Will You Catch Me If I Fall?

When you wake up with a turning stomach and a spinning head after a night on hard liquor, things don’t seem half as bad when you’re wrapped around the boy who is slowly becoming the meaning of life to you.

I’m sounding nostalgic, but until last week when I spilled my darkest secrets on the bridge in the middle of nowhere, I’d underestimated Trace. Somehow, I’d been telling myself he wouldn’t understand, that if he knew the truth behind my actions, the reason behind my fears, he’d hate me. But I was wrong, as I was slowly realising I was more often or not wrong about everything, Trace hadn’t hated me. He’d done what I needed people to do, what Frank-E did for me; he held me as I cried, he kissed away the tears, he understood he couldn’t mend my broken heart, but he could soothe the pain.

I owed him so much, he didn’t even realise. He had me evaluating my whole perspective of life. I never wanted to live till my twentieth birthday but now, hell, I could live to be a hundred if Trace was with me on the ride, holding my hand.

As long as I wanted to kick all the silly, romantic thoughts out of my head, I couldn’t. It was hope, something that hadn’t been present within in for a long time but was a core element of Trace’s whole persona. He overflowed with it, lending me some of his.

Hope, it was a nice word…but I had to remind myself it was too good to be true. I didn’t deserve any of this, a guy like Trace, friends like Simara, Mason and Frank-E. Sooner or later, they would all disappear, and I’d be left alone once again. And thinking of what I was losing, being alone seemed harder than ever.

And back to the present, my naked body pressed against Trace’s chest. I could see the colour that was inked across his skin out of the corner of my eye. When I closed my eyes, I could picture the masterpiece he had created on his own body. It was beautiful.

It was peaceful, Trace was still sleeping. A low light was filtering in through the blinds of the hotel room. I was warm, but comfortably so, content with sharing body heat with Trace.

His arms were wrapped around me, pressing me close to his body and with a shiver of arousal I could feel his strong, large hand resting on my ass. It was limp now, but I could almost feel him cupping it, squeezing it suggestively to tell me what he wanted, and to tell me what he was feeling.

A shot of sexual need zipped through my body, and I bit my lip, closing my eyes. Jesus, even the thought of him sent me on the near edge of orgasm.

I pushed myself away from Trace and rolled over onto the cooler side of the bed, a substitute for a cold shower. I sighed into the fabric of the bed, trying to piece together blurring images of the night before in my mind. It was the last night of the tour and we’d all gotten pretty wasted. I could vaguely remember dancing on table-tops with Simara, grinding suggestively on top of Trace in the corner of the club and his hot wet tongue in my mouth….

Fuck, I was doing it again. I really needed to stop that, I seemed permanently horny.

I closed my eyes tight against the headache raging inside my skull and sat back, allowing the sheet to fall, exposing my pale skin, slightly splattered with a light dusting of freckles. I stretched, yawning;

“Ooch!”

My yelp of pain had Trace shooting from his dreams “What, what is it?”,

I laughed at his startled expression, and removed my hand from underneath my right breast where the pain had originated from. I frowned at the bandage I hadn’t noticed before wrapped around my torso.

“What did we do last night?”, I asked Trace.

He snorted flopping back onto the bed with a groan “How the fuck do I know? I was just as wasted as you…and that is saying something”,

I smiled, sticking out my tongue “Then why am I bandaged up?”,

He frowned at that, and with gentle fingers expected my body. I shrieked as he flipped me over and giggled as his warm lips brushed my throat “let me see”, he growled and I batted him with my hand, but didn’t push him away, not wanting to deny that familiar hardness that was resting on my thigh as he straddled me.

He moved his mouth down my throat, and across my collar bone. I shivered and moaned in appreciation bringing my soft hands up his back to tickle the back of his neck. I felt him smile as he travelled his mouth down my breasts, kissing my hardened nipple suggestively and he played with the bandage.

With one swipe, he ripped it and I gasped in surprise, he kissed the mark it left and licked his tongue over the tattoo that was still raw on the skin underneath my breast.

He raised his eyebrows “Sexy”,

I snorted, pushing him away and expecting the new art on my body. I smiled, happy that in my drunken state, I hadn’t gotten totally crazy, proud of the demure red flowers placed on the pale skin.

I looked at Trace and pointed at his upper arm, “You’ve one too!”,

He looked to the previously unnoticed bandage around his bicep and I kissed him, removing the medical gauze. I smiled as I looked at the identical flowers to mine squeezed between his other tattoos. Something warm was beginning to glow inside of me, heightened by the shared tattoos, we had unknowingly begotten…but it was too early to acknowledge this strange new feeling. Or much to scary.

