Drilled by K.M. Neuhold
Chapter 11
RIDGE
We’ve been out in these woods for ten days. Ten days without internet, without TV…without porn. I cannot stress that last part enough.
“I’m bored,” I groan, my ass firmly planted on the damp ground in front of the fire, my back resting against the downed log I’ve been using as a seat for every meal. Our empty cans of soup are resting beside each of us, the simmering fire casting a dim glow over us.
Apollo snorts. “You want me to hire you a clown?”
“Nah, too creepy. I could be talked into a stripper though,” I joke, smirking at the unamused twitch of Apollo’s eye. “What? You can’t tell me you’re not horny. It’s not like we even have any privacy to jerk off.”
He makes a noise of obvious reluctant agreement. Fuck. That’s not better. I’ve been trying hard as hell to be good for the last seven days, afraid if I push too hard or come on too strong, the precarious friendship we’re slowly rebuilding will crumble back to nothing. But goddamn, knowing he might be half as horny as I am doesn’t help.
I wonder how he’d feel about the offer of a friendship hand job? Is that a thing? How about a bestie blowie? Platonic anal?
My cock starts to swell thanks to the explicit fantasies my brain provides for each one of my mental suggestions. I shift my hand to cover the evidence, even though Apollo isn’t looking, and even if he were, I doubt he could see much in the dusky light.
“Seriously, we have to do something. I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin if I don’t get some kind of entertainment.”
He rumbles another sound and gets to his feet. I’m not sure if he’s going to walk away to spare himself my bitching or if he actually has an idea for some excitement. And if it’s the latter, will it involve nudity? Ugh, no. Bad horny brain.
He tosses a few extra logs onto the fire, causing it to flare brighter, smoke billowing up into the dark sky. Then he starts to rummage through the bins of food and supplies, seemingly in search of something. While I wait to find out his plan, my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. I pull it out to see that it’s a call from West.
“Hey, man,” I answer. Apollo looks up from the bucket he’s digging through, notices I’m on the phone, and then returns to his task.
“Hey,” West greets cheerfully. “Apollo hasn’t killed you with that death glare he’s been trying to perfect yet? That’s good.”
I chuckle. “Not yet. He’s certainly trying though.”
“How are things going up there?”
“What? The guys don’t trust us to get the job done, so they asked you to call and check-in?” I ask, grinning when I see Apollo pull a bottle of Fireball out of one of the bins, holding it up triumphantly and shooting me a wink before setting it down and going back in.
“No, more like I’m checking up on that bet to find out if I won an easy few hundred bucks.”
I dart a glance at Apollo, and my stomach squirms, my body heating at the memories of his hands and mouth all over me. “We didn’t fuck,” I say flatly. It’s technically true. Sex, yes. Fucking, not so much. Unfortunately.
Apollo whips around so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t hurt himself. He’s wearing a deep scowl as he stalks over to me. He’s planning to snatch the phone out of my hand and likely chuck it into the woods. I can read it all over his face. I jump up and turn to block him from grabbing the phone.
“The bet was you two had to have sex, not necessarily fuck,” West argues. “Help a guy out and tell me you at least gave each other angry blowjobs or something.”
I sputter a laugh. “I’m pretty sure the bet was that we’d bang it out, which implies anal sex,” I argue. “Also, what in the fresh hell is an angry blowjob? Personally, I don’t need teeth anywhere near my dick if the dude is mad at me.”
Apollo snarls at the line of conversation, wrapping one arm around me and trying to get the phone out of my hand. It’s the closest we’ve been since the other night at the lake, and I’d be lying if I said I hated the feeling of his big, solid body against mine. I don’t hate it. I like it too much, actually.
“Hm, good point, we’re going to have to clarify that bet,” West says thoughtfully. “But, dude, if you don’t know what angry blowjobs are, you need to watch more porn.”
“There’s not exactly a hell of a lot of Wi-Fi out here,” I point out.
“Guess you and Apollo will have to find other ways to keep busy then.” I can hear the suggestive smirk in his tone.
“We’re not—”
Apollo finally gets the phone away from me, not even bothering to say goodbye to West before he hits the button to end the call and then shoves the phone into his own pocket.
