by Allie Castro
She shook her head, looking like she was going to bolt out of the tent at any second. She murmured, “I know whose it was.”
“I’m sure you fucking do, I’m sure you and all your Chatty Cathy’s loved playing Dick Detective during dinner.”
“Oh my God, you’re being so annoying right now.”
“How do you think I felt seeing you holding that dick?”
“You coulda put your dick in my hand, dude.”
“The guys thought it would be funnier...”
“It was funny,” she said, rolling her head on her neck. “Step back for a moment and stop being so sensitive.”
“You’re mad at me because I’m too sensitive?”
“Yeah.”
“And you thought it was funny?”
“I mean...”
“You weren’t pissed off?”
“No.”
“And what if it wasn’t one of us?”
“It wasn’t, right?”
See, he said to himself. She did want to know. She really wanted to know. But he bit his tongue. There was some truth to the fact he was going after her, and there wasn’t much of it really her fault other than callously writing something that hurt his feelings. It was just splash-back; he owed her to pump the brakes on this fight.
He said, “You understood that it could’ve been somebody else? Other than our friends...”
“Yeah, you guys said that.”
“So you did know?”
She sighed, looked down. “Will, I’m sorry. Look, it was supposed to be a funny game. I didn’t want to do it, but the girls were doing it...”
“I didn’t want to do it either.”
She said, “But the guys were doing it...”
“Yeah. And after they put that hot dog in Rachel’s hand, we wanted to get an even bigger laugh.”
“So you put somebody else’s dick in my hand?”
“Yeah.”
“But you didn’t do it to Megan.”
“Sully wouldn’t let us.”
“But you let me hold it?”
“I guess...”
“Maybe you should apologize to me.”
“For what?”
“For doing that to me.”
“You said you knew. We shouted out of the tent, said that it could be somebody else, you said you understood...”
“I did.”
“So what does it matter? Why was it my fault? Why would I apologize?”
“Because you let him put his dick in my hand...”
“We told you we might do that.”
“Yeah, but his dick…” She let it hang.
He stared at her, knowing how she intended to finish her sentence and somehow mad that she stopped. Mad she stopped because of the deep meaning of the words. “Was what, Heather?” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper again before they were overheard.
She said, “His dick was like... that.”
“Say it. Was like what?...”
“Big like that.”
“You really got a good feel of it.”
She rolled her eyes up. “Oh my gosh, Will,” she said, “I didn’t think it was real.”
“Once you did, your hands were all over it.”
“Holy fuck, this is crazy—I’m going to sleep by the fire,” she said, beginning to scrounge her things, snatching at her sleeping bag.
He clamped his mouth shut, jaw flexing, watching her roll up her sleeping bag, punch her hand into the center of a pillow and clutch it. She slapped it to her chest.
He said, “It’s cold out there.”
“I said I’ll sleep by the fire.”
“Fine,” he said.
He watched her zip the tent open with furious jerking movements, step her pretty leg out, turn around, zip the door closed averting steely eyes from his, her jaw flexing just like him.
Great. A fight. That’s not what this trip was all about…
10
For almost an hour, Will lay on his side, fuming mad, iPod blasting music in his ears while he stared holes in the place where Heather should be sleeping. This trip was not about fighting. This trip was something else.
Packed in his bag was the one-point-two carat, Princess-cut white gold engagement ring he’d brought along. Everybody knew about it except Heather. He was going to propose to her.
The destination of this river trip was a craggy overlook high above the Big Snake, looking south toward Sudo and the green hills beyond. A picture-perfect place. Heather was going to say yes—there was no doubt about it—because they’d been together forever. Since Grade Nine, all through high school, all through university, even through grad school; right up to this very point, the first year of their adult-but-non-educational real grown-up lives.
After an hour long hike up the backside of the crag, he would go down on one knee in front of all their friends (who also knew Heather and Will were destined to be together), present to her this perfect diamond ring. Heather would swoon; he would catch her. They would kiss. She would say Yes, baby. He would slip the ring on her slender finger. They would be forever-together. Rachel, Megan, and Emma would cry. Matty would take about a thousand pictures. Mickey and Sully would punch his arm and slap his back; one of them would have a surprise package of Cuban cigars or something, he was sure of it.
But now this. A fucking ridiculous fight.
But in the space of that hour, while he stared at the spot where Heather should be, some of that fire inside him quelled. Yeah, he was still mad. He would never shake the image of Heather’s small beautiful hands holding another man’s dick. Geez, the size of that god damn dick in her grip. But he was blaming only her. She had points. It was a dumb game, and he was ready to begin an adult life with her. So why was he so juvenile? Yes, all the guys thought it would be funny. Didn’t mean he had to let it happen. Sully sure didn’t let Megan anywhere near Kyle’s donkey dick. What was that weird dark part of him that was okay with it—that was curious? Yeah, let her touch it, it’ll be funny.
But it would be crazy not to admit that there was pleasure there. God, when he’d fallen back into that director’s chair, pre-come had spewed from him. His heart had been racing. That was excitement. Pure nitrous heart-fuel excitement. There was horror there, tragedy, too; so much jealousy that it was bewildering. And yet it was arousing...