Trace smiled at his tattoo and then growled playfully, pinning me to the bed again. He kissed a trail down my stomach, nipping at my hips and I bucked playfully. As his mouth travelled lower, I sighed in pleasure, closing my eyes lazily…

“Addison?”,

“mmm?”,

“I want you to do something for me…”,

I opened one eye to gaze at Trace who was resting his head on my stomach, looking at me with those ocean eyes “Anything..”,
“Come to Nashville with me tomorrow. I want you to meet my family…”

~

“This is stupid Trace. I don’t know why you still want them to meet me.”

I was sounding like a spoiled child but at the moment I didn’t care. I was still shocked that Trace had insisted I meet the Cyrus clan. I had screamed and thrown things but he’d laughed. It annoyed me he could see right through me. He knew I was scared, scared they wouldn’t like me.

We’d arrived home yesterday, and while I slept, Trace had packed my bag in secret. This morning, he had taken no nonsense and when I had sat on the bed, refusing point blank to go, he simply picked me up and thrown me over his shoulder with ease.

Now I stared out of the car window, my blood boiling with every chuckle that escaped his beautifully curved lips. The sun was shining, reflecting off his Ray-Bans and I stuck my tongue out childishly. He picked up my hand, kissing it sweetly and giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze;

“Stop worry, they’ll love you…”,

I grunted, rubbing my eyes tiredly. I didn’t want this, I didn’t want to meet his family, who would be as loving and friendly as he was. They would prove not everyone would be like my family, they wouldn’t be shells of people, cold and distant. The warmth that would radiate in the Cyrus family scared me. I would be engulfed in it, with no escape.

But I was going through with it, for one reason. That goofy smile on Trace’s face that appeared everytime he remembered he be introducing me to his mom. I could be selfish and wipe it away but the idea of doing that broke my heart.

So I smiled at him, and sighed “Alright, have it your way. But you owe me.”

He nipped my hand and I laughed, looking out the window again, watching the fields and houses rush past. Watch out Cyrus’s, here I come.

~

As we pulled up to a large family home, with several acres surrounding it, I shivered in suspense. I looked at Trace anxiously as I clambered from the car, my limbs deciding not to work and turn to jelly. My hand felt clammy as it gripped Trace’s larger one and he pulled me into his side, wrapping his arm around me and kissing the top of my head,

“Trace…” I whispered.

It was a fragile sound, speaking my fears and Trace stopped, taking my face in both hands and gazing into my eyes,

“You’re beautiful”, he whispered back and he kissed me sweetly on the mouth. I felt stronger as he pulled away and I smiled like a loon as he dragged me towards the front door and opened it quietly.

“Mom, dad…I’m home!”,

As Trace called for his parents, I looked around at the wide hall, painted a bright sunshine yellow. The walls were adorned with pictures and I saw several lanky, younger Trace’s smiling sweetly. I stifled a laugh and then looked back to Trace just in time to see him embrace a blonde woman, that was obviously his mother.

She smiled brightly at me as Trace tugged me forward and I felt my cheeks go red under her gaze. She looked like Trace, with a wide happy smile and those ocean eyes. She hugged me then and I relaxed into her embrace, feeling the warmth I had feared but embracing it rather than being scared.

She put her hand to my face gently, and I could see in her eyes Trace had told her about me; and she shared the same understanding as Trace about the strange fragility I possessed.

“Welcome to our home sweetheart. Trace has told us all about you, you’re very special to him you know?”,

I smiled as Trace turned a bright red and moaned, “Thanks mom…”,

He led me through the house, out the back where Billy Ray was relaxing on the deck in the sun. He turned as he heard his son, and he smiled broadly, getting up swiftly and grabbing Trace into a large bear hug. I stepped back, allowing Trace a moment with his father and looked upon the man I’d only ever seen on the television. I had a niggling curiosity inside of me about Miley, I wondered where she was…I’d like to see her.

Trace stepped away from Billy and brought me forward again for introductions, Billy had a warm personality, that made him likable within minutes of meeting. He had me laughing as he mocked Trace and hugged me, this was the man that had shaped Trace into the remarkable young man he was today. And even though they were not biologically related, I could see so much of Trace in Billy, and vice versa.

I already felt comfortable, already the sense of home and family in this place, in Trace’s territory had wrapped around me like a blanket, like Trace’s arms and sucked me in. It must be some sort of magic in that boy’s family, something about them all that just draws me in…I can’t get enough.

When I’m around him, and now when I’m around them all, I don’t feel so alone.

Trace wrapped his arms around me, oblivious to his mother and father smiling goofily at him. He didn’t care about showing his feelings. Something beside the warmth in my stomach twisted, it felt like fear…fear of the obvious care he was showing me. When would it end?

My stomach turned, and a shooting pain stabbed at my side. I winced but Trace didn’t notice, he was already dragging me through another door, back into the beautiful home. The look of delirious excitement was back on his face.

