"Your mouth on me," I say, my soft blanket molding around my frame. Jordan exhales, releasing a throaty groan.
"You don't know how bad I want that too. To taste you right now."
My body flashes as I urge the next few words from my lips. “How would you do it?" I say, pushing my nerves aside and letting my lust for him take over. My eyes drift closed and wait for his voice.
"I’d start slowly. Tasting your lips, sucking on them.” His breaths become deeper and melt into his voice. “Then I'd move down to that tender part on your neck. Allowing my teeth to scrape it. Then I'd undress you."
“What else?”
"Kiss your perky breasts and tease your nipples until you squirm and your panties soak for me.”
"God," I moan. "I didn't know you could be so dirty."
His chuckle is throaty and tingles roll up my spine. "There's a lot you're going to learn about me. We are just getting started."
15
JORDAN
The last two days just drag by. I can't tell if it's because the seminars are so dull or if it's being away from home and away from her. It's like now that things are right between us. I want to be with her all the time. It's so fucking liberating. I don't know how I survived for so many years, not being able to kiss her. And I swear, I don't ever plan on going back to the way it used to be. The seminars themselves weren't really that long. Most of it was PowerPoint presentations about academic policy, academic integrity, and a bunch of other bullshit. The drive back wasn't bad, but by the time I got home last night, I crashed in the bed like I’d just come from an eight hour day trip. Summer session starts in four days and I'm really looking forward to getting started.
This morning, I'm meeting my father at the lake for fishing. This has been our monthly tradition for as long as I can remember. It was something my mother even enjoyed.
Turning off of the main road and onto a dirt path, my car vibrates along the stretch leading straight to that lake. My father is standing next to his car pulling out a large tackle box and three fishing poles.
By the time I park next to him, he’s walking to the lake's edge.
“About time you showed up,” he says over his shoulder.
“You're the only person I know who tries to beat the sun up before fishing.”
“It's better to get them early. Now get over here and help me bait these lines.”
I laugh, shaking my head as I open my trunk and pull out a fishing pole, a bucket, and a small cooler. My father grunts as he pushes the pole stands into the ground near the edge of the lake, readying them to hold the lines.
“You bring beer?” he asks
“I did.”
“Good boy,” he says.
It's funny. I don't make it a point to drink this early in the day usually. But I think fishing and beer go hand in hand. It's the only exception to the rule and the one time my father actually will have a beer with me. I wouldn't say he's uptight, but he's kind of old school. Respect and all that. Granted, he's not someone I would consider to be a good drinking partner anyways.
After a little while, we fall into our natural rhythm, baiting poles, casting lines, and sitting under a shade tree as we wait for a bite.
“So, did you ever talk to Xia?”
“Yeah, I did.” I say. “Thanks for the advice, by the way. It went well.”
“Good,” he says.
Trees crinkle and the leaves sway as the wind blows over the lake. My eyes move to the fishing lines, where one seems to be bobbing. I can't tell if it's the wind blowing in the water or there's an actual bite. My father pops a can of beer and tilts it up but stops before it reaches his lips.
“It seems to do you right to get it before it gets away,” he says, rising to his feet and nodding toward the water. I jump up and move over to my pole which is placed on a stand in the ground right next to his three. I never knew why he uses so many but he claims a real man has more than one pole.
As much as I enjoy coming out here with my father, the worst part is how quiet he is now that Mom’s gone. My parents would always bicker because even though she loved the fish and totally understood it, she always brought a small boombox and played music as we sat and watched our poles and it drove my father crazy. He felt it scared away the fish, which a lot of people would’ve agreed with, but it made her happy and that made me happy. But now it's just us. No music. No Mom, only fish. By the time I make it to my pole; the line goes still as if I lost the bait. For good measure, I lift the pole and give the line a tug, just to see if it has any weight on it.
The little yellow bobber disappears, and the fish begins to pull the line under.
“Got it,” I say as I begin spinning the handle, reeling in the fish. It tugs and splashes as it fights and my feet sink into the ground as I move closer to the edge. I'm just pulling the fish out of the water when I hear the sound of another vehicle rolling up behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I see Ben's black SUV coming to a stop next to my car.
“What the hell is he doing here?” I say loud enough for my father to hear.
“Well,” he says, moving closer to me. “You know Ben's been going through a lot recently. I thought it'd be nice if he came out with us this time.”
“It would have been nice if you asked me how I felt about it,” I say, pulling the fish from the water. My hand wraps around it, gills expanding as it searches for water, trying to breathe.
“Jordan, come on, son, you know he's a good guy. He just made a mistake. And trust me, he feels worse about it than you do.”
“Fuck ever,” I say under my breath as I remove the hook from the fish's mouth and place it in the bucket. Ben makes his way over, carrying a green fold up chair and a fishing pole. I can barely even look at him. I'm just so disappointed. You think you know somebody.
“Hey,” Ben says, glancing from me to my father. I roll my eyes and look away. “How are they biting?” He drops his pole to the ground and begins unfolding his chair. My father walks up to him and pats him on the shoulder.
“Hey. Not so good. Besides the one Jordan just caught, it's been kind of dead out here.”
“That's because,” Ben says, sitting in his chair. ‘You come out here too damn early. The sun is barely up yet. The water is still cold.”
“No, I keep telling you two, you gotta get the right spot at the right time.”
“Okay, fishing master.” Ben laughs.
“Fine then,” my father says. “Show me how it's done.”
“Oh, I'm about to.” Ben walks over toward the tackle box, glancing at me again. I grit my teeth, shaking my head. I hate that he's here. I hate that my father invited him. “So, Jordan,” he says as he pinches two fingers into a small cup of soil, gripping a nightcrawler and grabbing his hook.
“How'd everything go with your training? Sachi told me he chose you as TA and you went out to the seminars this week.”
“Fine,” I say shortly before walking back over to my pole and snatching it from the ground. He nods and goes on with baiting his hook. I walk to the edge of the lake and begin gazing around for a spot.