“Hey,” I complain.
“Those guys need to mind their fucking business,” he grumbles, ignoring my protest. “Sit,” he says, pointing back at the spot I had been sitting before the call.
“Woof,” I say sarcastically. What do I look like, his damn puppy?
Apollo grunts what I’m pretty sure is meant to be an apology for his barked command. “I’m getting something,” he explains, returning once again to the bins.
I stride over to grab the bottle of whiskey and take it with me as I plop back down in my spot. While he finishes looking for whatever it is he’s on the hunt for, I unscrew the cap and take a swig, wincing at the cinnamon and whiskey burn as it slides down my throat.
He finally finds what he’s been looking for, pulling out a plastic shopping bag and untying it. A shocked laugh bursts from my lips when he tosses a bag of marshmallows in my direction, followed by some Reese’s cups, and finally graham crackers.
“Dude, you are such a fucking softie. You brought s’mores?” I tear into the bag of marshmallows and pop a raw one into my mouth, chomping on it happily while Apollo does his best to look even more menacing, lest I get the wrong impression about him, I’m sure.
After devouring a few more marshmallows, I get to my feet to go in search of a good roasting stick.
“S’mores and whiskey. I’ve gotta hand it to you, you came through,” I compliment him once I’ve found and prepared a stick and am well on my way to roasting my first few marshmallows.
“Mm,” he hums, reaching for the bottle of Fireball and taking a gulp. He drags the back of his hand across his mouth when he’s done.
“West has a lot of nerve, huh?”
“They all do,” he growls. “It’s not their damn business either way.”
I nod in absent agreement, even though I don’t really see the harm in all of it. We’re adults. Why should sex be a big secret? I’m certainly not ashamed of what happened. I glance at Apollo out of the corner of my eye while I maneuver the gooey marshmallow onto the graham cracker and Reese’s, making a delicious, messy sandwich. Is he ashamed of what happened?
“You know what we should do?” I put on a mischievous smile before crunching into the s’more. “We should do something to prank the guys.”
“How can we prank them from out here?”
“We’ll have to get creative. Like, send two dozen pizzas to the office,” I suggest.
“Eh.” He shrugs one shoulder, clearly not impressed with how devious I am. “Stupid. Singing telegram?” he counters.
“Eh,” I mock. “Wait, I’ve got it,” I pause for dramatic effect. “Cockroaches.”
“Cockroaches?” Apollo repeats.
“Yeah, we can have them shipped to each of their houses.”
“How? We don’t have any internet.”
“Shit, that’s right. We’ll have to keep thinking about it.”
APOLLO
I can’t fucking believe West called to check if we’d fucked. I’m sure the rest of those assholes were standing around listening in too, upping their bets and speculating about our sex life. Actually, I can believe it, and that makes me even more grumpy. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past them all to have us secretly wired with some kind of listening device so they can enjoy the whole show.
I grumble to myself and take another deep gulp from the bottle of Fireball. On the bright side, the lower the content level of the bottle gets, the less annoyed I am about that damn bet. But really, who the fuck are they to sit around wondering about my private life. What next? Are they going to start betting on the size of my dick? I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m sure they’d cajole Ollie to call and try to talk Ridge into pulling out a tape measure to check for them. Not that Ridge is getting near my dick again.
That thought prickles under my skin like sand inside of a shoe. I gulp down another shot or so of the whiskey, and then Ridge snatches the bottle from me.
“Fair warning, I’m not dragging your drunk ass to the cabin if you get too wasted.” He takes a sip and sets the bottle down out of my reach.
“Do you have any idea how high my alcohol tolerance is?” I quirk an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah, you said that same shit right before you did ten shots of tequila in a row, puked on my shoes, and made me fireman carry you back to our apartment.”
“Heh.” A small laugh bursts from my lips at the admittedly fuzzy memory.
If he’s going to bogart the liquor, I might as well have a s’more or two.
He hasn’t said another word about more sex since the other night at the lake, which is a relief. I’m glad he’s not pushing it, throwing himself at me…it would be embarrassing if he were.
Ridge licks his fingers obscenely, sucking each one and then dragging his tongue up and down the pad of his fingertips before moving on to the next. My cock twitches, and I frown harder.
