Page 93 of Road Trip
That would certainly put him closer to me. I smiled at that. Hell, I didn’t want him to leave my side, but at least he’d be close.
He pulled out of the parking lot and frowned. “You probably haven’t eaten lunch, have you?”
It was near two o’clock and he was right. I hadn’t let myself feel the hunger until then.
“We can just grab some fast food—”
“Or I can take you home and run out to grab some groceries and I can cook.”
I turned to smile at him. “You like to cook?”
He shrugged. “I like to barbeque. Grilled vegetables and fish are my specialty.” He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes.
“Okay, that might rock for dinner, but can I pleeeeeease have some junk food? How about Mexican?”
He sighed dramatically. “Fine. Do you have a preference?”
We went to La Piñata, and he got me a chicken burrito and himself a veggie burrito. I chowed down on that sucker and talked with my mouth full. I was sure he didn’t take me too seriously.
“So I have to call Sally,” I said, spitting a bit of lettuce out onto my leg. “Fuck, sorry, I must be so attractive to you right now.”
Kelly chuckled and turned to face me while we were stopped. He had bell peppers hanging out of his mouth and salsa on his chin.
“I don’t know what you are talking about. I love you, baby.”
I laughed out loud and leaned over to kiss him. He was obviously trying to make me feel better.
“You are so amazing. I love you, too.”
When we got to the house, Kelly followed through on his promise to go buy some groceries and cook some meals for us over the next couple of days. Lila left to go see Gran, and Mom sat nearly catatonic in her rocking chair. Reality fucking bites.
Sally agreed to come over the next day. Sally was Lila’s granddaughter and was my longest friend. We’d been friends forever because of our grandmothers and had fought and laughed all through school. Until I came out to her as being bisexual. She wasn’t okay with it, and we didn’t talk for a long time. It was only in the past few years that we’d rekindled our friendship. I was still a little hurt and a little gun-shy of throwing myself back into the friendship, but I knew she loved my gran and would do anything for her, if not for me.
Kelly returned from the store and put away the groceries just as I was about to get in the shower.
“Want to join me?” I asked with an eyebrow wiggle.
He looked around like he expected us to get caught. His guilty face made me crack up.
“Just let me go turn on the alarm. Mom will be fine for a little bit.” I left him blushing in my bedroom while I ran out and hit the alarm.
“Mom, I’m taking a shower.”
She didn’t respond, just kept smiling at something only she could acknowledge.
“The alarm is set,” I muttered, kissing her hair. I wondered what it would be like if I could actually sit down and talk to my mother about the crazy feelings I had for this man, or anything about my life for that matter. I gave up on that possibility a long time ago, but I never quite made my peace with it, not even with all the therapy I’d been through. Sadly, she and I would never have a mother-daughter relationship. I just wondered how much longer I’d have her in my life period. She really didn’t look well and her periods of catatonia were longer and more frequent these days. When I thought about how much Gran had been doing on her own, I felt incredibly guilty. I needed to do this for Gran. Maybe somehow, some way, I’d finally be able to accept the way things were and do some forgiving. But not tonight. Tonight I needed to be taken care of.
I made my way back to the bedroom and found Kelly shoving his bag in a corner. I noticed a guitar case and felt a little shiver of excitement.
“You brought your axe?”
He frowned at me. “No. I brought some clothes and my guitar—oh! I get it. Yeah, my axe, man.” He laughed at his nerdiness and turned to face me. His hands came up to cradle my face and just his touch was enough to lighten my countenance dramatically.
We didn’t talk. We walked silently to the bathroom, which had a large clawfoot tub with a curtain all the way around and a broad showerhead. We watched each other undress, and I swear, I could never get tired of looking at his body. It was like having a classical work of art in your very own home. Something that belonged in a museum with a wreath of leaves around his head. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me, but I knew what he felt when he touched me. He showed me as well as told me. The reverent touch of his hands and lips told me that he cared deeply for me. I didn’t know if I deserved the adoration he expressed, but at this point I was going to chalk it up to being a blessing and try to let it go.
We washed each other and it was like we were right back in the shower that first night after I’d rescued him from the bastards who’d brutalized him. I still couldn’t believe he walked away from that relatively unscathed considering what they planned to do to him. This time, in this shower, not only did he bring me pleasure with his mouth, but when we’d finished our shower, he pulled a condom out of his bag, lifted me out of the tub, pressed me gently against the wall, and made love to me at a maddeningly slow pace. He had such control and barely seemed to strain. Well, except when he was going to come. I loved to watch him fall apart. That mottled red cheek thing happened, his lips pursed out, and then his eyelids lowered until his long lashes touched his cheekbones. He moaned softly as his whole body shook with pleasure. He held me against his chest for several moments as he caught his breath.
“That’s one way to avoid the squeaky bedsprings,” I panted out.
