Page 199 of Heart So Hollow

When I finally catch my breath, I turn back to Colson, wiping the tears from under my eyes, “Cloudy…” I giggle.

He walks backward a few steps and then turns over his shoulder with a flash of his aquamarine eyes. I follow him down the path, chuckling to myself, for another quarter of a mile until the pavement reveals a small dirt pull-off in the trees only big enough for a couple of parking spaces. Colson’s blue STI is the only one there, the front bumper facing the tree line.

“Do you ever drive your Bronco anymore?” I ask, coming to a halt at his front tires.

“Sometimes,” he opens the driver’s side door and starts the ignition. When he does, the A/C kicks on as well as the radio, “but this one has better speakers.”

I meander around his open door, wandering along the edge of the car aimlessly while I bob my head back and forth, mouthing song lyrics as I go. When I reach the back bumper and turn on my heel, I realize he’s watching me from the driver’s side door.

“I like this song…” I say while averting my eyes.

With a mischievous smile, Colson reaches for my hand and pulls me close, catching me with his other arm and tossing my hand over his shoulder. His body is warm and his scent familiar, and I feel myself start swaying with him. The more I move with him, mirroring him like a shadow, the more I relax.

I remember every inch of him; the contours of his shoulders, the sweet smell of his skin, the exact place my head falls on his chest, the way his hands feel running down my back—every single movement unlocking a memory I hid away long ago. And now, I can’t help but climb back into the perfectly wrapped box I have for Colson and bask in those memories behind a wall of maples and honeysuckle.

“I think this is the most normal thing you’ve ever done,” I murmur into his shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” his lips brush my forehead, “I won’t make it a habit.”

I tighten my hold around his shoulders, “Maybe you should.”

“See?” Colson slides one hand further down the small of my back, “You want to know how it feels.”

“How what feels?”

He bends down and grabs the backs of my thighs, lifting me up to his waist. I tighten my arms around his shoulders as he strolls to the front of his car, and when he reaches the front bumper, he sits down on the edge of the hood, holding me on his lap.

“You want to know how it feels to be enmeshed in my life as much as I am in yours. When I’m not busy fucking with you—figuratively and literally—you want to know what it’s like to do simple things like brushing your teeth next to me or picking out granite for our countertops I’ll bend you over whenever I want. You want to walk into a room and see me there because I’m supposed to be,” Colson tilts his head with a smirk, “and you want to enjoy it.”

“Don’t you wonder what’s wrong with me like everyone else?”

“Quite the opposite,” Colson runs his hands up over the curve of my ass and lets them rest there, “nothing appears to be wrong with you right now.”

“No, you wouldn’t think that,” I roll my eyes, staring off into the distance as the rhythmic crescendo of cicadas ring in my ears, “I don’t know how it happened, but I feel like a hollowed-out shell that’s flaking away by the second, just like everything else.”

He reaches up and pulls my face back to his with his index and middle fingers, “You’ll never be hollow, Brett, and I’ll keep reminding you of that for the rest of your life. Because as long as you’re walking the earth, I’ll be wherever you are, and you need to square with that. But I promise,” he lowers his voice to a near whisper, “you’re never going to feel whole until you decide to come back home.”

Colson no sooner finishes the last word and I sink into him, pressing my lips to his. I feel his chest cave as the air leaves his lungs and, a second later, his arms cross over my back to pull me tighter against him. He tastes so good, like bad decisions laced with notes of pine, heat, and maddening suspense. I can’t turn away; I have to know what happens next. And the longer I hold him, the more I want to meld to him and see if I can feel a shred of what it’s like to be him.

Colson says he can never be as whole as I am, but I don’t think I can ever be as bold and unflappable as he is. The next best thing is to drink him in like I’ve been parched for days and breathe his air like I’m suffocating. And the more I do, the more his touch makes me feel like I’m coming back to life.

“Can I go home with you?” I murmur into his mouth.

Maybe I am losing it like people think. Maybe I’m getting more unhinged by the day. Every aspect of my life is twisted to the point where I’m jealous of Colson Lutz and kissing him feels like solace. Even though so much of it is his fault…

Colson nods, “I’ll take you home with me,” then he grabs my thighs and rocks forward to stand, “but if I do, you’re not leaving.” He spins and lowers me down, rolling my back flat against the hood, “It’ll be where you live, now.”

The metal feels warm against my back as he hovers over me, running his hand up my torso and pushing my shirt up past my navel.

“Or do you just want me to fuck you on the hood of my car?” his eyes remain locked on mine, “Maybe you’re finally ready to have some real fun with me again.”

Yes, I do…

“It’d be nice,” he continues, cocking his head, “the blue paint makes your hair pop and you’re at the perfect angle for me to make your tits bounce like hell. You have phenomenal skin, too…want me to pull out and come all over it or you want me dripping out of you instead?”

I fidget beneath him, my muscles trembling, “Would you fuck me the way you did last time?”

“That’s the only way I will,” he leans over me and plants one hand on the warm metal next to my chest, “or if you’re still having a crisis of conscience, you’re welcome to watch me have all the fun…”

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