Touch the Sky (Free Fall Book 1) (8 page)

G
abriel
,

My mom brought home another computer today! I think it’s cuz she feels guilty about Tim. I don’t know where she got the money, and I don’t want to know. The last one was such a piece of shit. It went so slow, and would sometimes just cut out. I got to watch my first porn without the video blinking in and out! LOL. It’s hot… and I jerked off, but…does it kind of scare you too? Dude, I feel like a wuss asking that. I might delete that sentence.

Anyway, the computer is used, and the camera is fucked up, so we still can’t video chat, which sucks.

Mom sat me down and said she needs my help. She said she wants me to do what I have to do, if I see she’s drinking. She wants me to be in control of the money. If I find alcohol in the house, she said she promises not to get mad if I dump it out. We’re a team and gotta work together, ya know? So, that’s what I’m gonna do. I’ll watch over her, and make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.

I think it’ll be easier now that she’s not fucking Tim anymore. My eye is still black from him, but he got it worse than I did. Dude, you probably think we’re so fucked up. I bet no one where you go to school gets in fistfights with the men their mom fucks.

But then…you have your own stuff too, don’t you? Maybe from the outside everyone’s lives look different than they really are. Do you think so? Or maybe we both just got dealt a shitty hand.

How are things with your dad?

We got this.

Lucas

I’d hoped he would tell me he didn’t want anything to drink.

Which is fucking stupid. We were in a bar. Not everyone who drinks is an alcoholic, but it scares me…people I know drinking. I’ll probably always be sensitive to it. Keeping myself around alcohol is good for me because it shows me what I don’t want. That’s not Gabriel’s problem. My shit is my shit, but it’d been on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he’s allowed to drink on whatever medication he’s taking for his bipolar disorder.

I’m smart enough to know you need to be careful with that shit, but what right do I have to ask him that? Gabe’s smart enough not to drink on his meds, if he’s not supposed to drink. He took off from his parents because they were always overbearing and tried to run his life. He doesn’t need me checking in on him.

He’s not my mom. Like he said, he doesn’t need a babysitter. Hell, he has his life together better than I do. At least he’s doing something more than just working a dead end job. He’s making sure he’ll find a way to fly one day, while I’m too afraid to try and make my dreams come true—to make my mom’s dreams for me come true.

Before I get sucked into the past, I finish up my shift and head home. The first thing I do is strip before getting into the shower. Jesus, I still can’t believe he kissed me the way he did. I don’t know why I thought he would be a little shyer than that. I’d wanted it, really fucking wanted it, and even though Gabe is more touchy-feely than I am, I still didn’t expect him to take control the way he did.

It was sexy as hell.

Hot water pelts against my skin, making me shiver. I reach for the shampoo, and soap my hand up really well before lowering it to my dick. It’s hard and aching and really wants to come, so I wrap my fist around it and stroke.

My left hand rests against the wall with the showerhead as I lean forward. Water runs over my head and down my back as I work my cock, because honestly, it’s been days since I came, and orgasms are one of my only true pleasures right now.

Why deny myself that?

I run the palm of my hand over the head of my dick before jerking it again. With each stroke I get harder, more eager to let go and jizz all over my shower walls.

When we were kids, we’d talk about jerking off sometimes. Talk about boys and each other, because it was safe as hell behind that computer screen. But now he’s here and he kissed me and I’m wishing I would have pushed him against the wall and made the kiss last longer.

The feel of his lips and the smile when he walked away flash in my mind. My body goes rigid. My left hand fists against the wall as I come in two long spurts that wash down the shower drain.

When I’m done, I put on a pair of boxer-briefs and basketball shorts. I fall asleep before my head hits the pillow.

Knock, knock, knock.

My eyes flutter open, and I realize it’s already the next morning. Ignoring the banging on my door, I roll over and bury my head in the pillow.

Knock, knock, knock.

My eyes jerk open again and for a second, I wonder if maybe it’s Gabe. I don’t really have a lot of people stopping by my place, but I know he works today, so it can’t be him.

“Yo! Lucas. Open the fucking door.”