I spent years getting over my crush on Ridge and then even more years coping with losing our friendship, and somehow, we’re right back where we started. It’s like he’s some kind of inescapable force. And just like before, no matter how badly I want him, I can’t have him.
“Oh, come on, it has to be illegal to look that irritated while holding a s’more,” he teases, scooting a little closer to me, almost seeming to do it without thinking, until our shoulders are bumping.
“I’m not irritated. There’s smoke in my eyes,” I lie. Of course he’s right, I’m annoyed. Shocking, I know. I’ve been holding on to the rope of my emotions for so long, I’m not sure I even remember how to let go anymore. Ridge was always good at that, at helping me let go. “Tell me something you still want to do.”
It’s a game we used to play often, thinking of all the places we wanted to go and all the adventures we wanted to have. I’m sure I missed out on a hell of a lot over the past fifteen years.
Ridge smiles, tilting his head so it’s almost resting on my shoulder, but not quite. “I haven’t made it to Alaska. That would be something, wouldn’t it?” I can hear the familiar wistfulness in his voice, and it untangles the knots inside me enough that I’m able to take a proper breath for the first time in a long time.
Who cares what the idiots back home are saying about us? Right now, it’s only me and Ridge, just like it always was.
“Meh.” I goad him a bit by shrugging. “What’s so great about Alaska? It’s fucking cold, and there are too many bears.”
“I happen to like bears,” he teases, waggling his eyebrows and smirking at me.
The statement catches me a little off guard. Not that it should, considering the other night, but it’s almost as if my mind didn’t fully grasp the fact that Ridge is actually gay until that offhanded comment.
I stick another marshmallow onto a stick and hold it over the fire, more for something to do than because I actually want to eat it. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye to find him taking another drink from the bottle, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.
He catches me looking as he lowers the whiskey from his lips. “What?”
“Nothing, it’s just…” I shake my head, but he waits patiently for me to say whatever it is that’s on my mind. “I’m trying to reconcile totally straight teenage-Ridge with gay adult-Ridge.”
“I was never straight,” he points out.
“I know. You get what I mean. There were never any hints or anything. Did you know at all?” I can’t imagine having it just hit me the way Ridge said it did. I’ve always known on some level that I’m gay. I just didn’t have words to describe it right away.
“Honestly, I think my brain was trying to protect me or something. If I’d have figured it out sooner, I still would’ve had to stay in the closet. Can you imagine how my dad would’ve reacted…did react.” He shakes his head. “I would’ve been miserable if I had figured it out much sooner.”
“Hm,” I grunt in understanding. His dad always was a prick. We even agreed that I should act straight around him so he wouldn’t forbid us from hanging out. When he puts it that way, I’m glad Ridge didn’t realize he was gay sooner too. “Did he flip?”
“Yeah. After what happened with Anna, I ended up taking a job in Florida. I came out to my dad as I was getting into the car to leave. You should’ve seen his face, it was priceless.” He chuckles, but even in the firelight, I can see a flicker of disappointment dance across his face. “Haven’t talked to him since, but I do send him a card every year on his birthday and Christmas.”
Guilt settles in my gut. It didn’t occur to me how much Ridge gave up when he skipped the wedding. He didn’t just lose our friendship or Anna, he lost a whole family. My parents never ask about him in front of Anna, but every so often, when it’s just my mom and me, she asks about Ridge. If I ever talk to him, how he’s doing. I always gave her the same grunted answer of, “Fuck if I know.”
“You should come to a family dinner sometime,” I offer before I have the chance to even think about what I’m saying. Ridge at family dinner? How the fuck would I explain that one to my sister?
His face lights up, and it takes him a second to wrestle it back into a more neutral expression.
“That would be cool. If everyone is all right with it.”
“Yeah,” I murmur.
We fall silent for a little while, listening to the crackle of the fire.
“I have a confession,” Ridge says eventually.
“Oh Jesus, okay.” I brace myself. Fuck knows what his confession is going to end up being.
“I kissed Alex,” he says.
“Who?” I tilt my head, sifting through my half-drunk brain for any hint as to who the fuck he’s talking about. Am I supposed to know who Alex is?
