by Carnal, MJ
“Earth to Autumn.” Tara snaps her fingers in front of my face.
“Sorry,” I apologize, shaking the thoughts away.
“So are you going to answer me?”
“We’re fine.”
“Just fine?” She raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t know, honestly,” I tell her with a shrug as the bartender puts two drinks in front of us. I slide my money across the bar before Tara has a chance to pay for them.
“Well, he looked pissed tonight when I picked you up.”
I take a drink and smile around my straw. He was pissed. I had spent most of the day in bed. Then I’d gone down to the kitchen around five and made a frozen pizza. Kenton wasn’t around, so I went back upstairs after eating. I read for a while then sent an e-mail to Sid, who I couldn’t bring myself to call. Around eight, I started getting ready to go out, knowing that Tara would be there to pick me up at nine thirty.
When I walked out of my room a little after nine, Kenton was at the top of the stairs, his foot on the top landing. His head turned, our eyes locked, and my body started to vibrate from the look in his eyes. I wouldn’t even call it hunger; it was more than that. His eyes took me in and his jaw started ticking.
I knew what he saw; I had on a black, strapless dress that formed to my body like a second skin. Black pumps wrapped around my ankles, lifting me up on four-inch spiked heels. My hair was up on top of my head with little pieces out framing my face. I had on minimal makeup but dark-red lipstick.
“H—” I started to greet him when he looked up at me again, but he opened the door to his room and slammed it closed behind him. I stood there for a second, and then I flipped off his closed door and made my way downstairs. When Tara arrived at the house ten minutes later, Kenton came barreling downstairs like a caveman.
Before I could get out the door and close it behind me, he pulled me inside by my hand, shut the door, and then kissed me. It was not a sweet kiss; it was rough, aggressive, and it left me panting. When his mouth left mine, his eyes were heated and still glued to my lips.
“It didn’t come off,” he mumbled. I had no clue what he was talking about as his thumb swiped my bottom lip. “Fuck!” His eyes came to mine, and I was frozen in place; all I could do was stare at him. “Why won’t your goddamn lipstick come off?”
“It’s smudge-proof,” I whispered, shaking my head out of my daze. I took a step back, and his eyes narrowed.
“I don’t like it,” he growled.
“What?”
“Your hair, those heels, and that mouth.” He shook his head then ran a hand though his already messy hair. “I don’t like it.”
My eyes narrowed and I opened the door. “Too fucking bad,” I snapped over my shoulder as I went down the porch steps. I opened the door to Tara’s car, getting in quickly and slamming it closed only to look up as he roared loud as fuck as I put on my seatbelt.
“So, what did you do to piss him off?” Tara asks, bringing me out of my thoughts once again.
“I have no clue. That man is confusing. One minute, he’s kissing me, and the next, he’s complaining about my lipstick.”
“What’s wrong with your lipstick?” Derik asks, joining us at the bar.
“No clue,” I repeat, giving him and Stan a hug.
“Good, ‘cause you look hot and your lipstick is hotter,” Stan says, leaning across the bar to call the bartender over. I give him a small smile before going back to my drink.
“So how’s Mr. Rough and Rugged?” Derik asks, taking the beer Stan is handing him.
“Who?” I ask.
“You know, the guy from the emergency room,” he clarifies.
“That’s who doesn’t like her lipstick,” Tara adds out of nowhere.
“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Stan says with a knowing smile.
“What’s wrong with my lipstick?” I run my fingers over my lips, wishing now that I hadn’t worn it.
“Girl, you are not stupid. I don’t have a penis, but even I know that, when a man sees a woman who looks like you wearing red lipstick that makes her lips look even fuller, all he can think about is shoving something between them.”
“You did not just say that.” I frown at her.
“It’s the truth, girly,” Derik says.
Images of some of the women I have seen in Vegas, the ones who sell themselves, flash through my head, all of them with their bright-red lips and bedroom eyes.
