He Says He's Just A Friend

Chapter 9 - Hold On

- Clay -

I pulled the car off to the side of the road, next to the open paddock gate. Emmett pointed out the "No Trespassing" sign on the gate.

I waved off the concern. "The land belongs to my friend's family. They have a full off-roading course built out here. We do this all the time."

"What are we waiting for then?"

I pointed to the truck coming down the road. "That."

Brandon's brand new cherry red Chevy Silverado slowed to a stop to make the turn onto the narrow dirt road. The truck hauled a long trailer with four ATVs and two dirt bikes on the back.

I looked over at Emmett. His lips were tight, his brows hanging low.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

Emmett looked at me. "Fine."

I could tell that was a lie. "Are you sure?"

Emmett gave a tight nod. "Just a little nervous."

I rubbed his arm. "It's fine. I know what I'm doing. I won't let you get hurt."

He nodded again.

I worried there was something more going on, but I couldn't do anything to help if he wouldn't fess up.

Once Brandon had passed, I pulled onto the dirt road, following the truck. I still couldn't believe his parent bought him that for his sixteenth birthday without blinking an eye. My parents made me get something practical and fuel efficient. That's how I ended up with a Honda Civic. But I wouldn't complain. Any car was better than no car. It was definitely better than Tyler's 1985 Ford pickup.

The car rocked as we drove down the bumpy road. I kept a slow, steady pace, unlike Brandon who barreled ahead without a care, hitting every mud hole and dip in the road. I could imagine my friends whooping and hollering in the truck. Emmett was not so thrilled. He had a white knuckle grip on the door handle, his other hand pressed to the roof.

"Try not to barf on the upholstery," I said with a laugh.

Emmett grimaced at me, which just made me laugh harder.

As soon as I parked in the large clearing, Emmett jumped out. He walked off to the side and doubled over, holding his hands to his thighs.

While the other guys unloaded the ATVs, I went over to lay a hand on Emmett's back, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. "You okay?"

"Have you ever seen the movie Vertigo?"

I shook my head. Realizing Emmett couldn't see me, I said, "No."

"Let's just say I know how Jimmy Stewart felt now."

I didn't know that name. I'd have to look it up later, along with that movie. I wanted to understand Emmett's reference better.

"You could've told me you get carsick." There really wasn't much I could have done about it. I took the road as carefully as I could manage.

Emmett glanced up with irritation, drawing up his features. "I never have before."

"Sorry."

"Clay!"

My friends crowded around the ATVs. Jackson had also arrived while I wasn't looking. He must have turned in right after us. Everything was ready to go. They held their arms out. Jackson tapped his watch.

I waved them off. "Y'all go ahead. We'll catch up."

Brandon, Tyler, and Mark each took one 4-wheeler. Jackson opted for a dirt bike. They took off on the trail, leaving behind a 4-wheeler and a dirt bike for us to choose from.

Emmet took a few deep breaths, straightening his posture.

"You better?"

Emmett nodded.

"Do you think you can handle the trail? It gets kinda rough out there in spots."

"I told you I'm good," Emmett said.

My friends' shouts of revelry echoed through the woods, along with the roars of their machines.

I raised a brow. "Well, I'd rather not have you puke down my back."

"I'll be fine," Emmett assured me.

"Okay." I gestured toward the ATV. I preferred dirt bikes, but I'd never take a passenger on one through this course.

After getting our helmets on, Emmett stared at me. I was already seated. "What's wrong?"

Emmett shook his head. He grabbed my shoulder to assist him as he climbed on the back, his knees pressing into my thighs.

I turned my head, even though I couldn't see much of Emmett with the helmet in the way. "If you need to stop, just tap my stomach twice."

"Your stomach?" He sounded confused.

"You gotta put your arms around me. Your hands will be on my stomach."

"Right." Emmett leaned forward, holding onto my hips. "I knew that."

I huffed and grabbed Emmett's wrists, pulling him forward until his chest was against my back, placing his hands on my stomach. "Hold on tight. I don't want you flying off the back. I think your mom might murder me if I bring you back in less than pristine condition."

Emmett laughed, but it didn't sound genuine. "Probably."

"Just don't squeeze too tight. If I tap you, I need you to give me slack. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And listen, I'm not gonna go too hard, but just in case we start to tip, you haul ass and bail off. Got it?"

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

I laughed. "It's not too late to change your mind."

He tapped my stomach. "Let's go."

"Okay." I started the engine and revved it up a few times before squeezing the accelerator.

Emmett grabbed on tighter as we shot forward. I held my bottom lip between my teeth, pleased by his reaction.

I avoided the first few holes and hills, weaving through the obstacles to stay on flat ground to let him adjust to the speed.

"Hold on," I yelled as we headed toward a small hill that was unavoidable. We barely left the ground, but Emmett pressed his chest against my back, tightening his arms around me. It wasn't unbearable, so I let him keep his firm grip. If it made Emmett feel better, what was the harm?

I took the first turn to bypass the rocky path up ahead that I usually traveled. There were a few small logs this way, but they were spaced far enough apart that Emmett could handle it.

I kept to the minor obstacles, avoiding the advanced stuff that shouldn't be attempted with a passenger. My friends totally would've done them regardless to shake up the newbie. Part of the initiation.

When we took a slightly larger hill, Emmett gripped my shirt in his fists, pressing his whole body right up against me. My eyes widened, feeling the stiff bulge against my lower back. He was hard. Oh my God! My chest tightened—so did the front of my jeans—as my breathing grew stilted.

Did I like that?

It had to be the vibrations of the ATV. But if that were the case, why didn't it happen until I felt Emmett against me? And why was I suddenly thinking about Emmett's hands drifting further down? What might happen if they did? What if I just pulled over right here?

No one would know.

My friends never took this route. They called it Pussy Pass. They mercilessly mocked anyone who took this path. I took it for Emmett's sake, but they never would.

If I stopped right now, I could just turn around, take off Emmett's helmet and just press my lips to his, letting my hand drift between us to feel him, to have him feel me.

When the trees thinned, I snapped out of my reverie. The paths merged up ahead. We would catch up to my friends soon enough. I couldn't be thinking about this kind of crap around them. They would know. They would see it in my eyes or something. They'd be able to tell that I was fantasizing about giving a hand job to another guy. I had to shake this before we got back to the clearing.