The rain picks up again as our bodies and tongues melt together and water soaks through our clothes. Everything seems to move in slow motion as I trail my fingers up his bare, lean chest, while he runs a hand through my hair, tugging softly at the roots. Heat flows off us, and mud is getting everywhere. He traces his tongue along the roof of my mouth, and when he slips it out I bite down on my lip. He lets out a groan as his weight lowers and my arms get pinned between our chests. I wiggle them out as our mouths stay attached, our breaths mingling together, and I circle them around his neck and pull him even closer, despite the fact that we’re sinking into the mud. I sketch lines up and down his spine, feeling the smoothness of his skin, and I hold on to him, because I don’t want to lose him.
I begin to kiss him frantically the more time goes on because my thoughts are getting mixed together and nothing makes sense at the moment. I can’t see any kind of future, and I have no idea what’s going to happen in the next thirty seconds. I try to count to calm myself down, but I’m too far gone to make it past five and the idea is frightening me. The silence the weed has been instilling in me has suddenly become too silent.
“Nova,” he groans against my mouth as I dig my fingers into his back. “Nova, slow down.”
I start gasping for air, my nails plunging deeper into his skin, and my lungs feel like they’re burning. Then he’s pulling away and I think he’s going to leave, but instead he grabs my hand and helps me stand up.
He leads us across the field and through the tent area and I think he’s going to stop at our tent, but instead he curves to the right and continues walking, heading toward the line of trees.
“Where are we going?” I say through the chattering of my teeth. My hair and clothes are drenched, and my skin is covered with flaky mud that makes my skin feel tight. I have no idea where he’s taking me, and it feels like I should be counting my steps and trying to turn back to the tent, but I can’t seem to find the pattern of the steps I’m taking, or the willpower to let go of his hand, so I keep following him helplessly through the tall grass.
“I’m taking you somewhere where you can wash off,” he says, staring ahead as he walks determinedly through the tall grass. “And to give you a break so that maybe you can get your mind in the right place.”
“Wait, you’re not taking me to the nudist colony place, are you?” I start to pull back, but then I stop because it doesn’t seem as scary anymore.
He shakes his head. “No, I’m not.” His shorts are covered in mud and his hair has flecks in it. On his back are muddy handprints and streaks of mud from where I touched him, along with small crescent cuts on his shoulder blade.
“I’m sorry I stabbed you with my nails,” I say as we wind around a rock and dip into the trees. The thick branches above our heads block out the remaining rain and grey clouds but there’s a current falling off them so we still get wet.
“Don’t worry about it.” He reaches around to his back, touching the scratches. “But Nova… how much did you smoke?”
I shrug, because I surprisingly lost count, and he sighs, letting his hand fall to the side. We don’t say anything else until we reach a river flowing among the lofty pine trees. We pause at the edge, and Quinton glances around for a way across it.
“What is this place?” I ask, glancing up at the gray sky peeking through the branches.
“I found it while I was wandering around trying to find a place to clean off without giving everyone a show,” he says, winding around me and hiking toward a large rock near the edge of the stream.
The water gently flows over it, but it acts as a stepping stone, and without warning Quinton grips my waist and lifts me onto it. Once my feet are planted on the rock, he lets me go and then jumps onto the rock himself. He stands up straight and takes my hand, then leads me over to the other side of the rock. There’s a little bit of a gap between the rock and the shoreline, and Quinton hops down, landing in the river, his shoes getting wet. He stands in the water and reaches for me. When I crouch down, his fingers spread around my hips, and he carefully lowers me to him. Then he wades over to the shore, pretty much carrying me in his arms so my feet don’t get wet.
Once we’re both on the shore, he threads his fingers through mine, and I let him guide me deeper into the trees as rain drips down on my head and down my arms. We keep hiking through the forest, and the farther we go the more I start to calm down. By the time we reach an area where the trees open up, I’m mad at myself because I’m so tired of doing things and having no direction and being confused all the time. I just want to be Nova, or at least find out who the real Nova is.
When we stop, we’re standing on a rocky shore that stretches out to a glistening pond. The river flows into it over the towering rocks in front of us, and the entire area is almost completely encompassed by enormous, jagged rocks, and flourishing trees. “I give you a private place to clean off.” He smiles, motioning at the water.
I remove my fingers from his grip and walk up to the water peering down in. “You just found this by accident?”
He nods, stepping up beside me with his head tipped down so he can examine my eyes. “How are you feeling?”
I rub my eyes. “A lot better, actually, but a little tired.”
“You look a lot better,” he says. “I figured the walk here would calm you down and then you could clean off. And when we’re done, I’ll take you back and you can get some sleep.”
I rub my eyes again. “Thank you.”
He starts to unbutton his shorts. “You’re welcome.”
