Follow the River (River of Rain, #1)

by C.E. Ricci

A fucking rapist and child molester. I turn my attention back to my phone, doing my best to drown out the sounds of the news and all the bullshit they spew. One way or another, news stations are always biased, which is why I can’t stand watching.

I don’t need the news to tell me the world we live in has gone to shit. It’s present on every form of social media, where people will post whatever they feel like, without bothering with things like research or fact checking.

He gives me another smirk, one I’m noticing seems to be his signature. And before he turns to head back to the end of the line, he bites his lip and...winks at me. And my heart drops to my stomach and out my ass. Wait, what? Was he just...flirting with me?

But still, I stare at him, taking in his muscular thighs encased in his pants, the pads doing everything to make his ass look like a goddamn peach I’d give my left nut to take a bite into. The way I’m studying him, it portrays…interest. And interested, I fucking am.

This is the hardest part about being bisexual. Girls are never this hard to figure out, contrary to what straight men might think. All I have to do is flash my dimples and a heated smolder, and poof…their panties are gone. It’s practically magic.

And for the entire practice, that’s what I keep catching myself doing. Watching. Sneaking glances. Flat out creeping on the guy to see if I can catch anything that will alert my gaydar if he might be down for a roll in the sheets. And I don’t need to be thinking with my dick on the field.

“Get your… Fucking… Hand… Off me.” “Or what?” he challenges, stepping into my space, his jaw hardened. “You gonna call me a faggot again? A queer? A fucking twink? Well, say it all, baby. Give me everything you’ve got. Because there is nothing you can say to me I haven’t heard a hundred times over.”

“I’d much rather bite. Lick. Suck and fuck. Leave marks on you that a kiss just doesn’t accomplish.” And then I drop my knees. Bringing down the only barrier of decency he had with me.

“I love the way you fight me, baby. It makes the taste of your cum that much fucking sweeter.”

“And when I fuck you? When I get to sink into that tight ass of yours and fill you with my cum? Goddamn, you’re going to be fucking ruined. You’ll never want anyone else. That is my promise to you.”

“Accept this is who you are, so you can start to enjoy being stranded in a fucking cabin in the woods with me for another four weeks.”

“I want to fuck you again,” I whisper into his mouth, giving into temptation and grabbing his bottom lip between my teeth and tugging. “And I hate it. I can’t stand that I want to fuck your tight ass more than I want to escape from this goddamn cabin,” I say in a frustrated exhale. “I hate that I’m driven by this uncontrollable…lust for you, even when I hate you.”

On his ribs, I see a quote in script. Into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.

Besides, when it comes to the usage of Mean Girls references, the limit does not exist.

“No, I’m too busy trying not to become a jealous fucking prick because your girl has somehow managed to get a smile and a goddamn laugh, both of which I have to work really fucking hard to get, from my man.”

“I’ve found you and I’m here, and I promise I will always be your safe place for as long as you need one.”

Staring up at the night sky, it’s the best way to remember we are so much smaller than we make ourselves out to be.

“You have me. You will always have me. Until every star in the night sky burns out. And maybe even then.”

Being in love is a daily battle, not only fighting for the other person, but for yourself. It’s finding the common ground, the parts of your souls that speak to each other, strengthening them in ways no one else’s ever could. It’s knowing your worth and not only telling the other person you won’t accept anything less than what you deserve, but trusting them to provide that for you. It’s giving the darkest parts of yourself to another human, saying this is who I am in all my fucked up glory, and not asking them to fix you, but to give you what you need to mend yourself.

What I feel for him is nothing short of head-over-heels, I’d-do-anything-for-you love. The love you move mountains for. Cross oceans for. The love you give up to keep that person safe from the psychotic asshole who will take anything you care about and annihilate on a molecular level.

“I didn’t want to fix you, only save you from your nightmares. Too bad I didn’t realize the real nightmare is you.”