Lumbersexual (Novella) Read online

  He was right. That was how we made it cross-country, over the ridge. We just took the next step, concentrating on not falling, and helping each other.

  We were both scared, but we made it through. One step at a time.

  And a light bulb went on.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “That’s what’s been worrying me all summer. That I had to figure out everything this summer. That I needed to plan my whole life, pick my career that I was going to stick with for the next decades of my life. Know it all right now. Figure out who I am right now. And that’s terrifying. I don’t even know what I like half the time.”

  He nodded.

  “But I don’t have to do that do I? I don’t need to figure everything out this summer. I can just figure out what I want to do next.”

  “Yep. Just trust that you’ll figure it out when you need to. Take the next step.”

  I let out a sigh of relief.

  After a while, he helped me up off the ground, I put my pack back on, and we hiked home.

  I’d go backpacking again, but I’d think long and hard about going off the map.

  I kissed his full lips, making sure to rub my cheek against his beard, then lowered my head and slid down his naked torso to his waist, licking and kissing my way down. He made a low noise in pleasure, my bear of a man content. Pausing at his midsection, enjoying his woodsy scent, I stuck my nose in his belly button, then licked it. I looked up at him and smiled.

  It was late August, nearing the end of summer. The falls had dried up to a trickle. The deciduous black oak leaves lacked the fresh green of June and started to look desiccated. In another month or two they’d dry up and fall off. Sunset crept earlier, and some of the nights started to have an edge, a chill that wasn’t present when I started. But the blazing hot days meant fire season.

  I knew that I didn’t want to leave either Court or Yosemite. I’d used the internet at his house to research job openings at this and other parks, but now that the summer seasonal jobs were ending, they were hard to find. I applied for several research positions at my university, but hadn’t heard back. And every time I did any of this, I saw the unhappy expression on Court’s face, but he didn’t say anything. And I didn’t like it any better than he did.

  But there was an end date here. My job would be done in two weeks. And I’d have to leave.

  He was lying in his bed, head on the pillow, one arm back behind his head, the other resting on my bicep. Straddling him, wearing a white tank top with no bra underneath and plain white cotton panties, I locked eyes with him, my multi-colored ones to his.

  We’d done a lot this summer—working, swimming, hiking, biking, riding horses—against the backdrop of majestic Yosemite. Not to mention near-daily sex with the most beautiful man, inside and out. All I could think was, I’m gonna miss this. All of this.

  But I shoved that thought to the side and pushed the rest of the way down him, coming eye to eye with his hard cock constrained by his boxer briefs. Again, looking up at him, wanting to see how much he wanted this, wanting to know how turned on he was, I smiled, pulled down the elastic band, and kissed the tip.

  He shook his head. “This is slow torture.” Then, “Don’t change a thing.”

  Lifting his hips up, I pulled his boxers all the way off. He helped, but for once he let me be in charge. Normally he took control, telling me what to do in bed—or just doing it. But today, in a mellow mood, he seemed content to relax and let me pleasure him.

  My knees on either side of his, I bent down and stuck out my tongue, licking him all the way up the underside of his cock to the top. Then down. I took the whole thing in my mouth as far as it would go and he started swearing. “Oh fuck that feels—”

  But he didn’t finish his sentence, because he threw his head back on the pillow and arched his back, arched into my mouth, giving the sexiest groan. I loved how he didn’t hide how much I turned him on. I loved how he was so intense when we had sex, ordering me around, telling me how lovely I was, taking care of me in every possible way.

  I started stroking and sucking, getting a rhythm of strokes and interrupting it to take him deeper.

  “Fuck, Maggie, that is so—”

  But again he didn’t finish his statement. This time it was because he’d knifed up and kissed me hard, pulling me into him, desperate not to let me go. He reached for the hem of my tank top, and it was over my head and off. I shook my curls and he looked at me, paused, and rolled us so that I was under him.

  “You wet?”

