rock (9 page)

amethyst

He groans when I wake him, and he curses when I make him follow me to the cave. It’s later than I’d have liked. The sky is a milky grey but it’s still dark enough that the cave glows with clusters of green light.

We’re always quiet in here. It’s the perfect place to give him his gift.

We sit down in the cave, cross-legged and facing each other. The darkness and glow give us a greenish aura. Jace shifts and his knees bump against mine. He’s watching me, waiting for me to speak.

I breathe out and dig into my pocket for his gift, which is wrapped in a black velvet bag. I finger it through the soft bag, and its meaning weighs heavy in my hand. I’ve been looking forward to giving this to him for weeks but now my hands are clammy and my tongue seems to be stuck to the roof of my mouth.

I draw out the gift and, without speaking, lift his hand and press the gift into his warm palm. He stares at me, then stares at his hand. His Adam’s apple juts out with a swallow.

“Cooper—”

I lift a finger to my mouth and shake my head. I want him to like it, to accept it, not to speak.

He trembles as he opens the bag and draws out the greenstone fishhook. It’s simple and dark with flecks of lighter green. I hope when he looks at it he sees me looking back at him. I hope when he wears it, we—us and the times we’ve had together—will be in his thoughts.

I know seeing it against his chest will remind me of the moment we met, when I hated him. Hated him for claiming my dad as his own, hated him for giving me that cocky grin, and hated him for taking my breath away. Because it was that single moment when it all clicked. When my body screamed to me how attractive he was, but I twisted it into something dark and ugly. His blue eyes weren’t beautiful, they weren’t. They were the color of the rubbish bags Mum used in the bathroom; the color of oily seawater; the color of regurgitated fish scales.

I glance at the hook he’s tying around his neck. It had to be a hook because I want to reel him in. Even if I can’t or won’t, it’ll be nice to see hope hanging from his chest.

Jace stuffs the empty velvet bag into his pocket and stands up. I follow. Outside the cave, Jace turns to me. He doesn’t hug me. In fact he keeps his distance. The creek babbles. Birds chirp. And then his words. His promise.

“I’ll never take it off.”

* * *

Lila and Dad take us to lunch to celebrate. We’re at a restaurant on the waterfront and we’re all dressed up. I’ve managed to spill water on my shirt and I’m mopping my chest with a napkin. Annie is laughing and shaking her head at me. Dad is content, resting back in his chair, looking out over the glittering sea at the view of the city.

Lila sits on the other side of her son, her eyes rimmed with moisture, squeezing Jace’s hand. “Seventeen,” she says. “I can’t believe how fast you’ve grown up.”

Jace kisses her cheek. “I still have a year at home before university.”

One more year.

Only one.

Then he’s off, and what about you? You’re still going to be in school. Two different worlds. He’ll keep in contact for a while, but it will fizzle, and eventually you’ll merely be guys who grew up together, and the friend part will end.

Dad swivels toward Lila, a melancholic smile playing at his lips. “Do you remember when we were seventeen?”

Lila laughs and releases Jace’s hand, scavenging for her glass of orange juice. She’s about to drink when she stops. “I was sad most of that year,” she says and Dad frowns, sitting up straight.

“You were?”

She sips her orange juice. “Yes. Hard not to be when your best friend goes to the States for six months.”

“You had what’s-her-name. I thought you were fine. You always raved about how you two were having all sorts of adventures. Made me jealous half the time.”

Lila looks surprised. “It did? I guess that was the point. I was having a miserable time but I wanted you to miss me.”

Dad turns in his chair so he’s facing Lila directly. He takes her hand and kisses the palm. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

Annie clears her throat. “Maybe we should check the menus before the waiter gets here.” I read her tightly spoken words.
What about Mum? If they were already in love, how did he ever fall for Mum?

Did Dad ever love her? Certainly not truly, madly, deeply.

I stare at the three sets of knives and forks before me, polished to a shine.

Jace shifts and fiddles with the edge of the white tablecloth. A silent storm of emotion brews at our table. Lila and Dad are lost in the past, lost in each other. The rest of us are lost in various degrees of hurt.

Except I don’t understand why Jace is hurt. He and his mum won, so shouldn’t he be grinning?

Unless he feels bad for us.

I have to break the tension before Annie notices. She’s been perfectly open and loving since our camping trip, and I don’t want her to regress. “Is that where you were converted into a Halloween freak?”

Dad and Lila drop hands and Dad laughs. “You could say that.”

The rest of lunch is pleasant, though stiff. Every now and then Jace touches the hook making a bump in his shirt, but he only looks at me once to laugh when an oyster pops free of its shell and lands in his water glass.

After dessert, his mum asks, “What’s that you’re hiding under your T-shirt?”

I freeze. I’m not sure why exactly. It’s only a gift after all.

But it’s intimate. They’ll take one look and know.

Jace glances at me, reads my insecurity, and tells her he bought a necklace.

“You know you shouldn’t buy your own greenstone,” Lila says. “It’s only meant to be given to you by someone who loves you.”

“All this talking about stones,” I say, trying to shake off the unexplainable shivers zipping up my spine. “You’d think it was my birthday.”

Dad laughs. “Have you given Jace his stone yet?”

“Huh? No, he said he bought it himself!”

A small frown shadows Dad’s face in confusion. “I mean his birthstone. All the rest of us have gotten ours. What is February anyway?”

I let out a relieved breath. “Amethyst. Which really would make the perfect gift. It’s believed to sharpen wit, after all.”

Jace laughs and elbows me in the side, scowling. The light nudge sends a whole other set of zings running through me.

“Also,” I say, our gazes catching for a second, “it’s thought of as a composer’s stone.”

