Chase the Storm (23 page)

I stayed on campus through Thanksgiving but found myself back in New York City for Christmas break. It was the first time I’d seen my parents since springbreak the year before, and the first time I’d spokento them since shortly after arriving back at school in August. They never asked where I had been for thirteen weeks, and I never told them. It was during dinner a few nights after Christmas that I announced I had changed majors and was following my dream, my path, and not theirs. There were shocked gasps and glares, and even some yelling, but I held steadfast in my decision, even lifting my chin defiantly as I took their criticism. Then I disturbed their world further when I told themI was gay. My eyes darted between them, checking to see who was more surprised. My father pinched the bridge ofhis nose, and mymother shook her head indisbelief. By the time I packed up my duffle to return to school, they still hadn’t accepted it, but at least the yellinghad stopped.

Just as I was getting into the limousine to go to the airport, my father walked out ofthe building, his arms folded across his chest to ward offthe winter cold. There on the busy sidewalk, he told me he didn’t like my choice of majors, but respected that a man had to do what he found joy in. Never mentioning my sexuality, he gave me a sad smile and pat on the back before turningand leaving.

The end of my sophomore year was in sight, and I debated calling Chase and asking to return to the farm for the summer. Then I realized I would only have to leave again, and I knew I couldn’t leave him twice in mylifetime. Instead, I accepted aninternship withone ofmyprofessors as a summer school teaching assistant. The summer was hot and busy as I graded papers and taught some classes. As muchas I loved the work, my happiest moment was when I found a barn just outside the city where I could rent a horse. Just walking around an enclosed field was enough to fillthe longing, but it also reopened the freshlyhealed wound.

Bythe time I dismounted the chestnut, mycheeks were damp. I returned for my junior year almost excited to begin. The internship had provided some networking opportunities, and I was able to get a teaching assistant position for the first semester. Just like the year before, my days were busy with classes and my nights were spent alone. The letter writing continued. Every night I wrote to him, sometimes including lyrics or a poemor a memory, other times detailing my daily life. Often, I wondered if he still rode out to see Owen. I wondered about Holden and the other horses.

I
N THE
year that had passed, I had yet to find someone who even caught my eye, much less anyone I felt a connection to or wanted to date. Switching majors had helped me fit inI had even made a few friendsbut I stillcraved the solitude ofa farminthe middle ofnowhere.

Things changed one day just after I returned fromthe holiday break in January. Bundled in my long jacket and scarf, I walked across the campus toward the music building. My breaths turned into white puffs as I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and shoved my hands into my pockets. Keeping my head down, I forged ahead. When a boy ran into me, almost knocking me on my ass, I growled at him, immediately feeling guilty when I saw the look in his eyes. It was one I’d seen in my own for years: the lost feelingofnot belonging.

Biting his lip timidly, he apologized and picked up the bag he’d dropped. His long, blond waves and dark brown eyes looked vaguely familiar.

“Are youinMr. Griffin’s music appreciationclass?”I asked him. “I’mJustin, and you’re Elijah,”he said shyly. “You’re so talented.”

I gave hima courtesy smile, and then found myselfasking ifhe’d like to get a coffee. A few minutes later, our coats were strewnover the backs of chairs as we sipped lattes and chatted inside a café. The conversation flowed easily from one topic to the next, never a lull as we realized how muchwe had incommon. He didn’t need to tellme he was gay. I saw it in the demure dip of his head, the constant flush on his cheeks, and the way he batted his eyelashes, basking in the attention I gave him. He wasn’t Chase, but I couldn’t deny there was a quality about him I liked. In addition to his shiny hair and plump lips, he had a straight nose and long neck, and I found myselfstaringat his racingpulse more thanonce.

Coffee turned into dinner, which turned into me inviting him back to my room. Closing my dorm door, I slammed him against it, kissing him hard and deep, desperately trying to create new memories and ease the pain of the old ones. Clothes were urgently shed, and I found him on his knees before me. When I closed my eyes and fisted his hair, feeling only the steady, wet suction of his mouth, I could almost imagine he was another. It wasn’t untilhe begged me to fuck himthat I realized havingsex with someone else was a possibility, and it was something I still wasn’t prepared for. There were no condoms in my room. I’d never thought I would need them. When I told him, he offered to get some, but I shook myhead. The disappointment onhis face matched the reliefonmine.