  I nodded.

  “Let me feel.” Without taking off my underwear, he slid the fabric over to the side and fingered me, feeling, I was sure, that I was soaked.

  He always aroused me. I could pick just one part of him and it aroused me. His eyes. His voice. His beard, hair, body. Fingers. Shoulders. Cock. The way he showed how much he thought about me by what he did. The way he cared.

  The way he cared.

  And I had all of him. For now, at least.

  I shoved that thought to the side.

  “Keep them on,” I said. “It’s kind of pervy this way.”

  He grinned. “Done, babe.” And he flipped me over, massaged my ass, pulled my undies to the side, and nudged the head of his cock in. “You good?”

  “Yes, please, move, now.” As usual, I didn’t care that I was begging, wanting to feel him in me.

  With ease, he pressed into me all the way, flawless, pulling my hips up more toward him with his big hands. I loved this. I loved how he made me feel—sexy and wanted.

  And goddamn he started moving and it felt even better, the way his cock rubbed me, he did it the right way. That saying? He ruined me?

  He totally did. No one could possibly make me feel any better, because this was perfection. The way we fit. The way we moved. The way we cared for each other.

  He pulled out, cock sticking up, and pulled down my panties to my knees, then got off the bed and pulled me to the edge of the mattress, my feet on the floor, head on the bed. He stood behind me as I bent over the bed, ass out, and held my neck down and positioned himself. Then he proceeded to fuck me in a way that felt like I’d explode when I finally came. There was just us, just the feeling, so amazing, building it up and building it up, until I—

  Came. Hard.

  Fuck.

  Shaking.

  Quivering on the bed, he drew the orgasm out of me, then reached down and rubbed my clit and got more waves of pleasure wrecking my body, as I screamed into the mattress, nowhere for it to go but into the sheets and the blankets.

  And with a hot moan, he came too, pumping into me, releasing my neck, and falling over me.

  After, I curled up on the bed and he spooned behind me, running his coarse hands up and down my side, feeling my curves. I wanted to take a picture of us in his bed. I wanted to hold this forever, but of course that was impossible. And I was finding it harder and harder to talk to him about what I was feeling, because I didn’t want to admit to myself what I was feeling.

  That I couldn’t live without him, and I didn’t want to leave.

  So instead, we didn’t talk about it. We kept on hiking and biking and floating down the river. Most nights I was in bed with him. And we both pretended it wasn’t ending.

  It was later that Sunday morning. We had lazed about all morning, eating waffles from a mix with good maple syrup and bacon, feeding each other pieces. Then we’d fucked. And now we lay in bed together after, not saying a word. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. Not, “I’ll miss this, Court.” Or, “Wish we could do that again.” Because I couldn’t trust myself to say it without breaking down. So instead I lay in his arms and watched the shadows of the tall trees until it was time to go to the party, as he dozed behind me, warm and beautiful and comforting.

  Not saying anything at all.

  Then we cleaned up and left.

  We’d decided to go to Kristy’s late summer bash today, partly because
it sounded like fun and partly to go back to where we first met, although this time it was an afternoon barbeque. Also, this time thankfully Kristy hadn’t imposed any crazy eating rules. The party was jumping once we pulled up in his truck.

  Weaving our way through the guests to the kitchen, Court not letting go of my hand, I heard snippets of conversation.

  “Helen applied and they accepted her. But it’s back east, so I’m not sure when we’ll be leaving.”

  “I’ve found it helpful to meditate on my third chakra in those situations.”

  “Ground squirrel, mostly, this time of year.”

  Court handed me a Rolling Rock, and took a Budweiser for himself.

  “Court!”

  Amanda came up to him, holding a margarita in one hand and a shot of tequila in another. “Hey, lover, how are you?” she slurred.

  Really?

  I don’t know what he’d said to her two months ago, after she’d said those vile things to me, but she’d backed off and remained professional in the office to him. She completely ignored me.

