by S. M. Shade
We start to catch up with Jane and her partner, and it must unnerve the guy because his next throw is far too high and hard. The egg bursts against Jane’s neck, and the putrid smell instantly fills the air. She screams as the stinking goo drips down her top between her breasts. I can’t help it. Laughter leaps from my throat, stealing my breath, and I don’t even notice when Anderson approaches from behind me until I hear him demand, “What the hell is going on?”
“It’s not funny, bitch!” Jane cries, and throws another egg at me. I duck, though it was so high it may have missed me anyway, but it doesn’t miss Anderson. It explodes like a rancid hand grenade right on Anderson’s big forehead. His face goes from red to purple as he sputters and the slime oozes down to his lips, giving him a nice taste.
I can barely see him turn and throw up, the tears of laughter in my eyes making the world blurry. My sides hurt and every time I try to take a breath, a squeaking sound accompanies it. I’m not sure I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life, and if I don’t get a grip, I’m going to pee myself.
Through Jane’s outraged cries and Anderson’s retching, an amused voice says, “Time to go, baby.” A strong arm wraps around my waist, and Davis leads me away, toward the beach. I manage to run and grab a quick picture of Anderson bent over holding his stomach with egg still smeared on his face. Jane is in the background, grimacing as her friend wipes at her chest.
Best Wedding Olympics ever.
“Where are we going?” I ask, finally catching my breath.
“Away. Anderson looked like he was ready to kill you.”
“You mean after he was done puking?” I giggle.
The beauty of his smile rivals the multicolored sunset happening behind his back. “Again, I hope I never cross you.”
“And again, I never touched him. We have to go back soon. The three-legged race is going to start.”
He pulls me down beside him in the cool sand. “They’ll lynch us.”
“Aw,” I tease. “Are you scared? They don’t know we switched the eggs. As far as anyone knows, all we did was laugh at them.”
“Fine,” he agrees, pulling me into his lap. “I’ll run the race with you, then I’m taking you straight back to my room and stripping you naked.”
“No complaints here.”
The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence while I sit on his lap, his fingers wandering through my hair the same way they used to when we were kids. Part of me is trying to forget, to block that out, but a stronger part is soaking up every second, knowing no matter what I do, I’ll miss this when the week is over.
The sky turns a brilliant red, fading to violet and pink before the sun gives up the fight for the day. “We should go. The race will be starting,” I say, hearing the reluctance in my voice. I could stay right here forever.
My stomach growls and Davis laughs. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Breakfast, I guess. It’s been a busy day, what with getting stung in the ass and playing with rotten eggs and all.”
“Come on,” he chuckles, slinging an arm around my shoulder as we start toward the lawn where the race is being held. “Let’s get this over with so I can feed and fuck you.”
“Such a romantic,” I sigh.
Floodlights have been set up on the decadently decorated front lawn. Again, there’s pink everywhere. “Ugh, I feel like I’m inside a vagina,” I grumble. A woman I don’t recognize hands me a scarf—pink of course—printed with Jane and Anderson’s smiling faces and the date of the wedding. “I think I’m going to puke.”
Davis laughs and ties the scarf around our calves. God, his is as hard as a stone. Kasha waves at me from a few feet away where she’s tied to Roman and is obviously happy to be there. I don’t understand why she loves this Olympics thing so much, but at least she’s getting some fun out of this trip. I wonder how Lydia ended up spending the day and hope she hasn’t been cooped up in the room since this morning. I’ll have to check on her.
“On the count of three, you may go!” the man behind us announces. “First team over the finish line wins. One, two, three!”
I don’t have a chance to take a step. Davis wraps an arm around my waist, lifts me off my feet, and darts across the yard. He’s so damn strong. “Davis!” I laugh. “This is cheating!”
“Team three is disqualified!” a voice declares from behind us, and I hear Kasha’s snort of laughter.
Unfazed, Davis keeps going, carrying me past the finish line and toward the house. “Put me down, you crazy ass!”
