Date: Fri, 4 Jan 2013 00:30:33 -0800 (PST) From: Joey Young Subject: Untitled Love Story, Chapter 25 Usual Disclaimers Apply Author's Note: To my avid fan base, I deeply apologize for the continued delay of this latest chapter. And I will not make any false notions or promises of speeding up the writing process. However, I would like to say thank you for the continued support you have given me and my story and again to apologize for my lack of communication. So bear with me as the story progresses and hopefully this new chapter will tide you over. Best wishes for the New Year, -Joey Young Untitled Love Story Chapter 25 I jerked awake, my nose snuffling loudly like that of a pig. Dim moonlight filtered into the soft blue room, which was familiar but also...not. For a moment or two I lay there listening. The silence had that freshly broken sharpness. I rose on an elbow and gauged my surroundings. I ran my palms across my eyes, feeling a dense fog of confusion lower over me. Why was I in Drew's room? So late at night? And where were my clothes? Immediately it dawned on me. A hundred thoughts ran through my head, each a different memory, caress, and flavor of what happened last night. I cried out in pain, barely stifling the outburst from being heard. In the dim gloom I saw Drew roll onto his side, the white sheet clinging tightly to his bare abdomen. He groaned softly and slid an arm around my silky waist. I shivered at the warm touch, trying to ignore the heat it caused in the pit of my stomach. With a heavy sigh, last night came to the forefront of my mind.... -=- Last night: Where do I go now? What do I do now? My pulse raced with heated blood, even though my body sagged heavily against the car's steering wheel. What had just happened? What had I done to our relationship? Was it too late to salvage what we had? . . . . . Did I even want to salvage what was left? All these thoughts warred in my head, vying for my attention. But none were able to consume me completely. Suddenly a shrill ring sounded out in the depths of my mind, piercing each and every one of my nerves. It took me a moment to realize it was my cellphone and it took even longer for me to fish it out of my jacket in the backseat. Stacey's name blazed on the screen like a lighthouse calling me home after a long bout at sea. I flipped it open and pressed the receiver to my ear. "Hello," I croaked my voice thick. "Cale, Caleb?!" "Yeah?" "Are you okay? Where are you?" "I'm fine, I'm fine. Don't worry." "How can I not worry, what with Dante calling saying it was imperative I call you and figure out if you're okay. . . . What happened anyway? Dante wouldn't say." I stared out at the dark parking lot of Wal-Mart, where I had stopped. Most of the streetlights were out and only the blue illumination of the department store kept me company. In the distance I could make out a few shoppers making their way to their vehicles, but that hardly alleviated the loneliness I felt. "We...uh...I think we broke up." The silence that followed told volumes. "Ummm....what?" Those two words seemed to sum up my whole thought process. "Yeah," I sniffed. "Are you okay?" I pondered that question for a minute, fully trying to interpret its meaning in my soul. Was I okay? What was the capacity of this okay? And how much did that okay cover? But instead I just answered a simple, yes. "Wanna talk?" she persisted. In the background I heard a few voices. "No, I think I'm just gonna go home. Think this over, you know?" "You sure?" "Of course." "Well, I'm going to stay on the phone as long as you want. We don't have to talk, but I'll be here." I sniffed again, this time tears were definitely on the brim of my vision. I wiped uselessly at the torrent of emotion welling up in my eyes. I could hear Stacey's even breath on the other line; a comforting reminder that I was not alone. Softly I began to cry. And for a full 15 minutes I cried into the phone, listening to Stacey's soft whisper of reassurance, before I hung up. It didn't take me long to figure out where I was headed and even then I couldn't stop myself. I was a creature of habit if anything and to subject myself to his presence was nothing short of masochism, bordering on pathetic. And so I found myself in front of his brick two story house, my finger lingering over his doorbell. The house was dark and the driveway empty save for his dark blue ford pickup. Indecision kept me frozen as I stared at the white oak of his front door, while true magnetism drew me forward into the unknown. I stood a moment longer, feeling the weight of my choice, before I slowly turned and headed for the sidewalk. Not a moment later did I look up from my feet then I did see him standing on the edge of the porch, his expression slightly confused yet sympathetic. I blinked in surprise and stopped. He tilted his head questioningly, his soft curls rolling across his smooth forehead. "Cale?" he breathed as he took a step closer. "What is it? Are you okay?" I shifted guiltily, feeling utterly stupid at my trepidation. "I...uh...I don't know why I came here." I sniffed, making him take another step. "I just found myself drawn here, like you wouldn't believe and..." And I didn't know how to finish that sentence. I never did. But he seemed too. "And you needed someone to talk too, I'm guessing?" I shrugged noncommittally. He just sighed and reached for the front door. I stepped aside at his gesture and allowed him to open the door. I could smell his sunbaked skin and the heady cologne he always wore, which reminded me of summer rain or warm clothes. Comforting. "Come in," he said with a level voice. "We can talk inside. Have you eaten yet?" I followed his sweeping gesture into the house and headed after him into the living room. The large fireplace was still there. Some minor