by A. M. Wilson
This isn’t his first rodeo with a drunk Kiersten. Many years of happy hours and New Year’s parties have prepared him for just this scenario. Like a true gentleman, he offers his elbow and steers us back to the bathrooms I just left.
I crinkle my nose and stop us short. “If you think I’m going into the place where men poo, you’re out of your mind.”
“Did you just say poo?”
Ignoring his question, I flip my hand at a nearby stone bench. “I’ll just wait here.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll be right back.”
The direct sun beats harder on this bench than it did while I was basking on a lounger. Nathan’s been gone for eternity. Sweltering, flushed, and intoxicated, I need a reprieve before I pass out. A shady corner just to the left of the brown brick building that houses the restrooms beckons me. Nathan can find me over there if he ever decides to come out.
The moment I duck beneath the canopy of plants, I feel an instant respite from the sun. My head gently kisses the brick, and my eyelids flutter until I hear my name spoken from around the corner. My belly flips and my nipples tingle at the rasp of my name coming from his mouth.
“I’m here!”
While I smile goofily, Nathan rounds the corner with concern marring his brow and armed with a handful of damp paper towels.
“Are you okay? You were supposed to wait on the bench.” His approach is swift.
“The sun got really hot.”
“It does that,” he deadpans.
His broad chest blocks everything from my view, forcing my gaze to his wide shoulders and the white tee stretched tight across his pecs. Palming me around the back of the neck, he yanks me into his chest and touches his cheek to my forehead.
“You are seriously warm. Day drinking at a waterpark is a stupid idea.”
“It was brilliant,” I snap back defensively. One of the wet towels lands on my forehead, making me mewl.
His sighs caress my skin much like the finger trailing down my flushed cheek. “I’m glad you’re having fun, but you just have to be careful. Lean against the wall so I can clean up your leg.”
I do as instructed. Not because he told me so, but because the brick here is a blessed respite from the heat. In all honesty, his bossiness is like a trigger. I’m sure feminists around the world would shame me, but it revs me up when a man says “come for me” or “suck me harder” or “say please” and … now I’m getting turned on.
My teeth sink into my swollen lower lip. I glance down to see the top of Nathan’s dark head where he’s bent over swiping blood from my scraped calf. The sight ignites the memories of a week ago. His head in a similar position, strands of that hair sifting between my fingers as he brought me to a blinding orgasm. Before I can stop myself, my hips thrust forward from the wall and dangerously close to his face.
He stiffens, revealing he caught the blatant motion. It’s hard to miss a person dry humping the air mere inches away. The gentle dabbing at my leg continues without a word.
Alcohol makes me a scrapper, and it also emboldens me, exactly as it’s doing right now. I spare a glance out to the path and confirm we’re alone in this hidden alcove.
My demanding hips inch forward. I stroke the back of his head with my left hand and expel a breathy sigh.
Nathan completely freezes this time.
“Kiersten.” His voice is rough like the grit of coarse sand.
“Hmm?” I tug his head closer until his forehead brushes my thighs. Shock circuits through me when he doesn’t move it away. Each of his palms take hold of my thighs, fingers denting my skin.
“What are you doing?” His grip increases fractionally.
“It’s okay. Nobody can see.”
“You’re drunk.” He nuzzles closer. His words belie his actions. The slight scruff on his chin is a welcome chafe to my sensitive skin.
My breath hitches as his nose directs pressure on my clit. “I was drunk last weekend too.”
“Fuck.”
“Yes.” Suddenly, he’s right there. My clothing remains in place, but he tongues my clit through the material, dampening the fabric with his hot mouth. My breath hitches again, and my fingertips abrade against the rough brick behind me. As suddenly as he delivers euphoric shocks through my body, he pulls away.
“No!” I palm his head to express my need.
“Shh,” he croons, rising to his feet. His lips seal over mine to silence my plea. “It’s too obvious. We need to be more creative.”