He was probably more mad at himself than Heather.
“Fuck sake,” he sighed, rolling to his back, thrashing open his sleeping bag. Plucked the buds out of his ears, turned off the music. He did owe her an apology. Fuck, she was right, and he hated when she was right. And she was always right. But he always also fought against it. It was gonna be a lifetime of that, the two of them butting heads, then him seeing the light.
The front side of the tent flickered with the light of the fire. She should be here inside the tent with him. He would apologize. He sat up, zipped the sleeping bag open further and drew out his legs, paused. Voices outside. Low, hushed, a girl’s voice, a guy’s voice. The girl was Heather. Who was the guy? Now his heart was beating again, not going straight up into the red zone, but definitely winding its way up there. Kyle?
Now he moved to the tent door, put his ear near the fabric to listen.
It was Heather, talking low, laughing about something now. Then the guy’s voice. He couldn’t make out words. The river wasn’t churning fast, but it was flowing. The gurgling and eddying drowned out the shapes of their words, leaving only the indistinguishable dull humps of voices.
Slow moving, he took the end of the zipper, dragged it as quietly as he could to open the tent door. He peered outside. Yep. Heather and Kyle. Big donkey dick Kyle. The two of them faced his way, their backs on a large heat-soaked rock, the flames from the fire shimmering on their faces. Heather still in her tank top, hair tied back, ponytail hanging down over her collar between her breasts. When she talked to Kyle, she would look at the fire, then look to him. Kyle was turned, his back to the rock but pivoted at the hips, one forearm draped ove
r his knee. Would she see his bulge that way?
Jesus, why would you even think that?
Now his heart rate was picking up again, hateful drums building up in the background, his interior tribes growing restless. He started to swoon again, thinking of her with this other man. All the girls thought Kyle was kind of cute, but they all had boyfriends, and Kyle was a river guide. They were all postgrad, Megan just passed the bar. They were all going to be executives, they were all going to cushy white-collar jobs. Kyle was just this really cute, fit, capable older guy. Now suddenly he seemed more threatening. Things had taken a dark sexual turn.
And you fucking allowed it to happen, Will old boy.
“Shit,” he said. Should’ve just apologized. Why did he even go after her for what happened? Yeah, he got it, Heather was trying to be funny. It must have been shocking to be pranked like that, and she didn’t want to appear offended or a spoil sport, so she made a joke. It was practically expected of her. And she was right—the dick she felt was definitely one-hundred percent not her boyfriend.
Now he even chuckled a little. It was kind of funny. He was being a shithead.
Before the hurt burned in him any longer though, he stepped out of the tent, leaving it open behind him, made his way across the sandy beach to the fire pit.
Kyle was talking low to her, Heather was nodding, her eyes wide and expressive, wet looking. Her cheeks were rosy again. Was she aroused by Kyle?
Heather and Kyle startled when they detected him. Their eyes were blown out from being too close to the fire for so long, so they couldn’t see him in the dark. They squinted and watched, knowing someone was there but not who.
He said, “Hey, it’s me...”
11
Heather and Kyle squinted and blinked, held up hands to shield the fire’s glare.
Heather said, “Will?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” he said.
They dropped their hands, and Kyle scooted closer to Heather, but patting the spot next to him, saying, “Hey, Will, hey, dude, come sit by the fire…”
“No,” he said, “I’m trying to sleep.”
Heather said, “So go sleep.”
“Why don’t you come to bed with me?”
She drew up her knees and hugged them, her pillow between her back and the rock. “I’ll be in in a little bit.”
He rubbed a hand through his hair, hating that Kyle was present. “Can we talk?”
Heather looked around, and he could see she still had fight left in her. But she didn’t want to do it in front of Kyle. What had she been saying to Kyle for the last hour or so? What had she told him?
She said, “I’ll come to bed in a bit.”
There was a long silent moment and Will didn’t know what to say. Kyle filled it, saying, “It’s a nice night out, Will.” He jabbed a pointing finger up toward the sky, saying, “All the stars are out.”
“You guys out stargazing?”
Heather said, “We were just talking…”
He hadn’t proposed anything else. Hadn’t insinuated anything more. Why did she want to clarify that they’d only been talking? The thought rolled over inside him: she’s thinking about more than talking…
“That’s good,” he said, “you want to come into the tent and talk with me?”
She played with her ponytail, poked her fingers through it watching them rake, contemplating.
“Please...”
Kyle touched her elbow, urging her to go.
“Yeah, fine.”
He watched her rise, seeing her long legs straightening, brushing bits of stones and sand off of her bare skin. Kyle was watching her bare legs too. Another terrible thought: she’d been out here for almost an hour. He’d had music blasting in his ears. Anything could’ve happened out here. Why was she defensive when he wasn’t insinuating anything? We were just talking. Just talking? Was she thinking about more than that? What if she had already done more than that? What if she’d asked Kyle to show her the thing she’d only explored with her hands…?
