Finley Embraces Heart and Home by Anyta Sunday

I have faded into the habit of secretly existing under your skin. It is unbelievably dark under there; I am happy.

K. Mansfield, Letter

The morning before the last English Lit exam of my third year, I get dumped. I’m too focused on Ethan, Daniel says.

I laugh, because it doesn’t feel true. Ethan and I are nothing like we were. We don’t share the same bed. We’re careful not to touch. Our gazes never lock and linger.

We spend most of our time with Julia between us, a constant reminder of what we’re meant to be. What we are.

Daniel helps me pack my satchel. A spare t-shirt. Deodorant. I tell him the toothbrush can go in the bin. He laughingly slaps my arse out the door and wishes me well for my exam. He’s sad, though, I feel it. I’ve hurt him. He wanted more than sex.

I tried.

Last night he said, angrily, it shouldn’t be so hard. He threw Ethan’s name about. How I drop everything for him. How even an ounce of what I feel for my stepbrother would have been enough for him.

We ended up in bed, but it was still just sex. Goodbye sex, this time.

It’s difficult to concentrate in my exam. I need this paper to graduate or I’ll have to take a summer course to make up my points. I’m not keen on that; I want to spend the summer with Ethan and Julia. It’ll be my last. It’ll be time to get a job. Time to move away from Mansfield . . .

My pen scratches over the paper. Stops. Starts. The words start to blur, to swim. My breathing catches, punching up my throat. My pen snaps. Ink sprays, drizzles over my palm.

I blot it away with my shirt, use my other pen. The words keep shifting.

I can’t do this. I can’t—

My chair rumbles over the wooden floors. A dozen heads swish toward the sound and swish back to their examinations. I bolt out of the hall. Into the courtyard. I gulp in the spring air.

On a warm bench, I slump and sniff.

The commerce department where Ethan studies is a block over, I can see the rooftop of his building. I want to find him. I want him to hold me and tell me everything will turn out all right in the end.

Like every time I’ve felt this way the last three years, I ignore the urge.

Halfway home,my car breaks down.

It gets towed. I walk the last ten kilometres to Mansfield.

Julia wraps her little arms around me and demands a piggyback. Her laughter is the only source of energy I have; I race her through the backyard over a carpet of browning silver pear blossoms until I’m out of breath and collapse dramatically on the grass.

“I’ll take over,” Ethan says.

I scramble onto my knees. I hadn’t heard him. He’s sitting on the back deck, ankle hooked over his knee, cap shadowing his eyes. His dimpled grin is bright in the sunshine. It grows as Julia pounces on him.

I watch as the routine is repeated, Ethan zigzagging around the yard, Julia giggling and giggling and giggling.

Later, Ethan finds me on our turret. He leans against the balustrade, mirroring me. “How’d your exam go?”

I shrug. He frowns, and I tell him.

“I’m sorry, Fin. I thought you two had something special.”

I look at him hard, like he should know this. “It was just sex.”

He glances away. “Abi broke up with me last week, too.”

I stiffen. We’re both single; there’s no fidelity fencing us anymore. A part of me comes alive at this realization but it’s easy to suffocate it. Because I’m also a little pissed. “Last week?”

He bows his head. “I wanted you to concentrate on your exams. If I’d told you, you’d have tried to make me feel better.”

I’m not sure this explanation is helpful. Did that mean his breakup . . . really hurt him? “I’m, uh, sorry. Did she tell you why?”

He grips the wood, gaze rooted on our backyard. “She mentioned a few things.” He laughs suddenly and straightens. “Do you want to go for a stroll on the beach?”

“Just you and me?”

“And Julia.”

Of course. My smile aches. “As long as you’re driving.”

I tell him about my car and it keeps me from dwelling on the lump in my throat. “It’s beyond repair.”

“Have you told Dad?”

“I mentioned it when I came home.”

“And?”

“He said I should get a job and start saving for a new one.”

Ethan frowns. “You need a car now.”

“Guess I’d better find a job, then.”

“You can’t. You have to take a summer paper after the botched exam.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage both.”

“It’s our last summer—” Ethan pushes off the balustrade and descends into the house. “You need a car, Fin.”

I follow him to Tom’s study; he bursts in, the most upset I’ve ever seen him in front of his dad. I pause outside the door.

Tom looks over his mahogany desk and gives Ethan the same explanation he gave me. “He’s twenty-two. You’re twenty-three. It’s time you learned to be financially independent.”

“Then could we have some money on loan? Fin needs a car to get to uni.”

“I’m not a bank, and if I were, I’d see no reason to loan Fin anything. He doesn’t have a job.”

“Then loan to me.”

“If you worked more than fifteen hours a week, I might.”

