One More Year Ch. 07

"I need to tell you something." Eric said quietly.

"Yes?"

"Louis knows about you."

"Okay..."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you because you didn't know he was gay yet, and I sort of felt like I'd have to explain to you that him being gay was part of why I told him, and... yeah." He grimaced. "Are you mad?"

I had to think about that for a second. It almost felt like I should be freaking out. Louis more or less went to my school now, in a way. We'd been told that Simone girl would basically be doing everything else with us this year, once normal schooling wrapped up. Him knowing should have felt like a disaster. He'd even interacted with Angela and Sue, and he'd be doing a project with us. But he was shy, and kind, and -- as I now knew -- also gay. I didn't think I could see myself being worried about him outing me.

"I'm not mad."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, good." He let out a sigh of relief. "So... um, his coming out thing? That was more or less for your benefit."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, maybe kind of for Ellie and Sara too. The rest of us pretty much already knew, one way or another. Everyone kind of knows about me too. But yeah, he was annoyed at me when I told him about you, and I guess he sort of wanted to... balance it out, or something."

"Ah, okay. That's really nice of him."

"Yeah... Look, I'm really sorry I told him. I was just excited."

I smiled at him, not sure if he could see it in the fading light. "It's fine. I'm not mad. I promise."

"Cool." He swirled through the water again and kissed me.

"We should probably go back." I pressed myself against him, and firmly wrapped my arms around him, digging my feet into the sand below us. "But I want to do something first."

"Oh yeah?" he said, his tone eager. "What?"

"This." I launched myself forward, throwing us both into the water. I managed to stop myself from fully submerging, so I calmly stood up as he floundered his way to the surface, wiping his hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah, that seems fair." He grinned and brushed his wet mop of hair to the side. I tentatively held out my arm to help him up -- ready to shake him off at a moment's notice if he was feeling vengeful -- but he grabbed it and levered himself out of the water without trying anything, and we made our way back to shore.

Someone had lined most of the camp chairs with their backs facing the fire, and the arrangement was being used as a makeshift clothesline for the stuff we'd wet while swimming. Eric and I took off our shirts, wrung them out, and hung them up to dry. A stack of towels had also helpfully materialised while we were gone, so we each grabbed one and dried ourselves off.

Melissa and Ellie sat on the only two remaining camp chairs, wrapped in towels and chatting quietly. John was laying down with Sara on a big towel, staring up at the stars. She'd curled up at his side, and the two softly murmured to each other. Louis and Vince sat in the sand near the bonfire, building a structurally-unsound sandcastle.

"Where's Jess?" Eric asked.

"She went home." John looked over at us. "Said she was tired."

"I don't think she's doing great right now." Louis grimaced sympathetically.

Eric extracted his phone from the pile on the table, and began to fiddle with it. I flattened a square of sand near the warmth of the fire with my foot, and laid my towel down on it. Eric stood near the table, tapping away the screen of his phone for a while, frowning. Then shrugged, and tossed it back on the pile.

"Is she okay?" Vince asked.

"Yeah, she's fine, I think." He turned to Louis. "Sorry, I think she's just been feeling a bit rough lately."

"It's fine." Louis was calmly reinforcing one of the walls of the sandcastle. "At least she showed up. It's all good."

Eric nodded, and looked down at me. I smiled as I watched his shoulders lose their tension. He grabbed his towel and lay it down next to mine, slightly overlapping. The motion ended up spraying me with sand.

"Sorry." He lowered himself down onto his side and reached over to dust off my chest.

"First you throw me in the water, now this," I said quietly, trying to act casual about him touching me so freely in front of his friends. Fortunately, in the flickering light of the bonfire, the motion was probably not so obvious, and no one could see how much I was blushing.

"I'll make it up to you," he said, and I doubted there was any way for anyone to mistake what he meant by that. I glanced up at Melissa and Ellie quickly, and then across at Louis and Vince. No one seemed to have noticed what Eric had said, or they hadn't really cared. I forced myself to relax.

My older sister, Candace, periodically went through phases of life where she absolutely knew the answer to everything. During one of these episodes, we were out one night when I was about sixteen -- on the balcony of some god-awful nightclub she'd illegally smuggled me into -- when she had given me some sage advice:

'You need to stop doing things or not doing things because you think people are thinking about you. Most of the time, no one is. They're all just thinking about themselves. Like you're doing right now.'