Lila claps. “Yes. How perfect.”

When we arrive home, Jace checks the mailbox instead of going straight inside. I wait for him on the porch. He’s staring at a large brown envelope as he slowly dawdles up the path. He notices me watching him and hurries his step.

He rolls the envelope up and holds it at his side. “What’re you waiting for?”

“Want to play video games?” I gesture to the mail. “What’s that?”

“Nothing. Just university preparation stuff.”

Oh. For the second time since lunch, my belly feels hollow. “University.”

The envelope makes a scratchy sound like he’s clutching it tighter. Perhaps he senses that hollowness, because he drops his gaze. “Give me a minute, and we can crack out the video games.”

Jace starts up the stairs, then stops and looks over the banister to where I’m still moping in the entryway. “It’s still a year away.”

coal

Ernie and Bert come for a sleepover. We’ve been playing computer games in the gaming room all night and it’s close to two o’clock in the morning. The guys settle into their coal-colored sleeping bags on the floor and switch on the TV. “Something’s always on at this time of night,” Ernie says, flicking through the channels. “Bert, hit the lights.”

The room is sucked into darkness and the TV screen becomes the focal point. I’m sitting on the couch above the two guys, gripping the arm. Soft grunts and moans fill the room and fill my ears. Bert and Ernie laugh and shove their hands into their bags.

Ernie looks at me, deadpan. “On the Mohs scale of hardness, I’m like a
ten
.”

Their sleeping bags start jerking in the middle—

“Need to piss!” I leap up from the couch and hurry out. “Shit.”

“Not having a good time?”

I jump. Jace is trundling back from the bathroom. Like me, he’s in nothing but boxers and a sleeping shirt.

I shrug. “They’re watching porn.”

“Oh,” Jace says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “And?”

“Well . . . I don’t know.”

“You don’t want to do it? That’s cool.”

“No, I do. But they—they’ve done this before. In front of each other, I mean.”

Jace smiles. “You’re nervous?”

That, and the porn they’re watching isn’t exactly what I would have chosen.

Jace bites his lip and comes closer. “Maybe you need to find someone you feel more comfortable with?”

I swallow and look down at us, close but not quite touching. With a shaky hand, I touch Jace’s chest, then curl a fistful of shirt and draw him in close. He steps into it and his body presses against mine; warm, solid, smelling of soap and citrus. I swallow. “Are you offering?”

Jace laughs softly, the puffs hitting my cheek and skimming to my ear. He doesn’t pull away immediately. “What if I am?”

Does that mean you're gay too? Or just horny?

He walks back into his room, leaving the door open. An invitation. Just under the skin it bubbles, and I even step up to the threshold of his room. He’s holding the door, watching me.

“Just a jerk off?” I ask.

“What else would it be?”

His room is dark, but milky light seeps in at the cracks of his curtains. Jace shoves his messy bedspread back and pats the cleared space.

It’s excitingly awkward. I’m hard, though, and watching Jace touch himself through his piano-key boxers is making me harder. Through the wall, muffled grunts and moans emanate from the TV.

Jace pulls out a small orange tub from his side drawer. A faint vanilla smell drifts into the air. “What is that?”

“This, my friend, is the best lube ever.”

He grins and carefully pulls down his boxers, enough to expose his hard length. I’ve seen him before when he’s dropped his towel on the way to the shower, but never when he’s hard. He’s not quite as long as me.

He grabs himself and pumps a few times. I shove my hand under my boxers and grab my cock. When I look up, he’s watching me with heat and hunger in his eyes. He’s as horny as Bert and Ernie were. He’s as horny as me—

Scooping up some of the lubricant, he leans over and whispers, “You have nothing to hide, Cooper. Be confident.”

“My hand down my shorts is not confident enough for you?”

“I’m just saying. You’re cool to be yourself in here. I’m your friend. You can trust me. And I trust you.”

He drops back against the bed and slicks the lube over his cock, pumping slowly. He stares toward the ceiling but I want his gaze on me. I stand, yank down my shorts and dip my fingers into the cool lubricant. I rub some over my length, gasping, and then settle down on the bed next to him. Our shoulders touch, and his muscles quiver as he works his arm.

I jerk myself a few quick times and settle into the same rhythm as Jace, stopping every third stroke to thumb the head. I roll my eyes toward him.
Look at me!

“Jace?”

“Yeah?” he says breathily.

“Swap cocks?” I let mine go and grab his. He’s rock hard but his skin is silky. He gasps, then firmly wraps his warm hand around my stiffness. “That confident enough for you?”

I moan as the pad of his thumb moves over the slit at my head.

This feels too good to be really happening. I pump him faster. The lube is slick and—I can’t help it.

I’m not going to last long.

Look at me!

He stiffens, body tensing. He grips me harder. I tense too, and we release with guttural groans and incomprehensible whispers.

Jace keeps his hand on my groin for a few moments longer, still staring toward the ceiling but with a contented smile quirking his lips. We let each other go and push up onto our elbows. Our stomachs are covered in spunk that smells like vanilla. I’ll never think the same about vanilla.

I chuckle at this thought, and that’s when I notice how quiet Jace is. The contented smile is gone and his expression is impassive. He sits up and rests his elbows against his knees and bites his bottom lip.

“Regretting the mutual jerk?”

“No,” he says, simply. “I’m really not.”

He sighs and grabs a warm washcloth for us. When we’re all tucked back into our boxers, he looks at me and shrugs. “You heading back in there for another go with the boys?”

I’m not expecting this question, and it feels crass. But why should it?

Because it was more than a jerkoff for me.

“That was enough confidence for one night.”