by Jenna Reed
After the first jousting tournament has finished, I realize Nina’s finished both her meads. I’m still on my first one and feeling all right.
“I’m going for more.” She smiles, and without giving me a chance to respond, she’s off. I watch as she gets another.
She starts to get a little sloppy after about an hour and a half, while I’ve managed to nurse the one cup of the heavy drink, she’s on her fifth. I can’t tell if she’s a big drinker, or if she’s just trying to forget about being stood up. I’m guessing the latter, the way her speech is slurring already. I’m a little bummed she’s not just enjoying being here with me, but I’m not selfish. I understand how she feels and just want her to be happy.
When she stumbles into the largest man in chainmail there, I know it’s time to go. Luckily, all he does is laugh at her.
“Ohhh! I’m shooorrry.” She giggles and slurs at the same time.
I’m worried for a moment that this giant tree of a man is going to take offense and challenge me to some kind of duel, but to my relief, a wide smile spreads across his face as he gently sets her upright. “Too much of the devil’s nectar, huh, lassie?”
I’m not sure what he’s supposed to be, or from what era or accent, but I just smile and move on.
“Travis,” Nina screeches when she gets to a tent, “I need a floral tiara.” She points at a cart with a man dressed as what can only be described as a half-goat, half-human pushing it. He’s wearing little horns that look like they’re glued to his head and fuzzy pants with hoofs. Not unlike the goat woman who offered me her milk.
“Okay,” I tell her, “you grab your tiara, I’ll get you the turkey leg, then I think we should go back. I have to get some things done.”
That’s not true, I have nothing to get done, but I don’t think she can stand up by herself if she has another mead. She’s clearly drinking to forget being stood up, and this could be problematic if we continue down this road.
After she gets a flower tiara thingy, I manage to coax her to the car by telling her I’ll give her another turkey leg when we get back to the apartment. I bought a backup and wrapped it up in paper towels. She giggles and nods. It takes me a minute to get her into the car with her massive skirt, but somehow, I manage to get it done. Happy I only had the one drink and can drive us back, I pull out onto the highway.
We get back to the apartment, and she rips a big hunk of turkey off the leg with her teeth. She moans as she chews happily on it. There’s so much grease on the paper wrapped around it, I can’t imagine it’s good.
“That could be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen a girl do,” I joke.
She giggles and opens the door into our apartment. I’m suddenly hungry, probably the smell of that turkey leg the whole ride home doing it. Once inside the apartment, she drops the half-eaten turkey leg into the sink and washes the grease from her hands. She then wipes her mouth and gives me a lopsided grin. I hold out the other one I promised her.
“Thank you, Travis,” she says as she takes a step forward, putting the turkey leg on the counter. She leans in and before my shocked brain can register what is happening, she presses her soft lips against mine. She whimpers and drapes her arms over my shoulders and presses her body tightly against mine. It fits so perfectly, but everything in my brain begins to scream at me. This isn’t right. Nonetheless, I kiss her back; I can’t help myself. I want her badly, but I know better than to let it go any further.
Reluctantly, I pull away. It’s moments like these that make me sometimes wish I wasn’t such a good guy because damn, all I can think about is tasting her lips again. Even with the turkey grease as a lip balm, she tastes good. I know how her body feels when it’s pressed against mine. I know how she feels around me as she comes undone at the seams. I want it. I want her, but not like this.
“Nina, wait,” I urge, taking her hands from around my neck.
“I don’t want to wait. Come on, we’ve already had sex, it’s not a big deal,” she whispers and pulls my shirt up so she can kiss my chest. A shiver passes through me as all the blood decides to start flowing away from my brain. It takes all my willpower to move away from her.
“Nina, I had so much fun with you today, and yes, I want you, but not like this. Not when you’re drunk and hurting.”
“Come on, Travis. Don’t be a pussy, you were man enough to do it with me and then skip town if I remember correctly.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I say, but now she’s worked herself up, and nothing good is going to come from this. I know it, and I’m pretty she sure does too.