details were changed in the layout of the room; a few added picture frames; a warm leather sofa replaced the loveseat; another bookcase was added; and a large ornate grill covered the opening of the fireplace. But other than that no major changes...well except for Drew. "You hungry?" he asked again. I shook my head. He frowned but let the statement slide. "You've changed," I whispered as I looked around. "A lot." He chuckled and with that small laugh came a multitude of memories, feelings, and... "Sometimes change is good." I glanced up at him and saw the raw emotion behind those four little words. He was in pain too. But he didn't have the added benefit of having a confidant or even someone to release it with. He was alone. Alone as I had made him feel. "Where are your parents?" I looked around again, hoping to avoid his icy blue gaze. "And Finn?" "Out of town. And Finn is at a friend's. Are you sure you don't want anything? A seat at least." I sat in the plush leather sofa and smiled meekly at him. "I'm fine, Drew. I am." "Okay..." he nodded. Silently he moved to the fireplace and stared at the empty structure for an immeasurable moment. I could feel a change in the atmosphere, like a live wire. It slowly surfaced in my head that what I was doing was wrong. So wrong in fact that it went against all that I was. But somehow it failed to register into a logical command to leave. To put as much distance as I could between me and this golden boy as possible. Instead I stayed in that exact spot, waiting for him to realize or at least feel what I wanted him to feel. What was worse was that I wanted him to feel it. In a minute what I was feeling was going to be spilling out of me and it didn't make any sense. What we had was long over and now was just the moment we finally got around to saying good-bye. That was it. Right? He turned slightly, his back rigid with tension. Neither one of us said a word. Neither one of us moved a muscle. Finally I said, huskily, "I lied. I didn't come here to tell you about my problems and I didn't come here to ask you to be friends again." He raised his eyebrows, "I know." My face stilled. Something blazed back into life in his eyes, and I recognized it because I'd felt it when he'd walked back into my life a year ago. And now I should sort it all out. But not now. No, tonight was something entirely different. I reached for him and he wrapped his arms around me and for a minute it could have been a hug good-bye or silent hello...because then his hands smoothed their way down my back, pulling me closer, closing on my hips, drawing me against him, unashamed of his arousal. Naked honesty right there, stretching the soft fabric of his jeans, poking against my groin. And for once I had no qualms to think about. Drew's mouth found mine, his lips molding hot and soft to my own. His tongue tentatively tested the seal of my lips; I parted them and he pushed inside. It was startlingly sweet and achingly familiar, like finding harbor. Like I had been waiting decades for this, traveling leagues, sailing through the memories of his beautiful blue eyes, never considering the trouble ahead. I lifted my lashes and met his blue stare. My breath caught on half a sob; relief made me a little giddy, and I leaned against him, making fun of us both. But this didn't stop him. His arms wrapped around me and he questioned me softly. "Okay?" "Oh yeah," I breathed. I craned my neck, seeking his mouth again, and he was right there, opening to my kiss, welcoming me home. He tasted dark and bittersweet, like my memories-only more intense. My heart pounded hard, blood drumming away in my ears. I kissed him with all the hardness and hunger in me, letting him feel it all. My anger and grief and frustration. When we finally broke apart Drew didn't look shocked; in fact he looked....predatory. Hot. Ravenous. His eyes glittered deep sapphire. "Oh, Cale," he muttered. I laughed unsteadily as his hands slid beneath my T-shirt, shoving the thin cotton up to find bare skin. And it felt wonderful, those big callused hands moving over me, stroking and petting, relearning... His dick was hard, rock hard through his jeans-he had to be practically in pain-and I pressed closer, rubbing against him. Briefly, I wondered how much of this was me wanting the past back, the remembrance of all that heat and power-tempered with the occasional tenderness-because there were safer and saner ways to relive old times. Neither of us were the same people, and this...was...pure madness. And yet we were kissing again. We were locked onto each other as though we had just discovered this incredible thing you could do with two mouths pressing close and moist against each other. And the taste of him...God the flavor of him...was horrifyingly, unbearably sweet. Sweet in the way crack must feel hitting the bloodstream of an addict after years of staying clean. As our kiss deepened, one of his big hands slid down and palmed my ass, making me groan desperately for that closeness. Why the hell were we wearing so many clothes on a hot summer night? I wrapped my arms around him, and he moved right into them. He felt harder, leaner, fiercer than I remembered-all taut muscle and energy. He was smiling against my mouth, liking my hunger, my demand. Fleetingly I wondered what this would do to me after tomorrow. What Dante-my fiance-would say or even do when he found out. But I shunted those thoughts away, because I wasn't going to stop. Air raid sirens or vomits of blood couldn't have stopped me. "Yeah," he groaned. "Oh, yeah." He was agreeing with everything I wasn't saying. Huge mistake this, and we both had to know it-and I would have killed anyone who tried to get between us. His fingers fumbled with the top rivet of my jeans, worked it free as I shimmied my hips gently. My