My gaze is unwavering as I try to make sense of his thoughts. The questions vanish when he touches the front of my bottoms with his fingers and slips his hand inside the band.
“Oh,” I whimper.
“Better?” he replies a bit too cocky. Ah hell, what do I know? Cocky is the epitome of hot. My bottoms are soaked and not from the freaking pool.
“Much.” My eyelids drift lower. The brick behind me supports my head.
He invades my bikini to his wrist and traces my slit with two fingers. “Baby, you’re damn soaked for me.”
“How do you know I’m not this wet all the time?”
“Because I’ve been inside you before. You were wet then, but this is like a faucet.”
“Watch it,” I snap but immediately lose the ire when he plunges those two fingers straight inside. I welcome the delicious stretch.
“I love it more than you know. Strokes a man’s ego so good to know he can do that to a woman. Second to making her come.”
“More of that. The second thing. Less talking and more coming!”
“Yeah, Kiersten.” He drops a kiss to the corner of my lips and adjusts his mouth to my ear. “You’re going to do that just for me, aren’t you? Come all over my fingers in a public park. I didn’t know you had such a dirty side.”
“Shut. Up.” I groan. The sparks of an orgasm fire inside me from his taunt. My legs shake, already unsteady from the drinks throughout the day, and pleasure sizzles beneath my skin. An unexpected orgasm washes over me, and I collapse forward. Nathan catches me easily with his other arm while his fingers continue to pump away. He deftly seals his lips over mine in anticipation of the scream clawing up my throat. We kiss languidly for long moments, his velvet tongue an erotic stroke before he glides his fingers from my bikini bottoms and wipes them on the inside hem of his shirt.
Heavy lidded and dreamy, I look into his eyes and smirk. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises, Nice Guy Nate.”
“What?” He guffaws at my nickname and tugs me from our secluded place. “Is that what you and Cami call me when I’m not around?”
“No, of course not. I just made it up.”
We stop beside some loungers. “Do I really seem like the nice guy to you?”
Before I can answer, Cami pops up from her chair a few away from the one we’re standing motionless beside.
“Where have you been? Are you guys holding hands? Are you bleeding?” She fires off the questions with a look of confusion masking her face. Not until she mentions it do I glance down to our laced fingers. I rectify the unusual contact by tugging free and resume my seat in the lounger beside her.
“This klutz tripped me at the drink stand and had to clean me up.”
He plonks my sunglasses over my eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Sure. The sober one ran into the drunk. I think you’re misremembering.”
Cami sniggers behind her cupped hands. “Did you have sex?” she whispers not so quietly.
“What? No. Of course not.” Could I sound any more suspicious? “We did not do…that.”
I avoid their stares and look straight ahead at the kids floating along the lazy river. They have the right idea. Next time, I’m packing a canteen I can strap on and not worry about it floating away.
“Well, you picked a good time to come back. I think the girls are tiring out. Law just took them to get snow cones, but it seems they’re ready to head back home. Not to mention, we’re out of booze, so it’s a good thing you didn’t come back with drin
ks. Although I could go for a water.” She sticks her tongue out in a dramatic display of overheating.
“I’m on it. You two sit here and stay out of trouble.” Nathan glowers at me as he says it and stalks off back to the concessions.
“He’s grumpy,” I mutter. I scooch off my chair and pack my bag. I gather what feels like a stadium’s worth of plastic cups and garbage from our binge and cart it off to a nearby trash can.
“I think he likes you.”
“Of course he likes me. We’ve been friends for like a decade.” I use my now packed tote as a pillow and lie back down on my chair.
Cami mimics my position. “You know that’s not what I meant. Why don’t you two give it a go?”
“Why ruin a good thing?” I roll my head to face her. “What do you think would happen to the friendship between the three of us if I fucked things up?”
“I don’t know. Things seem to be okay after what happened between us this past year. I completely rejected him for another man, and he doesn’t hate me.”