I groan at the sound of Conner’s voice, but still force myself to climb out of bed. He’ll never leave if I don’t. After turning the lock, I pull the door open and then stumble toward my kitchen area and begin making coffee.

“What’s up, man?” Conner asks, before closing the door behind him.

“I was sleeping. Nothing really has a chance to be up yet unless you count my erection.”

He doesn’t even flinch at my morning wood joke. “Shoulda taken care of that before I got here.”

“Did you miss the part where I was still sleeping?” I ask him.

“It’s eleven. Can’t sleep your day away, Lucas. Oh, look, it’s your secret book.”

He grabs for my sketchbook, but I get it first, stuffing it in a drawer. “You’re like a kid sometimes.”

“I just like giving you shit because it’s so easy. Stop the coffee and go get dressed. We’ll take a walk and I’ll buy you a latte.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him no, but what do I have to do all day? Scribble designs in my book that I’ll never really be able to create? “Only because I want caffeine.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself. You already have caffeine here.”

Ignoring Conner, I grab a pair of blue jeans from one of the three drawers under my bed, then get socks and underwear before pulling a T-shirt from the small closet. Before I walk into the bathroom, I turn to him. “Don’t look at it. I don’t like people to look at it.”

Conner squints his brown eyes, confusion making his forehead wrinkle. “I wouldn’t do that. I like to tease you, that’s all.”

After giving him a short nod, I go into the bathroom and get dressed. Once I’m done, I brush my teeth, rub the scruff on my jaw and decide to leave it for now. I don’t bother to run a brush through my hair, and just grab my beanie when I’m out of the bathroom.

Conner’s waiting by the door. He runs a hand through his messy black hair before we make our way out. Something’s up with him. I don’t know what, but it’s like this isn’t a typical visit. The question is there, waiting on my tongue but I swallow it. It’s not my business. It doesn’t matter one way or another. Conner’s business is Conner’s business.

We walk down to one of the local WeHo coffeehouses. We both order a vanilla latte and once we have our drinks, we head outside to one of the tables.

The second we sit down, Conner says, “I might leave the bar.”

For reasons I don’t understand, my stomach drops. I can’t imagine working at the bar without Conner. Still, I take a drink of my latte, shrug and say, “Cool. Where will you go?”

“I’m not sure. I just…I think it’s time, ya know? I want something different. I need a change. There’s no future at Pete’s. I just…hell, I feel like since I’m twenty-two years old, it’s time to start figuring out who in the fuck I am.”

My stomach rolls, gets heavier and heavier. He’s right. Of course he is. I’ve always known that, but in this moment, I’m envious of him. Envious because he can just make the decision that it’s time to grow up, and then just do it…but there’s a little surprise in there too. Conner’s wild and never really serious, but I always thought he knew who he was. What he wanted.

“I wanted to make sure I told you first. We’ve been working there a year. We’re friends. It would have felt strange to look for something else without telling you.”

Thank you
echoes softly through my brain. “Look at you, being all sentimental and shit. Who said we’re friends?” I tease him, but Conner just rolls his eyes.

“You like me. I know you like me. I heard through the grapevine that Pete might sell. Not sure I want to be around for the bar to change hands. What about you? I know you’re not happy there.”

No, no, I’m not. It’s not like I can do much else. What do I know? How to wait tables? Bag groceries? Those are the only kinds of things I’ve done. Shrugging, I say, “I’ll probably just stick it out. One bar is the same as the next.”

Conner frowns, but it doesn’t stick around very long. I watch it transform, his lips turning up as he smiles. “Speaking of the bar, Lisa said some guy showed up for you last night. It sounds like he looks a whole hell of a lot like the guy you were talking to a couple weeks back. You cheating on me?”

I can’t help but laugh at that. Conner is such a fucking nut. “Yeah, well, you don’t put out.”

“I might be willing to give it a go for you, though.” He winks and I know he’s kidding… at least about me. Conner’s favorite pastime is trying to get me riled up, but sometimes I do wonder if he’s bisexual and never told me. “But seriously, are you interested in him? You should date someone. Hang out with someone. Do something. I’m getting a little tired of you wanting to spend every waking moment with me.”