“I need to go to the bathroom.” I stand and don’t even wait for Tara when she calls for me. I run into the bathroom and franticly wipe at my lips, trying to get the color off.
“Autumn, stop it. What are you doing?”
Tears spring to my eyes and I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to fight them off. I wipe my mouth again and again, but the color won’t come off no matter what I do. Stupid smudge-proof lipstick!
“Autumn, please stop,” Tara says more quietly this time, her hands going to mine at my lips.
“I just want it off.”
“You know men will think the same thing whether you’re wearing lipstick or not. Some guys are assholes. You’re beautiful and sweet. Please don’t let something as stupid as lipstick fuck with our night out.”
I take a second and let her words sink in, and I let out a long breath. “Thank you,” I tell her, pulling the tissue away from my mouth.
“We’re friends, and that’s what friends do.”
It feels good to be friends with a woman, someone who knows what I’m going though, someone I can talk to about the stupid things like I’ve seen women on TV talk to each other about.
“Now, are you ready to finish our drinks?” she asks, making me smile.
“Yes,” I say immediately. I look in the mirror, quickly making sure I look okay before following her out of the bathroom.
When we reach the bar, Derik and Stan have disappeared.
“Do you see them anywhere?” Tara asks, stretching to try to see over the crowd on the dance floor.
“No.” I look around, but there are so many people here that I can’t even move without bumping into someone. “Oh wait, I think I see them.” I grab Tara’s hand and start to lead her through the crowd to where I think I spotted Stan and Derik.
I look back over my shoulder when she stops dead in her tracks, causing me to teeter in my heels. I start to ask her what’s wrong, when she yells at the top of her lungs, “I love this fucking song!” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at her. The song is ‘Sexy and I Know It,’ and as much as people like the song, I really doubt anyone actually loves it.
When she starts dancing, I can’t hold it in and start to laugh. Her long, blond hair is flying all over. Her face is a mask of concentration and her hands almost look like she’s doing the hand jive.
“Dance with me!” She throws her hands in the air and spins around, closing her eyes.
I look around, seeing that everyone around me is dancing; no one is even watching what Tara’s doing. I start to move my hips a little, but apparently that’s not enough for Tara, who grabs both of my hands and starts spinning me around with her.
“Tara, stop!” I yell as we fly around in circles. My feet are barely keeping me upright.
“Stop being a party pooper and dance, bitch!” she yells back at me. Without warning, she lets my hands go and starts wiggling all over the place.
I laugh but join her wiggling, and then I bump my hip with hers when the song changes to Ke$ha’s ‘Your Love is My Drug.’ We start jumping around, throwing our hands in the air, and spinning in circles.
I’m laughing so hard and having so much fun that I don’t even realize that I’m in the middle of a giant crowd of people and they’ve all stopped to watch us. When the song ends, we both stop immediately and look around.
“Rock on!” Tara yells, making me lower my head and whisper a quiet, “Oh my God,” to myself. “You only live once. Fuck it,” Tara says, shrugging before grabbing my hand and pulling me with her to the bar.
“You two looked—”
“Crazy, I know,” I cut him off, taking the bottle of water from his hand and drinking it in large gulps.
“I was gonna say hot, girl,” Derik corrects with a laugh. “Happiness is a good look on you, kid,” he tells me, pulling me into his side.
I take a breath, realizing that I am happy—really fricking happy.
“You want another drink?” Tara asks, calling the bartender over.
“I don’t know.” I look around at all the people who are having a good time and then out on the dance floor at all the people still dancing and laughing. Screw it. I want to live a little. “What are we drinking?”
“How about tequila?”
“Never had it.” I shrug, watching as the bartender makes his way towards us.
“Seriously?” Tara asks, looking at me with wide eyes.
“Seriously,” I repeat.
“Okay, you have to have a shot.”
“Why?”
“You are not an adult until you’ve had tequila,” she tells me, her voice all serious.
“Is this a rule?” I ask with a smile as she gives the bartender our order.