He snorts a laugh, sounding a little sloppy as he sways closer, nudging his body into mine. “Alex,” he says again. “Alex Billings.”
I keep shaking my head, not having the foggiest idea of who he’s talking about. Is Alex a man or a woman? Neither? Both?
Ridge’s snickering turns into full-on belly laughter. “Dude, you went on like six dates with him and fucked him so loud against the wall one night that a bunch of shit got rattled off my dresser.”
Oh, that Alex. “Wait, when did you kiss him?”
“It was about a month after everything went down. I was at the bar, feeling sorry for myself and kind of hoping you’d just magically show up and everything would go back to normal. You didn’t, obviously, but Alex did. We had a few drinks, and I told him about what happened. It felt really good to get it off my chest since I hadn’t talked to anyone about it. It was the first time I said I was gay aloud, and he was really cool and supportive. Anyway, we ended up kissing.”
“So he was your first kiss with a man?” Even after being reminded of who Alex is, my memory of him is foggy at best. I think he had a beard? Maybe a tongue stud? What I do know is there’s no way he was good enough for Ridge’s first kiss.
“Yeah,” he answers.
My jaw ticks. Logically, I realize that Ridge hasn’t been living in a monastery, waiting around for me for fifteen years, but imagining him with anyone else is making my blood boil.
“Whoa, growly, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.” He’s still pressed shoulder to shoulder with me, in spite of the abundance of space available, but he turns his head to study my expression. He’s right. I am making irritated noises in the back of my throat. I should probably stop that.
Ridge can kiss who he wants. He can fuck who he wants. He can do whatever he wants.
“I don’t give a fuck about Allen,” I say more harshly than I mean to.
“Alex,” he corrects.
“Whatever,” I mutter.
“Wait, are you jealous?” Ridge gasps, a grin spreading over his face. “Oh my god, you are. You’re jealous.”
“I’m not,” I grumble.
“Jealous,” he taunts again, smiling even more widely when I make another annoyed sound. “Do you wish you’d been the first man to kiss me?” His expression sobers, the hints of teasing falling away. “I wish it had been you.”
My gaze drops to his lips, parted like he’s waiting for me to take him up on the implied offer. I’m fucking aching to do it. I can practically taste the whiskey-marshmallow-Ridge flavor from here, feel the slide of his tongue against mine…all I have to do is lean over half an inch…
I jerk back, clearing my throat and then scrambling clumsily to my feet. I can’t kiss Ridge. If I kiss him, it won’t end there. I know it won’t. And then where will that leave us? We’ll wake up tomorrow right back where we’ve been all week.
Somewhere in an alternate universe, maybe there’s an Apollo and a Ridge who got together sooner, who don’t have the past hanging around their necks like baggage. I hope they’re happy, I truly do. Unfortunately, we’re not them.
“Pol,” Ridge says, trying to get to his feet as well.
I wave him back down. “I’m pretty tired, so I’m going to get to bed. Enjoy the rest of your marshmallows.” I nod at the half-empty bag and then start to back away.
He stays where he is, staring after me until I turn and haul ass up to the cabin, refusing to look back again, no matter how much I want to.
I half-expect him to come barging in right after me, but I’m completely alone as I strip out of my clothes in the dark, casting glances at the tiny bed we shared last week and wishing a little bit that we hadn’t fixed the roof so we might get the excuse to do it again.
“Bad idea,” I murmur to myself, slipping under my covers and turning so my back is to the door.
Usually, I prefer silence, but as I lie in the pitch-black cabin, with nothing but the sound of my own breathing, it starts to feel oppressive. For some reason, my brain jumps to memories of when Ridge and I were kids, and he would get in bed with me during sleepovers. He would whisper stupid jokes and unsuccessfully stifle laughter, and eventually, he’d fall asleep, and the sound of his slow, even breathing would pull me right along with him.
I’m not sure how long it is before the bang of the screen door and the shuffle of footsteps announce his arrival into the cabin. I lie perfectly still, wanting him to think I fell straight to sleep for some reason. He doesn’t say a word, but I hear the rustle of his clothes as he undresses and gets into bed, and I sit awake a while longer, wondering what would’ve happened if I’d given in to the urge to kiss him again.