Honestly, the fact that she'd been about six glasses of wine deep at that point, and that she'd have trouble remembering saying it the next day only made it seem more wise and mystical to me, and it had always stuck around in my head.

So, lying there, I convinced myself to finally calm down and just enjoy the moment, with my resolve to do so strengthened by the unexpected -- and, as always, unsolicited -- advice of a wine-confident party girl.

When Eric casually stretched out his arm and wedged it under my neck, I let him. I calmly snuggled in, feeling the heat of his skin against mine, and the fresh, clean smell of his breath at the side of my face.

I don't know how long I lay there, with Eric's arm around me, as the bonfire slowly died down and everyone's yawns grew more frequent. No one said anything -- I didn't actually know who knew about us at this point. Louis and Ellie obviously did. With Sara and John it was a moot point -- they were too preoccupied with each other, anyway.

Melissa could know, but Louis didn't seem like a gossip, and Vince probably didn't, but I kept thinking about how he hadn't really missed a beat -- and had brought out shots -- when Louis came out. It occurred to me with vague wonder that I was around a group of people that I could probably just be myself around.

Eventually the fire burned itself down to a few low embers, and everyone began to mill about, pulling our clothes off the chairs and putting them back on. My shirt wasn't completely dry, but it was warm, and very nice to get back into. Everyone started quietly and diligently reversing the setup for the evening -- folding away chairs, throwing away empty bottles, dusting off towels.

Eventually, Melissa called an Uber for herself, Louis and Vince. It became apparent that John wouldn't be going with them when he and Louis said their goodbyes.

"Thanks for coming, everyone. I had the best birthday." Louis grinned. "And thanks for letting us come here afterwards, Sara -- it was great having our own little beach area."

"You're welcome. Thanks for inviting me." Sara hugged Louis, and he grinned at the rest of us, before getting into the Uber.

"We should head out too." I said.

"Shotgun!" Ellie shouted, and made a dash for the passenger door.

I shrugged at Eric, and grinned. "I haven't even unlocked it yet."

"Bye Sara! Bye John!" Ellie shouted from the other side of the car, where I could hear her fruitlessly rattling away at that door's handle.

"By Ellie!" Sara chuckled, and John waved. Sara stepped forward and hugged me. "Bye Jay. Bye Eric."

John grabbed my hand and shook it. "Good work with the fire. Nice to have someone reliable around."

"Thanks." I laughed, and I unlocked the car, grinning at Eric as we got in on the drivers side. Ellie smiled innocently back at Eric from the passenger seat, and he laughed as he buckled himself in. It didn't take us long to get home, and soon I had stopped in front of Ellie's house.

"Night boys. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She gave me a mischievous grin as she hopped out of the passenger side door. "Metaphorically speaking. Biologically, of course, you have-"

"Night, Ellie." I reached across and pulled the door shut.

Eric laughed, and reached forward to rub my shoulders while I parked. We didn't say anything as we made our way towards my room. I kept expecting him to kiss me as we walked in, but he just grabbed the satchel he'd left in my car, and calmly followed me down the pathway. I made sure the house looked empty, and no one was by the windows. Then we slipped into my room, and I spent a few minutes locking all the doors and blocking out places where light could escape.

"I feel like I'm in a zombie movie." Eric said, watching me. "And you're barricading us in."

"Well, whatever fantasy gets your motor running, I suppose." I made my way over to the bed.

"Smartass." He wrapped his arms around me.

"The smartest ass."

"The hottest ass." He smiled, as the blood rushed to my face. "Nice to see I can still make you blush."

"Just shut up and kiss me." I leaned forward, into him, pressing my mouth against his. I felt his laugh reverberate through my face, and his tongue entered my mouth and began to flit back and forth with mine.

"Get naked."

"Yes, sir!" He grinned, and was out of his clothes in record time, and standing proudly just in front of my bed.

Pulling my damp shirt off, I dropped it on the floor behind me, and then let my shorts and underwear fall around my ankles, where I kicked them off. I immediately grabbed hold of him, one hand on his shoulder, and the other on his dick, which was already hard. Kissing my way down his chest, I lingered over the muscles that were so familiar to me now, but no less exciting. I moved left and right, running my tongue across his nipples as I passed them. He groaned.

