Page 70 of True North
They bobbed side by side in the cold blue water, hand in hand. JT held tight to keep Misha from drifting away.
When they’d had enough of the water, they lay out on their towels on the dock, drip drying. The only sounds were the dock creaking and the water lapping against the pilings, and a distant boat engine. JT covered his face with his T-shirt to keep the sun from roasting him raw. His thoughts fuzzed out into white noise. He skimmed over the surface of sleep like a stone skipping over the water.
After a while, Misha said, “I left here because I never said the truth to you and I make you so much trouble. I think you can’t want me here.”
JT pulled his shirt away from his face to squint over at Misha. He felt like he was at least a quarter of the way asleep. “What?”
Misha was sitting up with his elbows braced on his knees. “You know, when—after I got out of jail. And we kind of argued. You said I should have stay in the woods.”
“No, hey, I didn’t mean that.” JT rolled over onto his belly and reached out to touch Misha’s hip. “I was frustrated and being an asshole. I’m sorry I said that.”
Misha shook his head. “It’s okay. I know. But then I thought, maybe you’re right. If I stay in the woods, then I’m safe, and it’s no trouble for anyone.” He drew a deep breath, his shoulders lifting as his ribcage expanded. “But I didn’t leave. I went to work. I called Lenny. I decide I’m human now. Even if it’s hard. I want a human life.” He looked at JT with his mouth drawn up to one side in a wry expression. “You understand?”
“Yeah. Of course I do. You’re making perfect sense.” JT sat up, too, and cupped Misha’s elbow in his hand. His body felt stuffed full of his sprawling emotions, which seemed to have grown bigger every time he took note of them. They filled his chest, his feet, his stomach and lungs. “Misha. I think it’s going to be a good life.”
Misha dropped his head and nodded. They sat for a minute. Then Misha said, “Let’s go in.”
They rinsed off in the lake first. As they walked back up to the house, damp towels clutched in their hands, JT slung his arm around Misha’s shoulders. Misha leaned into him, slight but sturdy.
Misha kissed JT as soon as they were inside the house, his hands sliding up JT’s chest as he tipped his head back to press their mouths together. He dropped his towel on the floor, then took JT’s towel and dropped that one, too.
JT laughed against his mouth. “They’re going to mildew.”
Misha pulled back to give him a disgusted look. “So do laundry later. Jesus!”
JT loved the way he saidJesus, his accent thick in his mouth. He hauled Misha in to kiss his scowling face, which melted soon enough into a smile.
Misha took JT’s hand and led him upstairs to the bedroom. The bed was tidily made, for once; JT had killed time making perfect hospital corners, just like his grandmother had taught him, when he woke up and saw no new messages on his phone.
“Nice,” Misha said as he undid all of JT’s hard work by pulling back the covers and piling the bedding in a tangled lump at the foot of the bed.
“We could always fuck on the floor,” JT offered. He peeled off his swim trunks and tossed them toward the washroom, pleased with his aim when they sailed through the open door and landed with a plop on the tile floor. “Or the couch. I like that.”
Misha’s gaze slid down his body, smugly assessing. “You think bed is boring.”
“The bed is fine,” JT said. Screwing in random places around the house made him feel kind of slutty in a good way and he got off on it, but he had a feeling Misha would figure that out soon enough and exploit it ruthlessly. No need to hand him the advantage.
Misha didn’t pursue the issue, seemingly distracted by JT’s nudity. They kissed beside the bed, gentle at first and then growing more heated as hands began wandering. JT climbed onto the mattress and drew Misha down into his arms, holding him, kissing his face and his big ears, grateful beyond the telling of it that Misha had decided to come back to him and hopeful that Misha would never leave again.
“I missed you,” he murmured, holding Misha crushed against his chest.
Misha kissed JT’s shoulder, open-mouthed. “Sorry I made you worry. You don’t deserve.” He wriggled out of JT’s grip and sat up, looking down at JT with a somber expression. He touched JT’s face, stroking his cheek. “I try better now. To be good for you and make you happy.”
“You already make me really happy,” JT admitted. “When you’re here, it’s like—I look forward to coming home, you know?”
Misha cupped JT’s cheek. “You’re my home.”
JT closed his eyes, overcome. Misha didn’t mean that the way it sounded, probably. He didn’t always say things the way a native speaker would, and JT was used to interpreting and hedging and taking with a grain of salt. But he very much wanted to be Misha’s home: the place Misha would always return to, where he was rooted.
He tugged Misha down again. They kissed for so long that their skin grew sweat-damp where they were pressed together. The early morning sun that flooded the bedroom had given way to shade as noon approached, but JT had the same sun-soaked feeling he’d had on the dock, like he was drifting just above sleep, languid, limp, and content. At some point, he would have to get up and make lunch and go run some sprints since he’d bailed on his morning workout with Curtis, but Misha kissed him with such focus and such slow, deliberate care that JT could pretend nothing else in life needed his attention. There was only Misha, warm and heavy on top of him.
They made out for so long that JT sort of forgot sex was even on the table and was vaguely bewildered when Misha drew back and said, “What you want?”
“What do I—oh,” JT said as Misha slid a suggestive hand down his side. “Inside me?”
“Good,” Misha murmured approvingly, and gave him another kiss.
Misha fingered him open with far more care and attention than JT’s well-traveled asshole really needed, but it felt so good that JT let him do whatever he wanted. He couldn’t say he hated the way Misha watched his face and kissed the inside of his thigh as he held JT open. Misha’s heavy-lidded gaze stripped him bare, but it wasn’t bad to feel so exposed. Not with Misha. He felt, more than anything, that he was in good hands.