by S. E. Hall
Not that I mind.
“You sure you don’t want to just go back to sleep? You seemed pretty tipsy before.”
“I’m fine now, promise. So will you show me?” She bounces, happy and perfectly coherent.
“Okay.” I get up, taking her hand. I switch on her hall light as we pass so we’ll have just enough ambience in the living room. I can’t wait to see if she likes it. Everything I’ve done having a recurring theme—I want to give Whitley some childhood fun.
My childhood was great. Both my parents were involved; there were camping and fishing trips, sports, game nights, toys, backyard football, and sledding on the rare snow days we got. Basically, I got it all.
Whitley got next to nothing. Through comments she didn’t even realize she’d made and the few stories she’s shared, I learned a lot about her childhood. Whitley’s her parents’ starched and pressed trophy daughter, never allowed to let loose or get dirty.
Evan Allen’s fixin’ to show her the good stuff. You’ll never be happy with where you end up if you weren’t happy with where you’ve been. And I’ve seen enough glimpses into the real Whitley to know that the girl is dying to have fun, get filthy, and let her hair down…who better to do all that with than yours truly?
“Ready?” I lean my head around hers, making sure my hands completely cover her eyes.
“Yes!”
“Ta-da!” I remove my hands and watch as she takes in the scene before her, then tries to give me a counterfeit smile. “You don’t like it?” I ask, disappointment setting in heartbreakingly fast.
“Oh, I’m sure I love it,” she says politely, then nibbles her bottom lip, glancing over to me. “What is it?”
Poor, sheltered, ripped off Whitley. “It’s a living room fort!
Haven’t you—” No, you know she hasn’t, fool! “Come on!”
I drag her over and crawl into the makeshift fortress, which is constructed the good, old-fashioned way—every blanket and sheet I could find draped over and/or held up by every chair in the house and other tall, sturdy things. Every kid’s favorite spot.
“Come in here with me!” I call out to her. “It’s fun.”
She probably thinks I’ve lost my ever-lovin’ mind, but my powers only go so far. I can’t make her a little kid again (never gonna happen) but I can bring the little kid to her.
Her sweet little face pops in through the opening. “This is awesome!” she says dreamily, crawling in further. “Wow, you thought of everything.”
I’d stacked pillows and blankets inside, making the most comfortable bunker possible, and of course, stocked all the other necessities. “Here.” I hand her one of the flashlights, flicking my own to life. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” I run and turn out the hall light and hurry back inside with her, the flashlights now our only glow. “I have snacks, cards, and—”
“I think we should tell ghost stories!” she suggests with a giggle.
Oh yeah, she gets it, and she’s having a blast. Sawyer had called me an array of names when he saw what I had in store; pussy, cheesy and cornball the ones I specifically remember, but Dane hadn’t said a word, just shot me a knowing smile…’cause well, his girlfriend is Laney. Enough said.
Being best friends with Laney all those years, I know all about a girl’s “inner child.” Women try their whole lives to stay young; cosmetics, hair dye, tanning salons…plastic surgeons and Wonderbra companies have built empires around that fact. So any chance you have to make a woman feel young and whimsical, channeling her inner tea party and fairy…you do it. Especially if they never got to enjoy it in the first damn place.
“Excellent fort activity, Miss Thompson. Would you like to go first?”
“No, you go first.” She lays down, her head in my lap. “I’m ready.”
“This is called Who Stole My Golden Arm,” I begin, laughing as a shiver runs through her body.
If you’ve never been woken up by a piglet rooting your face with its sloppy, wet nose, well, you’re not living right, ‘cause it is just great.
“Ugh,” I groan, pushing the little pain in the ass away, “go see your mother.”
“Come here, baby,” she mumbles sleepily, pawing around to find him. “He’s just jealous of how much I love you.”
She may be right, but I’m too tired and stiff to think about it. I don’t remember sleeping in a fort being this damn uncomfortable when I was a kid. Hay stacks, forts…one of these days I’m gonna hold Whitley all night long in a bed.