While his somber girlfriend dusted her legs and straightened her top, Will tugged at the leg of his pajamas. He’d grown hard considering the possibility his girlfriend had been so turned on by Kyle and his donkey dick she was out here cheating on her boyfriend. The least arousing thing one could think of, yet here he was growing a full blown erection.
“Thanks for the talk,” she said to Kyle.
“Any time,” he said, and Heather put out a hand. Kyle took it, patted the back of it with the other. “See you in the morning,” he said, passing up her bundled bag and pillow.
Heather gathered them against herself. “See you in the morning.”
She came around the fire to join him, and while he wanted to take her hand, touch her maybe, he kept his arms at his side, watching her, stunned. She’d been having a heart to heart with Kyle? A good talk that obviously meant something to her? And all this after he’d let the guy put his huge dick in her hand. Way to go. Worst of all was now his own erection was not only at a hundred percent, it throbbed and buzzed and ached. His stomach had tightened, and a lustful tidal wave had raised high then crashed over him.
Heather led the way to the tent, him a pace behind her. Her arms folded around her stuff; there was more to talk about, but now all he could think of was Heather being alone with Kyle. All the terrifying possibilities…
He darted ahead of her before she made it to the tent, zipped it open and held the flap for her, one hand tugging down the front of his shirt to hide his intense arousal.
12
Once they were zipped back inside their tent, Will started the conversation in the worst way possible even though he knew better. “So what were you talking to Kyle about?” The words weren’t terrible, it was the venom in his tone.
Heather sensed it right away, and while she’d entered the tent ready to listen, her switch was flipped, and now she was ready to fight again. “Jesus, Will, what do you think we were talking about?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.” Great, now they were fighting again.
“We were just talking.”
“Good for you.”
“Stop being so jealous.” She tossed her things in the blank spot next to his sleeping bag.
“I’m not jealous.”
She faced him. “Then why are you so mad?”
“Because you’re out there talking to another guy.”
“What do you think’s going to happen?” Her arms were folded, brow lowered.
He grumbled, scowled. “I don’t know...”
“Oh, so you do think something’s going to happen?”
He threw up his hands. “Jesus, how did we get here?” He’d gone out to bring her back in, looking to apologize—how did the conversation take such a wicked turn?
“What, Will, you think I touched Kyle’s big dick and now I’ll open my legs for him?”
He hissed, “Jesus, why would you even say that?”
“What, Will, is that what you think?”
“Fuck, Heather, why would you even say that? Don’t you know how that sounds to me?”
“Because you’re jealous, and you keep coming after me.”
He implored, “I went out there to apologize,” pronouncing the words by stabbing a finger toward where the fire would be outside the tent. “I went out to apologize because I wanted you to come back and sleep next to me.”
“Well, you got your wish.” She huffed, flicked her head, ponytail slashing the air.
“Great, Heather, is there another Heather out there, the one that’s my girlfriend? You look just like her, but this one’s being such a bitch right now.”
Her head snapped back. “Hey, fuck you, Will, what the heck is wrong with you? I don’t even want to fight.”
His voice raised. “Then why are you fighting?”
“Because you’re acting like a jealous—”
Her sentence was cut off by the sound of their tent’s zipper being run in a semicircle. The fl
ap door opened, and now Kyle was stepping in, one of his long tanned legs setting down on the foot of Will’s sleeping bag.
Will hissed, “What’s he doing here?” Instantly blaming Heather for Kyle’s arrival.
Heather asked Kyle, “What’s going on?”
Kyle was calm, smiling, but he held up his hands and shushed them. “Everybody can hear what you guys are saying,” he said in a whisper.
“Shit,” Heather said, and hunched over. She went to her knees, arms still crossed. “You can hear us out there?”
“I don’t know if you guys know this—these aren’t real walls,” Kyle said, running his fingertips against the inside wall of the nylon tent. “You can kinda hear what goes on inside a tent.”
“Sorry,” Will said.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Kyle said, but instead of backing out and leaving, he kneeled down next to Heather.
Heather was comfortable, going from her knees down to her butt. She hugged her legs, looking at Kyle. That jealousy shimmered up through Will again, like heat off asphalt in the summer.
“You guys shouldn’t fight,” Kyle whispered, turned, closed the flap again with a quick zip.
Will said, “We’re not fighting.”
“It sounds like you’re fighting,” Kyle said, still smiling.
“We’re just working things out.”
“You guys are such a cool couple, I don’t like to hear you guys mad at each other.”
“We’re not mad,” Heather said.
“I was trying to apologize,” Will said.
“That’s good,” Kyle said. “Look, you know, you shouldn’t worry about that...”
Heather looked from Kyle to Will then back to Kyle. “Worry about what?”
“Will, I mean. Will shouldn’t worry...”
Will said, “What should I not worry about?” His heart began to beat faster.
Kyle said, “You shouldn’t think about it.”
He said, “Think about what?”
“The size of your penis...”
13
Now Will imitated Heather, hugging his knees like she did and drawing them up. He was mad, embarrassed, and so fucking aroused. Why would this guy say something so awful in front of his girlfriend? He said, “I’m not.”