Traces of the Indefinite

Chapter 4

f*****g you into my bed, because I have…

If you knew how many times…

Ram my tongue down your throat to shut you up…

Miles’ lewd, drunken slurring just wouldn’t leave Louise’s mind.

She had fallen asleep the night before, yes, but with an ache in her center, and moist heat pooling between her legs. She had woken up early, her first thoughts still Miles, his dirty words, his shameless smirk.

She rolls around her bed, still half-asleep, but her mind already running wild, replaying Miles’ filthy words and the sensations him, his tongue and his skin had given her the night before, desperately grasping onto the memory in fear of forgetting. But she can’t forget it, even if she tries. She can still feel Miles’ lips on her skin, his taste on her tongue. She can still feel him hard as a rock between her legs, pressed harshly onto her core, with nothing but layers of woven cotton separating his skin from hers.

Before she can realize it, Louise begins running her hands on her skin, slipping her soft hands into her worn out tank top, molding her soft skin underneath, harshly, imitating Miles’ pace. She bites into her lower lip, gently, the way Miles had.

Losing herself into thoughts of Miles and all the nasty things she has long wanted him to do to her, the same nasty things he would have done the night before, had he not fallen asleep. Louise finds herself slowly slipping her other hand down to her panties, her fingers making their way into her core. She’s slick and ready. If only Miles were here…

She begins doing the work for her absent lover, her fingers skillfully massaging all the pain and the ache of Miles’ absence in her - where he belongs, where he should be. Always. Everyday. Forever. As far as Louise is concerned, Miles is home to her, as she is to him.

She closes her eyes. Her mind flies into thoughts of Miles. His coffee-brown doe eyes, looking intently into hers as he sinks into her, loving her with his body and his hands; his body, stocky and somewhat toned, pressed against hers, his wavy dark brown hair matted in sweat, stuck onto his forehead as he skillfully presses himself into her, over and over.

Close. So close.

“Miles...” she keens, throwing her head back in pleasure, the sound of his name alone enough to send her over the edge.

Edging closer and closer to her high, a few more loving strokes and she sees white.

“f**k!” she moans. The high is white-hot and good, better than she’s ever had. It is so good she could practically hear Miles call her name.

“Lou?”

She pants, pulling her hands out of her underwear, watching as her wetness trickle down her fingers, right down to her knuckles.

“Lou?” She hears again. Dammit, Miles. Get out of my head!

A loud, obnoxious knocking on her bedroom door soon follows. A characteristic, loud, imposing knock that annoys her every time.

Realizing Miles is indeed there, outside her bedroom door, knocking like it’s a damn emergency, Louise shoots up and hurriedly wipes her hands on the side of her sleep shorts. She rushes to her bedroom door, legs still wobbly from her o****m, quietly hoping Miles doesn’t notice the slight limp.

“Isn’t it too early for you to be bothering my life, Miles?” Louise says, trying to conceal the guilt in her voice. Who was she kidding? Of course, she wanted him there.

“We, um…” Miles begins, uncharacteristically fumbling with his words as thoughts of him f*****g his best friend shamelessly in a public property god-knows-where filled his head, sinking him further into an ugly cocktail of guilt and shame.

“Can we talk?” he begins, sheepishly. “About last night…”

Oh, here we go, Louise thinks to herself.

The two of them share awkward glances, and surprisingly, after decades of friendship, they find themselves at loss for words, to each other, no less. Louise is scared. Miles is, too. They are best friends, the only constant in each other’s lives. Miles is terrified to lose her. She is all that he has.

“Miles,” Louise begins, knowing full well Miles wouldn’t know what to say. “Nothing happened last night, okay?”

She’d do anything for him, won’t she?

Miles’ face lights up in relief. He looks at Louise, hoping she’d smile, or break into laughter, or make any gesture of reassurance that things didn’t change at all between the both of them. Louise gives him a small smile, playfully giving his shoulder a light punch.