Laughing, he stops, tearing off the scarf and tossing it aside before taking my hand. “You think you’re really funny, don’t you?” I ask.
He smiles when I punch him on his shoulder. “I’m a damned delight and you know it. Let’s get out of here and grab dinner in town.”
“Fine, but I want to check on Lydia first and change into some jeans. It’s getting chilly and I have sand in my crack.”
“Leave it overnight, maybe you’ll make a pearl.”
“Ass,” I scold, trying not to smile.
His arm snakes back around my shoulders. “And a damn fine one, too.”
“Mine or yours?”
“Oh, yours, too.” Some things never change. He always could make me laugh. We spent half our time tossing insults back and forth, and neither of us was ever hard up to find a comeback. In smart ass language, we’re complete equals.
Davis agrees to meet me in ten minutes, and we part ways while I get changed. Lydia is curled up in a chair in the corner, her tablet in her lap.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“Reading.” She shrugs, setting the tablet aside. “How did the Olympics go?”
“I have soo much to tell you, but I have to get changed. Davis will be over in a second. We’re going out to dinner. Have you been in here all day?”
“Seemed like the best idea.”
“Come with us,” I order, tugging on my jeans.
“Nah, I’m fine here.” She moves to the bed, stretching out on her stomach.
Before I can respond, there’s a knock on the door and Davis walks in. “Hi, Lydia, how have you been?” he asks.
“Fine,” she replies.
“I’ll just be a second,” I tell him and close myself in the bathroom. I quickly clean my face and fix my hair. I’m sure the restaurant we choose won’t be fancy, but the beach bum look is not what I’m going for. When I return to our room, Lydia is pulling on her shoes.
“I invited Lydia to join us,” Davis explains with a smile.
“So did I. I’m glad you changed your mind,” I tell her.
“Your guy is extremely persistent.” Lydia glances up at me, shaking her head.
My first impulse is to deny he’s my guy, but I don’t want to sound like a bitch, so I let it pass. “Sometimes it’s a good thing. You need to get out of this room and have a little fun.”
A small smile lights on Lydia’s face as we make our way down the hall and Davis moves between us, linking an arm with each of us. He escorts us to his car, and a few minutes later, we park outside an Italian restaurant. “I have almost no control when it comes to Italian food,” I remark. “I’m going to gain ten pounds.”
Davis smiles and wraps an arm around my waist. “Yeah, I remember how pasta crazy you were.” He turns to Lydia. “Do you like Italian?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” she asks.
It’s a nice, cozy place and we’re seated at a booth in the corner. It’s nice to get away from the ritzy mansion and bitchy crowd for a while. If Davis pulls me any closer, I’ll be in his lap. I’m not sure why he’s so affectionate. It’s weird. Fuck buddies don’t spend so much time together, or hang all over one another, but it feels too good to complain. It’ll probably come back to bite me in the long run. Right now, I just can’t summon a shit to give.
After way too much pasta and bread, plus multiple glasses of wine, Lydia’s mood seems to have improved. Maybe it’s because Davis is filling her in on
some of the things she missed today.
“You’re kidding!” she cries, drawing a few looks from other customers.
“Ask Henley. He spent the day covered in shit and rotten eggs.”
I hold up my palms. “I had nothing to do with the porta-potty. That was some bratty kids.”
“Uh-huh. That was Kasha,” Lydia laughs. “Only she would think of something like that.”
“And all we did was give them the rotten eggs. I didn’t make them throw them at one another.”
“Oh god, I should’ve gone. I would’ve loved to have seen his face.”
With a smile, I produce my phone and hand it to her. “I may have taken a few pictures after he crawled out of the potty, and after the egg hit him.”
Lydia dissolves into giggles. It’s good to hear her laugh and sound like her old self. “Is he throwing up?”
“Apparently, rotten eggs do not taste like strawberries,” I reply, and we both break into hysterical laughter. The waiter smiles as he brings us our check, but it’s clear he’ll be glad to see the back end of us.