Is that jealousy I feel or the day’s booze roiling around my stomach? Whatever it is, I wish it away. There’s no time for drama between me and my best friends.
“You know a lot of that has to do with what happened with Evelyn. He would have cut off his arm to fix things for you and instead had to watch you suffer it alone. It means he’s a good guy, but he probably wouldn’t extend that same grace to me, and then we’d all suffer.”
Cami sighs. “All I’m saying is if that’s a risk you want to take, I fully support you in it. Don’t think about me in this equation. This is about the two of you, and I, for one, think you two click.”
“That’s because you already love us both unconditionally. It’d make your life so much easier if we dated each other instead of other people.”
“This is true.”
A shadow crosses my lounger. My eyes open to Nathan balanced above me with a gorgeous smirk and an open bottle of water hovering over my head.
“Don’t you dare!” My shriek falls on deaf ears.
Splash.
Ice-cold water slaps my forehead and travels in rivulets down my face. Launching upright, I sputter it from my mouth and nose.
“You are going to pay for that. Not today because I’m drunk. But you will pay!”
He shrugs without a care in the world to my puny threat and holds out the bottle in offering. Cami already greedily sucks back her own icy drink. I snatch it from his grip and do the same, giving him the evil side-eye.
“Law just sent a text and said the girls are ready and to meet him at the truck. Are you two good, or should I leave you for some alone time?” She waggles her eyebrows at us both.
I bug my eyes out at her and pop up from my chair. “Nope, ready!”
Nathan covers a chuckle with a cough. When I glare back at him, he has his hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts and looks as though he just stepped off the set of a photo shoot. Why does he have to be so hot while also so incredibly annoying? His head gestures for me to lead the way, so I heft my tote over my shoulder and oblige. Cami rests her head on my shoulder, and I gather her in my embrace. We walk one another out of the park and to the truck.
“I’m so glad we’re friends.” She sighs. With a quick peck on the cheek, she climbs in.
I round the tailgate and find my path blocked by Nathan. I peruse him up and down, finding him still infuriatingly handsome, ridiculously talented at making me come, and still a pain in my ass.
“Want to ride back to town with me?”
I’d like to ride something, but his truck isn’t what I had in mind.
Something about the way he says it doesn’t tease and gives me pause.
“Are you okay?”
He pushes off from the truck and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m fine. I thought you might want some adult company for the ride. Never mind. I’ll see you at work on Thursday.” Without allowing me a response, he cuts across the lot to his truck.
The exchange leaves me with an odd feeling, but I’m not in the headspace to analyze it. Whatever the problem is in Nathan’s world, he’ll figure it out on his own.
My only hope is that it doesn’t have to do with us hooking up and what we did at the park today. Both memories are for the books, and I’d hate to taint them for either of us.
I know I won’t forget them anytime soon.
4
Kiersten
The shrill ringing of the phone against my ear increases the headache pounding in my skull for the past three days. I hug the toilet bowl, grateful I keep my bathroom clean and don’t have any nasty roommates. I never understood when people would do this in movies and personally reserve toilet hugging for my own house—like right now. If I’m anywhere else, I do the aerial puke, the bend and aim, anything other than get all down and dirty on the place people set their ass cheeks.
“Hello?” Cami finally picks up. Her gravelly voice clues me in to what day it is, and that I interrupted her sleep after her shift.
“I am so sorry, but I’m dying here. Please help,” I groan pitifully.
“Kiersten? What’s wrong?”
“Can you bring me some fluids? I can’t keep water down.” I retch and pull the phone away to muffle the sound. When I bring it back to my ear, she yells unintelligibly at me.
“Calm down,” I gurgle. “Drinks, electrolytes, soup, and crackers please.”
“Of course. I’ll be right over, sweetie.”
“You’re an angel,” I slur and hit the end button. My phone clatters to the floor. I rest my forehead against the cool porcelain and use my forearms to prop myself upright.