shaking hands fastened on his waistband, yanked at his belt buckle and managed to unclasp everything. He made a furious, desperate sound in the back of his throat; bit the curve of my neck and shoulder. I sucked in a sharp breath, grabbed at his shirt while he bent to jerk my pants down. A couple of his shirt buttons popped off and flew across the room. My laugh didn't sound like me, although I thought the idea of him eventually staggering out the house with his clothes in tatters was pretty damned funny. He growled at my laugh and softly bit the side of my lip in a playful matter. "I love it when you laugh like that," he whispered roughly as he shrugged out of his damaged shirt. "You know I still dream about you." I stopped for a moment and looked up into his soft blue eyes. "I do too," I answered solemnly as I dragged my T-shirt over my head and threw it aside. I stood and placed my hands on the sides of his face. "Only my dreams turn into nightmares." He gave another of those choked laughs as he stepped out of his trousers and briefs, his cock bobbing up, looking red and somehow disheveled. Drew pulled me back against him, like any space between us was too much and his dick pressed painfully into my naked belly. I wound my arms around his neck again as he picked me up, backing me against the wall-hard. "Ow," I muttered, wriggling into better position as he hefted me higher. I hooked my legs around his hips. I'd forgotten how strong he was. "Sorry...baby," his hands smoothed the small of my back as he cradled me close, his face resting in the curve of my shoulder for a moment. "So sorry." His voice sounded choked. But maybe it sounded that way smothered against my skin because when he raised his head, his eyes were dry-shadowy in this light-and there was nothing to read in his face. His breath warmed my face, a hint of beer but mostly just himself. The blond downy hair from his armpits tickled my arms as I slid my hands behind his back; his dick was poking rudely up along my crack. I pushed back instinctively, but he shifted so our cocks were rubbing against each other instead. It felt good. Very good. Just that. Friction. It's not always a bad thing. "Hey," he said. "Hey," I replied ruefully. He rested one hand against my face, cupping my jaw. I tried to look away, but he leaned in, licking my mouth and then nipping my lower lip, a delicate sting. I closed my eyes and he rubbed his face against mine, the rough velvet of his jaw rasping against my mouth and nose and eyelids. "I missed you," he whispered against my face, and he kissed me again. A shiver ripped through me, and then another, and I was disgusted to find myself trembling-adrenaline overload, that's all that was. I lowered my brow to his shoulder, still humping against him. He humped back and we began to pick up the pace. Ramming against him, breathing him in, I drew back enough to look down between our bodies and I could see his cock, wet-tipped and huge and flushed, driving against my own. It was fascinating watching us scraping and parrying with each other, hips rocking, slipping right into that old rhythm. This was not a dream. This was Drew. Drew and me. It was for real. Painfully, exquisitely real. And this was usually when my dream became a nightmare. He hitched me more comfortably against the wall, I threw my head back, banging it, and hardly noticing as two family photos fell from the wall. Tightening my thighs around him, I arched my spine. He thrust against me and I bucked right back. We rubbed and ground against each other in what felt like an increasingly desperate race for release. We had left the lights on as we made our way up stairs, which brought a seasoned brightness to the house, allowing a few unthreatening shadows to linger on the outskirts of the pools of light. It was strange and familiar, our need to reach the bedroom. Sweet and bitter in the fact that it was the only room we had never even consummated our relationship in. Frightening also, because of the unknown, but nonetheless reassuring in its act. Because we knew each other, once past the talk when we were down to the language of hands and mouths, we knew each other. Had always known each other. When we reached the bed, our bodies managed to fit together just right. And in that fit, we rocked together gently at first, easy and slow, taking and giving comfort. Drew groaned, rolled onto his back, taking me with him, settling me down the length of his own long, broad body-the press of my arousal was caught again between our tightly joined bodies as he thrust powerfully into me. It felt so good-hot and shivery and frantic. We twisted and writhed, circular pressings of belly on belly. He was all fierce muscle and sinew and bone. I put my hands on either side of his shoulders, raised myself on my palms, thrusting back, and then pushed him deeper inside my body. His hands closed on my hips, urging me on. So good. We were sharing the same body, adjusting to each other, trying on for size this being one. I wrapped my legs around him, pressed my mouth to his shoulder, bit him-paying him back for earlier. He grunted. Pushing against him, I urged him to action and we began the seesaw of push and pull, rock and roll, lock and load-physical sensation-and I didn't want to think more closely about it than that. His hand wrapped around my dick and astonishingly enough I was getting hard. And there was no need to say what I liked, a little tighter, a little faster-because he knew exactly what I liked-memory or just very good instincts. His hand slid up and down, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure, that smooth, knowing skid of skin on skin. It could have been my own hand, but it was so much better because it was Drew's. He thrust into me, pumped me, we found the old rhythm, the