“No,” she says, pushing me against the wall. “You don’t get to say no, I’m the one who gets to say no,” she says.
“Nina, please,” I say, ducking away from her again.
“You wanted it before you left town,” she yells, “guess once is good enough.” She grabs the turkey leg off the counter and huffs off to her room.
“Nina,” I try to say, but she’s already shut the door in my face. She needs to sleep it off, hopefully then, she won’t still be mad at me in the morning. I’m trying to do the right thing, but who knew doing the right thing was such a pain in the ass.
I look at her door one final time before making my way into my room. I peel out of my clothes and collapse onto my bed. I don’t know how much time goes by as I stare at the ceiling, but the last thing I remember before falling asleep is kicking myself for being such a good guy.
12
Nina
The fact that my head is one big pain keeps me from taking my head out from under the covers. I know as soon as I do, the light is going to shoot a laser beam of hell through my sensitive skull. I’m vaguely aware of the smell of fried poultry, and it turns my stomach. Opening one eye, I see that I’m cuddled up to a giant turkey leg. Why was the turkey leg back in bed with me? I’m reasonably certain I left it in the kitchen right before I . . .
I groan as the memories come flooding back. The mead, the renaissance, and trying to seduce Travis. Sam standing me up. Of course, I’d made sure to grab the turkey leg, in order to eat my feelings. Shit, I kissed him.
Oh no! That’s the worst part. Why did I do that? What did I tell him?
It’s fuzzy at best, but I’m pretty sure I brought up the past. As I move to get up, another sharp pain shoots through my body and I see white light behind my eyes. For a brief moment, I’m convinced that the white light is there because I’ve died. Why didn’t anyone warn me about the effects of mead?
No, that’s not fair to the mead. I know what alcohol does to you. Wasn’t I just hungover, or was that weeks ago? I realize all my days are running together. Hopefully, it’s just because my brain is still sloshing around in the intoxicating liquid. If I can get up and take a shower, maybe I’ll feel better.
I groan and roll over onto my back. I need to get up and apologize for being a horrible drunk. However, as I contemplate getting out of bed, my head thunders a warning, telling me that I’d best sleep some more of this nasty hangover off.
The room is stifling, and it’s only made worse because I’m still in my dress. The corset is pushing into my skin, and I reach down to try and loosen it a bit. My braids have come unpinned and hang in my face. I need to get up and take it off, but that requires more effort and energy than I currently have. So, I hike up the skirts allowing air to flow against my skin and loosen the top as much as possible. I immediately fall back into a restless sleep.
What feels like hours later, I roll out of bed and rush into the bathroom. I pee for ten years and then turn the shower on. It isn’t easy to get out of the costume, and I can’t believe I slept in it. There are permanent lines in my sides and underneath my breasts. My whole body hurts and my arms are asleep from being slept on. Sitting on the bottom of the shower, I try to replay exactly what I said to Travis. I remember the kiss. It was phenomenal. He hadn’t changed in the long years since his lips had been on mine. He still had an incredible skill with his mouth.
I sigh and
put my head underneath the spray. I embarrassed myself, and I’m not sure how to come back from it. I should have just enjoyed the festival without alcohol. Yes, I felt rejected by Sam, but Travis was nice enough to take me, and this was how I repaid him.
I finish my shower and head back to my room. The headache has dulled a bit, but it’s still letting me feel it. I decide I need advice, so I close one eye so I can see through the pain and dial Sloan.
“Sloan, I need help,” I say before anything else.
“Okay, what’s up, doll?” She sounds sleepy like I woke her up.
“I slept with a turkey leg,” I say, and then start crying.
“Okay, well, I’m not sure how to take that.”
“No, I cuddled it, that’s how drunk I got.” I wipe my face and look over at the offending bird. It had been delicious. I’m going to have to wash my sheets and pillows to get all the grease out. Thank goodness I didn’t rent the dress because it’s ruined.