“I can’t handle more with my course load next semester.”

“If you decide to waste your commerce degree to go into early childhood education, you’d better understand what it means to live off very little.”

“Dad,” Ethan says quietly. “We made an agreement. I get a degree in business and then I can do what I like. This is what I like.”

“Then I hope you also like walking.”

“It’s Fin’s car that broke. If this is your way of punishing me, don’t take it out on him.”

“I think you’ll feel the impact more this way.”

Ethan walks quietly out of the room and shuts the door. He pauses at my side, not looking at me. His eyes close, the undersides dark and puffy. He’s more than tired, he’s exhausted. He’s been exhausted the last three years. It’s always yes, Dad. Okay, Dad. I understand, Dad.

He fought for me.

For the first time since learning Mum was pregnant, I take his hand and knot our fingers together. Kia ora. Thank you.

His breath hitches in the small space between us and my heart pounds. I’ll feel the slide of his thumb over the back of my hand for weeks.

Tom is behind the door, Mum is cooking something delicious in the kitchen, cartoons sound from the TV in the living room, and we’re a foot apart, secretly holding hands, telling ourselves not to look into one another’s eyes.

His quiet sigh combs my chin, our fingers grow clammy, my jeans tighten. The balls of my socked feet bore against the hard floor, then slip. A half-inch closer.

“Fin,” he whispers, a warning.

“Peepee! Peepee!” Julia cries, hurtling out of the living room.

We jump apart, avoiding direct eye contact, and Ethan hurries to help Julia to the bathroom. We go to the beach as planned.

That Sunday at lunch,we’re all busy. Ethan takes turns with Mum cutting up Julia’s food and cleaning up the juice she spills from her cup. I have the laptop on the table, going through the summer semester options, and Tom is wrapping up a business call in the foyer.

“Anything look good?” Ethan asks me.

“Theatre 306. Write and preform your own script. Group work. Should be fun and easy.”

Julia throws herself at Ethan and he hoists her onto his lap. “My program doesn’t begin until late Feb. Maybe I can take the class with you?”

I snap my head up. “You’ve got enough points to graduate.”

“I was thinking more for fun? Time to hang out?”

“You hang out all the time,” Mum says, laughing.

“As friends,” Ethan says quietly, and bounces his knee at Julia’s demand.

“Ah.” Mum nods. “You boys have been such wonderful brothers.”

I’m still staring him. I have to clear the frog in my throat. “Enrolment deadline’s January eleventh.”

“There’s something else . . .”

I eye him quizzically.

“I got an email from Cress this morning. She and Ford applied to do their Master’s degrees here. They’re arriving on the second of January. They’ve booked a hostel until they figure out where to stay.” Ethan grins. “What do you think about them staying with us?”

All living together under the same roof?

“Will she have her harp?”

Ethan laughs. “Probably not.”

I stare at my laptop. “Three weeks’ notice? Seems weird to organise such a big trip and not email us earlier.”

“Well, she has emailed a few times. Nothing was really finalised though. The university messed up the paperwork and everything got done in a rush over the last week.”

I frown. I got on okay with Cress, but she never emails me. Ethan’s kept this quiet.

“What do you think?” he says hesitantly, like he’s unsure how to read me. “If it’s okay with Maata and Dad.”

Tom strides into the room as Ethan says this. “There’s more than enough room.” He’s in a sprightly mood. “I just got offered a month-long contract in Melbourne, starting January. Maata, what do you say, shall you, me and Julia make a trip of it?”

Christmas comes and goes,and the start of January is a whirlwind.

Mum, Tom and Julia leave for Melbourne the first Monday afternoon.

Almost as soon as their taxi disappears around the bend, Ethan wraps a scarf around my eyes and steers me out of the house.

“What are you doing?”

“I have a little something for you.”

“You know Christmas was like, ten days ago, right?”

He chuckles. “This one took a little longer to organise.” Pollen tickles my nose and the sun beams down on us. We stop.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

He holds my shoulders from behind and positions me. The heat of his chest hovers close to my back as he unwinds the scarf. The soft material falls around my neck.

I blink, taking in the neighbouring grassy paddock and two old cars at the fence, parked side by side. One is a faded blue, the other a worn-out green with a dent in the back door.

“Our new rides,” he says.

“Our? You have a car. A nice car.”

“Well . . . we both need a car, Fin.”

I whisk around; he’s smiling nervously. “Did you . . . sell your car?”

“You can take your pick. They’re both under my name for now, though. We can change that.”

“You sold your Mercedes for me?” The graduation gift from his dad?

He looks at me, baffled, like this shouldn’t be such a surprise. But it is. Yes, I’d sell anything for him, too. But knowing that, and experiencing the bubbly light-headedness of having it happen . . .