pattern, the old steps, the way through the wood. Eventually it moved beyond words or coherent thought, just skin and warmth and that hum of exquisite tension as it built and built, his hand jerking me off, his cock lancing past my gland, fast and faster-and a little frantic-Drew came first, I felt him stiffen and then I heard him shout. "Jesus Christ!" He grabbed me tight, hips jerking against me, face buried in my neck. There was wetness on his cheeks. Beneath his lashes. Tears? The idea brought a grim smile to my face, before a moment later I came in spurts of sticky moisture, wetting our already damp bodies. He kissed me again. We lay there for a while and then he slid out of me. After a time he said, "What does this mean?" "I don't know." He didn't move and then finally he sat up, wearily. He went into the hallway; the light came on, throwing a golden bar across the floor and the bed. I listened to him dressing. He came back in-a broad silhouette-and sat on the edge of the bed. "Caleb..." I smiled, "I know." But I didn't, because what he said was, "I want you in my life-you can set the parameters." "Oh, God." I pressed the heels of my hands over my eyes. "Drew." "What?" "What? You know what? We can't pick up where we left off. And I can't be pals with you." "Then what the hell was this?" The anger and hurt in his voice was painful to hear. I sat up, forcing him to retreat. "You know what the hell this was Drew. This was us saying good-bye properly." "Bullshit," he growled. "This is what you really want, but your just too afraid to show it." "I don't know what I want, much less afraid of it. Besides, this is what you've always wanted. Sex." "Caleb, you know that's not true....Can't you see that were meant for each other?" I looked away from his harsh gaze. It was unnerving to know that he might see the truth of his words in my eyes. "We can't know that for sure." The silence that followed was sobering. Here we were again, at a stalemate. We both had different ideas for our relationship and no way of resolving either without hurting the other. A damn emotional stalemate. He sighed, "Can you at least stay the night? My whole family is out and I'll have the house too myself." "Okay." And silently we slipped into bed, turned out the lights and fell asleep without another word. There was plenty to say and a lot to do in the darkness, but some things were better left alone, especially when the dark held so many secrets. What had I done....? -=- I stared at him now in the dull light of the moon, his handsome face relaxed and slack with sleep. His full lips were dark pink and smooth, reminding me of their taste. I swallowed and ran my fingers across his muscled forearm. His veins were prominent and pliable, yet soft as velvet. The length and beauty of it resembled his penis. His body emitted solid warmth that enveloped me in its power, but I knew...I knew this had to stop. Or at least be postponed until I figured out what I wanted. So I slipped out of his comforting grasp and snuck away in the early night, wishing to God that a solution would appear. ~*~ "I don't want to go to school, guys," I complained from the back seat. I was staring outside at the houses that passed by. Justin's car steadily drove towards the school, where I was sure death was awaiting me. Or at least two very heartbroken boys, who needed to talk. I groaned and slumped into the back seat. Stacey and Justin just ignored me. "I'm not getting out of this car," I warned as I lied down on the full back seat. "You can't make me." Justin snorted, "Were you always this petulant, Cale? Cuz the look doesn't fit." Stacey sighed, "It won't be that bad. It's just like before." I groaned again and threw my hands over my face. "Before what?" "Before everything," she replied. "Before, when it was just us and Trudy. When the biggest thing we had to worry about was the possibility of missing class or bombing a test. That before." "That was a long time ago. Another me, ago." She laughed, "It's still you. And it's still us. The only thing that's changed is the situation." I felt Justin put the car in gear and the engine shudder as he turned it off. Silence soon followed. I heard them shift in their seats, but I refused to look at them. "And those boys have changed nothing about you. They've just seen the side of you that we've known since we first met you. And there's no shame in that." "Who says I'm ashamed?" "No one, Cale," she said. "So come on, let's show them you're not afraid." I winced, "What if I am afraid?" "Just avoid them, it can't be that hard," Justin insisted, his voice closer than before. "Come on, buddy. We'll be there for moral support." "Easy for you to say," I replied. "You don't share a class with both of them." Someone sighed, but I couldn't gather who did. "Best case scenario, they'll both be absent," Stacey added cheerily. "And worst case?" I asked. "That they'll both find you," she answered stoically. "At. The. Same. Time." I smiled faintly, "Moral support, huh?" "Yes," Justin replied. "Physical and emotional. Now, that's a package deal." "I'd take it if it was offered," Stacey commented. I frowned, "What if I can't?" "Cant what?" "Can't do it. Face them. If it was to come down to it, what if I cant. . . . What if I'm a coward?" I felt a hand, actually two hands. Both distinctly different. "Buddy, you can never, ever be called a coward." "Not when you've been put through so much." I peeked out from under my arms. Stacey and Justin's concerned faces brightened at my reluctance. They smiled softly and patted my side. "There now," Stacey breathed. "Let's get you out of the car, shall we." Justin chuckled. ~*~ So far so good, I thought distractedly as we headed to lunch. All morning my fears had been unprovoked. Neither one showed up or even seemed to seek