“Can it be both?” I laugh.
“Ready?” Vox checks in again.
I nod.Here goes nothing.
Vox tips in first, and as soon as he’s over the ledge, working his way down, I know without a doubt, I’d follow him anywhere. I stay behind him, letting him set the pace and choose the route. I’m afraid that if I board next to him, he’ll try to pull ahead, always needing to be in the lead.
It takes us about thirty minutes to make it roughly a quarter of the way down the slope when we come upon a birdhouse.
“This feels random,” I say, stopping as close to Vox as I can get. The slope is so steep that we both have to lean back just to maintain an upright position against the grade.
I watch as Vox opens the lid and pulls out a bottle of bourbon.
“Ricochet’s best kept secret.” He hands me the bottle and leans down, unstrapping from his board. When he takes the bottle back, I do the same, and we plant our asses on a frozen boulder behind us.
It’s cold as fuck, but there’s not a cloud in the sky. We can see for miles.
“What do you think you want to do after racing?” I ask, my nerves starting to get the best of me, knowing I’m gearing up to tell him about his dad.
“I actually really enjoy product development.”
After listening to him discuss the modifications he wished he could make to his board, that makes sense, but I give in to the urge to fuck with him because I’m already staring down the barrel of one serious conversation, I don’t need him stressed about his future on top of that. “I figured you’d want to do something flashy, like coaching.”
Vox barks out in laughter. “Coaching is only flashy if your athletes are, and honestly, I don’t think I’d do so well trying to talk sense into hotheads like myself.”
“Eh, you aren’t so bad,” I say, nudging his shoulder. “Except maybe when you’re drawing mustaches on my poster.”
Vox chuckles, “Nope, not those either.”
“So, no dicks, and no mustaches. What the hell were you doing to me?” I laugh.
“Nothing that involved a Sharpie,” he says, his voice low. He takes another swig before I reach over and grab the bottle from him.
“Okay, that’s enough. We’re only a little way down this monster, and you need all your wits about you for this terrain.”
With his mouth still full of bourbon, he pulls me to him by the back of my neck and feeds me half the liquor. When some of it runs down my chin, Vox trails his tongue across my face, drinking it straight from my skin.
“How would you feel if I told you I used to jack off on your poster?” he whispers in my ear.
“Onit? Ortoit?” I ask, pulling back and looking at him with furrowed brows.
“On,baby.On.”
“That’s weirdly hot. I think part of me should probably be creeped out, but oddly, I’m not.”
“I used to lay it out on the floor and tuck my legs under me while my knees straddled your head and shoot my load all over your face.”
Jesus Christ.
“You’re making me hard, Vox, and I can’t board this section with a boner,” I groan.
“Fuck, I want to get you naked up here,” Vox says, his mouth moving to my neck. The conversation with his dad comes racing to the forefront of my mind, and I pull back again.I can’t take more from him with that conversation hanging between us.
“I need to tell you why I was late to practice this morning.”
“Jerk-off sesh get a little out of control?” he teases.
He’s deflecting because he knows he isn’t going to like what I have to say. What I wouldn’t give to be able to keep my mouth closed a little longer and just soak up this time together.