Davis sweeps up the check, looking offended when we offer to split it, and we head back out into the cool night. Even though we’re a few miles away, I can smell the ocean in the air, that light, salty scent you can almost taste.
Davis points out a little ice cream shop, and Lydia and I both groan. “No way. If I eat one more bite, I’ll pop like a tick,” Lydia says, and I agree.
I spot an arcade just down the street that’s closing for the night. “Hey! They have Skee Ball. We’re totally coming back here before we go home.”
Lydia laughs. “You’re a big kid sometimes.”
“You’re just mad because you can’t beat me.”
She beams at Davis when we climb out of the car back at the mansion. “Thanks for inviting me. I had a good time.”
“Anytime,” he replies with a grin.
“It was really nice of you,” I tell him, after she walks away. “It’s a hard time for her. Anderson is her ex. He cheated on her with the bride, and now Kasha’s whole family treats her like some home-wrecking slut for showing up here.”
“Why did she come?” he asks, his hand traveling to cup my nape as we walk.
“I’m not completely sure. All she’d say was she needed to be here. Kasha and I knew she would be upset and need us, so we’re here for moral support. I was half hoping she’d meet someone to hook up with, wipe the memory of that asshole from her brain.”
“She’s lucky to have you two.”
“We’re lucky to have each other.”
“Well, I hope they can do without you tonight.” His hand moves to lightly squeeze my ass. “Because you’re coming back to my bed. I’m not done eating.”
“Again with the romance.”
“I also want to fuck those amazing tits.”
“Anything else?” I giggle.
“Too much to list, baby.”
We’ve arrived at his room, but before we can enter, I spot Kasha and Roman making their way up the stairs together. Looks like she found her dolphin after all, and I can’t resist making the “eh eh eh eh” sound at her.
Then, for some weird reason, she tosses up a peace sign with her robotic hand while scowling at me… “Why are you giving me a peace sign?” I ask, confused.
“Damn it,” she hisses. “Piece of my mind. Not peace! You’re supposed to be flipping her off,” she harps at the arm before disappearing into our room.
Davis’s expression is as confused as Roman’s was. “Did you just make a dolphin noise at them?”
“Inside joke. According to Lydia, dolphins are very sexual and sexually aggressive.”
The room tilts as I’m scooped up and tossed on the bed. “A dolphin would be in awe of the things I’m about to do to you,” he warns, stripping me faster than I ever thought possible.
True to his word, the next three hours are filled with too many orgasms to count.
Chapter Eight
Kasha
“My hand just gave my bestie a ‘peace’ sign instead of flipping her off. First warning sign I’ve found,” I tell my father over the phone.
“I’m not sure how it got those commands mixed up,” he says to me as Lydia watches me with an amused smile.
“I was thinking about giving her a piece of my mind. I hadn’t decided if I was going to flip her off or not, though, when robo arm decides to give her the universal hippie sign.”
His breath catches. “You didn’t command it? It worked on its own reflexively? This is great news!”
“Um, no it’s not. It didn’t do what I wanted it to do.”
“Obviously there are still some kinks—”
“Obviously,” I interrupt dryly.
“—but this really is a major breakthrough.”
It’s pointless to argue with him when he’s geeking this hard. I’m stuck listening to a thousand scientific details that make no sense to me, but I’m probably the only human contact he’s had since I left to come here, so I endure it. Unless his interns have shown up. But they usually don’t actually speak to him. They spend hours geeking too.
It’s approaching the midnight treasure hunt for the Olympics when I finally get off the phone, wondering if he even heard me say “goodbye.”
Lydia is right where I left her earlier after I came back to change my split shorts. Stupid shorts showed my stupid underwear to that stupid Roman who kisses me stupid.
“You want to treasure hunt? Nate Dukes needs a partner.”
She shakes her head while settling down on the bed, still smirking at me.
“Lydia, why’d you come? This is making you miserable.”
She blows out a long breath. “Trust me. I need to be here.”
