Anacampserote
noun
Something that can bring back a lost love
I fell asleep with Riley snuggled up against me, her head on my shoulder, and her dog's butt pressed against my shin. Her fingers drew tiny patterns on my left pec, and, despite the lingering sadness, I never felt more content with everything in my life just because she was there. She calms me, levels me. Even though I worry about a lot of things when it comes to her and our relationship, when she's here she makes my anxiety lessen. And I hope I could give her some emotional support going through that day, too.
She cried again after we finished eating and shed a few tears just before we went to bed. The time in between was better for her, and she even hiccuped a tiny laugh or two too when she sat behind me, braiding my hair and telling me about how Samir wasn't allowed near the washing machine because he used to mess everything up and shrink all their clothes.
I love seeing her smile. I love seeing her heal when she talks about her past. I love how her eyes spark when she remembers Samir. It's like every time she says his name it falls easier from her lips. And witnessing that patches up the gashes in my own heart that seeing her hurt caused.
I know she's worried about being overbearing or too stuck in the past, and yes it tweaks, but I try to not let it get to me. I can bear it. Even though sharing's not in my nature – courtesy of being the youngest of three kids – I'm going to give my best to accept whatever piece of her heart she can give me.
She's just now starting to really process his death and the aftermath, I realize. She got stuck somewhere during the past years and only now she's moving forward.
I talked to my brother a few times and asked him what helped him deal with the loss of his childhood friend. He basically said what I already knew, that reassurance, emotional support and understanding are key. But his confirmation keeps me going. I'm on the right track. I got this.
Now, after just waking up, I stretch my arms over my head and try to feel around for Riley. But the bed is cold, and she isn't there. Baby isn't either. There's no noise in the first place. No running of water or scraping or shuffling in the kitchen. Nothing that would indicate Riley still being here.
Rolling to my back, I feel the worry creep up inside me. I don't want to feel this way. I hate fearing she might run away from me. So I swallow that thought and get up and rub my palms over my face.
On my way to the bathroom, I register Riley's missing shoes and that she'd left the t-shirt she was wearing yesterday on her side of the bed. Inhaling a sharp breath, I go to brush my teeth and wash my face before shrugging into the same clothes from yesterday and revel in the giddy rush that I got from seeing that she kept my toothbrush.
The flowers I bought are neatly put in the vase Riley dug out from the far depth of her cupboards. She had to dust it off too. She must not have gotten flowers in a long time, and even if I felt weird buying them because for me flowers don't have a purpose other than looking nice, I was glad I did it after seeing Riley's eyes glimmer.
In the kitchen there's a neon pink post-it sticking to the fridge with a feminine scribble on it as well as a sketch depicting how to get to the beach.
Good morning sleepy head,
I woke up early and couldn't fall back asleep. Got up and went surfing because I didn't want to disturb you with my tossing around. You looked so peaceful. I took Baby to the beach with me. Come find me when you're well rested.
R-
PS: Don't bother with locking the door.
Being in her house alone is weird. I feel like an intruder in the small space that's far from luxurious. But on the other hand, it feels homey here. Her cabin is cozy and lived in. Though being older and used, her appliances are in a good condition. Her breakfast table wobbles a little. There's a ding in her tiles in the bathroom, the pipes groan and squeak and a piece of the kitchen backsplash is chipped off.
It's a complete contrast to the shiny, pristine, and glass and metal high rises I used to set up camp in during my previous life. But I actually like this more. I like that you can hear the outside world and the birds and the rain on the roof when there's a storm outside. I like that you don't have to run a half-marathon every time you need to use the bathroom. I like the more rural style.
The only thing I don't like is the fact that I'm risking encountering spiders of the size of a plate. I don't need that shit. I don't know why, but ever since Riley said they're there even when I can't see them, I'm pissing my pants. Figuratively that is.
How she and the other Australians deal with this is a miracle to me.