Time trickles in a molasses bubble. My eyelids blink heavily, and I nod off. The jingle of keys and the front door creaking startle me awake. I assume Cami’s here. Though, getting murdered at this point would feel like a tickle compared to the misery I’ve experienced.
Footsteps pad down the hall. “Oh, ew, you stink.” Her muffled voice tells me she’s covered her nose. She creeps into the bathroom and flushes the toilet for me.
“Thanks,” I croak.
The tap turns on and off, and a cool, damp cloth settles on the back of my neck.
“You really are an angel.”
Cami sits on the edge of the tub and rustles around in her purple polka-dotted fabric tote. “What the hell is going on? Do I need to take you in?”
I wave her off and roll my head to face her. “I haven’t even been drinking. I felt like hell on Sunday. Monday, I felt better and went to work, but it’s steadily gotten worse, and today, I didn’t go to work at all.”
She retrieves a bottle of Pedialyte. “I heard you called in. I meant to check in with you, but work was a nightmare. I came home, showered, and went to bed. I didn’t even eat the dinner Law heated up for me. It’s good you woke me up because I finally got some food in me.”
I retch again. “Please don’t talk about food.”
“I’m sorry.” She rubs my back with circles meant to soothe. “What can I do? I brought everything you asked.”
I tug the cloth from my neck to wipe my face. “If you don’t mind putting it away, that’d be great. I’m just glad to know I have something to eat when I’m ready for it. The thought of dragging myself to the store like this was paralyzing. Knowing me, I’d accidentally puke on somebody and wouldn’t that just be the most mortifying moment of my life?”
“I thought the most mortifying moment was when you were doing the dollar dance at Luce’s wedding and you accidentally tripped and farted at the same time.”
“Thank you,” I mutter. “Thank you so very, very much for reminding me of that other horrible moment in my life. You’re a great friend.”
Cami sniggers. “I’m just trying to take your mind off being sick, friend.” She lowers herself next to me on the floor and pinches my limp, clammy wrist between her index finger and thumb.
“What’re you doing?” I mumble.
“What I do for a living. Giving
you an assessment to see if I need to take you in.”
Another wave of vomit steals any retort, and bless her little heart for not reacting. She keeps on working, slapping on a blood pressure cuff and a pulse oximeter. When she’s done, she sits back on her heels and waits for me to finish a fresh round of puking.
“Well, your vitals don’t concern me enough to load you into my car and take you to the emergency room. So what else have you gotten into this week, if not drinking? Undercooked meat? Raw cookie dough?” She attempts a lighthearted guess.
“No, and no, and I don’t know. I’m not a child. I didn’t ingest cleaning products.” I push off from my throne and uncap the electrolyte drink.
“Are you pregnant?”
A mouthful of drink sprays the toilet in front of me. “No way, absolutely not.”
“Can you be sure?”
“Cami, I’m on the pill. I have been for like two decades.”
She roots around in her bag and pulls out a cardboard box. “Let’s cross it off our list then. If this is negative, and you aren’t better by morning, I’m forcing you to go in.”
I glare with as much heat as I can muster in my delirious state. “Whatever. I know I’m not pregnant so hand it over.”
She tears open the box and passes me the white stick with the pink cap. “Do you know how—”
“I piss on it, and it says yes or no. I’m pretty sure every sexually active female has peed on one of these things at least once whether they wanted to or not.”
She gathers her bag, my washcloth, and the trash from the floor. “I’ll take care of this and be right back. Don’t you dare look at it without me!” She pulls the door closed just three-quarters behind her, worried I’ll try to lock her out.
“That’s sort of impossible when I have to see to stick it in my own urine!”
Dizziness swirls behind my eyes as I return vertical. The climb to the toilet seat is a mountainous one. My stomach pitches and roils the longer I sit, and I pray to hurry the fuck up.
Once the deed is done, I return the cap, set the stick on the edge of my bathtub, and wash my hands. My body returns to a protective ball on the floor. The door creaks open a minute later.