While we didn’t fuck, we did sleep in my small bed pressed against each other. The next morning, after a long kiss, he left and I cried. The guilt hurled through me until I was draped over the toilet, retching up emotions. Sitting naked on my bathroom floor, I wiped my face and closed my eyes, reminding myself I hadn’t done anything wrong. Then I realized it was the first night I hadn’t writtenChase a letter.

Mystomachlurched, and I lunged for the toilet.

 

Still, I texted Justin later that day, asking him out again, reminding myselfChase wanted me to move on.

Justin and I dated for the rest of the school year. Due to his roommate and our schedules, our sex life was sporadic, but it existed. I’d never felt anything so tight as the first time I entered him, his ass clenching round my cock while I ran my hand down the curve of his arched back. Each time I sank into him, each time I came calling his name but envisioning another, I felt guilty. There was lust and want, but they were based onphysicalneed and not emotion.

I thought he felt the same until our last week of classes. When faced with a summer apart, he told me he loved me, and my heart broke for a different reason. For months, we’d dated, even going to movies and dinner and studying together. Technically, I guess he was my boyfriend, but never once had love entered mymind. I couldn’t possiblylove another man, and was confused how Justin could even think I could. Kissing him good-bye, I told him he was sweet and I’d see him next year. I tried to ignore the tears shininginhis eyes whenI turned away.

Once again, I remained in Boston for the summer, renting a place and getting a paid position in the music department. There were many nights I would find my cock in my hand, stroking as I recalled one of my nights with Chase, every caress and kiss. When I came, it was his name I cried out. After I would wonder if a day would ever go by that I didn’t think about him. Then I would pull out my pen and a paper and write his letter.

My senior year flew by faster than I could have imagined. My class load was light, as I had taken some over the summers and had almost all my credits to graduate. Unlike the rest of my classmates who were preparing to find jobs, I was relaxed and calm about employment. They spent their nights plumping their résumés; I spent mine writing Chase letters. No longer able to fit them in a drawer, I went in search of something to keep them in. Ambling into an antique store one Sunday, I came across a large keepsake box made of cherrywood with a marble “C” inlaid on the cover. Handing the clerk the money, I walked out with the box.

I occasionally saw Justin on campus, and even got drinks with him one night. He had come out to his family over the summer, and after they took it well, he’d gained confidence in himself and was dating a guy from his music theoryclass. There was no datingfor me. I’d learned mylesson. Instead, I occasionally found myself in a gay bar, scanning the shirtless dancers, even joining them before pulling one out back for a blow job. I never had a problem picking anyone up. It only took a shake of my ass and a lick of my lips. My mother was right; my looks did open doors. Before Chase, I hadn’t realized anyone would look at me with lust, but it was alltheylooked at me withinthe bars.

Wanting to avoid messy morning afters, I rarely took anyone home, but there had been a few, all of them eager to bottom for me. I never bottomed for anyone. I knew I couldn’t give myselflike that to anyone but Chase. Even with all the head I received and the fucks I had, no one ever compared to the blond cowboy who had taught me love, who I continued to write nightly.

Before I knew it, I was standing in a crimson and black cap and gown, walkingacross the stage inmycowboyboots to receive mycollege diploma. Asmile crossed my face as I returned to my seat, knowing how proud Chase would be of me. After graduation, I hugged my parents but refused their offer of a celebratory dinner, neglecting to tell themthe truck theyhad crinkled their nose at was alreadypacked and readyto go.

Tearing off my gown, I tossed it on the seat in the cab before taking off my cap and replacing it with my cowboy hat. Then I hung the crimson tassel from the rearview mirror, watching it sway as I started the truck. Shifting into first, I released the clutch and pulled out of the parking lot. While I’d kept up with the maintenance on the truck’s engine, I hadn’t changed a thing about the inside. It was a classic, and I insisted on keepingit that way.