me out. I was just blissfully unaware of their presence. Something I had wanted from the beginning, but now received when it was far too late. I was already deep behind enemy lines. "See, there's nothing to be afraid of," Stacey said as she gestured to the cafeteria. "Just another day in middle America." I grimaced at her words, but felt my body loosen. "Stace is right, Cale. It's not that bad. Just get something to eat bef-" But Justin had spoken to soon. Immediately my loose stance coiled tightly and I flitted to the nearest exit, which was just a few feet away. I pressed myself against the other side of the wall, just within hearing range of Stacey and Justin and their incoming visitor. I bit my lip and flattened myself against the wall, trying to stifle the emotional pain coursing through me. And I listened. "Hey, Dante," Justin greeted in welcome. "Justin, Stace," Dante replied clipped. "Is Cale, here?" "Yes, but-" "-I need to talk to him, Justin," Dante interrupted, his tone cool. "Just tell me where he is." There was a short pause. "He's not ready, Dante," Stacey stated quietly. "He's. . . .still thinking." "About what?!" I heard a soft shuffle, which only distressed me. "Dante, buddy, just give him some time. You know, Cale. Always thinking about everyone's feelings before he assesses his. He just needs time." Justin's words warmed me, but still the cold guilt in my chest was untouched. "He hasn't cancelled the wedding," Stacey added, her tone soothing. "That's something, right? I mean, it doesn't necessarily seem like he wants to end it." I heard a snort that distinctly belonged to Dante. "We could be at the alter about to say our vows and I would still be uncertain," Dante said with a quiet breathe. "With Cale, nothing is set in stone. And his history is proof of that." His words stung. I let my head fall against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. My legs buckled and I slid to the floor. Was this how he really felt about me? Were my words this unreliable? Enough to second guess everything in our relationship. He had said my history? Did that include the time before I met him? So many questions, yet so little answers. "That's not fair," Stacey replied, her voice reproachful. "Caleb's indecision doesn't stem from his need to keep you in the dark. It comes from his need to see what's best for you. What's best for all of us. Its selfless in its desire to please everyone but himself. . . . And you should respect that." "I think were done here," Justin added his voice surprisingly cold. "We'll make sure Caleb knows you want to see him. Come on Stace. I suddenly don't feel hungry anymore." I heard their footsteps before they even rounded the corner. It gave me enough time to swiftly stand up and walk down the opposite hallway, and away from them. ~*~ "This is our last session," Mrs. Burgess said with warmth as I grabbed the mandatory glass of water. "It seems fitting that we should end this week. What with prom this weekend and graduation within the month. I'm pretty sure you'd like your life to return to normal." I smiled and placed the glass of water on her desk. A ritual that she seemed to take no notice of. She just continued to stare at me, her soft green eyes friendly. "Is there some kind of diagnosis that you offer?" I asked, as I grabbed the hem of my shirt. "I mean, do you refer me to another specialist to continue with my sessions or prescribe me medication to ease the pain." I laughed. "Oh, dear me, no," she replied and patted her pants. "You were merely here for observational purposes. For guidance if you will, not for psychological treatment. Actually, I find you very mentally capable of making your own decisions. And you can quote me on that." I grinned, "So you deem me fit to live my life." She chuckled, "In a way, yes. But you were already aware of that, long before I met you. It just took you this long to figure it out." I liked that. It made me feel like all that I did was for not. "And what of our. . . .friendship?" She smiled warmly, "Oh, I'm sure we'll meet again Mr. Pierce. Professionally or otherwise." I liked that too. "Any last minute advice or guidance?" The wrinkles around her eyes fanned out, with the width of her smile. "Oh, Caleb," she breathed. "What I wouldn't give to have all the answers for you. But sadly no. No last minute advice." "Oh," I whispered, the disappointment palpable in my voice. She titled her head to the side and regarded me softly. "What are your plans this summer?" she asked. "I mean, after you get married." I pondered a moment, the question hanging in the air. "I don't know," I replied, my voice small and fragile. "Be married I suppose. Spend as much time with Dante, before he leaves to college. Hang with friends. Honestly?" She nodded in encouragement. "Honestly," I repeated. "I would love to travel. To go to Paris, or Ireland. Maybe even revisit Italy, but not the countryside, the city. Like Venice, where time seems to be frozen. You know?" She chuckled, "Oh, yes. I do know. And it sounds splendid. . . . .What would Dante say?" I shrugged, "He would say yes, of course. But it would probably have to be a short trip. One week at most. Then he'd have to come back to prepare. . . . " My voice trailed off in longing. I knew I wouldn't have the nerve to ask. And besides, Dante had already picked out our honeymoon in the Bahamas. He wanted to bathe in the sun and skinny dip in the crystal clear water. I just wanted to travel to a world that meant so little to people, but meant a lot to me. Somewhere intimate, and full of love, where even time stood still for. "And would that be a problem?" "For me, yeah. I would love to spend the whole summer there. To enjoy all that the city has to offer, but I can't ask that of him." "Ask what of him?" I gulped and looked