I fling my arms around his neck and crush him close. His hair smells of river, his nape is warm and slightly sweaty against my crooked arm. My other hand balls the back of his t-shirt, knuckles nudging him closer.

His breath oofs at my temple, and my skin zings at his puttering laugh. He squeezes me, splayed fingers branding my lower back.

Birds twitter in the distance, and breezes make the sheets we hung out earlier flap loudly. It’s a reminder Cress and Ford will be here tomorrow.

“Are you unhappy about the idea of them living with us?”Ethan had asked later that Sunday, when we were alone.

He’d looked disappointed, but ready to do whatever I wanted.

I wanted him happy. “Nau mai ratou ki konei.”

They are welcome here.

Reluctantly, I draw out of our hold. We only have one evening just us. I need to make the most of it. “Gimme the key to . . . the green one, then.”

Ethan laughs and tosses it to me.

“Jump in, Eth. We’re going for a ride.”

We arrive home laughing,sated from greasy fish ‘n chips and a salty drive around the coast. I insisted we have the windows down and my hair has stiffened into a wild nest. Ethan doesn’t have that problem. His is a few inches shorter than mine, and he kept his cap on.

He finds it hilarious and wants to touch it. I duck and dive out of his reach and laugh as he chases me up two flights of darkened stairs. We better turn on a light before we fall over and kill ourselves.

I fumble for the switch and it’s all the wasted time Ethan needs to catch me. His body jams up against mine and we’re giggling and giggling. The press of him at my back is warm, solid, shifting. The laughter pooling into the knots of my hair feels dewy against my scalp.

He clasps my wrists, presses them against the wall so I can’t break free, and he uses his nose to feel the catastrophe of my hair.

Suddenly, we’re not laughing anymore. His lips skim the shell of my ear, his breath crackling—

He pulls away sharply, and I shiver.

The light switch is right there, but I can’t turn it on.

“I should . . .” Ethan is all dark outlines as he hitches a thumb toward his room. “You want the bathroom first?”

I want it together. “Nah, I’m good. You go.”

He goes and I bang my flushed forehead against the wall, groaning.

When we’re in our separate rooms, in our separate beds, I touch myself. Slow, languid strokes, until I’m hard and dribbling pre-come into the shell of my hand—

Tap. Tap. “Fin?”

I snap my boxer-briefs back into place and curl on my side. “Come in.”

He’s in loose satin boxers and a baggy t-shirt. He pads over to my bed and hesitates.

“The dark?” I know he still hates it.

The light in the living room is always on when he’s home. It’s on now, I can see it in the gaps around the door.

Ethan shakes his head.

My chest heaves and my stomach flutters as I shuffle over and open the blankets for him.

His slides in, puffs up his pillow, and twists toward me. It’s like time travel. Like the last three years haven’t happened.

Our roughened breathing is loud in the stillness. He shifts again, getting comfortable. Closes another inch between us.

I drag a knee up and the length of my shin rests against his hot thigh.

“Can we . . . talk?” Ethan whispers.

“What do you want to talk about?” I whisper back.

“Everything. Anything. I feel like we never really share, anymore.”

“Share what, Eth?”

“Personal things. I don’t know. You probably did all that with Daniel.”

“Did you with Abigail?”

He’s quiet. “It was just physical between us.”

Relief feels like a big wave crashing through me, swirling at my toes. “Same with me and Daniel. Just sex.”

“Was it . . .” he stops himself.

I help him finish the thought. “Good?”

His next exhale is deep, like he regrets how much he wants to know. His voice breaks. “I hope he was careful with you.”

“He . . .” He wasn’t really there. You were.

I want him to look into my eyes and read the truth there. He’s not looking at me. Maybe he can’t. Maybe he hopes I thought of him. Maybe he doesn’t want me to take his hope away.

I won’t. “He was careful.”

“Tell me.”

I want him to know. “I want to hear what it was like for you, too.”

His swallow is audible. Much louder than his next word. “Yes.”

“Close your eyes—No. Keep them open.” I let out a nervous breath. “We’ve been down to the river, an evening swim. We’re still damp, alone in the bed now, in the dark. I’ve taken my greenstone off, but I’m thinking about the time I shared what it meant to me.

“The music’s on, all his naked heat pressed against me, thrusting shallowly. I still feel cold. But then . . . I breathe in the smell of the river—and I close my eyes and . . . his face comes to my mind.”

I meet Ethan’s darkened gaze. My voice catches. “I claw him closer, tasting our swim on his shoulder, and I’m suddenly trembling and excited under him. I picture his broad chest, his toned muscles, the scar at his hip. All of it becomes the weight against me. He’s a big warm blanket around me and I snuggle into it. I know tonight, I’ll go all the way. I want to give him more. I want us to merge together, want to feel every inch of skin around me, in me.