A month earlier, I couldn't even have imagined maintaining prolonged eye-contact with a guy I found attractive, in case someone read into it. Even when the two of us had been hooking up over the past two weeks, I'd been ridiculously awkward about it every time -- only ever looking at him obliquely, touching him only once he'd touched me first, following his lead all the way.

But those almost felt like the concerns of a different person, and they'd become seemingly impossible to care about. I'd just lay there, in front of a group of people, shirtless and cuddled into a hot guy that I'd been fooling around with. The world hadn't ended. We'd been warm, happy, and calm. It was as if everything I'd been afraid of had been completely imaginary.

I was feeling like I'd been scammed by my brain over the years, forced into being terrified of everything. Now that I wasn't, I felt like I should be making up for lost time. Sure, I wasn't ready to shout it from the rooftops -- that just wasn't practical right now. But when it was just the two of us, alone, I resolved to figure out what I wanted, and go for it.

I carried on kissing and licking my way down his abs, following his treasure trail down to his groin. With my hand still on his dick, I began to pump, and he moaned. At the edge of my vision, I could see a drop of precum quiver at the tip. I ran my thumb through it, and he bucked his hips slightly at the motion. I moved my head closer and inhaled. He smelled like the sea.

"You don't need to feel like you have to," he said, his voice slightly breathless. "Just because I like to do it."

"No, I want to." I said, without turning my head back towards his face -- I didn't want to be distracted. I hadn't ever really looked at his dick directly, especially not close. Now, I was getting a chance to study it, and see all the features -- the length, the curve, the veins on the surface -- that I had been unable to really look at before.

I perched there, fascinated and excited, until I worked up the confidence to move my head closer and lick the tip. He shuddered when I did, and I took it as encouragement to plunge his whole shaft into my mouth.

The primary taste was one of salt -- he tasted like the ocean. That part was a bit disappointing. I wanted to taste Eric. But the rest was just... amazing. The feel of his skin against my tongue, the meaty, throbbing mass of him in my mouth. I felt myself get rock hard.

I began to bob my head up and down the way he had, the way I'd seen lots of men do in porn -- and some women, I guess, but not for a while. It also seemed like a good idea to shield my teeth -- because somewhere along the way it had gotten lodged in my mind that 'no teeth' was a cardinal rule of blowjobs.

Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. But it didn't seem to matter. Whether his standards were just not particularly exacting, or I had just tapped into a natural talent, Eric was clearly responding to my efforts. His body would periodically tense, accompanied by moans and gasps of pleasure.

I was definitely beginning to see the appeal in giving, rather than receiving. Knowing that I was the one doing that to him -- that feeling was driving me wild. The salty taste of the ocean had also faded away and been replaced by the distinct flavour of his precum, and underneath the smell of the saltwater, the faint musk that was distinctly his began to emerge.

I got a bit lost in the sensations of it all -- the smell, the taste, the way he felt in my mouth. My hands ran up and down the muscles of his legs. I was just fully focused on the experience, and if I'd had any doubts about how well I was doing, they were eventually banished when his panting increased in speed, and his whole body tensed.

He grabbed the edge of the bed, white knuckled. "Jay. I'm going to-"

He didn't finish -- not that I'd really needed the warning. His body had been clear enough about what was on the way, and I'd had no intentions of pulling away. I felt the warm rush of him as spurts of his cum filled my mouth with a tangy, salty taste that wasn't exactly great, but it was his, and I wanted it.

It didn't occur to me to immediately swallow. I was a bit too intrigued by the taste -- I'd probably tasted my own, but if I had, I didn't really remember, and I had nothing to compare it to. I almost didn't notice as he pulled me up for a kiss. When he shoved his tongue in my mouth, I think we made equal noises of surprise. A trickle of his own cum dribbled down his chin, but after a second, he took it in stride, and continued the kiss.

"Damn, you're kinky."

"I didn't mean to do that," I said breathlessly. "I didn't know you were going to kiss me. Fuck. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said, kissing me again. "It was kinda hot."

He sat down on the bed, and pulled me on top of him as we made out.

"I'm still hard." He grasped our dicks together, and began to stroke up and down.