at my tangled fingers. "Caleb?" I softly shut my eyes and bit my lower lip. "My freedom," I whispered so quietly, I thought she had missed it. "Ahhh," she breathed, her tone all-knowing. "And that's the crux of the matter. Your unyielding need to commit. To actually settle down with someone and love them unconditionally. Perhaps that's where your cold feet is coming from. Caleb?" I was shaking my head. "No, no, no," I stared at her beseeching. "It's not like that at all. I love him, I truly do. . . . It's just. . . .It's just. . . ." But I had no, it's just. "It's just, Drew." she finished for me. But was that really what my 'it's just' covered? Or did it go further than that? To marry Dante would be marvelous. We had both found each other in the darkest of times. And I loved him unequivocally, but what did that do to his future? To us? What did it mean to have his love so unconditionally, but have his families at a distance. It all warred with the notion of our marriage. And it would always be shadowed by the darkness that was my cancer. "I don't know," I answered, for I truly did not. "I just hope that the answer will appear before either one of us gets hurt." "I only wish you the best, my friend." "Thanks," I replied, my voice dull and low. "What are you thinking, now?" she asked, her voice careful. I shrugged, "I don't know what to think. Some nights I wake up wondering if this is all real. Cuz, for that brief moment I could've sworn I dreamt it all. Dreamt of Dante. Drew. My life." "It is real, Caleb." I sighed, "I know it is. I've got the scars to prove it, but that's not the part I was talking about. . . . " I trailed off. "I think your very afraid, Caleb." I looked up, "Afraid of what?" "That you're not sure of your feelings for Dante. That the past few months could've just as easily come from Drew." I blinked, unable to say anything. "You don't have to choose the good guy, because he's a good guy. You have to choose the guy that is good for you. The guy that will make you a better person. Because you could go through life with the good guy, but still be the same person. But if you chose the guy that would make you better, then you have the opportunity to do more than your capable of." I stared at her, searching for an answer and in some way she was giving me one. I just had to figure it out for myself. "So don't choose the guy, because your family or friends want you too. Choose the guy, because your heart and soul feel it." I sighed, "I guess I have to overcome my fear, huh?" She chuckled lightly, "Not necessarily. Just think of what the fear will rob from you if you decide to let it rule your judgment. To lose either one over your fear of hurting the other would be tragic. But to lose both over the fear of your feelings would just be pathetic." I gulped, "But it's so scary." She smiled warmly, "Isn't it always scary?" ~*~ I kicked the car door closed with my foot. The paper bag of groceries slid slightly in my grip. I immediately bit down on the bag to keep it from falling and shoved my car keys into my pocket. I trudged heavily up the walkway towards the porch, ready to face my mom and William. I had volunteered to cook for the evening, given that I robbed them of yet another Friday night. I sighed. I saw his figure on the porch banister before I had even taken a step. I froze momentarily. "Caleb," he stated quietly, like a caress. My heart leaped and my chest swelling with that one word. "Dante," I whispered in greeting and hesitantly ascended the small staircase. "I didn't know you were coming." Stupid, stupid, I thought dumbly. Of course you didn't know. "I just had to see you," he replied, unfazed by the dumb question. "It's been more than two days since I saw you. I've called about a hundred times. I've talked more to your mom in the last few days then I've talked to you." "I know," I flinched. "I'm sorry." I stared at his handsome face and saw dark bags beneath his eyes. I could tell he hadn't been sleeping well. I knew, because I hardly slept at night either. Not without his arms there around me. His stubble was thick without care, like he hadn't shaved in days. His hair was disheveled and unkempt, but it strangely suited him. His eyes though were a different story. They were surprisingly gentle, not at all like the anger I was expecting. "You look good," he breathed, his sharp cheekbones blooming with warmth. "Real, good." I smiled, "So do you, sorta." He grinned widely, "Sorta?" "You looked tired. Exhausted actually." His smile dimmed, "Can't sleep without you there, Cale." "Dante," I said exasperated. "Don't do this, please." "Do what?" he asked in earnest, as he took a step closer. I shifted my bag of groceries to my other arm, relieving the pressure in my left arm. "Look, Stace and Justin told me they saw you today," I stated, before he came any closer. In actuality they hadn't even mentioned the encounter. "And they told me that you understood that I needed time. . . .and I thought you truly did." "Cale," he pleaded. "How much more time do you need? Were to be married in a month. Graduate in two weeks. Prom is in a few days." I blanched at his excuses. "Gaw! That's all there is isn't there? The wedding, prom, and graduation? That's all you care about." His eyes hardened. "You know that's not true." "Do I? Honestly, when have you ever not talked about either of the three? Or college for that matter?" "What does that mean?" "You know what it means!" I hardly knew myself, but I wanted him to voice his opinions, rather than piggyback on my own. I waited in silence as he chewed over my words. His face transitioning from careful thoughtfulness to unhindered anger. "What? You think I care only for myself? Is that what you're getting at?" I blinked, not ready to answer. I sighed wearily and shifted the bag