I opt for yoga pants now that the sun has set, since bugs will be a bitch. Lydia returns to reading from her tablet, and I sigh while shaking my head. I wish I could understand what exactly she hopes to benefit from this entire, painful reunion.
“Okay, last chance, I’m leaving,” I tell her, hoping she gets up.
Instead, she grins and shoots me a ‘peace’ sign.
“Wench,” I mumble as she laughs at my back.
As I jog down the stairs, a bloodcurdling scream erupts from the massive study that has been turned into bridezilla central. My feet stumble over themselves as my heart kicks my chest, and I dart inside the room to see several horrified faces as Jane screams again, clutching a pink dress as she sobs.
What the… Uh-oh. That dress isn’t supposed to be pink…
“Jane, we’ll figure something out,” my mother is telling her, patting her awkwardly on the back as Jane strings together incoherent sounds she thinks are words through her sobs, clutching the bright pink fabric as she rocks back and forth on the ground.
Heh. The dress matches the decorations now.
“Who would do this?” one of the bridesmaids hisses.
Gretchen, the maid of honor, shrugs. Then… they all cut their eyes to me.
“Her!” Jane shrieks.
“Me? Hell no. I wouldn’t touch your dress!” I really wouldn’t. Jane’s a bitch, but my primary target is Anderson.
“No,” Jane seethes, getting control of her sobs as anger takes over like a red rage. “Lydia,” she adds.
Now my anger bubbles. “Lydia wouldn’t touch your fucking dress. She hasn’t even been anywhere around this room!”
Mom steps between us, as unruffled by the tense air as ever. “I’m sure Lydia had nothing to do with the dress. The Mulder kids are here. Please remember that. They are indeed your family, Jane,” Mom says softly. “But we know how they love their pranks. Those pranks veer toward the vicious.”
Jane starts sobbing uncontrollably again, and I turn and walk away with twitching lips as my anger dissolves. Someone dyed her dress pink to match the hideous decorations. It wasn’t Lydia—she’s too mature. It wasn’t me; my focus is my stepbrother.
So I do the obvious and text Henley.
M
E: Did you paint the wedding dress pink?
HENLEY: WTF????? Her dress was painted?!!! Lmfao!
ME: Painted or dyed or whatever. Not really sure, but it’s hella pink. It’s not so lmfao down here. Screams. Sobbing. Mourning like someone just died… Wasn’t you?
HENLEY: I wish. I’m texting Lydia right now.
Um… Where is she? Never mind, I don’t want to know.
Smirking, I put my phone away, silently thanking the Mulder kids for being hellions right now as I head outside.
“What have you done?” Roman’s voice has me snapping my neck to the side as he approaches with a worried look on his face.
He’s not covered in egg anymore, and his hair is a little damp, as though he’s fresh from the shower…
Not an image I need to conjure up at the moment, since I’m done trying to play with fire. Roman is definitely fire. And I’m gasoline.
“I haven’t done anything. But someone turned Jane’s dress pink.” Yep. I smile. I’m evil like that.
He tries not to smile, but secretly he’s evil too, and he basically admitted he didn’t like her earlier.
“So, we’re doing this treasure hunt together?” he asks as I start walking toward the starting sections.
I notice Anderson going on his own, which is totally against the rules. Male and female pairs only. And yes, I will tattle on him like I’m five or something.
“Unless you have another girl you want to hunt with,” I say as I turn to face the current bane of my existence. His disheveled dark, damp hair is really tempting to touch. His icy blue eyes dance with amusement as he studies me.
“First you berate me, then flirt with me, then you act like you can’t get away from me fast enough. Do you always play so many games?” he asks, catching me off guard.
“First you flirt, then you push me away over something I said when we were young and dumb, then you expect me to flirt with you, then you flirt with me again. Yes, I play games and keep score. So far, you’re winning on the wishy-washy event.”
His lips lift in a smile instead of creasing in a frown the way I expected. He really is grating on my nerves by never doing what I expect.
