by C. M. Owens
Annnnd…I’m less evolved once again.
She’s trying to stop me from throwing her or dunking her, not realizing I’m an animal, apparently.
I can’t help but want to groan when her pelvis just barely touches the embarrassingly hard—
“If I go, you’re going with me,” she says, still laughing as she breaks through my thoughts.
Everything she says gets turned dirty in my head right now. I’ve turned into Randy.
“Is that so?” I ask, trying to sound playful instead of turned on, not wanting to make her uncomfortable or freak her out.
“Mmmhmm,” she says, still grinning.
This hurts. Physically hurts.
“I have to get out of this shirt,” I mumble, looking for any excuse to put some space between us.
Before I have time to process what’s going on, my shirt is being slid over my head. I raise my arms to make it easier for her, and a few catcalls reach my ears. If they only fucking knew…
“Happy?” she says, tossing the shirt outside the pool, and then she wraps herself back around me.
Surely she’s fucking noticed it by now. She’s fucking straddling me, and it can certainly feel her.
She’s oblivious. Somehow.
I think.
“Sure,” I mumble, but I start spinning her around in the water, distracting myself and trying to lift her higher on my body so it can’t feel her anymore.
Her laughter bubbles free as she clings to me. Fortunately, the less intense position does help.
The second I stop spinning, she swings herself back up, hands going to my shoulders as her eyes fix to mine and she gives me that genuine smile again.
I finally do something stupid.
Chapter 6
BRITT
His head dips, and lips touch mine with no warning at all. Freezing up, I don’t react at first, but then I slowly start moving with him, trying not to mess this up.
It’s the wet lingerie, right? I was told to wear lingerie if I ever wanted to lose my virginity outside of the underwear-forgiveness parameters one can only establish through a more intimate relationship.
I’ve never had a physical reaction as strong as this, and my body is telling me all sorts of crazy things to do. Like cling to him half-dressed in a pool.
He groans slightly when his tongue slides between my parted lips, and my hands tangle in his hair as I pull him even closer. When my legs tighten against his waist, I immediately zero in on the fact it might have actually been me arousing him this entire time instead of inadvertent stimulation, and…panic consumes me.
Why am I panicking?
This is exactly what I’ve wanted forever, and I’m finally kissing a guy who could quite possibly be perfect for the removal of my hymen.
But the panic ensues. My heartbeat thrums in my ears, and I almost get a little queasy from the nervousness. It feels like a ball is physically manifesting in the pit of my stomach and somehow constricting my heart at the same time.
Tearing my lips away, I blurt out, “I can’t do—”
He groans, interrupting me before I can even figure out how my sentence needs to end. “I know. Shit. Sorry. I just got caught up,” he says on a shaky exhale.
Good. He understands. I think. I’m not even sure I understand, but I’m usually the last to catch on to things that take a better sense of emotional awareness. I’ll have to dissect the minor panic attack later.
Distraction takes us both out of the awkward moment. A fight between Trixie and Cindy breaks out. Hair is pulled, threats are made, and high-pitch warrior cries are wailed during some heavy slapping sounds.
Base drops his hold on me, making me feel a little abandoned as he climbs out of the pool to go help. When I pulled his shirt off, I wasn’t thinking about having such a strong physical reaction to his body.
All combined, I found it…overwhelming. Human nature is a demanding source of primal urges when faced with new experiences.
It’s not like his is the first attractive male body I’ve seen. It’s Sterling Shore.
There’s an abundance of them.
Now I’ve just pushed away a viable candidate for no logical reason, after working so hard to find one.
And now I feel…awkward. Even more so than usual. I’m also extremely ready to leave and escape the awkwardness, which is new.
Base chuckles as he restrains Trixie, and Taylor laughs while holding back Cindy.
“Time to break up the party, ladies. If you’re not sleeping in, you should be calling a cab,” Sticks calls out. “Fights mean the nights over.”
At least that’s one excuse I can use to get out of here. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and my entire body is humming with…something.
I swim to the edge, averting anyone’s eyes as I heave myself out.
“Two cabs will be here in five minutes,” Randy says to the group, and then he walks toward me. “You staying or do you need a cab?”
“I drove, and the alcohol I ingested was considerably below the legal amount,” I tell him tightly, struggling to get my dress on.
It’s a vain effort. A wet dress that was already made to be tight is never going back on.
“We’ve got towels over there,” he says, motioning toward a rack.