“You want coffee?” I roll over and face her. She looks adorable when she wakes up, messy hair and sleepy blue eyes peeking out at me from her blanket cocoon.
“I’ll make it!” She smiles. “Will you take Tiny out? His leash is by the door.”
Along with his monogrammed food and water bowl, his toy pile and his wagon. Yes, wagon.
Me and Ms. Thang are gonna go round and round when it comes to our kids. My sons will not be pansies and my little girls will not be pageant brats.
Okay, so maybe my little blonde, blue-eyed princess would look cute waving to her daddy from the stage, all frills and bows…
The pig starts whining at me, climbing precariously close to my junk, breaking my trance. Was I just spacing out on mine and Whitley’s babies? That’s something I’ve never done before ever.
“All right, Wilbur, let’s go out,” I grumble, getting up.
“You’ll confuse him if you call him other names!” she calls from the kitchen. My hummingbird has the ears of a werewolf.
“What are you gonna do when he has to go live on the farm?” I wrap my arms around her from behind, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Will I get all that leftover attention?” My mouth seeks her neck now. “‘Cause I’ll take it.”
“Maybe,” she teases, and I could swear pushes her butt into me just a bit. “I’ll make you pancakes while you take him out.”
God, I hope there’s no one outside, seeing me walking a damn pig on a leash. The things men do for their women.
“I’ll clean up the living room when I get back in since you’re cooking.” I steal another taste of her neck.
“No, leave it, I wanna sleep there again tonight.”
“Okay then,” I chuckle at her, already feeling my back and legs stiffen up. “Come on, Porky.”
I keep walking as she scowls at me behind my back. Yes, I’m sure.
“There’s more?” she asks, her voice chipper and anxious.
“Well, yeah, you didn’t think it took me all that time just to set up the fort, did you?”
“I don’t know,” her shoulders pop up, “it was pretty fancy. Okay, okay, show me!”
I lower my hands, once again covering her eyes, and scoot back, leaning against the beam behind me. “Go crazy, woman.”
It takes her a while, her face in delighted shock, awe, eyes bulging as she slowly and meticulously takes in every single thing. Her hands fly to her mouth, tears starting to roll down her cheeks as she gasps, then shakes her head, and gasps again. “W-where? H-how?” She stutters, then takes a deep breath. “You—how’d you?”
Now I move in, pulling her into my arms, kissing the top of her head as she moves into full-blown sobbing. “You like it?”
She nods, face buried in my shirt, and my heart bursts knowing I’ve shown her just a hint of what she means to me. I will never stop listening when she talks, never stop hearing what she’s really trying to tell me, and for sure never get comfortable thinking I can’t outdo my last big surprise.
“Come on, pretty girl, let’s go have a closer look before everyone gets here.” I lift her face with both hands and wipe her drenched cheeks. “Happy tears,” I mumble, leaning over to kiss off what my fingers missed.
“Who’s everyone?”
“The Crew.” I grin. “The best part of all this? Having great friends to share it with. And don’t worry, the mud puddle will dry up and grow back over when you’re tired of it.”
I’m not gonna lie, even with me, Zach, S
awyer and Dane working like dogs, this was quite the project. In the middle of the backyard, and the main event, is a super slide, complete with huge mud hole at the end, dug and filled by Sawyer. The trampoline in the corner, assembled by Zach and Dane, is covered in pre-filled Super Soakers.
Flowers of every color outline the entire perimeter of her backyard, planted by all four of us. We’d also laid a rock pathway from the patio, now adorned with white lights and tiki posts as well as a BBQ grill and chef station, all the way to the 13 gallon pool. I can see it’s still not quite full, all the balls and blow up seahorses and whatnot bobbing at almost the halfway mark, but it will be soon enough. And at least it isn’t filled with Jell-O like Sawyer suggested.
Yes, we’d gone crazy and her backyard now looks like Funapalooza threw up in it. It’s maybe even a bit gaudy, and it’d put a huge dent in my savings, but I know it was worth it. Even now, her smile can’t be wiped off and a tear sneaks out every few seconds.