“One of many.” She looks at me and smiles. “Body shots are another, but we’ll get to that another time.”
“I’m never doing body shots.” I roll my eyes at her.
“A couple shots of tequila and you will do a whole lot you never thought you would.” She hands me a little glass of clear liquid and a wedge of lime. “Lick your hand,” she instructs. I do, and she picks up a saltshaker, dumping some onto my hand. “Lick it, shoot it, suck it.” She nods, and I shake my head but follow her directions.
The salt is grainy on my tongue as I close my eyes and shoot back the tequila. The cool liquid burns down my throat, making me gasp for air. My hand is suddenly shoved towards my face and I cram the whole piece of lime in my mouth, pressing it up against the roof of my mouth, and then I chew on it to try to get rid of some of the heat.
I open my eyes when I hear laughing, and I pull the lime out of my mouth and look around. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re not supposed to eat the whole lime.” Tara laughs and Stan shakes his head, smiling. “Watch me, and then you’re going to do it again.”
“Okay.” I watch as she does exactly what I did, but in the end, she just puts the fleshy part of the lime into her mouth.
“Voila,” she says, taking a bow. “Now, it’s your turn.”
“Okay, but this is the last one,” I tell her, taking the salt from her hand while she gets the tequila from the bartender. I do the shot just like she did, the burn filling my chest as I shove the lime between my lips. “Holy cow,” I breathe out.
“Now, let’s dance!” she shouts, and before I can tell her yes or no, she’s dragging me out onto the dance floor.
~~*
“Oh God, kill me now,” I moan, covering my face. My head feels like it’s going to explode, my stomach feels like a million bubbles have taken up home in it, and my body feels like it’s been run over by a sixteen-wheeler.
“Go back to sleep,” a male voice that sounds like Kenton’s says and my body goes rigid.
Praying I’m wrong, I peek out from between my fingers. Nope, not wrong. What the hell happened last night?
“What are you doing here?” I ask, not sure I want to know, seeing how I’m wearing nothing but a sheet, his body is naked at least from the waist up, and his arm is draped across my stomach, his frame plastered to the length of mine.
“Sleep.” He squeezes my waist and my stomach slightly contracts.
I try to remember last night, but my brain is coming up with nothing. My whole night is blank after my second shot of tequila.
“Stop thinking and sleep.”
“I have to get up,” I tell him, trying to lift his giant arm. My body feels so weak that I stop trying after a couple of seconds.
“You were up all night. You just went to bed two hours ago. You need to sleep. I need to sleep, so stop moving around.”
My eyes widen when I realize that his very evident erection is pressed up against my leg. “I can’t remember anything,” I tell him, covering my face.
“Seeing how you drank a shit-ton of tequila last night, that’s not surprising,” he mumbles sleepily.
“Please don’t say that word.” I shake my head. Just the thought of that drink alone has my body ready to revolt. “How did I get home?”
“I’ll tell you every embarrassing detail from the time you texted me until now when we wake up later.”
“Oh God, I texted you?” I groan.
“You did. Now, go to sleep.”
“I feel sick.”
“You have nothing left if your stomach,” he says on a sigh.
“What do you mean?”
“You were sick all night.”
“This just keeps getting better and better,” I whisper.
“Sleep, babe,” he says quietly as I feel his lips against the bare skin of my shoulder; the touch has my pulse picking up.
“Why am I naked?” I ask, concentrating on the feeling between my legs. I sigh in relief when I don’t feel any tenderness or anything that would lead me to believe I did anything stupider than drink too much and send drunken texts.
“You were sick and I put you in the shower last night. I tried to give you a shirt, but you wouldn’t take it.”
“Oh,” I say, squeezing my eyes closed.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t see anything. Much,” he says quietly, and I can hear a smile in his voice.
“I’m never drinking again.”
“Why?” he asks, sounding surprised. “You had a good time. You just don’t know your limit. I will be having a talk with Tara. No way should she have given you shots of tequila on your first night out drinking.”
