36. Everest

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Everest

“Fuck, baby, just like that.”

I throw my head back, my hands braced on Rhys’s chest as I swivel my hips in time to the beat of the song playing in the background. As far as sex playlists go, grinding on his cock to the beat of “You” by Greta Isaac is top tier.

“Damn, you look like a porn star,” he growls, giving my dick loose little tugs that drive me mad. “Yes, fuck, you ride my cock so well.”

I’m beyond able to answer him, lost to how full I feel, that beautiful stretch that burns in the sweetest way. I move on to the soles of my feet, bending at my knees so I can bounce on him with fervor, enough to make him start groaning and cursing and calling out my name.

“Want to come on your face,” he pants, seeming to both push and pull me toward him. “Jesus, Ev. You’re making me come. You and that tight little hole of yours. So perfect.”

I shake my head, sweat beading on my chest while I lean back so his dick pegs my prostate with every bounce. “No. You’re the one who’s going to have cum on your face. Want your cum inside me. Need to feel you filling me up.”

As his eyes roll to the back of his head, I know I’ve got him. His hands latch onto my hips, and I decide to let him run the show as I start to jerk myself off. He manhandles me despite my size, jacking up into me, and plowing me for everything I’m worth.

It all electrifies, everything inside me; I can feel all my nerves vibrating as my gut clenches and my balls draw up. “Rhys, please, give me your cum.”

“Fuck!” he shouts, losing his rhythm. His chest heaves up and down, his nostrils flared like he’s pissed, so gorgeous it makes my heart hurt. “Ev, baby, I?—”

Whatever he was going to say next gets cut off as his hot cum fills me, and I lose myself along with him. I’m entirely exhausted by the time I’ve covered his face, jet after jet coating his chin and cheeks. I fall on top of him with a hmph , gasping when his still hard cock slips out of me.

“Don’t be messy,” he chides, a tease in his voice as he slaps my ass. “Clean me up.”

Jesus Christ, he’s dirty . Either way, I lap at his skin, chasing my cum on his face, and making sure I get every last drop. He seizes my lips with an almost roar, sliding and stroking our tongues together until I’m sure he has the taste of me engrained to his memory.

I pull back and smile at his sloppy wet lips, still covered in just a bit of cum. “That was fun.”

“Mmm,” he hums. Rubbing a territorial hand on my ass, he smirks. “Incredible. Here, baby, move. You’re suffocating me.”

I roll off him with a laugh, splaying myself next to him, and practically glowing when he moves to rest his head on my chest. While I love having him inside me, I love this even more. It’s these moments when we’re both buzzing and coming down together that make us grow closer. I stroke his hair, enjoying the slight smell of whatever woodsy shampoo he uses. I’m just about to suggest we take a nap before finding something to do on his day off, when his phone rings. He reaches for it on the nightstand and immediately sits up.

“Who is it?” I ask, expecting him to just silence it and come back to bed, but he waves me away almost nervously. “Rhys?”

“Hey, Elton.”

Immediately, I shoot out of Rhys’s bed. His cum dripping down my thigh feels almost lewd as I struggle to shove myself into my boxers. He gives me a questioning look as I get dressed, listening only half-intently as he waves me down.

“Yeah, totally,” he mumbles, grabbing my wrist when I try to leave. “No, everything’s great. More than great, actually.”

I can hear Elton on the other end of the line, his voice raised in that animated way when he’s too excited to contain himself. Rhys doesn’t seem to be paying attention to what he’s saying. Instead, he rubs his thumb against the inside of my wrist, but it doesn’t calm me like it normally would.

Everything within me feels clammy. Like I’m turning to mush. My body starts shaking in a way it hasn’t in a while, all my senses heightened until the barely-there static of Elton’s voice is nothing but a buzz.

Rhys must sense that because he curses under his breath before cutting Elton off. “Look, I got to go. I’ll call you later.”

Elton’s arguing on the other side, that’s clear enough, but Rhys doesn’t care. He hangs up halfway through Elton’s sentence and tosses the phone on the bed. Pulling me toward him so I’m tumbling down and into his arms, he braces my fall as I land on his chest. He instantly wraps his arms around my trembling body and there’s a hint of fear in his voice as he speaks. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“W-Why did y-you answer-r?” I stutter. I try to fight against his hold because I feel weak. Weak and feeble. Like I could break any second.