I didn't last long, with him doing that, and with how much I'd enjoyed giving him the blowjob. I grunted heavily, and sprayed arcs of cum across his chest, abs and dick. "Fuck!"

He ran his hand down his body, smearing the sticky white liquid from his chest to his belly button, and then used it to begin pumping his dick again. His breathing quickened, and his muscles tensed, and for the second time in a very short span, he came again.

I grabbed a towel from my bedside table -- I'd gotten into the habit of keeping one there, since that first weekend -- and handed it to him to let him wipe himself down.

"Thanks," he said, still mostly breathless. "Jesus."

"No, it's Jason. But everyone calls me Jay."

He laughed weakly, and then bundled up the towel and threw it at me. I dodged out of the way, and lay down next to him.

He glanced over at the clock. "Happy Valentine's Day, by the way."

I followed his gaze. Sure enough, it was about a minute past midnight. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Will you be my Valentine?"

"Sure." I leaned over and kissed him.

"I was kind of expecting sarcasm."

"Well, tough. You have to be my Valentine now."

He propped himself up on his elbows. "I actually got you something."

"Oh, good." I sighed in relief.

He laughed. "Were you going to be mad if I didn't get you anything?"

"No, it's not that..." I looked over at my desk. "I got you something too, but I didn't know if two weeks had been long enough. So I sort of... planned to just figure out later today if I should give it to you or not."

"Were you planning on spending the day with me?"

"Kind of."

He smiled broadly. "Me too, but I haven't planned anything romantic."

"Oh good. Me neither, and my gift isn't that great."

"I'm sure it's fine." He sat upright. "Mine's amazing, though."

He got up and wandered over to the couch, where he'd dumped his satchel. He rummaged in it for a moment and pulled out a rectangular object wrapped in red paper.

"Here." He walked over to hand it to me.

"I hope it's not too amazing." My grin probably didn't help me sell that sentiment. After all my hand-wringing about giving him mine, it still hadn't occurred to me to expect that he'd get something for me, and the fact that he had -- that felt kind of great. But I was now a little worried, at least, that what I'd gotten him might not measure up.

From the weight and feel the package, it was fairly clear that it was a book. That could go either way -- I'd been a bookworm for most of my life, so books were always a pretty good starting point as a gift. But because it was such a big part of my personality, I had specific tastes, and too many people thought any book would do. He did seem fairly confident, however. I began to pick at the wrapping paper.

"Oh no. You're one of those."

"One of what?" I said, looking up as I tried to peel away the tape at one of the seams.

"A delicate un-wrapper." He rolled his eyes. "Are you going to keep the paper to reuse later?"

"No."

"Then why aren't you tearing it?"

"I don't know. I just prefer not to."

"Just tear it."

"Fine." I was having trouble with the tape anyway. I stuck my finger under the seam and pulled, and worked my way along the tear, ripping off the paper when I'd loosened it enough to have something to grip. It was definitely a book.

"See, doesn't that feel better?"

"Not really. I feel weirdly guilty." I shrugged, and he laughed while he gathered the paper and crunched it into a ball, which he tossed into the bin by my desk.

It was a hard cover, the spine was navy blue with an embossed golden pattern of peacock quills, and the side that was facing upwards had a bevelled box with a quote. I flipped over the book to the front cover, confirming my suspicions. The quote had mentioned Longbourn, and that had been a dead giveaway.

'Pride and Prejudice. The Complete Novel, with Nineteen Letters from the Characters' Correspondence, Written and Folded by Hand. By Jane Austen, Curated By Barbara Heller.'

"Wow."

I ran my hands over the surface of the cover, and then tipped it, letting it fall open to one of the folders. I delicately extracted the letter, and carefully unfolded it. The paper was thick, with an amazing texture, and felt like it had really been handwritten long ago.

Eric had been right. It was amazing. I looked up, and saw he'd just been watching me admire it. "Do you like it?"

"I love it. It's such a great gift."

"I saw it online and thought of you."

"Thanks." I said, and felt my heart drop a bit when I thought of what I'd gotten him. "I sort of don't even want to give you yours now."

"Well that would just be rude."

"Okay, fine." Setting the book down, I went over to my desk, and extracted the box from the bottom drawer. "Just try to be nice. It's kind of... It's not as thoughtful as yours."

"That's okay. I wasn't expecting anything." He gently took the box from me.