“Can I borrow one to drive home in? I’ll bring it back to the club,” I tell him as I grab one and start quickly toweling off.
I don’t mind being in underwear, but if I get pulled over, I might be arrested. Which means I’d have to call someone to bail me out.
And then I’ll be the teenager and not the adult I’m trying to be while working toward partner. I could call Brin. Brin said she’d get me out of jail if I ever needed her to. The offer seemed pointless then…
“I’ll loan you a shirt and boxers,” Sticks says, grinning as he walks toward me.
“That would be great,” I say in slight relief, though I’ll still technically be in underwear.
At least it won’t be my underwear.
I blame the confusing night for heeding Harley’s advice for going bold. Maybe next time I’ll be less bold, and not take off my dress.
Sticks disappears into the house as the cabs pull up to the back, waiting on the fighting girls to be escorted out. I glance over the railing as Base starts trying to put Trixie in the back seat of the cab.
She abruptly slings her arms around his neck and tugs him down for a somewhat painful-looking kiss.
That feeling from earlier is back. I think now I’m positive it’s jealousy. It’s not fun. It’s also very inappropriate to feel after simply sharing one casual kiss with him.
This fresh conflict is extremely unexpected.
I never expected to be a jealous person.
He makes some sound as he starts pushing her back, but she jumps up and wraps her legs around his waist. I look away, unable to stomach that. I’m imposing at this point by continuing to stare.
I am really, really ready to go now.
“Here you go,” Sticks says, startling me with a white t-shirt and a pair of boxers as I turn my back on the scene.
“Thanks,” I mutter, gratefully accepting the clothes, and then I walk down the stairs, pulling the shirt on as I go.
Told you: the human element always messes up the plans my head had.
Chapter 7
BASE
“Dude, you’re such a fuck up,” Sticks says, making me turn away from my morning fridge perusal.
“Why’s that?” I ask, resuming my task. I’m starving.
“The girl was sober, and you kissed another girl after kissing her? Have you completely lost your mind?” Randy asks around a mouthful. “You can only kiss two chicks if they’re both cool with it.”
I give a small shudder thinking back to the unwanted kiss of the evening. I can’t be too pissed, since I’d also just fucking kissed someone—who was uninterested—without permission and made her immediately uncomfortable.
“First of all, she kissed me. Secondly, the ‘kiss’ was
mostly just her sucking my nose. And it took for-fucking-ever to get her off me without hurting her. There was no me kissing her. Secondly, Britt is gay, and I’m pretty sure I pissed her off when I kissed her in the pool.”
Randy groans from the table. “She’s gay? Damn. I could have sworn she was into me after you fucked up your chance. We had this look pass between us.”
I roll my eyes. He thinks everyone is into him.
“We need to rehearse before Monday. By the way, your date left her dress,” Sticks says, grinning as he carries in the broken-strap dress that’s been left at the pool all night.
“She wasn’t my date. Long story,” I murmur absently, frowning when my stomach grumbles and begs for food.
I can’t talk when my body is trying to eat itself.
I pat my abs, trying to soothe my stomach, and I earn a few chuckles from the jerks around me.
I don’t feel like talking about Britt, so I’m glad my stomach has interrupted the conversation. I’d rather talk to Britt about Britt.
Unfortunately, it’ll have to wait, because I don’t have her number, her last name, her address, or any other means that could help me locate her.
But I’m sure I’ll see her at Silk the next time we play, so I’m putting a pin in it until then. I’ll at least apologize.
Chapter 8
BRITT
My sexual behavior essay is due soon in psychology, and I’m two sentences in and stumped.
I’m not a writer either, so it’s hard to simply wing it. Writer. Of course. I’ll call Rain. She knows all about sex and writing. She’s perfect.
“Britt?” Dane asks.
I pull my phone back, seeing I did indeed dial Rain. He’s probably had more sex than Rain, statistically speaking.
“What’s up?” he asks. “Rain’s just getting out of the shower.”
“It’s fine. You may be able to help me. I need to know why people enjoy having sex so much, aside from the obvious. Also, I need if it’s anything like animals in heat. And I need to know what circumstances propel you into those situations where you’re suddenly carnal and desperate to have someone.”
My mind immediately detours to the pool where Base kissed me, and I clear my throat.
“Never mind about that last one. Just answer the rest,” I amend.
He coughs hard, over and over, as if he can’t catch his breath. Did he swallow a fly or something? I always hate it when I accidentally swallow a bug.
“Dane?” I prompt. “I need you to explain sex so I can finish this.”
