glanced back and caught the look on Lincoln's face, both confused and angry.

"Okay, I will," he said.

He listened for another second and then hung up the phone.

"What did he want?" I asked.

"We should get you home." He reached down and grabbed his cane and then straightened up.

"Lincoln, we should talk."

He limped over to me and stood there, his face intense and concentrated.

"No, we shouldn't. Let's not talk. I said what I wanted to say. You think about it, and if you still want to talk, we can tomorrow."

"What, you can just order me around?"

"Look, we have to get you home. Your dad was worried."

"Okay, fine. Let's go."

I started walking back toward the venue and Lincoln's car, not bothering to wait up for him. I was annoyed that he'd order me around, and annoyed that he'd break away from me just because my dad had called him.

Mostly, though, I was annoyed with myself. Because as much as I wanted it to not be true, I wanted him. I was soaking wet, and I would have gone down on him right there if he had wanted me to. I didn't know what the hell was wrong with me.

I was in for one awkward and quiet ride home. But he was right about one thing: I needed to think about what had happened. I needed to think about what I wanted.

I had to figure out if I would give in to what I knew could be a huge mistake.





Chapter Ten: Lincoln


I was falling. I could feel the wind whipping through my hair and the scream of it passing across my ear drums, and the sky all around me was dark. I couldn't see the building I had just jumped from and I couldn't see the ground, but I didn't care because she was there, right in front of me. I could smell her hair and her skin, despite the sensory overload that falling inevitably brings. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her closer against me, closer even than the straps that held her body in place.         

     



 

And we fell together. I felt more alive than I ever had before, and I could tell that I was laughing. I kissed her lips and wondered briefly why she was strapped in facing me instead of facing outward like usual. But I didn't care. Somehow it made sense. I kissed her and she kissed me back, our lips and limbs intertwined. We were hurtling toward the ground faster than a train, our bodies tiny in the black void of the night, and all I wanted was her. My cock was hard and straining against my clothes. When we landed, I knew I was going to take her, right there. I was going to fuck her until everything was gone and she was mine.

I pulled away, wanting to look at her. She smiled at me and her mouth moved. I couldn't hear what she was saying.

"What?" I yelled over the wind.

She said something again. Before I could respond, the old panic welled up in my chest.

"I need to pull the chord," I yelled.

She kept smiling and saying something, over and over.

I reached back for the old familiar tug, but found nothing. I tried looking over my shoulder, craning my neck, but it was so dark and we were falling so fast. I patted my whole body, searching frantically for the cord, but it was gone.

It was completely gone.

Somebody had strapped Aubrie in wrong and had cut the cord and we were going to smash into the ground. We were going to smash like a shooting star, together.

"I can't find the chord," I yelled.

She kept smiling and saying something, over and over and over.

I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her head against my chest. I began to rotate, hoping that maybe my body would break her fall. Maybe she would survive. I held on to her tightly, the ground rushing up at us.

I woke up, drenched in sweat. Another fucking nightmare,

I thought.

It was the same dream, but a little different. Instead of reliving the crash again, I was strapped in with Aubrie and we were falling together. We were falling without a chute.

I shook my head, clearing away the lingering feelings from the dream, and sat up. I hadn't spoken to Aubrie since the charity event five days ago, but she was the only thing on my mind since then. The kiss, the look on her face, and the call from her dad. More than that, what it meant that I could barely keep myself from barging into her room every night and ripping off her clothes.