My frown deepens. He’s right. I have been really mopey ever since we visited Ella and Micha in Chicago. Micha had been there for a few days playing at a concert. Seeing Ella and Micha again made me start really wondering about my future with Ethan.
It was Ella and Micha’s six-month anniversary as husband and wife and they seemed so happy. It makes me sad, because even though I’m happy with my relationship with Ethan, I want to be his forever, and Ethan has already made it pretty clear how he feels about weddings and marriage and all that “ridiculous nonsense” (his words not mine).
It’s not like I want to get married today or even in a year because I don’t. I’m not ready for that yet, but I want to know that five or ten years down the road we could be standing up in front of a minister, saying our “I dos.” That we could end up having what Ella and Micha have.
“Just tell me what’s bothering you,” he interrupts my thoughts with a fake sexy pout. “Or else I’m going to have to stuff this marshmallow in your mouth and then you’re going to be grumpy because you’ll be all sticky.”
I narrow my eyes with my hands on my hips. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“You don’t think so?” he questions, elevating his eyebrows.
I sigh, knowing he would do it in a heartbeat and laugh at me. But it’s part of why I love him, because in the end I’d laugh too. “Fine,” I say, searching for a way around this without telling the truth to avoid him getting uncomfortable and weird like he always does whenever anyone starts talking about life and the future. “I’m mopey because we’ve been in the mountains for too long and I need a shower.”
He studies me intently with his head cocked to the side. I think he’s buying it until suddenly his tattooed arm springs forward and he stuffs melted marshmallow into my mouth.
“Dammit, Ethan!” I shout, my voice muffled by the goo. I lick my lips and wipe them with the back of my hand, trying to get rid of the stickiness while Ethan grins at me, completely proud of himself.
“That’s a good look for you,” he says, brushing his fingers along my bottom lip and wiping off some of the goo. He licks his fingers and I pull a face because I really do hate melted marshmallows. “Tastes good too,” he mutters, his humor shifting to desire as he eyes my lips. Then suddenly he’s cupping the back of my head and drawing me in for a kiss. The moment his lips crash into mine, I forget what we were talking about or even that we’re in the mountains. I just kiss him back, willingly parting my lips to let his wet tongue slide into my sticky mouth.
“Really good,” he whispers against my mouth, and then kisses me again, his fingers threading through my hair and pulling gently at the roots, making my skin tingle.
My fingers wander up his back, my hands trembling with the abundance of emotions I feel for him. Want. Desire. Need. It’s so terrifying. Knowing how bad I want this. Want him. And that one day maybe it could be all gone.
In almost a desperate move, I pull him closer to me, clinging on to him, the heat of his body warming up the chilly breeze of the mountains. It also warms up my heart, makes me feel the slightest bit better and content, and reminds me that despite the fact that I might never get married—that I have no idea where we’re headed—having moments like these with Ethan is completely and utterly worth drifting into the unknown.
I just wish it could be different.
* * *
Ethan
We’ve been on the road for almost a month now, living off of the money we saved up after five months of working—me in construction and working part-time as a bartender, and Lila waitressing and working at a clothing store on the weekends. We were supposed to go earlier but it took longer to save up than I’d planned. But we busted our asses off, saving everything we could so we could live on the road for a month straight. It’s been amazing—every day is with Lila. The only thing that sucks is that we’re heading back to Vegas tomorrow, back to life and the real world, popping the secluded, quiet bubble we’ve built around us during our road trip.
Still, I’m trying to make the best of our last night here, especially because she seems sort of down and I hate seeing her down. It worries me a little, since in the past she used pills as a way not to feel her sadness. She was addicted to them for a very long time and I was the one who helped her with the addiction, watched her struggle with it, but conquer it. She’s had such a hard life and I want her to be happy all the time, even though that’s impossible… I wish I could find a way to make it possible.
After I push the marshmallow into Lila’s mouth, I feel her mood lighten, which was what I was trying to accomplish. But my playfulness quickly turns to desire as she tries to lick the goo off her lips. I want to taste it—taste her—so I kiss her fiercely while I start to back us toward the tent. My hands travel up the back of her shirt and I savor the softness of her skin as I try to find the zipper to the door of the tent with my other hand. I manage to get the tent unzipped without disconnecting our lips; then I guide her inside and down onto her back onto the sleeping bags before covering her body with mine. I kiss her until she becomes breathless, until she’s clutching my arms so tightly her fingernails are scraping my skin and she begs me to be inside her.
I nearly lose it right there. She’s too beautiful for her own good and it makes lasting long nearly impossible. “Fuck, Lila, you’re going to make this end quickly if you keep saying stuff like that,” I say, pulling away to remove her jacket. She eagerly helps me, slipping her arms out of the sleeves. Then I tug her shirt off and unhook her bra, laughing when she gets the strap tangled up and stuck on her arm. Finally after a lot of laughing, I get it off and toss it aside, then lower my lips back to hers and slip my tongue deep inside her mouth, which tastes like marshmallow.
“Ethan…” She groans, lacing her fingers through my hair as she curves her back, pressing her chest against mine.
I grip her hip with one hand, pulling her closer to me until there’s no room left between us. Then my fingers slide up her side as I devour the taste of her. When I reach her breast, I graze my finger across her nipple and she gasps in response, her legs fastening around me. Our tongues tangle and our breaths mix as she grinds her hips against mine and rubs up against me. I move with her, listening to her moan and gasp and plead until I can’t take it anymore. I lean back and yank my shirt off, throwing it to the side of the tent. Then I undo the button on her jeans and she impatiently helps me as I slip them down her legs. When I get to her ankles, she kicks off the jeans and strips off her panties. Then she reaches to pull me to her, but I shake my head and hold on to her ankle.