With my shoes in hand, I pull the door closed behind me, making a mental note that I need to get Riley to lock her door because that girl is living outside of town in a forest. Yes, she has a big dog, but I have yet to see Baby do something other than wag her tail at everybody she meets. I doubt this dog can even snarl.
Riley's sketch is easy enough to follow and soon I find the strip of beige sand she mentioned. The waves are high today, building smoothly, rolling over the wide stretch of sea and flopping over before crashing with noisy whooshes at the shore. The sky is grey and there's a good blow going. Despite all that, it's still warm and humid.
I spot Riley sitting cross-legged and with her back to me in the sand between her surfboard and Baby, staring at the roaring waves. She's got her t-shirt tied up around her waist, giving view to her midriff, the stem of the flower tattoo on her back peeking out. Her hair is in a high ponytail, wet and plastered to her neck and arms. And she's wearing the cheekiest bikini bottoms ever with sand sticking to her tanned bum. The tan lines tell me she's not usually wearing this scant bottom piece.
Wait! Does she have tan lines on her upper body? I try to remember, but my memory is instantly covered by images of her sunbathing in nothing but these cheeky orange bikini bottoms.
I shake my head to shove them away and call out her name. Both her and Baby's eyes snap to me when they lift their heads in synchrony.
Riley quickly wipes the back of her hand over her face, averting her gaze when she does and thinking that I didn't see the wetness tracking down her reddened cheeks.
Baby jumps up and runs toward me, but for the first time ever, I ignore her and rush to Riley, as fast as the sand allows me to. "Hey, hey, what's the matter?"
It's a stupid question. Raw feelings and grief don't disappear overnight. She's still emotional. Her swimming eyes confirm my thoughts.
"It's nothing," Riley sniffs, her lips twitching when she tries to smile. It doesn't work and the result looks more like a grimace.
A little bit of anxiety dribbles into my veins, but I force my voice to stay leveled when I hunch down next to her. "It's obviously something. Tell me. How are you feeling?"
"Sit down, please."
I drop to my ass, stretching my legs out in front of me. "That sounds serious." It comes out as a flat joke, but the worry I pushed down earlier finds its way back to my chest. I guess, this is my life now.
"I'm okay today, I think." Riley hums out a breath next to me. "And it's nothing serious. Well, okay, kinda'."
"Okay."
"First of all, I want to thank you for being here for me." She grabs my hand, threading her fingers with mine and dropping her temple to my shoulder as she stares toward the ocean. "You really helped me and made the day bearable for me."
I squeeze her hand and kiss the top of her head.
"I've been thinking and-" she pauses with a sigh "-I think- I think I want to surf again."
"Okay," I repeat, drawing the word out and looking at our intertwined hands.
"No, I want to surf again. Professionally. I thought a lot about what you said the other week and I think I want to sign up for the next challenger as Riley Saada and see how it feels."
Tension falls off me in heaps and I turn in my position so I can take Riley's other hand too. "Riley, that's awesome."
"You think?"
"Of course, I do." I pull her closer until she's halfway sitting on my lap. "If that's something you really want to do."
She bites her lip and looks up to me, considering. "The qualifying series are almost over and I'm sure I won't be able to actually get far enough to qualify for the championship series since I haven't been training for it, but I want to at least test out how it makes me feel."
"Absolutely."
"Thank you for bringing it up," she tells me, and before I can reply her lips are on mine with so much momentum that I have to catch us by pushing my palms into the sand.
Riley giggles and pushes me further until I'm on my back and heaps of sand press against my back and ass uncomfortably. Wet strands of her hair slap against my jaw, her damp t-shirt presses against my chest, and I can taste the salt from the ocean on her lips.
Baby takes our change in position as an invitation to goof around. She barks, jumps up and down around us, and gurgles little noises while nudging us with her nose. Riley starts laughing only more, trying to blindly shove her dog away.
I take that chance to grab her ass and squeeze, smiling at the muffled squeal she releases. It was a daring move since I don't know what's going on inside her head, but she answers by biting my lip and dragging her tongue over that same spot immediately after.
