Follow the River

Sitting at the desk in my bedroom, paint brush in hand, I do my best to forget.

About my parents and how they are pieces of trash. About this mess I’m in. About my demons that haunt me.

About him.

But I can’t forget. Everything in my life has come to a tipping point and all I can do is helplessly wait to get flung overboard. To be tossed off the cliff I’m desperately clinging to, just like Doctor Fulton said I need.

And it's a lonely, bleak existence, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The forbidden moments with River, first in the locker room, the shower, then against the shed were the only times I didn’t feel like I was drowning. Like I could finally fucking breathe.

An escape from my life. My problems.

Myself.

But as soon as I was alone again, no longer in the warmth of his presence, my demons began to devour me. Just as they are right now. They always know which emotions to pick at in order to eat me alive. Ever since that morning in the shower, it’s been one emotion.

Guilt.

You raped him, my conscience screams at me.

What the fuck does that say about me? That I got off on his torment?

I always knew I was fucked up but, Jesus Christ, this is downright depraved.

Sadistic.

But the way his ass felt wrapped around my cock was pure magic.

I want to feel it again. Fuck him again.

I’ve never craved someone like this in my life.

But. I’m. Not. Gay.

That’s been my mantra since the first run-in at school in the locker room. It’s been my mantra since I was four-fucking-teen. It’s my mantra still. But River broke down the barricade around my mind outside the shed and I’m struggling to rebuild it.

And goddamnit, no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop replaying his words.

Accept this is who you are, so you can start to enjoy being stranded in a fucking cabin in the woods with me for another four weeks

Fuck.

I don’t want him to be right. But he is.

I don’t want to want him. But I do.

Four weeks is a long damn time to sit around this cabin, avoiding him and his tempting as hell ass. It hasn't even been two weeks and I already feel like my sanity is slipping away.

And I’m grasping at straws, coming up empty when I try to think of how to hold on. Nothing is working.

Except River.

Whenever we fight, I stop thinking and worrying because all I want is to rip his clothes off and fuck him into submission. It’s explosive.

It’s fucking chemical.

So maybe…

God damnit, I’m going insane to even consider this.

“Screw it,” I grumble, slamming the brush down and shooting up from the chair.

Ripping open the door, I head down the hall to his bedroom. I knock softly on his door before calling out to him, hating the butterflies flying in my stomach.

“Riv?”

I wait a moment, head canted toward the door to listen for footfalls.

Nothing.

I open the door, letting it swing into the room and look around to find it empty.

Nothing.

My brows furrow as I pull the door back shut and continue down the hall to the living room.

“River?” I call, when I notice that room empty too. Same with the kitchen.

Dread floods my system and before I can stop myself, I shout his name at the top of my lungs, my voice thundering against the walls of the cabin.

Relax. There’s no way he left you here. You would have heard the four wheeler start. A car door slamming. The crunch of tires under the snow.

Just relax.

I can’t fucking relax. Where is he?

Yanking the front door open with enough force to rip the door from its hinges, I swing my head around the porch in search of River.

“River?” I yell into the silence of the forest.

Fucking. Nothing.

I check the shed for the ATV to find it still sitting where we parked it last week, as I figured. Glancing at the ground, I scan the area for fresh tracks, but there hasn’t been snow in a few days, and since I’m no motherfucking boy scout, I can’t differentiate the fresh from the old.

“River!” The scream comes from deep in my soul, I don’t even care that the panic is present in my voice. His name echoes off the trees and the mountains and the snow. But when the echoes fade, I’m left with nothing.

Just silence.

It’s been five fucking hours of pacing and panicking and still no sign of River. I’ve called his phone, but no answer. Not like I get the best reception out here anyway.

I glance at the clock above the stove.

Shit, it’s going to be getting dark soon.

Okay.

If he isn’t back in thirty minutes, I’ll take the ATV into town and…

And what?

Jesus Christ. I’m a rich fuck from suburban Pe

As I’m about to head down the hall to change into sweats, the front door swings open.

My heart stops when I see it’s River.

Relief instantly flows through my body at the sight of him, clearly in one piece. His cheeks are red, probably from the wind, and he looks a little out of breath.

He doesn’t notice me standing at the edge of the hallway, so he lifts his feet, one at a time, resting them on the bench next to the door to take off his boots. His ass flexes beneath his jeans, causing my dick to thicken behind my zipper.

Fuck, I want him.

It’s the most confusing and fucking infuriating thing I’ve ever experienced.

Whipping off his jacket and beanie, he tosses them on the hook behind the door, then spins around to face me. He pauses, finally catching me staring at him. I track his hand ru

I want to be the one to run my hands through them.

What. The. Shit. Where is this coming from?

Pulling his AirPods from his ears, he tucks them into their case and tosses them on the kitchen island before meeting my eyes again.

“Hey,” he says softly.

And I just…snap.

I’m pi

Hey?

He’s been gone for fucking hours, I didn’t know if he left me here or if he was fucking dead in the forest being eaten by a mountain lion like he said were out here that first day.

And he says hey.

I’m fucking seething. “Where the fuck were you? You’ve been gone for hours. You didn’t answer my calls, you didn’t leave a note. I was freaking out thinking you left me here. I thought…” I cut myself off, swallowing harshly.

Shit.

“I thought something terrible happened to you.”

Shock crosses his face. “I went for a hike. Kind of like you do without telling me? I didn’t think you’d care.”

I sigh and release my hold on his throat, bringing my forehead to rest against his. My heart is pounding a mile a minute. “Of course, I fucking care, River,” I whisper.

“Why?”

His question gives me pause. I pull back to look into his eyes, more green than blue today, my brows furrowing. “Why?”

“Yeah, why? Why do you fucking care when you clearly hate me?”

I clench my jaw. “I can hate someone and still want them to be alive and well. They aren’t any fun to torture if they’re dead.”