I lead her to the far corner, where the big tree stands, to my favorite part. “Sit down and I’ll push you.” I kiss her softly, holding still the swing I’d hung from the tree for her.
“Evan, I can’t believe you do all this for me.” She sits in the swing, gripping the ropes. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, ever. And, ohhh,” her breath catches, exaggerated—she’s spotted it. “Oh! Oh my God!” She stands, walking slowly to the tree. She traces it with one fingertip, finally looking back at me. “You carved our initials in the tree?”
“I did.” I give her a wink and flirtatious grin, making my way to her.
“You are so,” she turns in my arms, looking up at me, “kind and romantic and unbelievably sexy. Perfect.”
She’d done such a fine job summing it up I don’t think any more words are necessary. Putting my mouth to better use, I devour hers, reaching under her butt to lift her against me, then back her up against the tree.
“That too rough on your back, hummingbird?”
“No,” she moans, “but don’t you mean swan?” she pants, digging into my hair and driving me insane, “or angelfish?”
“Huh?” Actually, never mind, I can’t take it another second. I have to see her, taste test a new part of her. I brace her harder against the tree with my hips and move a hand to her top, flicking open button after button until her pale pink bra comes into view. Whitley has an ample chest, and the skin falling out of the cups is too inviting, making it impossible to stop myself as I pull the lace down, freeing her breasts to bounce out before my eyes.
Damn, definitely more than a handful, with dusky pink nipples hard and begging. “You’re gorgeous, Whit.” I dip my head to try and smother myself, thinking it’d be a helluva way to go. “Tell me this is okay,” I beg.
“It’s so okay, oh my God, yes.” Her head falls back, her chest pounding.
I know she can feel my body’s response, and, caught in the haze of lust, I grind myself between her legs, our tortured moans synchronized.
“Hey hey hey!” Sawyer’s voice reaches out through our daze and grabs my balls, twisting them mercilessly, as welcome as a prostate check from Captain Hook.
“Why does God hate me?” I whine into her soft, ivory flesh.
Her hands are working frantically to right her clothes and I painfully, begrudgingly, set her to her feet.
“Go let him in the gate; I’m gonna run in and freshen up,” she says, rising on her tiptoes to brush her lips softly against mine. “Go on, grumpy, I promise to make it up to you later.”
“Or you could wait right here and I’ll go kill him real quick.”
“Go on.” She laughs and gives me a playful shove.
“Finally,” Sawyer cocks off when I let him in, “what the fuck, you forget you invited us over?”
“Something like that,” I grumble, taking stuff out of his arms. “What’s all this?”
“Half the damn grocery store. Somehow I got nominated to go with Laney and Bennett’s lists.”
“It’s good for ya. One of these days some girl’s gonna snag ya and knock ya on your ass. This way, you’ll be ready.”
“You start drinking without me? No woman will ever tame me, or send me on fucking errands or tampon runs and bullshit. That chick doesn’t exist. It’s different doing it for Gidge, she’s my buddy.”
“Whatever, Casanova, help me get all this unpacked and put away. I don’t want Whitley doing it on her big day.”
“Doing what?” She breezes in the kitchen, stirring me up all over again, just when I finally had things under control. “Hey, Sawyer! My goodness,” she looks around, “did you buy the whole store?”
“Hmpf,” he pouts, “Laney and Bennett’s doing; slave drivers.”
“Ah…” She gives him a hug, or as close to a hug as she can, like Whitley’s little arms will circle all the way around Sawyer. “How sweet of you to help out. Thank you so much.” She pokes him in the belly. “I think you’re wonderful.”
“How wonderful?” He gives her his patented Sawyer leer and moves closer.
“Ow! What the hell?” He rubs the back of his head while Whitley bends to pick up the cantaloupe I just bounced off his noggin.
“Back away from the taken woman.”
“The hot ones are dropping like flies, I tell ya. I’m gonna have to get new friends if I wanna get laid regularly.”
“You get laid plenty, manwhore. And hello to the rest of you.” Tate walks in through the patio door, setting down…more bags?