I don’t think he gets my whole meaning. I’m not just saying thanks for pulling me away; I’m saying thanks for letting me calm down, for letting me breathe, and for telling me that I shouldn’t be doing the things that I do.
He slips his shorts off and my gaze instantly goes to his boxers, my heart beating deafeningly inside my chest. Even though I’m a little out of it, I can feel my cheeks heating, because I’m pretty much staring at his manly parts.
But he gives me no time to get too embarrassed as he takes off toward a section of cliffy rocks at the side of the pond and he climbs up to the top of the highest one of them. “What do you think?” he calls out as he stands on the edge, staring down at the water. “Cannonball or swan dive?”
“Belly flop,” I say, and he shakes his head.
“No fucking way. Do you know how bad that would hurt?” He turns around and does a backflip right off the edge, his head coming so close to hitting the edge of the rock that I gasp.
He makes it into the water, though, and launches a splash into the air. Seconds later, he bursts through the surface again, running his hand over his head, slicking his hair back. “Your turn,” he says, paddling his arms as he floats farther out into the water.
I glance down at my muddy clothes, nervous about stripping down in front of him. When I glance up at him again, though, he has his back turned to me, staring up at the rocky cliffs at the far side of the pool.
I seize the opportunity to drop my shorts and pull my shirt off. My bra and panties are covered with mud, too, but I can rinse them off in the water. I walk up to the shoreline and stick my toe in, shivering from the cold temperature.
“What? You’re not going to jump in?” he asks. When I look up at him he’s looking at me, and I mean really looking at me, his honey-brown eyes skimming my body. I think about ducking behind a bush, but then what’d be the point? He’s already seen me, and I can’t erase that from his head.
I hike up to the rocks and hoist myself up on the tallest one. I stand on the edge and then shut my eyes. Summoning a deep breath, I jump up and cannonball off the side, falling and falling and falling. When I hit the water, a chill disperses through my body, and I quickly paddle my way to the top, breaking through the surface. I take a deep breath, wiping my eyes off and blinking against the water droplets dripping down my forehead.
“It’s pretty fucking cold, right?” Quinton asks, floating over to me as I smooth my hair out of my eyes.
I nod, tipping my head back into the water. “A little warning would have been nice.”
“Yeah, but then you would have probably backed out and not jumped in.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s probably a good thing you didn’t tell me.”
We grow quiet as we float around in the water with our arms out to the side, listening to the river water falling off the rocks. The clouds start to break apart in the sky and I detect a tiny bit of sunlight streaming in.
“I seriously want to draw this place,” Quinton divulges, looking around at the rocks and the trees.
“You could, still,” I say. “We still have a couple more days left here.”
“Yeah… maybe.” He tears his eyes of the rocks and focuses on me. “Nova… I have to know, do you really want to be with me, because sometimes it seems like you do and sometimes it seems like you don’t, and I don’t want to add to your confusion.” He moves his arms in a circular motion, swimming backward and putting space between us. “In fact, I think I should probably back off… I like you and everything, but I think I should back off.” He repeats himself at the end like he’s trying to convince himself more than me.
I use my arms to turn in a circle, gazing up at the clearing sky. “I’m confused…,” I mutter. I’m not sure if he hears me, but it’s the realest thing I’ve ever said. I stop spinning and float in front of him. “About everything. Not just you, but life. And I want you to back off, but I don’t at the same time.”
His breathing becomes ragged as he stares at me and his pupils shrink as I tilt my head back and smooth my hair down with my hands again, my chest and bra rising up over the water. When I sink back down under the water, he starts to swim at me and seconds later his lips crash against mine as his arms encircle my waist. My arms link around his neck in response and my mouth opens up to his tongue as he slips it inside, devouring me with a deep wet kiss. Our bodies crush together, and it feels odd because the cold water masks our body heat, almost like neither of us really exists, and this moment isn’t really happening, which makes it easier to do things.
As if my legs have a mind of their own, I wrap them around his waist, and he’s supporting both of our weight as he swims one-handed, moving us toward the shore until my back collides with the sandpaper edges of the rock. I feel a little of my skin scrape off, but I don’t care. I press at his back, trying to pull him closer, even though there’s no more room left between us. His mouth consumes mine as he braces a hand on the rock next to my head and his other hand moves across my back. Then with a flick of his fingers, he unhooks my bra. I have no time to react as he jerks it off and tosses it up onto the rocks above our heads. The sensation of my nipples against his chest sends a quiver through my body, and suddenly I’m shivering from his touch and the cold water, desperately seeking heat.
His hand starts to travel down my back, and I arch into him when he reaches the top of my panties, then he pauses. I know I should tell him to stop—that I’m not in the right state of mind—but not being in the right state of mind makes it harder to say no. And what if I do and then he leaves me and I never see him again? What if I miss the moment again?