I didn’t need GPS or directions. I knew mywayhome without either one. The terrain changed from urban to suburbs to rural as the horizon spread out before me until the waving brown eventually met a cloudless blue. The sounds of the city grew distant, but even the soothing country songs did nothing to allay the growing apprehension replacing the serenity of escaping the city. As much as I tried to keep occupied, doubt crept into my mind. It was a risk, one that frightened me, but it was one I had no choice but to take.

I was a Harvard student; pulling all-nighters was something I was accustomed to and I onlystopped for food, restroom, catnaps, and lots of caffeine. And for onlythe second time since leavinghim, I didn’t write him a nightly letter. My hat sat back on my head as I sang to the songs to keep myself awake at night when the roads were empty. When light dawned and the green grassy fields had changed to golden wheat, I knew I was close.

Exiting off the highway, I made my way through the small town and then down the dirt road I hadn’t forgotten. Finally, the fields I’d spent so many hours looking at came into view. The ache strengthened, and I beganto wonder ifmyworst fears could be true. Reachinghis driveway, I released a long breath in a useless attempt to calm my pounding heart. Would he believe that in three years, I hadn’t forgotten a single detail about him, about us? I glanced down at the wooden box on the seat next to me. They were the proof I needed, evidence he’d always been the one for me.

It was time to deliver theminperson.

Every rut and pothole the truck violently bounced over brought me closer to him. Horses grazed in the field beside me, but I kept my eyes ahead of me, fixated solely on the looming house and barn. As I neared, I spotted movement inside the barncastingshadows inthe dirt. Swallowing, I concentrated on them, to see if they belonged to more than one person. Myheart leapt to mythroat whenI realized there were two.

I was too late.

Then he stepped out of the barn into the sunlight, and my heart lurched for another reason. He was just as beautiful as ever. Dressed in his boots, jeans, and a red plaid shirt, it was obvious there’d been no change to his fit body. I was close enough to see the ends of his longer hair sticking out from under his hat and watch his face change as he recognized the truck.

Coming to a stop in front of the house, I shifted into reverse and turned off the engine. Just as I opened the door to get out, the owner of the second shadow appeared. Adog bounded out of the barn, carrying a tennis ball in its mouth as it ran to Chase and then bounced around him, dropping the ball at his feet for another round of fetch. The dog appeared to be a mixed breed witha longtri-colored coat and floppyears.

Stepping one booted foot onto the dirt, I got out and closed the door. That was when the dog noticed me and ran over, dropping the ball hopefully at my feet. Bending over, I picked it up and threw it toward the barn. The dog bolted excitedly in the direction of the throw, becoming a blur ofblack, brown, and white.

Chase’s eyes raked appreciatively over me. Three years had done me well. My body had matured and broadened, and I’d grown another inch. My hair was a little shorter but still unmanageable. I carried a confidence I’d learned with him, from his tender words, and had let it grow inme. Tiltinghis head, he gazed at me muchlike he had the first time we’d met. Only this time he was giving me the crooked smile that stirred desires inme no one else had.

“What took you so long?” he asked in his familiar gruff voice, and I threw myhead back inhonest laughter.

 

“Someone once told me I had to find my own path,” I answered witha smile, kickingat the dirt withmyboot.

“Smart man,”he chuckled.
“Very,”I agreed.
“So… did you? Find your ownpath?”

With those few words, he’d repaired the deep cracks in my heart, filling them until it was whole and healed. My fears of another were alleviated, and three years of missing him became just bad memories. I stepped toward him, quickly closing the distance that had been too far for too long. How I could have ever doubted either of us, I didn’t know, because nothinghad ever felt more right thanstandingnear himagain.

I reached him, our chests almost touching with our breaths, and looked into his eyes. The storm remained, but it was a cloudiness compared to the hurricane it had been, and the longer we stared, the more theycleared.

“Yeah, I did. I know exactly where I need to be, where I belong,” I replied, cuppinghis cheek.

 

“And where’s that?”he finallyasked ina shakyvoice.

Breaching the final few inches between us, I caressed his lips with mine, relishing the taste I’d never forgotten. With his hands on my waist, he jerked me closer, his mouth parting for mine. Right before I gave in to the sensationI’d waited three years to feelagain, I answered his question.