“Actually, I got shot down just last night. I put in a good two hours of ‘conversation,’” Sawyer air quotes are quite humorous, “and kept her in drinks. When we finally got down to it, she played the ‘I have my period’ card. Can you believe that?”
“Maybe she really did, Sawyer. It does happen,” Whitley pats his shoulder, “and heaven forbid you hold a conversation just because.”
“Fuck that, I told her just because the Ferris wheel breaks they don’t shut down the whole carnival, if you know what I mean.”
Whitley looks baffled, turning to me, then Tate, meeting looks of equal confusion. “No, we don’t know what you mean.”
“Blowjob, hand job, something. Period only shuts down one ride, not the whole fair.”
“Sawyer Landon, good God! Where do you get this stuff?” Whitley blushes enough for all of us. “Anyway,” she scowls at him and turns to Tate, “where’s Bennett?”
“She rode with Dane and Laney. They wanted to show her the new pad on the way.”
“What new pad?”
“Dane bought a duplex about two miles from here. Laney’s gonna live on one side and Bennett and I are gonna live in sin on the other. Cool, huh?”
“Who’s gonna live with Laney?” Sawyer asks. “No one, I guess,” Tate shrugs.
“Bullshit. I will. If you’re moving out and Evan’s with Zach now, I can’t be by myself.”
“I live by myself,” Whitley chimes in.
“That’s right,” Sawyer drawls, sidling up to her. “Want me to move in with you?”
Watermelon’s probably too big, it might actually hurt him.
Pineapple? Perfect. Wham!
“Mother of—” he yells. “Will you stop throwing shit at me?!”
“Stop hitting on my woman and I will!” I yell back, laughing.
Whitley crooks that finger at me, giving me a come hither look that pulses through me. I do her bidding in two steps, wrapping my arms around her waist, my nose headed straight to its home in her hair. “Yes?”
“Nothing,” she coos, “you were just too far way.”
I forgot how damn good it felt to have someone to give your lovin’ to. And to have it given back, freely…even fucking better.
“Roomie!” Sawyer yells, making all of us turn to see the three stragglers walk in.
“Why is he calling you roomie?” Dane follows Sawyer’s eyes to Laney and growls.
“Like I have a clue.” She laughs. “Who knows why he does half the things he does?
Sawyer,” she says patronizingly, “can you please explain to my caveman here what you’re talking about before you get me in trouble for something I, too, am clueless about?”
“Sure,” he grins, “Dane, I’m moving in the duplex with Laney on her side.”
“Wait,” Laney holds up a hand, “before everyone goes crazy, where’s Zach?”
Subtle subject change there, Walker.
I snort, unable to hold it in, because Zach’s been standing behind them, outside the glass door, for a good five minutes. Smart man. I wouldn’t walk in to that conversation either.
“What?” Laney looks at Whitley and me suspiciously, and Whit caves first, pointing. Laney turns and pops her hands on her hips. “What are you doing? Get in here.”
“Do I have to?” he calls through the glass.
“No, we’ll go out to him,” Bennett says, “Tate can start the grill.
I’m starving.”
“Oh, okay,” Whitley leaves my arms, “let me get stuff ready. Evan, can you get drinks on ice and maybe start some music, babe? I’ll make burger patties and prep sides. Sawyer, if you’d cut up the big fruit, it won’t fly at your head anymore.”
“Stop right where you are, woman. You are not working. Go change into your backyard water and mud party apparel,” I command, to which she quirks her brows and gives me a shocked but teasing smirk. “I mean it, Whit. We all got it, this is your day to have some fun.”
She looks around the room, everyone taking the turn to nod or smile in affirmation.
“Really, Whit,” Laney speaks up, “go get changed. We can handle it.”
“All right then,” she backs her way to the hall, “if you’re sure.”
“Whitley, Tiny’s hogging the mud hole again!” Zach’s whiny yell comes from across the yard. “I’m just gonna slide into him if he doesn’t move.”
Slide away, man, ‘cause that pig’s not moving from the mud hole. That’s Old McDonald 101.