“Oh no, on your date with Sam?” Sloan sounds amused instead of helpful.
“Sam stood me up, and Travis took me. He was nice, and then I got drunk and made some mistakes.”
“Okay, besides the turkey leg, which we’ll circle back around to,” Sloan says, “What happened?”
I fill her in on the honey mead and the dancing. Then I tell her that I threw myself at him and he didn’t want me. I’m no longer crying, but I still feel terrible. I need to get my shit together because I’m aware I’m acting like the dumbest girl in the world.
“Okay, so that’s not too bad, actually. I once told a guy at a bar I was a porn star and he could come make a video at my apartment. Alcohol doesn’t do us any favors.” She laughs. “If you want to because personally, I think Travis is lucky, and if you still want him, you can salvage this.”
“How? I feel really stupid.” I mumble into the phone, sinking to the floor and banging my head back against the wall.
“Tell him you’re sorry. It’s actually kind of noble that he didn’t take advantage of you when you were drinking. He could have very well just followed through, but he didn’t. That alone tells me that he’s a good guy.”
I think about that for a minute. I guess it really is. “Yeah, he did sort of surprise me. Of course, I was an ass to him about it.”
“Well, there you go. If you want to make up, tell him you were an ass, and you’re sorry.”
“Okay,” I say, “when I feel like a person again, I will.”
“Hold on, I’m getting a text,” Sloan says.
“All right,” I say. I assume it’s one of the people who wouldn’t turn her down for a kiss and a bang. No one would turn Sloan down, whether she was drunk or not.
“So, I don’t want to freak you out, but…” Sloan says.
“Oh, God, what?”
I imagine all kinds of things. Travis somehow called someone they mutually knew and told them what happened. Somehow there was a warrant out for my arrest, and she got a call from the police. Public intoxication is a crime, I know this.
“There’s a video of you from the festival as you’re leaving.” The way she’s speaking makes me think I don’t want to know what’s in the video.
“Okay,” I say, trying to remember leaving. That would have been the point I’d reached my drunkest. Travis had to shove me and my dress into the car, and he’d promised me a second turkey leg. Man, I was a whore for some turkey.
“Well, your boob popped out. It’s called Medieval Nipple Slip. It’s on a loop. Just one of your ladies jumping out and back in repeatedly.”
I’m stunned. Of all the things I thought she was going to say, that wasn’t it.
“What!” I exclaim. “Who caught that on camera?”
“Someone paying attention to your chickens, my little bird,” Sloan says.
“Not helping,” I say, “my boobs are on the internet. Did you report it?”
“Oh, good idea, let me do that now,” she says. “It’s just one boob though, and it only slipped out for a second when you raised your arm, then it went back into hiding. And might I add, you really did look stunning. A friend of mine who knows I know you sent it, maybe no one else has seen it yet.”
I groan and stand up from the floor. Falling onto my bed, I push my face into the pillow. “Again, not helping,” I grunt, realizing I now have turkey grease on my cheeks.
“One crisis at a time, Nina,” she says. “Go deal with the Travis thing and then deal with your tit being out.”
“Okay, fine,” I say, even though I don’t feel fine at all. I can’t believe I had a nip slip and Travis didn’t tell me.
“And call me after you’re done. I want to know if that turkey leg tried to sneak out but got its arm caught beneath you and woke you up.”
“Bye, Sloan.”
We hang up, and I just sit up on the bed, putting off leaving my room as long as possible. I realize I’m hungry and find myself wondering how hungry I really am, and if I want to chance running into Travis. I eye the turkey leg on my nightstand and actually consider eating it just so I can avoid the awkward conversation that is sure to happen. That would be a good way to get sick.
Then the thought of eating that greasy turkey makes my stomach do the cha-cha slide, and I dismiss the idea almost as quickly as I’d thought of it. The mead isn’t doing me any favors either. I probably need to eat something to soak up all the alcohol.