How can she know what he needs? And better, how is it that she always manages to give it to him whenever he needs it the most?

Miles takes one long look at Louise, as she moves over to fix the messy sheets on her bed, presumably to make room for him. This is nothing new; he has been sleeping over at Louise’s since he was little. Her mother was always more than happy to give Miles a nice, safe home whenever things got bad. He has slept in the same bed with her more than a dozen times in this lifetime. She was always his safe space. His home.

He hasn’t realized how different she looks now.

Louise has always been beautiful. Olive skin, gray eyes, small but full lips, small but prominent nose. It wasn’t that he didn’t know. Of course, he knew. His first o****m was to thoughts of her.

Her body is perfect. Golden, soft, firm, glistening in the morning sun. She is short, possibly half a foot smaller than he is, something that he really likes to mock her for, often holding things up way beyond her reach, and she would always jump up to try to get it from him, often ending up with her jumping on him, tackling him into the ground. Her chest would often press onto his in these situations, something he shamefully admits to enjoying more than he should.

Trying his best to swim through the rough tides of his thoughts, he can’t help but wonder, if they didn’t f**k, what did happen? What did the sheriff see?

Why does he have to be so curious?

“What did we do then?”

Louise shoots him up a look. “What?”

“I ran into Sheriff Reeves,.” he begins. “He said he caught us…”

Louise’s mind immediately shifts back into last night, the same feeling of shame creeping its way back into her as she remembers how Sheriff Reeves tapped onto her car window, for how long, she wasn’t sure, as she rode a clothed, drunken Miles into oblivion, while his tongue unceremoniously battled hers.

“We, um…” Louise trails off, weighing down her options, wondering if lying would make things at least sound better. It would, but she was so terrible at lying Miles, of all people, would know.

“We kissed,.” she says, trying to distract herself with smoothing out creases on the blanket that she has just folded.

“What?” Miles exclaims, his doe eyes even rounder with surprise.

“We kissed. It was bad. Messy, tongue. I rode you. You were hard,.” Louise says, matter-of-factly, as if reciting a grocery list. 

After years and years of stifling all these unwelcome feelings for her own best friend, as much as she wants things to be just as it was before all this, Louise has to admit she’s tired. Tired of hoping. Tired of wondering. Tired of hiding.

What’s left to lose? Did you know I just came to thoughts of you? Do you want to hear about that, too?

Miles is dumbfounded. Deep inside, he knows he feels compelled to regret it. Pouncing on your best friend just like that? That was uncalled for.

But who is he kidding? Louise is nothing like anyone else in this world, at least to him. She is pretty, always has been. She is smart, too. Way smarter than he can ever be. And she knows him like no one else, understood him better than anyone else. If there is anyone out there perfect for him, it would be her. 

What is he afraid of? 

I rode you, she said.

She could have pushed me off.

She ‘rode’ me.

Trying to shake off all the emotions he knows he isn’t ready to feel, Miles’ thoughts dart back into other feelings that needs his attention. He can feel blood rushing onto his center, feeling himself slowly rise and press painfully onto the cloth of his underwear. His mind can’t help but wander into what could have been, had the sheriff left them alone.

The taste of her delicious, golden tan skin that always smells like a cocktail of coconut and peaches. His hands through her dark, curly hair, softly grabbing fistfuls as he guides her to his lips…

“Miles.” He hears Louise call softly, but firmly, shaking him out of his stupor.

Louise stands by the bed with an exasperated look on her face. She knows they are bound to have this conversation one way or another. She doesn’t know what’s about to happen, and from the looks of Miles, his doe eyes still wide and round out of sheer confusion, he hasn’t got a clue either.

“Look, Miles,” Louise begins, “We’ve been dancing around this for years. I don’t know what’s bound to happen after this but…”

Miles can feel beads of sweat in his palms. This is it. He blew it. Louise will ask him to stay away. 

He’s lost her.

“…I like you, okay.”

What?