Baby and her advances to squeeze between us are promptly forgotten. I can only feel Riley. How her body fits perfectly against mine and how her skin is cold and in some places and warm in others. How she moves her lips and angles her head, whispering another "thank you for everything" against me before framing my head with her elbows and devouring my mouth.
Soon, I don't know where I end and she begins anymore. I'm feeling tingling all over. I could get lost here. We make out, uncaring about the fact of stubborn sand in our hair and the possibility of it in other uncomfortable places when I flip us over so I'm on top – where I belong – spreading Riley's long, tanned and sand-plastered legs around my hips.
My cock goes from semi to fully hard in seconds. She definitely feels me against her center, and knows how ready I am. But for the first time with her I don't find an ounce of care within me. I don't worry about rushing because I know I can go slow without missing out on anything. She's it and I'm here for the journey.
Baby takes another chance to get into the fun. Snickering, Riley stops her again when I trail my mouth over her jaw and down her neck. Sneaking my hand under the hem of the shirt tied around her waist, I don't find a bikini top like I expected.
"Where's your top?" I ask, dragging my nose over the soft but wet cotton fabric at her neck.
Riley reaches for a piece of driftwood, wiggling it in front of Baby to finally get her to focus on something other than us. "What do you mean?"
"Your bikini top."
"I didn't wear one," she says matter-of-factly, writhing beneath me when I drop my forehead to the spot between her tits and groan. Picturing her handling that board of hers with nothing on but a skimpy bikini bottom is going to be the death of me.
"Fuck. Can I see?" I stumble through my question like I'm sixteen again and going for second base the first time
With a blindingly bright smile, she doesn't hesitate to wiggle out of her top, leaving her in only her cheeky bottoms and breasts exposed to broad daylight. There are little grains of sand sprinkled across her chest and stomach, sticking to her skin already. Her nipples pull tight into pointy-pink buds from the exposure.
"Fuck," I murmur, pushing all my weight into one arm so I can use my other hand to trace the normally hidden streaks of ink under her breast. This part of her has quickly become one of my favorites. "You're gorgeous."
Her palms glide from my hips and up over my sides when I roll my hips once. "Mason," she whispers while my hand wanders down, down to the edge of her bikini bottom. Unable to not touch her, I dip my head and take a rosy nipple between my lips.
"Mhm?" Is the only reply I can muster as I run my middle and pointer finger under the edge, ready to finger fuck her and make her feel incredible.
"There's sand all over my body. I don't need it in the gears."
Pausing, I contemplate her words until I finally roll off her, landing on my back and staring at the dangerously grey sky. "You're right."
Riley's eyes snap down to where my cock stands hard and aching at attention, straining against the seam of the cotton shorts I have on. She swallows, biting her bottom lip when a sigh escapes her.
"See something you like?" I ask, leaning up on my elbows.
I expect her to blush and make a joke, and granted, her cheeks tint with color, but she husks out a sultry "yes", lifting her eyes to meet mine, a hungry look in them. Her tongue darts out, gliding over her bottom lip and I swear I know how silky it would feel on my neglected friend.
Well, me too, I think, impudently staring at her tits. The finest ones I've ever seen. I always thought I was a big-tits-guy, loving the lushness of them – and I do – but I really appreciate the smaller ones now too. They're perky, bouncy, round and fit perfectly in my palm.
"Baby!" Riley calling for her dog who appears behind a shrub, drags me bag to reality. I really must've been staring like a pervert because her blush has spread from her cheeks to her neck and chest.
Reaching for her t-shirt, Riley smiles and cocks her head. "Let's go shower."
YES! YES! YES!
~~~
a/n:
Sorry if this chapter has wonky grammar. I can't do English today. 🤦♀️
On another note, I wanted to say thank you for your constant support. As I said in my post yesterday, nothing goes unnoticed. I see every vote and comment. You make me a better writer. Thank you
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