Sucking in a deep breath, I climb off the bed and walk slowly across the floor, dragging my feet. Opening the door even slower, I tiptoe out into the kitchen.
Okay, I can’t wig out that my boob is on YouTube; they’ll probably take it down before too many people see it. What’s a little nip slip when you’re drunk at a Renaissance Festival? Truthfully, I’m freaking out, but I can’t make a big deal because then I’ll just stay in my room for hours if I do, and I have to apologize.
After making myself the biggest greasiest omelet, I check to see if Travis is in. He’s not, so I opt to take another nap.
When I wake up later, I’m not sure how long I’ve been asleep, but I can hear music coming from Travis’s room. It’s now or never.
Taking a deep breath, I go to the bathroom and wet my toothbrush. After peeling my tongue from the roof of my mouth, I begin to brush the grit and grossness away. I can’t really go to him with my breath smelling like I’ve been chewing on dirty gym socks.
After I brush the grime out of my mouth, I splash cold water on my face and pull my hair back into a ponytail. The braids made it wavy and unruly. When I see my reflection, I wince. I look a little better than I did, but I still look rough. Taking a deep breath, I mentally go over what I want to say to Travis as I walk to his room.
“The turkey leg and I know each other way more than I intended, and I’m sorry,” I say to myself as I walk toward his door. “I’m sorry I acted like the wench I was dressed as.”
I don’t even remember about knocking until I have the door open already. I’m not prepared for what I see. Travis is in the middle of the floor, surrounded by folders holding hundreds of baseball cards.
“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry,” I say. “I should have knocked.”
“No,” he says, standing “It’s okay. You can come in.”
I look around the room and see more folders and boxes laid out. Man, he must have thousands of baseball cards.
“What is all this?” I question, sitting down on the bed. I’ve completely forgotten the reason I came into the room.
“This is my collection.” He starts to gather everything up. “You don’t need to know about it.”
“I’m sorry!” I blurt out. “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.”
He stops and looks at me, one of the boxes in his hand “Oh,” he says, “well, it’s okay, I just didn’t want to—”
I hold up a hand to stop him from finishing his thought, “I know, you don’t have to relive it.”
“Relive it? You make it sound like I don’t want to remember it,” he says, “I mean, I coul
d have done without the turkey grease on your lips.”
“Oh, god, stop talking. Can we just forget that happened? Show me your little collection instead.”
“Little?” He looks at me like I’ve just insulted his manhood. “It’s taken me a very long time to collect all of this.”
“Okay.” I hold my hands up but can’t help but smile. “Show me what you’ve got.”
13
Travis
I’m a hundred percent embarrassed that Nina has caught me with my baseball card collection. These are things that have been important to me for a long time. They aren’t really something I share with anyone, mostly because it’s a little lame.
“I decided a while ago that I wanted to collect something, but I wasn’t sure what. Then my grandmother showed me some of my dad’s baseball cards that he’d collected as a kid, and I was hooked.”
“Wow, I would have never thought that would be something you’d do. Seems so…” She tries to find the word.
“Dorky?” I finish for her.
“Well, yeah,” she smiles.
“I played baseball when I was a kid, and my dad coached our team, so we already had that connection with baseball. I guess it reminded me of the time when I was a kid. Made me feel close to my dad even when I was far away.”
“That makes sense. I never really had anything like that with my parents,” Nina says, her voice suddenly going somber. I know neither Grady nor Nina have a great relationship with their parents. Their dad skipped out on them when they were young, and their mom remarried but they never really got along with their stepdad. I think that’s why Grady and Nina are so close because they always supported each other.
Desperate to change back to a happier subject, I tell her something not even Grady knows. “I coach a little league baseball team.”
That has her perked back up. “Really? Like kids?”
“Yes.” I laugh, “As in a bunch of ten-year-old kids. It’s really the only thing I miss about living in Woodbridge.”