“You are not talking with Tara.” I shake my head, imagining him talking to her. I can see it now—it would be a lot of yelling and none of it nice.
“We’ll talk about it later. Right now, we’re going to sleep, and then later, we’re going to my Aunt Viv’s house for dinner.”
“Your aunt?” I shake my head in disbelief.
“Yep, my aunt.”
“How in the hell does this stuff happen to me?” I question as my stomach gurgles loudly.
“You’ll be okay. You had some Tums a little while ago.” He squeezes my side, and I’m pretty sure my life is like a really bad Lifetime movie.
“You can go to your room,” I tell him after a few minutes.
“No, I’m comfortable.”
“I’m not,” I whine.
“Go to sleep, Autumn.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.” He squeezes me again. “Close your eyes and go to sleep or I will give you something that will put you to sleep.”
“You didn’t just say that.”
“Sleep,” he growls.
“Can you at least move your arm so I can move?” I pull the sheet up higher on my chest, lifting my head slightly to see if I can spot a shirt anywhere near me.
“Jesus, you’re a pain in my ass.” He flings his arm behind him and pulls a piece of fabric from behind his back.
“Why do you have this?” I ask when I see that it’s a shirt.
“I just told you. I tried to put it on you last night, but you refused.”
“Oh,” I whisper, slipping the shirt on over my head and then shimmying it down under the sheet.
“Now, lay your ass down and go to sleep.” He tugs me back onto the bed, not giving me a choice.
I turn my back to him and try to scoot away, but it feels like it takes all of my energy to move an inch. I close my eyes as he pulls me into him. My ass curves into his hips, his arm wraps around my waist, and his bicep slides under my head like a pillow. I try not to think about how it makes me feel to be so
close to him. I try to tell myself that I don’t feel incredibly safe and comfortable. Before I can convince myself that I hate how I feel, I fall asleep.
I wake up slowly and take notice that I don’t feel the warmth of Kenton behind me, and I open my eyes, wondering if I dreamt the whole thing. I lift my head slightly and look at the clock. “Shit,” I whisper, seeing that it’s eleven already. I take a deep breath and smell Kenton’s cologne. I lift some of my hair to my nose. The smell is so strong that my stomach flips over.
I take my time sitting up on the side of the bed, and I see that a glass full of water, two Tylenols, and a few Tums have been set on the nightstand. I don’t want to think that it’s sweet that he thought about how I would feel when I woke up and made sure to leave them where I would find them before I got out of bed, but I can’t stop thinking about it as I take the pills.
I get out of bed and look down at myself, noticing that I’m not wearing one of my shirts, but a shirt I’m sure belongs to him. I walk to the dresser and get a pair of panties and a bra before going to the closet and grabbing a pair of shorts, a tank top, and an oversized sweater. I open my bedroom door, looking both ways before running across the hall to the bathroom.
Once inside, I quietly shut the door and turn to look in the mirror. I cover my mouth with my hand when I see myself. My hair is sticking out all over my head. My eye makeup is smeared around my eyes and down my cheeks, and my freckles stand out due to how pale I look.
“Kill me now,” I whisper to my refection as I grab a couple of makeup remover cloths from the drawer and wipe my face. When I’m done, I start the shower and step inside. I look down when I feel something soggy under my feet. My dress from last night is on the shower floor, sopping wet, so I pick it up and ring it out before tossing it over the shower rail.
I don’t know what happened last night, and I can’t help but be thankful I don’t remember anything. I can only imagine the kind of fool I made out of myself while drunk. I get out of the shower and quickly get dressed before french braiding my hair and putting on some mascara, blush, and lip gloss.
As I’m picking up my clothes from the floor, my eye catches my cell phone sitting on the back of the toilet. I pick it up, looking at the black screen, afraid to click it on. I say a silent prayer that I didn’t actually text Kenton last night and that he was just joking when he told me what I’d done. I press the round button before sliding my finger across the screen.
