Darius the Great Deserves Better - Adib Khorram Page 0,65
lips were red and a little chapped in the corner. His tongue darted out at the spot.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, because when we were kissing, I didn’t have to talk. I didn’t have to think.
I didn’t feel that pulsar in me anymore.
Landon scooted closer until he was almost in my lap and kissed me again. He tapped his tongue against my teeth, and I opened up a little bit to meet it. But then he did this thing where he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked my tongue into his mouth.
My breath hitched. It was the weirdest thing I’d ever felt.
Weird and excellent.
I finally had to break the kiss and catch my breath. Landon’s cheeks were flushed. His eyes shone.
“Someone’s excited,” he whispered, and poked at the weird pooch my jeans made in the front.
“That’s a joner,” I whispered back, and Landon giggled.
I mean, I was hard, but it was trapped against my left thigh.
Landon used his thumb to trace my lips. I kissed the little pad of it, but then he stuck it into my mouth and rubbed it against the inside of my cheek.
It was the kind of thing you would see in porn.
(If I’m being honest, it was the kind of thing I had, in fact, seen in porn.)
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t think I like that.”
Landon blanched. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I kissed his shoulder.
He rested his hand on my thigh (my right one, thankfully) and rubbed it back and forth. He leaned in for another kiss, and he did that tongue-sucking thing again.
My skin tingled all over.
This time it was Landon who broke the kiss.
I was pretty sure he was excited too.
“My dad won’t be home until late,” he said. “What should we do?”
“You could play for me. You never let me hear you play bassoon.”
Landon stared at me.
“Or we could just stay like this. Cuddle for a while.”
Landon kissed me and rested his head against my chest again. “I like cuddling with you.”
I took his hand off my thigh and brought it up to my lips. I kissed his knuckles, one after another.
Landon shifted a bit, his hair tickling my chin, as I wrapped my arms around him and laid us across his couch.
I took a long, deep breath.
And then Landon snorted and muttered “joner” under his breath, and we both started cracking up.
THE SECOND STEEPINGS
That night, after Dad and I watched “Indiscretion,” a kind of trippy episode of Deep Space Nine, I tried Sohrab. Again. But the little green CALL icon kept flashing, and the doot-deet-doot, deet-doot-deet music echoed in my bedroom. And Sohrab didn’t answer.
I didn’t know what to do.
Sohrab was the one who always helped me figure out what to do.
I hung up and tried again. And a third time. Let it ring until it timed out.
Nothing.
I chewed on my lip for a little while, and then tried Mamou instead.
I hated how selfish I was, calling my grandmother because I couldn’t get ahold of my best friend.
How was I supposed to talk to Mamou now that Babou was gone?
She picked up almost instantly. There was a second of weird, ringing feedback, and the screen flashed black and then white as we connected.
“Hi, Darioush-jan.”
“Hi, Mamou.” I almost cried, I loved my grandmother’s voice so much. “How are you?”
She sighed. “I am doing okay, maman. You know, it’s hard.”
“Yeah.”
“I miss you. I wish you could come visit again.”
“Me too.”
At that I think I did start crying. Just a little.
“Is Dayi Jamsheed around? Or Sohrab?”
I hated the thought of Mamou being alone in that house.
And, I thought maybe Sohrab was there.
“No. Just me. Zandayi Simin is coming later to make ab goosht. You know ab goosht?”
“Yeah.”
Ab goosht more or less translates to “meat water.” But it’s actually a stew, made from meat braised until it falls off the bone, and eaten with crusty bread.
“You know, it was Babou’s favorite.”
I sniffed.
“How are you doing, Darioush-jan? How’s school? How’s soccer? How’s your job? How’s your dad? Your mom?”
“Um. They’re okay. Everyone’s doing okay.” I couldn’t tell her about how Mom was tired. Or how Dad was depressed. Or how I was beginning to hate going into work.
I had to pretend like everything was okay here, because I knew that it wasn’t over there.