  But I guess alcohol had made her forget it.

  “Amanda, take it easy. Sit down and have some water,” he ordered.

  “Nooo. That’s no fun. Remember that time we played quarters? With the bottle of Jack? I don’t know when I’ve ever been fucked so hard.”

  I was now good at reading Court, and I could tell he was furious. He turned to me and seemed to be saying more than his words. “I’m gonna get her outside and away from everyone, and I’ll give her a ride home. No one likes it when she does this, and she does this every year.”

  I did not like the idea of him being alone with her when she was in this condition—not because of him, but because of her. And I opened my mouth to protest.

  Then I thought about it.

  I trusted him.

  Trust.

  A new concept for me.

  If I let him go with her, nothing would happen. I was sure of it. And that gave me confidence I didn’t have before.

  With a firm grip, he grabbed her under her arm and pulled her outside, but not before she could say, “Almost end of the summer, Court. Time to dump her and come back to me,” and she giggled drunkenly.

  And while those words pissed me off to no end, I’d learned the following.

  He liked me.

  He wasn’t going to dump me.

  I had to leave.

  We didn’t have it figured out yet.

  But I didn’t need to see the entire path. I just needed to do the next step.

  Unfortunately, at this exact moment, I didn’t know what the next step was.

  Feeling aimless, I looked around the party. I wandered over to a table with snacks and grabbed a Cheez-It. I talked with Yazmin about her plan to take a massage class at home, and to Matt about his plans to work at a landscape architect firm. Emma was excited to start medical school shortly. Katie had a job lined up in Texas for an animation studio.

  Everyone had plans.

  I’d been hanging out for about twenty minutes when Kristy came up to me. “Maggie! Just the person I wanted to see. I have news. Helen got a new—”

  But we were interrupted by Court, who walked back in, his face like a summer storm.

  “Let’s go, Maggie.”

  I furrowed my brows, not wanting to leave since we just got here. What the hell happened? What did she do?

  Was I right in trusting him?

  “Gotta talk to you.”

  I rolled my eyes at Kristy. “I’ll be back.” I followed him out to his truck.

  Agitated, he paced back and forth in front of it, shaded under the trees, and started gesturing at me and him. “Fuck. God she pisses me off. You have to know. I told her. This—what you and I have—it’s not a summer fling.”

  My eyes flew open and my heart started pounding.

  What was he saying?

  He continued, hands now shoved in his pockets, eyes blazing. “I am falling in love with you.”

  What?

  No.

  Really?

  What?

  I felt my body seize up. I couldn’t think. He kept talking. “I’ll go wherever you are. I’ll sell my house to the government. I just want to be with you.”

  No. He couldn’t give up all that he had here for me. A million people—more—would want to live in his house. No one had unique, special rights like that. Yosemite was in his blood, his heritage, tattooed on his body and part of his soul.

  He was an outdoorsman, always would be.

  I would not let him give any of that up for me.

  “Absolutely not. You’re not thinking logically. Your house has been in your family for a century and a half. There is no way you could give that up, especially not for someone like me.”

  “What the fuck do you mean ‘someone like you’? I love you. I’ll do anything to be with you. The thought of you leaving sickens me. Amanda’s fucking words? No. I’m not breaking up with you.”

  But he couldn’t fall in love with me. This was just for the summer. I shook my head.

  He looked at me, lips pressed together, eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “You can’t. We can’t. I’m . . . I’m . . . I’m just someone in your life for now. This isn’t forever. I don’t fit in anywhere. Why would you want to throw away all you have to be with me?”

  “Maggie Washington. You don’t get it. You do all the things I like to do. We can talk about anything or nothing at all. You’re smart, funny, hot. When I first saw you? I wanted to stay away from you because I knew you were the kind of girl I would want forever, and I’m the guy who everyone knows is not a forever guy. Fuck that. I’ve changed. I want forever with you.”