“Who wants to spend all their time with whom?” I ask, but I know what he’s saying. He thinks I don’t get close to anyone, but I don’t know how to be any other way.

I
spend
the rest of the afternoon sketching building after building, plane after plane.

It’s unfair of me, but I think there’s a part of me that’s angry at Conner for wanting to look for another job. For wanting to move on, for having the balls to try for more.

Gabe’s doing the same thing, by taking his classes. I’m not sure why I’m not mad at him. Maybe because as a kid, I thought Gabe could do anything. Could have anything. Even through a computer screen he felt invincible to me. He felt like he was
someone
.

Now, I know he’s really human. He’s bipolar, but in a way he’s still invincible, because he’s living with it. He’s doing what he’s supposed to be doing. That’s another reason it didn’t make sense for me to ask him if he should be drinking last night. He doesn’t need me for shit like that.

My phone buzzes beside my sketchpad. I drop my pencil on my pillow and pick it up. It’s Gabe.

Hey. You working tonight?

No.
I text him back.
Wanna come over?

Because I’m angry with Conner and for some reason, being around Gabe makes me feel good. I need to feel good right now.

There’s a long pause, so long that I think he might say no. When my phone buzzes, I’m able to breathe again.

Sorry. Jumped in the shower real quick. I’ll be there soon.

What the hell we’re going to do when he gets here, I don’t know. Still, I’m glad I asked. Like I told him, he knows more about me than anyone else. Having someone know me almost feels like it gives me some kind of power I never had before. Maybe power isn’t the right word, but it gives me something that I didn’t know I needed.

When we were kids I knew I needed it. That’s what made me join the message boards in the first place. There I could be
Skyscraper69,
which was my user name, until I met
FlyMeToTheMoon
and we started emailing. Then, I became Lucas to someone who knew Lucas’s secrets. And
FlyMeToTheMoon
became Gabriel. We laid the groundwork then, when it was easier, and now the frame has already been built for us.

I get up and order a pizza from an Italian spot that’s a minute and a half walk from me. After cleaning up real quick, I go grab our food. I figure he probably didn’t eat after work, and if he did, I’m still starving. I can always save the leftovers for breakfast.

Less than five minutes from when I’m back inside my apartment, there’s a knock on the door. I open it to see Gabe standing there, his blond bangs pushed out of his face. His hair still looks partially wet from his shower. He’s wearing skinny jeans, Converse sneakers, and a black T-shirt, with his black hoodie over his arm. Seeing how he’s dressed reminds me how much I love the Southern California weather. It may be January, but there are still a lot of T-shirt days and the heaviest you’ll need is a sweatshirt.

“You and that fucking hoodie.” I smile, and Gabe walks in.

After I close the door, I see him eyeing the pizza box on the coffee table. “Isn’t pizza bread?” he asks.

“You have so much to learn about my bread issues. First of all, thin crust is always an option. It’s actually my favorite, but I didn’t know if you liked it.” I nod toward the couch and he sits down.

“I’m listening. Keep going.”

I sit beside him. He smells like soap and wet hair, the scent mixing with the smell of pizza sauce and cheese. “It takes very careful knowledge of the establishment you’re ordering from. I mean, in some ways the texture is completely different, but if the dough is incredibly thick, it can still provoke the gag reflex. I’m very particular about where I order. The Pizza Guys is my favorite and lucky for me, they’re close. It’s not too thin, not too thick.”

Gabe cocks a brow, and I see he wants to say something silly. “It’s
just right
? Are you the Goldilocks of pizza?”

“Maybe I am.” I wink at him, and I realize how glad I am that I invited him over. That talking to him, even if it is just about food, makes me feel like we’re reinforcing our frame. “Taste it.” I lift my chin toward the box. Gabe opens it before picking up one of the paper plates beside it.

He grabs a piece, the cheese stretching as he puts a slice of pepperoni on his plate. I watch him as he licks his lips, as he takes a bite, chews and then looks at me. “Just right.”

This whole conversation feels cheesier than our pizza, but it still makes me smile. “Told you I’m good.”

“Never doubted it,” he replies.