Up a stairs, a left turn, a door decorated with stars. Trace didn’t bother knocking but strode into the room as if it were his own…which I doubt it was unless he owned a giant poster of Orlando Bloom and Miley Cyrus took it to herself to do Math homework on his bed.

“Hey Trace!” she jumped up and hugged her brother tight. I tried not to stare, taking in the real version of the girl that was splashed across every television in America. One thing struck fierce, she was a normal teenage girl who just happened to be famous. Her smile was warm, and her hug genuine as she closed her arms around me. I liked her.

“Hey, I’m glad to finally meet you!” she spoke in a high voice, obviously excited. I smiled at her, unsure of what to say.

The familiar maths equations written across a notebook sent a familiar comfort through me and my unease lifted. I walked over to her books and smiled “Calculus,”

Miley sighed heavily and grimaced “Yeah, my tutor assigned me so much homework. I hate Math…and I doubly hate Calculus…I mean who doesn’t?”

I laughed lightly, aware of Trace’s curious eyes on me. He didn’t know this side of me, the educated side..

“Actually,” I spoke to Miley, “I’m one of those weirdo’s who love Maths. Everything about it, I’m a geek…and if you want, I can help you with this.”

Miley’s answering grin was enough and a friendship was forged. Through the product and quotient rule, somehow I found a relationship with Hannah Montana herself..what strangeness in the world.

It was a nice turn to the afternoon, and the familiar math problems sent my mind back to those years ago sitting in my room, glasses adorning my nose, pencil in my hand writing furiously, page after page in advanced math. Stephanie used to find it amusing I was able to complete all of her Senior Math homework before she had finished one question. It was the only thing I was ever better at…

As we finished, Miley pointed me in the direction of Trace’s room with a wink and I smiled, following her direction. I knew instantly which one it was, a large torn sign was pinned on the door, telling the expectant intruder to ‘stay out’. I laughed, and mimicking Trace entering Miley’s bedroom, strode in as if it were my own. Trace who was laying on his bed, jumped and then relaxed seeing me.

I pursed my lips, taking stock of his room, ignoring the on-going pain in my side. I don’t what the hell is wrong with me, but my body can fuck off.

“So, this is Trace Cyrus’ room…” I walked around, looking at several Star Trek figures, raising my eyebrows. Trace blushed and shrugged.

I laughed, sitting gingerly on the bed, big enough for two I might add, and laughed “I wonder how many teenage girls have fantasized about being here…”

Trace snorted, and moved behind me, his legs on either side of mine, is arms wrapping around his waist. He kissed my neck, his soft hair tickling me “Thousands,” he murmured.

I could feel him smiling against my skin at his vanity and I laughed “Blowing your own trumpet there baby…”,

Trace nipped my neck “Why would I? I have you”,

I shrieked, turning around to hit him. He grabbed me and we tumbled onto the sheets, limbs intertwined. It would have been an opportune moment for a heavy petting session but my stomach had other ideas. As I landed, I could feel my insides turn, that annoying pain increased, it felt like someone was stabbing me on the inside, and I knew I’d gone green.

“Addison?”, Trace, attentive as always, noticed immediately “What is it?”,

“Bathroom!”, I muttered, clamping my hand around my mouth, struggling to rise from the bed, suddenly weak.

Trace grabbed me, opening the door to his en suite and trust me inside in time for me to reach the toilet bowl and violently throw up…I’d never felt so sexy. Sense the sarcasm.

When it felt like there was nothing left in my stomach, I leant back against Trace’s legs who was hovering behind me anxiously, holding back my hair. I groaned and he placed his hand on my forehead.

“Fuck Addie, you’re burning up!”

With that, he scooped me up into his arms as if I were a feather and placed me back into his bed, tucking me in snugly. I smiled at his tenderness, and blinked sleepily;

“You’ve never called me Addie before,” I whispered…

He smiled, kissing my forehead “My Addie…”,

“Trace…”,

“What Addie?”,

I whimpered softly, my knees rising in a foetal position “My stomach hurts…”,

He squeezed my hand “Get better babe, I’ll be back in a minute. I’ll see if I have something downstairs to help..”,

Before he was out the door, I was asleep.

~

Sometime during the night, Trace had managed to slip in beside me, over the covers. He was holding me gingerly, my head on his chest, his deep breathing a soothing lullaby. His head lolled on his shoulder in sleep but I didn’t notice because my insides were burning. I felt like I was on fire.

I moved away from him, intending on throwing up again, anything to not feel this pain but my legs didn’t comply and I collapsed onto the ground. The pain intensified and I screamed, jolting Trace from his dreams.

He scrambled over to me, lifting me into his arms, he turned just as the door was slammed open and his parents stood there anxiously. If I wasn’t in agony, I’d be embarrassed…

“Mom, call an ambulance!”,

My vision blurred, and then black…