Humming softly, he cups the back of my head. “Breathe first. In and out, Ev. You need to calm your breathing.”

I continue to struggle in his hold, but he just keeps me tethered to him. After a few minutes, the fight drains out of me, and I slump in his arms. The tears I felt burning in my eyes fall on his bare shoulder, light sobs escaping my throat in hoarse cries. He keeps me against him throughout, stroking my hair and rocking me back and forth until my breathing finally evens out.

“Ev?” he asks, kissing the top of my head. “What just happened?”

“I… I don’t know,” I whisper. I stay hidden in the crook of his neck, not wanting to pull back and see his reaction to whatever the fuck just happened. “I’m sorry.”

He forces my head back and puts a finger under my chin. He’s not looking at me with pity or regret, but a softer kind of affection I haven’t seen in years. “You have nothing to apologize for. Do you know what panic attacks are?”

“I’ve heard of them,” I say, thinking back to the mental health seminar my high school sponsored my senior year. “What about it?”

“I think you might have just had one.” He moves us so we’re both sitting against the headboard facing each other. “Do you struggle with anxiety?”

“I…” I trail off. Do I? I know what anxiety is, about as much as anyone, but how would I know if I’ve experienced it before?

I think back to the times when I’ve felt a bit out of control and not like myself. I’ve always rationalized that everyone must experience moments where they physically feel like throwing up, like crying, like they can’t stop their mind from just running and running and running. But does that mean I have anxiety?

“It’s okay,” Rhys says when I don’t reply after a minute. “You don’t have to answer. I’m not a therapist or a psychiatrist, but it looked like you were having some sort of panic attack.”

I sniffle, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “What should I do?”

“Does this happen often?”

I shrug. “I mean, sometimes I feel overwhelmed or just…off, I guess? I’ve only gone through what just happened a couple of times.”

“A couple of times is enough to see someone about it.”

“You think I need therapy?” I shake my head, scoffing as I go to get up. “No.”

“Baby, there’s nothing wrong with seeing someone every now and then,” he says as he follows me off the bed. Yanking his underwear on, he reaches me just before I can make it to his door. “Please. I’m not trying to say there’s something wrong with you. I’m just worried.”

I drop my head on his door, hands braced against the wood as I think through his words. I know there’s nothing wrong with people seeing a therapist, but it seems like something that…

“Elton doesn’t need a therapist.”

“The fuck did you just say?”

“Elton doesn’t need a therapist,” I repeat. Turning around, I flinch at the fury on Rhys’s face. Still, I hold my ground. “He’s perfect. Fucking charming, talented, smart. Normal . He’s?—”

I’m slammed against the door before I know what’s happening. Oxygen leaves my lungs in a rush, whooshing out of me as Rhys pounds his hands on either side of my head. “Don’t ever fucking say that again. You are not Elton.”

“And that’s the problem, right?” My voice cracks at the end, surprising even me. “I’m not him. Not as smart, not as funny, not as strong. I’m just average and ordinary and?—”

With a growl, he pins me back by my shoulders, his grip on me painfully tight. “Where is this coming from?”

“What are we going to tell him, Rhys?”

There. The truth we’ve both tried to push to the back. Elton comes back at the end of next week, and Rhys and I have just been pretending like it isn’t going to happen. Not even that, we haven’t brought it up at all.

I didn’t think it was bothering me until now. But thinking about it, I don’t like the way this is starting to feel like a dirty secret. I keep rationalizing that we haven’t said anything to Elton because it’s just not the time, but how can I be sure of that? He’s Rhys’s best friend and wouldn’t he want him to know?

We’ve made all these plans of moving in together and building something for just the two of us, but how much of that is going to stay true when the greater Hill returns? What if I was just something for him to pass the time until his platonic soulmate came back? How will I ever compare to big fucking Elton in his life?

Rhys drops his hands. He steps away, gulping, and all that fury he felt seems to have disappeared. Opening and closing his mouth, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before sighing. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” I parrot, hurt stabbing through me at his words.

