20. Cruz

20

CRUZ

I f there was one thing I could understand, it was wanting an out. That feeling has been chasing after me ever since I could remember.

When I first saw the look on Micah's face, it dumbfounded me. My first reaction had been poor little rich boy, but then I thought fuck it , and I gave him an out.

There was something about water that, before last summer, I found peaceful. Water could be docile and inviting. Other times, it could be wild and violent. Water was never afraid to touch me, and I used to find comfort in that.

Soon after I realized that college wouldn't be all that different from high school, I drove around town hoping to find a place I could make my own since Blackwell Lake wouldn't be an option.

The creek was small, but it had coverage from the sides. Over the last two years, a trail had been made from all the times I had driven over here. Only when I put the car in park did Micah finally snap out of the dark place he had gone to.

I took my seat belt off and then turned my body to face him. He instantly tensed as if he had now realized he was truly alone with me. There was no Ava or Grayson to run interference. No students or teachers on campus. It was just the two of us.

"I can see why they're both obsessed with you," I murmured.

Without thinking about it, I reached out toward him, slowly stroking his cheek with one of my fingers. I wanted to touch him, but more than anything, I wanted to test him. His response was sweet, and his innocent shiver went straight to my aching cock.

"W-who? Where are we?"

His rambling was cute. There was a softness to Micah that made you want to exploit it or protect it. I wasn't sure where I was at yet, but what I did know was that hanging with him was addicting.

Instead of replying, I found his gaze. My fingers slid down from his cheek to his jaw. I could feel some scruff from where he didn't shave this morning. I had noticed he preferred the clean look—it suited him. Now I just pictured how his cheeks would scratch my thighs if he were to blow me.

Micah's eyes were wide, maybe with wonder and part terror, but his pupils were blown, and that was all the confirmation I needed. My hand made its way to his nape, and I tugged him closer.

His breath hitched as my blood hummed. I was starting to feel alive for the first time in days.

"Micah," I managed to say.

I don't know if I was warning him or asking for permission, but I just knew that this was about to happen.

"Yes," he breathed in response.

"Fuck. Yes," I whispered, finally letting myself taste him.

He tasted like innocence waiting to be corrupted. Micah's lips moved stiffly, and unsure, a part of him still fighting his attraction toward me. I brought my other hand to his cheek as I deepened our kiss.

Micah let out a soft groan as he began to kiss me back. His lips soon fought me for dominance, and if it meant he would keep kissing me, I was ready for him to take the lead. Not being able to help myself, I bit his lower lip. He let out a soft moan, and I knew I wanted to hear him moan again. Before I could do it again, he put his hands against my chest and pushed me back.

"That didn't… I'm not…" He stumbled on his words. "Nothing happened."

Lips red and swollen, his hair slightly mussed, I knew Micah was about to have a panic attack in my car.

I should have treated him with more care—but we were already lying to the world about so much shit. Why should we lie to ourselves?

Micah was looking at anything but me. He straightened himself on the seat as he looked out into the creek.

He stiffened when I extended my hand.

"This doesn't feel like nothing," I let him know as I ran my hand over his hard-on.

He wasn't expecting that, and judging by his sharp intake of breath, I knew a part of him liked it. Micah's cheeks bloomed with color. Sighing, I dropped it for now. I pulled my door open and stepped out.

"Come on."

I stood outside by myself for a few minutes while Micah gathered his wits…or he convinced himself that it was perfectly heterosexual to kiss a guy and get a stiffy for him.

Maybe it was because I had been tossed around from house to house that I'd seen some shit. Perhaps I was just too fucking jaded, and the fact that I wanted to fuck girls or guys wasn't such a big deal to me—not when I didn't know if I would have any food to eat that day.

The world had bigger problems than who you wanted to sink your dick into. Now, murder was a problem.

I didn't turn around when I heard the echo of Micah's footprints. I stood there watching the creek, letting the sound of the running water lull me into a state of peace.

"I never knew this was here." Micah finally broke the ice.

"If you follow the creek for half a mile, it will lead into the lake. It's easier to do in the fall since most trees have lost their leaves. The trail stops just ahead in the summer."

From the corner of my eye, I could see Micah nodding as he put his hands in his pockets.

"You have problems with your old man?"

I don't know why I asked. His family problems weren't any of my business, but they were something that had always fascinated me. Watching family dynamics was interesting to me and to many kids who grew up without parents.

His silence spoke louder than any words could. I let myself look at him and was surprised by the anger in his eyes.

"It's complicated."

"At least you have that," I said bitterly. "My mother dropped me off to get rid of her complication."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know."

A humorless chuckle left my lips.

"Why do people do that? Apologize for shit they had nothing to do with? That's the problem with the world nowadays. Too many people are saying sorry, and they don't even know what for."

Micah didn't say anything at first. Instead, he leaned down, took a stone, and skipped it in the water. He was actually pretty good at it because a few seconds later, I tried, and it fell flat.

"You're pretty good," I told him.

Since we'd kissed, he finally looked at me… He let himself see me. There was a sad smile on his lips.

"I'm just not talented in the areas my dad wants me to be."

He didn't need to say more. I understood what he was trying to say, and his weird dynamic with Grayson was more than brewing sexual tension. Hell, it might have started off as actual hatred at one point, but there was just one fine little line between hate and the best sex you've ever had.

We didn't talk about what happened in the car. We didn't talk about my fucked-up family life or his dad. We stayed there at that creek, skipping rocks until night fell. The lack of speaking should have been a problem, but it was nice knowing that someone was with me in that moment and no words were needed.