“Eventually exploring hands grab at my arse and part my cheeks and my heart drumrolls. My fingers clutch his back as lube glides coolly over my hole.”

Ethan swallows thickly.

I’m being detailed. Too detailed, maybe. But I need to be.

He has to feel it. So when he looks back, he might mistake it for his own memory.

“He snaps a condom on and then his hard cock rubs against me, his breath heavy at my jaw. He shifts, using his hand to align himself just right. I feel him tremble; I can feel how much he wants me. Needs me. It’s overwhelming. His tongue invades my mouth; every inch of my skin is thrumming and tingling.”

Ethan’s breath is thin between us. His dick is as hard as mine—I felt it briefly against my shin. His hands shift under the cotton sheets and stop.

“The tip of him enters me and he stills, and then he can’t stay still. We’re groaning as he pushes deep, deep, deep inside me. It aches. My body resists, just for a moment. Then I taste river again, and my toes curl and my legs spread against the sheets as my sphincter stretches around him. His tongue darts around the shell of my ear, and his grunts are hot and wet and ticklish. He wants more, I can feel it. He’s trying to hold back but he can’t. His dick comes out of me to the tip and he thrusts back in, harder and deeper than before. He’s all the way inside me. I feel like I couldn’t possibly be fuller.”

I find Ethan’s shaking fingers and steer them to his satin-covered, rigid length. Permission.

His fingers freeze.

“Fin,” he warns croakily.

“It’s just release,” I say, nonchalantly. No big deal. It’s a lie, but it’s a lie we need. Justification to cling to as we ease our desperation. His fingers twitch. He wants this so much, yet a chasm lies between us. “We would have done it in our own beds. We’re just . . . doing it here. Anyone would, listening to this story.”

I shuffle away from him, breaking all bridges. It’s a compromise he can make excuses with.

His hand moves under the covers.

I whisper, “I shut my eyes tighter. I see him hovering over me as he pushes in as far as he can go. Lust slackens his lips, but his eyes are looking right into mine, and amongst the mounting arousal there’s tenderness. A smile. A promise.

“I relax under him then, and he feels it. He wants to make me feel as incredible as he feels; his kisses soften as he pumps into me.

“The burn fades and his thrusts become addictive. My slightly softened cock gets hard again. Every bit of you, his body seems to say. I want everything. In and out of my virgin-tight arse, and I’m right with him. I want this to be as good for him as it is for me. I lock my arms around his back and urge him on.”

The slick sound of Ethan’s moving hand almost has me grabbing myself. I refrain. I prop myself on an elbow and lean toward him, not touching, but close.

“Fuck me like you want to live in me, I say in his ear.”

Ethan buries his face in my sheets.

“He turns into an animal on top of me. He pounds into my arse and it feels unbelievable. Electric. It’s the highest cliff I’ve climbed and I’m still climbing.

“He says something I don’t hear, but I know what he’s supposed to say. I never want to leave.”

Ethan croaks. Little bursts of air puff out from the moving sheet.

“He grows harder inside me, and my veins sing. I hold on to his bulging shoulders and scratch at his skin. Faster and harder. I squeeze my eyes closed, as tight as I can, so I can see his face looking down at me.

“My heart beats wildly and my legs wrap around him. Pleasure zips through me, up and down, more and more. I reach around and clumsily probe his crack. Not deep enough from this angle, but I want to tell him, one day I’d like to be inside you, too.”

Ethan makes a tight sound in his throat.

I’m so stiff, it aches.

My voice grows rough. “We’re all squirming limbs, moaning and grunting, and I shiver with impending release. I need to come, but I want him to stay in me. It’s agony. It’s the most intense pleasure of my life.

“He’s panting and it tingles down my neck, my shoulder, my arm. I’m breathing heavily too. No way can I hold on any longer. I’m about to combust.

“Come inside me, I plead, squeezing around him. He swells and moves faster and I lick my hand and messily jerk my dick.

“He stills as he comes and comes, and I taste the residue of the river on his clavicle and cry out as my orgasm rushes through me.”

Ethan’s breath hitches and the bed stills. I can hear his breathing, gradually slowing in the silence.

“Does he—did he take care of you after?”

“He went to the loo and I rang you.”

“You d-did?”

“You picked up, and I said your name. Just that, and you laughed down the line and asked me if I was okay. And I was.”

“Finley . . .”

I shuffle down into the sheets and scoop the come from his cupped hand, eliciting a sharp intake of breath.

It’s wet and slick around my aching length. “What was it like for you?”