“…since middle school. I don’t know, I just…”

She what?

Miles begins to feel hazy. He could hear every single one of his heartbeats loudly, ringing in his ears, ricocheting on every corner of his being. A sinking hole is slowly creeping into his chest, followed by beads of sweat beginning to trickle down his skin. 

Louise likes him. 

His mind wanders off into all the sleepless nights he spent thinking about her, her body, her scent, her smile; All the nights he spent dulling the ache within his pants, wishing she was there with him, curled up next to him, her small, delicate frame cuddled into his for some warmth and comfort, while he pressed small, soft kisses onto her cherry lips. All the nights that, as bad as it may have sounded, he had wished she wasn’t his best friend, just so he could finally ask her out on a damn date and be done with it. 

He likes her too. 

Miles, in his shaky legs, moves closer to Louise, who stands frozen after her confession. He cradles her face in his hands, savoring the soft, smooth feel of her skin on his roughened palms. Louise’s eyes blinked back tears. She is just afraid as he is. She's just lost her best friend.

But has she?

“Lou…” Miles begins, his face moving closer to hers, “Do you really think I’m worth all this? That I’m worthy of you?”

Miles finds himself overwhelmed and confused. He’s elated, sure, because as much as he hates to admit it, he’s waited so long for this. But there was always a small, dormant thought that always kept him from trying, from telling her. Louise is a gem. She doesn’t need a crumpled piece of paper like him. 

Louise, lost in the haze of bliss, relief and passion, pulls Miles closer, wrapping her arms around him pulling him so close his lips barely touch hers. 

“I don’t f*****g care.” Louise says, in a near-whisper, meeting Miles halfway, nuzzling his nose with hers. “I’m yours. All yours. Always have been…”

Miles smiles. There’s so much that he wants to say. To tell her how relieved he was, how he’s liked her for years, how he wants to lay her down and finish what he’s started the night before, what was long overdue. For someone good at lyrics, he sure is terrible with words. 

“Okay.”

-

He’s laid next to Louise lots of times before, but this was different.

She is curled up next to him, her head resting on his chest, dark curls splayed onto his shoulder, which he would take a whiff of every now and then. Her arms are wrapped around him. She would look up at him from time to time, and he would give her sweet lips a small peck everytime. 

He’s imagined this scene over and over in his head, his favorite one among dozens of others. But nothing, none of those could ever compare to this. 

Miles suddenly remembers something. He takes his hand off Louise's arm, and slips it into the pocket of his sweatpants.

Louise feels him shift.

“What’s up?” she asks.

Miles brings out the small thumb drive in his pocket.

“I guess I haven’t let you hear it, yet,.” he says, showing her the silver thumb drive, worn and faded, the characteristic pink rabbit keyring dangling on the other side.

Louise looks at the thumb drive. While the thumb drive wasn’t unfamiliar to her, it’s been ages since she’s last seen it. 

“Play it for me, then.”

Miles reaches over Louise’s laptop, which sits on the floor right next to her bed. He plugs the thumb drive in, and in a few moments, Miles’ strumming and singing begins to fill the room.

Do I dare try

When it’s all that’s on my mind

Let me hope you’d stay

I know it’ll fade anyway

Louise smiles. She’s always loved his voice. It was completely different from how he spoke. Miles had a deep, somewhat gravelly speaking voice, but when he sang, it became smooth, with a smoky drawl that fit perfectly to his heavy way of strumming his guitar. 

Her head still resting on his chest, he looks up at Miles, who looks spaced out and lost in his thoughts as his song plays. 

“I like this one a lot.” Louise says, grabbing Miles hand, playing with his fingers. 

Miles smiles. “I thought you like Spaces Between the best.”

“This beats the crap out of Spaces Between” she begins, shifting from her comfortable position in the crook of Miles' forearm, moving closer to his face, giving him a kiss. 

“What’s my new favorite song called?” she asks, enjoying how this made tinges of pink creep into Miles’ cheeks. 