of groceries again. He frowned. "Here let me hold those," he said as he reached for the bag. I stiffly surrendered them to his more than capable hands. "God," I breathed as he placed the groceries on the nearest porch chair. "It's like all we do now is argue. It's exhausting." He chuckled, "I have an easy solution to that." I looked up a faint glimmer of hope for an answer blooming in my heart. "Yeah?" "Yeah," he repeated. "Let's stop arguing." I groaned, "Dante. I'm being serious." "So am I," he continued a new line of thought forming in his head. I could tell by the concentration on his face. "What if we just forgot about everything until we absolutely had too. The wedding, graduation, college." I looked up at him, "You mean sweep it under the rug? Like an old married couple on the brink of divorce?" He frowned at my analogy, "Not what I was thinking, but yeah. We can just forget about all of it, until absolutely necessary. It'll help with the arguing." The idea was tempting. And I was the King of avoidance, my history was evidence of that. But somehow I couldn't see Dante doing that. We just had so much pushing against us at the moment. His parents, our marriage, graduation, college, prom, my fickle cancer, and dare I even think it. Even now his name brought forth a flutter of feelings and emotions, which warred with my subconscious. "I don't know," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "It all sounds precarious. What about your parents? They still think I'm bad for you." He flinched, so I corrected myself. "I mean not for you. Your future." His stance loosened slightly, "It's just not that, love. It's the uncertainty of your feelings. For me and for our future." There was that damn word again. Uncertainty. Was it so plainly written on my face that everyone could see it? "And they hate me." "Cale." He growled. "They know my feelings for you extensively and if they did ever feel that way toward you, I haven't seen it. They appreciate you immensely. It's just that they worry about me more than they should. Like your mom. She protects you from all sorts of bad stuff and they just want to do the same." I was still hung on the word appreciate to give any thought to what he said. "But I'm not bad stuff," I breathed my voice sounding feebly sad. "It's not my fault I have cancer." He took a step toward me, his long legs taking no time to reach me. I felt his arms around me within that same step and I melted completely into his warm chest. He sighed softly, like he was breathing for the first time. I clutched at his dark blue shirt, my thin fingers refusing to let go. Yet still it felt like it wasn't enough. I wanted more of him. To hold him a little more tightly, until we merged as one and I could sense he felt the same way. "There from very old money, Cale. They have worked hard to get here and they just want what's best for me. It says nothing about you." I inhaled lightly and smelt his subtle cologne, which covered his manly scent of soap and sweat. We just held each other for what felt like forever, neither one willing to let go first. I listened to the steady beat of his heart, which was so familiar it almost felt like another part of his defining features. I could count the silent beats without even having to listen to it. After a good 20 minutes of just holding each other I felt him loosen his hold. "I'm pretty sure your mom is wondering where you are," he whispered, his pink lips moving softly. "We should get you inside." "Stay, please," I replied, my voice just above a whisper. "I'm making pasta." I knew I didn't have the right to ask, but I needed to make this work. I was tired of holding it all together and to just give in to one side was sweet relief. He chuckled, "I guess I could stay. Haven't seen Will and Trudy for a while. Besides, I don't think I'll ever leave your side again." As he said this his fingers twined with mine and squeezed lightly. I smiled faintly. "The groceries," I breathed. "Oh, I got that." With his free hand he dipped and grabbed the bag of groceries, while I reached for the front door. I opened it slowly and saw the back of Dr. Peterson's head. He was holding my mom on the couch as they watched some medical show. I could feel Dante's hand in mine as I tugged him into the living room. "Mom, I brought a surprise. ~*~ Crickets chirped outside, the moonlight slanted in across the bed, leaving the room bathed in dark, out of its soft reach. A faint glow resonated from Caleb's alarm clock, which read 11:30. Caleb was a silvery form above me, his rhythmic breathing bringing me along into his trance as he rode me. He rocked back and forth, his head thrown back so the shadows fell long and languid across his chest. We literally had all the time in the world to make love and Caleb's smooth movements were proof of that. I stared up at him, my eyes roving over his body. He looked like some ethereal being on the verge of enlightenment or flight. His body gracefully arching and reaching with each thrust. His head lolled on his neck as his hips thrust across my groin. His eyes were closed and his mouth open. Strong fast breathes rose to his throat and sweat trickled down his chest. It was very intoxicating. I lay there, unsure what to do with myself since he was doing all the work. We'd only done it like this once and it was still new enough to feel strange. My hands itched to control, to flip him over and take him hard, or haul him up to his knees and do him that way. That was how it had been the past few times we had made love and parts of each time we became closer. Bound to one another. Caleb bore down harder and I groaned, my thoughts immediately flying to pieces. My train of thought had been shattered by what he did to me. It had been so damn long since we had made love like this-passionate