  My whole body shook, my stomach a writhing pit of snakes, my knees buckling. Tears in my eyes. “No. I can’t give you forever. I don’t even know what I’m going to do in two weeks.”

  His voice lowered to a dangerous level. “Maggie.”

  I shook my head and burst into tears. “It’s not going to work. I have to leave.”

  “Fuck.” He stared up at the sky. “I love you, and you have to leave. That’s how this is?”

  I nodded.

  He closed his eyes, wincing in pain, and I felt horrible. Worse than I’d ever felt in my life. Worse than when the kids in school made fun of my secondhand clothes. Worse than when I’d been friend-zoned by every other guy. Worse than every year on my birthday when my parents didn’t call or come.

  Now I had this guy—beautiful, giving, sexy, and trustworthy—who loved me, and I couldn’t be with him.

  Tears streamed down my face.

  “Go, Court. I can’t talk to you right now. Let me be.”

  Staring at me, he went to reach out a hand to dry my tears, but I stopped him.

  “Go. Leave me before I have to leave you.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Please,” I whispered. “Please go.”

  He shook his head, and then said, “I’ll do what you want me to do. I’m just gonna go for a walk. You know where to find me.” He rummaged in his pocket and handed me the keys to his truck. “Drive yourself home. I’ll come by your house later.” He started walking down the road toward his secret spot. “Just think about what you really want, Maggie. Not what you think you want.”

  And his feet crushed pine needles on the side of the road as he loped off away from me.

  I stood there in the street, holding his keys, shaking, and slumped against the truck.

  Court “love-em and leave-em” Thompson, fell in love with me.

  Me.

  For real.

  The hot, late summer breeze blew my curls and made my body shudder.

  I unlocked the truck and went inside the passenger seat, needing to gather my thoughts before I went back inside to talk to Kristy.

  Was I in love with him?

  I opened up the glove box to see if he had any tissues, and my camera popped out. We’d kept it in there so we had it at all times.

&
nbsp; Wiping my eyes on the back of my hand, I turned on the camera and started looking at the pictures from this summer. Court and I standing on the riverbank of the Merced, smiling in the sun. Court and I backpacking in Tuolumne Meadows. A zillion flowers from a photography walk he took me on. The time we sat in the Valley floor with binoculars and watched rock climbers go up El Capitan. Me riding a bike. Him on a horse. Both of us sipping drinks and listening to the piano music at the Wawona Hotel. Looking at the majesty of Yosemite through the windows of the Ahwahnee Hotel.

  I kept flipping and ended up at the first picture we took—the selfie from when I woke up after being with him the first time. In that picture, he looked so hot, his bed head sticking up all over the place, his biceps flexed, holding the camera, showing his tatts.

  But me?

  I looked beautiful. Content. Comfortable.

  Trusting.

  He’d never let me down. I was the one who’d let him down.

  I’d feared rejection from him, but in the end, it was me who rejected him, not the other way around.

  And I started to sob.

  Because in the last three months, Court had become my everything. He meant all of the beautiful things of Yosemite National Park—its wildflowers and tall trees, its granite peaks and waterfalls. Its vistas and intimate spots.

  But he also opened me up and made me find myself. He saw me, he made me see myself.

  He made me trust him.

  He made me trust myself.

  I loved him. Oh my God, I fucking loved him.

  Could I trust that love? Could I trust that we would figure it out?

  And the only answer to that was yes.

  My tears subsided and I looked in the mirror. I looked rough. Did I go after Court?

  Absolutely.

  I just needed to excuse myself from the party, and then I’d find him.

  A few minutes later, rubbing my cheeks, I stared at myself in the rear view mirror and thought that I could be seen in public. I went back into the party to find Kristy. Before I even could step inside, I got immediately side-hugged by Ian. “Beautiful Maggie. I’m gonna miss you when this summer is over.”

  I nodded. “I’ll miss you too.”