Follow the River

Rain has gone back to his mopey, shut off self once again and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. It’s like ever since that night he tripped over me in the hall and decided we would be sharing a bed for the remainder of our time at the cabin flipped a switch in him again. And every time I try to go flip it back off, he’s standing there, holding it in place and refusing to budge an inch.

I’ll admit, Rain’s brooding nature is a massive part of his allure, seeing as the strong silent type always seem to carry the most sex appeal. But Jesus Christ, I’m at my wits end here. If he keeps withdrawing from me, I’m go

This morning at breakfast I asked him if he wanted to do anything special tonight for New Year’s Eve, even stream the ball dropping in Times Square from one of our phones since this is his first time experiencing the holiday not on the East Coast and making stir fry, but he only shrugged, telling me whatever is fine.

Sigh.

I get that he’s guarded, that he isn’t happy all the time. But he’s given me glimpses of who he is, what he’s like when he’s being himself, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t craving more. Ciaráin Grady opening up and letting go is a beautiful sight to behold.

But the problem is it makes it difficult to keep emotions out of this arrangement of just sex.

Who am I kidding? Difficult is the understatement of the mille

Because the trouble is, I know I’m already falling.

Right here, right now. No safety net in sight.

Sitting on the couch with yet another paperback to read, The Catcher in the Rye this time, my mind spins in circles, trying to come up with something, anything to get him out of this funk he’s found himself. Because I want him to enjoy tonight with me.

It’s New Year’s after all.

I know drawing and painting makes him happy, or at least less of an asshole. Sometimes. But I can’t do either of those.

I could always cook stir fry like I said, seeing as we have all the ingredients, and find a movie for us to watch. Low-key and simple, which is something I know he’d like. The only issue is that option leaves him stewing in his room all day still, like he has been again a lot more recently.

We could go for a hike to the lake, even though we’ve easily done that a dozen times between the two of us. Or maybe take the ATV into town and grab a few beers at one of the local microbreweries?

Tapping the spine of my book to my knee, I continue to weed through the ideas as they come to me, but nothing seems quite right.

Think, River. Think.

My eyes float around the cabin, grasping at straws for some sort of idea.

And when my eyes land on huge basket of blankets in the corner, I have a fucking brilliant one. One that I can’t believe I didn’t think of sooner.

Scrambling from my spot on the couch, I walk over and grab the basket, hauling it to the center of the living room in front of the fireplace to set to work.

I used to come out to the cabin at least twice a year with Taylor and his family, if not more. In fact, I can only think of one year, the year his dad won his last Superbowl, when we didn’t get to come out to the cabin more than twice.

Most of the time T would only bring me with, but sometimes Drew, Elliott, and our friend Asher would tag along. But the times the other guys would come, even as kids, we would get into so much shit.

Like the one time we were eleven, Coach and Taylor’s stepmom went down into Vail on a “date night”, leaving the five of us boys at the cabin for a maximum of four hours.

But in a four hour period, we managed to build the most bomb ass blanket fort. It was multilevel—not sure how the fuck we managed that one, but I think we stacked some very unstable furniture—and took up the entire living room. And this cabin isn’t small, so that tells you something right there.

When T’s parents came back those few hours later, needless to say they were less than pleased at the state of their cabin. Well, Taylor’s dad thought it was hilarious, but his stepmom threw the biggest bitch fit I’ve ever seen, especially seeing her precious Taylor, as she’d call him, hanging out in the upper level of the fort.

I mean, yeah it wasn’t exactly safe, but it was hardly worth the screaming match it caused with Coach and her after we cleaned it up and went back to the two bedrooms that we all slept in.

But that fort, man. It was such a fun night. I can still see the damn thing in my head and fuck if I’m not tempted to build a replica of it now.

Rain doesn’t talk much about his life growing up, but his silent and brooding nature had to stem from something. And while he might keep those stories close to his chest, I can deduce the biggest reason might be his childhood wasn’t all that great. Not filled with the love and laughter like it should’ve been.

Not like mine was, at least until my father decided to practically disown me and divorce my mother because of my sexual orientation in early high school.

Decision made, I start moving the furniture in the living room around, creating the most space I can right in front of the fireplace before I set to work at the hardest part, the draping of about ten sheets and blankets.

By the time I’m finished with that portion of the task, I have to say I’m really fucking pleased with the results. It doesn’t look exactly like the one we made as kids, but I honestly think this one is way better.

And a fuckton safer and more structurally sound too.

It’s gotta be if two twenty-one year old college football players, both well over six foot in height, are pla

After adding some finishing touches, including all the spare pillows I could find and stringing Christmas lights around the interior, I slip into my room to grab a comforter and a few pillows. I set up the inside of the fort as well in preparation for spending the rest of the night inside it.

It’s not exactly the way I envisioned myself spending New Year’s Eve, but honestly? This might be even better than hitting up the bars and getting plastered out of my mind with the boys.

A night of fun and sex with Rain? I think that’ll always beat going out to get lit.

Giving my handiwork a final once over, I decide the fort is completed to my liking and I can’t help but grin like an idiot in pride. I know there is an extremely high possibility Rain will think it’s stupid, but I don’t care. It’s the thought that counts, and since I can’t paint worth a damn or do anything creative along those lines to cheer his ass up, this is the best I’ve got.

Lying back in the recliner I pushed out of the way to make room for the fort, I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts in search of Rain’s name.

Me: Come out here, I have a surprise.

I flip the TV on and surf through Netflix, selecting The Witcher because fucking duh, while waiting for his response. It comes about twenty minutes later.

Rain: Can’t. Busy.

Rolling my eyes, I pause the show. I should have expected this response from the begi

Me: But I’m naked and horny...