“Traces of the Indefinite,” Miles answers, confidently, silently praising himself for the good title, which, admittedly, is the best one he’d come up with in years. 

“I like it.”

“You’re going to be a rockstar,.” Louise says, partly mocking, mostly sincere. “You’ll tour, then forget about me…”

“Like I’d leave you here.” Miles says, with a chuckle. Way before all these feelings had spilled out, he knew that wherever he goes, he wants her there, too. He feels like he could lose everything, anyone, but not her. Never her. 

“You’d take me with you?” Louise asks, her heart fluttering at the thought of driving to city after city with Miles, her Miles, eating at diners, watching him play shows, nights making love in the car… 

“The hell I would,.” Miles replies. 

Miles and Louise lay there, content, happy, as the song finishes and another one plays. Louise basks in the joy of the moment, of finally being somewhere she deserves, somewhere she belongs. With him.

Suddenly, Louise feels a buzz on the pillow next to her. She shoots up, and palms the sheets underneath the pillow, searching for her phone. 

“Who’s that?” Miles asks. 

Louise taps her phone open, expecting a text, or any important message, only to find a Twitter notification. Ready to ignore it and slip back into her little haven in Miles’ arms, she sees that the tweet was from AUD Magazine, hers and Miles’ favorite music magazine. 

Her curiosity is piqued, she opens the tweet. 

AUD Magazine

@aud_mag

Get a chance to vibe with Route 66. Join a songwriting session with the band  and write their next hit. Details here: h***:://audm.comoute_66

Miles notices a crease in Louise’s eyebrows as she reads whatever it was on her phone. A bit worried, he nudges her. 

“You okay?” he asks.

“Babe, look,.” Louise says, showing him her phone screen.

Miles chuckles. “Babe? Is that what I am now?” 

“Yes, and you can’t disagree.”  

“I liked ‘egghead’ better.”

Louise playfully hits him in the shoulder. “Fine, back to ‘egghead’ it is. But can you just look at this for a sec?”

Miles takes the phone from Louise. He reads the tweet, then taps the link, which leads him to the magazine’s website where the mechanics of the contest is posted. 

Songwriting session. Route 66. 

He isn’t mad at the idea. 

“You think I have a shot?” Miles asks, half-meant. 

“Yeah, you f*****g do,” Louise says, firmly, as if hyping up at athlete before the game begins. “Plus, it’s Route 66. Our favorite band!” 

“You think I can write for them? Rufus Hall is a genius. I don’t think he’d be interested in hearing me whine about my life and my aching loins for you,.” Miles says, in a self-deprecating chuckle. 

“Well, isn’t that what music is?” Louise begins, fishing out the pack of cigarettes in Miles’ pocket, helping herself with a stick. “Whining about things we want, things we can’t have…” 

Louise is right. And he knows it, too. 

-

Miles buries his face in the crook of Louise’s neck. She’s been fast asleep for about an hour now, while he struggles to keep his eyes closed. He can’t help but wonder if he does have a shot in the contest, and in the world out there. 

He loves music, sure, it was his lifeline to the world. But he never dreamed to be a musician, to be famous, to make it work. Hell, he doesn’t even have a dream to begin with - a solid one, at least. 

He looks at Louise, her face the most familiar image in his mind. Her eyes snapped shut, her gentle features looked even more delicate asleep. f**k, how did he get so lucky. 

Maybe that’s what uncertainty is. A surprise. A present wrapped up nicely, until you open it and see what’s inside. 

He gives Louise’s forehead a small kiss, then reaches over her laptop that had been sitting on the nightstand. 

He opens the thumb drive.

He clicks open a browser, searching for the magazine’s site. After one last skim of the contest mechanics, he fills out the form, attaches his music file, and, after a deep breath and a quick glance at his sleeping best friend - girlfriend, he isn’t sure, they’ll definitely need to talk about that the next day - he hits “Send”.

Maybe it’s time to open the present and see what’s inside.