and unyielding love-that I practically passed out in pleasure. My hands, which were clutching at the sheets slid up to his hips and around to grip his ass, feeling the muscles clench and flex beneath my fingers. He looked down at me, his deep-set eyes hooded in shadow. He covered my hands with his own and lifted them away, interlacing our fingers. He leaned forward and braced himself against my elbows. The shadows fell from his eyes and moonlight lit them from behind. I was pinned in place by his steady gaze. They seemed to be searching for something, something I was all too willing to give. My jaw clenched as he pulled me higher and farther with just the slightest change of position. My knuckles were practically white, where our hands were clenched together and I could feel myself buried deep within him. I dangled over the edge, barely able to hold on with only a few shreds of self-control. Suddenly I came with a surprised cry, startled by its suddenness, while the warmth of his release spilled onto my stomach. I strained up with my feet firmly planted and buried myself deep within Caleb, letting myself take the long, long drop. "Jesus," Caleb exclaimed before dropping onto my chest. I didn't say anything. I just lay there and listened to his breathing, feeling the weight of him against my body. A comforting weight. Minutes passed before I even said a word. "Damn" I whistled softly. "That was. . . ." ". . . Incredible." I laughed and slid Caleb off of my chest. Very gently I tucked him into my side and wrapped my arm around his waist. He shivered slightly and I covered us with rest of the blanket. He snuggled into the hollow of my neck, where he always seemed to fit so easily. My fingers lightly grazed his soft skin. "Are you pleased?" he asked, with a soft undertone of self-consciousness. "I mean we hardly ever use that position." I chuckled lightly and tightened my hold on him. "Yeah I'm pleased. It wasn't all that bad, actually." "Yeah?" "Yeah. Besides we could be in any position and I still would enjoy it." I could feel him smile, but he didn't reply. "Goodnight Caleb," I offered as I drifted off. "Night." ~*~ I awoke with a gasp and clutched my chest. Someone stirred at my side. A large arm tightened around my waist and drew me close. Dante inhaled slowly and stretched, popping his joints. Dull hazy light filtered in through the window. Dawn was on the horizon and the sounds of the city awakening reached us, here in my room. I slipped back into the sanctuary of Dante's arms and nuzzled my head under his chin. This was our reunion after our short separation. It was only yesterday-last night in fact-that I had brought Dante back home. It was only yesterday that I surprised my mom with his appearance. And only yesterday with the realization that the wedding was still a possibility. "Love? Are you awake?" I ran my hand down his chest to his abdomen and stopped just above his upper groin. He chuckled roughly. "I'm awake," I replied, my voice just a breathe. "Just thinking." His head moved and he leaned back to look at me. "About?" I didn't dare look in his eyes. "The wedding, mostly. And your parents." The last part was a lie, but I did want to hash that part out as much as possible. "Cale, don't worry. It'll all be fine. My parents know better by now. . . .They understand that were a package deal. That what they did was way out of line." I frowned. He was avoiding the whole wedding situation all together. "Will they still be a part of the wedding or do they just simply ignore it? Cuz, let me tell you right now, my mom and Stace aren't big fans of your parents. . . .So it may be hard to plan a wedding without them." He sighed, "They know how much this means to me and their cool with anything that makes the whole situation easier for us." "To even postpone the wedding a few months?" I asked with a solemn tone. I paused for a moment. To just let whatever he said sink in. I needed this small favor from him, to take a little more time to take a perspective on the event. But then again, this could only add to his stress and make him even more untrustworthy of my decision. I sighed and persevered. "I didn't even know that was an issue," he stated quietly, his voice controlled. "Not necessarily, but I would like a little more time." "Time for what?" "I don't know. To think." "Think about what?" "Forget it." "Wait, what? Seriously, what is there to think about." "I just need to take a step back from all of this and gain a steady perception of what we're doing." "What we're doing is getting married," he whispered harshly as he sat up. One arm rested against his right elbow. "Caleb where is all this coming from?" "It's coming from everywhere, don't you feel it. Your parents, my doctors, my family, even you sometimes." His face blanched at my words. "I just think we're moving too fast." He sighed and plopped back into the pillows. He stared up at the ceiling. I watched his hard, muscled chest rise and fall with each breathe. I didn't dare make a move or console him. I wanted him to come to his decision on his own. "Okay," he sighed. "If it's too much. . . .I'm fine with waiting." "Really?" He turned and propped back on his arm again. "If that's how you really feel, then I'm okay with it. As long as you told me, that's all that matters." I exhaled sharply. I didn't know I was holding my breathe. "Are you sure?" He smiled tightly, "I'm sure." I stared at him a moment, "Okay, then." He chuckled lightly and planted a soft kiss on my lips. "Let's get some breakfast," he said with a grin. I smiled and nodded in agreement. He just laughed lightly and picked me up from the bed and headed to the shower. And for the briefest moment it almost looked like everything was falling into place. Almost. Send Comments to untitledlovestory23@yahoo.com