I grab a piece myself and we finish the whole box, while drinking soda and watching a horror flick on TV. With each minute that passes, Gabe gets closer to me. It’s not one of those lame-ass things you see in movies, where the distance keeps shrinking while they get the balls to make a move. I just think Gabe craves contact—skin and flesh and warmth. And even though I’m not typically like that, I suddenly want to give it to him. Or maybe I’m just a selfish bastard and I’m fooling myself because I really just crave him.

So I do it, blatantly just move closer. Our legs touch, jeans against jeans. Our arms though? That’s skin against skin and I think maybe I really do crave skin and flesh and warmth the same way he does. At least when it’s him, I do.

The movie ends, and out of the corner of my eye, I see his head turn. Feel his gaze on me.

I want to taste him.

Me
taste
him
. I’ve felt his lips twice and both times were both Gabe’s doing. This time it’ll be mine. I turn to him, touch his cheek with my left hand, let his hair slide through my fingers and then grab on.

Then I’m leaning forward, my tongue at the seam of his lips. Gabe opens up for me and I thrust my tongue inside. The feel of him, the taste of him goes straight to my head—both my dick and the one on my shoulders.

He moans into my mouth as I push closer to him. Reading my body language, Gabe turns, lies down so that he’s on his back and I’m between his legs, leaning over him.

My dick aches. I feel his, hard and thick against my stomach as I kiss him deeper.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say as my lips slide down his neck. I can’t believe I just said that either.

Gabe’s hand tightens in my hair and his hips move, as he rubs his erection against me.

“I can’t believe it either.” He’s breathless, his voice hoarse with lust. It rocks through me and I suddenly want nothing more than to see what he looks like when he comes.

Leaning up, I rub my hand over the bulge beneath his zipper. Gabe hisses. Our eyes lock and he reads my question in them. He nods and then I’m scrambling, trying to get his pants unbuttoned and unzipped. He’s doing the same with me. Neither of us get our jeans all the way down, just under our asses while we both wrap a hand around each other.

He’s hot, so fucking hot. The heat radiates from him. I look down at him, his erection sticking out of his pants. The dark-blond hair at his crotch that’s coarse against my hand. “I used to wonder what your dick looked like.”

I start at the tip and run my finger down to the base. Gabe shivers.

“It sounds so fucking stupid, but I used to try and picture it. I thought about it when I’d jerk off into a sock, because I felt less creepy thinking about someone I knew. I wanted to know how long it was, how thick. How it would feel in my hand.” In reality, there’d been other dicks before Gabe’s, and the truth was, there would likely be dicks after his, too. That old saying,
there’s always quiet after the storm,
has always been backward for me.
There’s always a storm after the quiet.
When I was a kid, we’d have periods of time where things were calm and steady—Mom would work a decent waitressing job where she got good tips, or she’d be sober, but they never lasted. That storm always hits, and as much as I don’t want it to happen with Gabe, I know it will.

Still, as I played with him, as I test the weight of his balls, and stroke him, it’s almost like I’m that kid again, seeing the first cock that isn’t my own, and having it belong to my best friend. My only friend.

“Shit. That’s a lot to live up to. What’s the verdict?” he laughs nervously and I can’t help but laugh too.

Winking at him, I say, “I like what I see so far. I can’t reach a conclusion until I see you come. Wrap your hand around both of us.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Gabe spits in his hands and wraps them around our dicks. I thrust against him, lean forward and slip my tongue into his mouth again as he jerks us off together.

It’s an embarrassingly short amount of time later that we’re both breathing heavy. My balls are full, tight and I can’t hold it off anymore. The urgent sounds Gabe makes tell me he’s right there with me. Leaning up just far enough that I can see him, I watch his face, watch him close his eyes, wrinkles forming around the edges. His mouth open as he breathes in short panting breaths.

He comes first. He cries out as I feel him tense, feel his sticky fluid running down our cocks as he keeps working them, and I keep thrusting. He’s fucking gorgeous this way, lost in passion, and then I’m coming too, white ropes spilling all over his T-shirt. Gabe won’t be wearing that home. “Good thing you brought that hoodie,” I tell him, before collapsing on top of him. Our laughter blurs together, our chests and stomachs vibrating against each other.

This moment is one of the coolest I’ve ever lived.