“Is that what this is about?” He’s softer now as he takes my hand, holding it tight so I can’t yank it away. “Can we sit down?” he questions tentatively. When I don’t move, he tugs me toward him. “Please, Ev. We need to talk about this.”

All my instincts are telling me to run, but the pleading look in Rhys’s dark eyes makes me stay. I follow him to the bed but keep a considerable distance from him. I’m experiencing so much right now—a mix of humiliation, shame, and rage—and I don’t know what to do with any of it.

“Let’s start here. Why are you comparing yourself to Elton?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he studies me.

“How can I not?” I chuckle humorlessly. “He’s everything I’m not. Lacrosse made me special and then it got taken away. You know I’m not smart?—”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m scared that when he comes back, you’ll realize that you settled for the wrong brother.”

It’s a deeper fear than I realized I had. I can’t believe I was so stupid that for these last few weeks I thought I could ever compete with my brother. That I could somehow be the one people would choose.

I can sense my heartbeat quickening, but Rhys is there in a second, cupping my face before I can get lost in my head. “Everest, listen to me.” He licks his lips, eyes darting nervously between mine. “You are not the wrong brother . You are special to me, baby. You . I have never thought of Elton that way before and I never will. There’s not even a choice between the two of you.”

“But what if there is?” I cry, reaching for his wrists. “What if Elton gets pissed and makes you choose.”

He shakes his head. “He won’t.”

“But what if he does?”

“Ev, I—” He cuts himself off quickly and curses under his breath. Pulling me closer, he drops his forehead against mine. “There’s not going to be a choice. There doesn’t need to be. You aren’t living in Elton’s shadow because you’re your own fucking sun. Baby, I wish you could see just how one-of-a-kind you are.”

His words flow through me and calm the raging storm. He hasn’t answered the question—what if Elton freaks out—but I guess he did in his own way. When he speaks with such determination and passion, such meaning , how can I not believe him?

“Damn, I’m stupid.” I scoff to myself. “I went and got all dramatic?—”

“Don’t pull that whole undervaluing your feelings shit. Not with me,” he insists, wiping away a tear I hadn’t known had fallen with his thumb. “Is this something you’ve been struggling with? Comparing yourself to your brother?”

“Ever since the accident,” I say with a nod. “It’s so?—”

“Don’t fucking say stupid.” Both of us chuckle, and he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me tighter to his side. “I wish I could make it so you didn’t, but I can’t. All I can tell you, Ev, is…”

I peek up at him when his words fade. I quirk an eyebrow, curious at the faraway expression in his eyes. “What?”

“You’ll never be second place to me. How can you?” He leans in close so I can barely feel his lips and smiles. “All the space. All the air. Remember that? Fuck, I’m so lost in you, even Apollo 11 couldn’t find my way home.”

“Did you just…make a historical reference to explain your feelings for me?”

He snorts as his shoulders start to shake with repressed laughter. “I guess I did.”

“Holy hell, that was cheesy,” I laugh, slapping his shoulder. “What? Am I going to get a George Washington joke next?”

“Shut up,” he snaps, but the chuckle in his voice is too loud to hide. He sobers after a moment, though, and runs his thumb against my bottom lip. “Do you believe me, Ev?” He taps his temple with his free hand. “It’s just you in there. Too much, if you ask me.”

I believe him. Everything he’s saying is true, and I know because…

I love him.

I’m so in love with him. Not just the way he makes me feel, but the person he is. Loyal, strong, calm in the storm, but passionate in the breeze. He took my freakout and brought me back, took my fears and soothed them, and took my deepest insecurities and made them feel like they were never there to begin with.

I love Rhys in a way I never thought I would.

I kiss him, catching him off guard, but he recovers quickly. He gives me all of himself with his lips, patching the broken parts of me back together, taking the shattered bits and making them whole.

It won’t be easy. Elton, my own issues, Rhys’s future, it’s all up in the air, but he’s my constant.

“It’s going to be okay,” he assures me when he comes up for a breath. “You’ll see, baby. Everything will be okay.”

And when he puts it like that, how can I not believe him?