“Finish what?” he asks in a strange, panicky octave.
“My paper, of course. What else? It’s for Psych class.”
I hear a heavy breath fall through his lips, and then there’s some indistinguishable muttering that follows that.
“What did I tell you about invasive questions?” he asks seriously.
Hmm. His lectures have all been about not asking other people invasive questions. “You exempted yourself from that when you said I could come to you for anything,” I clarify.
“I realize I said anything, but...” He groans, pausing and making some unusual sound. “Fine. Sex is...well, you feel...um...I don’t...shit. Talk to Rain.”
Rain chuckles as her voice comes over the phone. “Read those books I gave you,” she says before I can even ask her the same question.
Considering Dane’s reputation, I’m surprised he doesn’t seem to know enough about sex to help me.
“Read those books?” I ask.
I thought they were romance, not erotica, but the lines in that category seem to be blurred these days.
“Yes. Read them. It’ll give you a semi-realistic grasp of most things. Then grab some more stuff. The bookstore has plenty of things that will help you. Especially since you respond better with written words.”
I don’t want to tell her I’ve already read them and they made no sense at all.
At. All.
“Thank you. You were so much more helpful than Dane. He doesn’t know much about sex, so maybe you should make him read those books. Perhaps he and I can discuss our own personal take-away in a book club sort of format.”
There. Now I’ll still find a way to get answers without admitting the books made no sense.
She starts laughing really loudly, and I hear Dane groan. Apparently I’m on speaker.
He really should be educating himself. I’ve read the various statistics on the number of women who leave a man if they’re not sexually satisfied. I never want Rain to leave him.
“I’ll make sure he brushes up on some stuff,” Rain assures me. “By the way, we’re coming home early. The tour cancelled my last event due to a storm surge. We’ll be home in the morning.”
“Good,” I say, since Silk is in decent condition and I can show them I’m perfectly capable of doing adult things.
They start whispering and snickering, letting me know they’ve forgotten me and now they’re playing.
“I do better with show than tell,” Dane says, confusing me.
I shake my head and hang up. They’re weird too.
Chapter 9
BASE
What the actual fuck is going on in the park?
It looks like Lord of the Rings just exploded on a random Sunday evening. It’s really hard to get some quiet writing time in when people are walking by in full-on renaissance gear and elf ears.
“Save the queen!” a bunch of people shout from the back entrance.
“Kill the queen!” is shouted from the group walking by in front of me.
What the…
Propping up my guitar, I lean forward, studying this random little gathering, as tents start popping up all over the park. I’m scratching my head at their words and interactions, trying to figure out if this is for real right now.
I’ve traveled a lot, and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen so many men in tights. Ever.
My eyebrows almost hit my hairline when I spot a familiar face among the ever-growing gathering.
Dale Sterling.
In a leather tunic.
And…tights.
Dale Sterling picking a wedgie while in tights…
I look around, wondering if I’ve somehow landed in an alternate universe.
Since I’m clearly too distracted to try and write new music right now, I put my acoustic back in its case and jog over to Dale. His eyes flick toward me as I approach, then away, then back again, before they widen with a satisfying amount of horror.
He groans while pinching the bridge of his nose, and my smile spreads before I can stop it.
“Apparently I sat down in modern-day Sterling Shore, and woke up in medieval Camel-toe-lot,” I tell him as he shakes his head, refusing to look at me again.
“She swore I wouldn’t see anyone who wasn’t a part of this,” he mutters almost too low for me to hear.
“So...um…nice…tights,” I say with a growing grin.
“They’re leggings,” he bites out. Then he groans and scrubs a hand over his face, before adding, “As if that makes it any better.”
I’m trying not to smile mockingly. Really, I am. But that’s a lot of man to squeeze into some small tights—I mean, leggings.
My grin only grows, regardless of my attempts to stow it.
Another familiar face comes into view—only she’s wearing a royal gown and a crown to match…
“So what am I looking at?” I ask him.
“Currently, you’re looking at my fiancée,” he states, deadpan.
Five guys are standing on crates, making music with their mouths—only it’s not very good. Another is rapping, but again, not…good at all.
“Yo, the queen rode in with all her merry men, and the last thing the elf prince said was I’ll have you again…”
Cringing and looking away from the train wreck of loud spitting instead of beat-boxing, I look over at Dale and quirk an eyebrow.
“The park is closed off for this. How did you get in without dressin
g the damn part?” he asks.
“I’ve been here for hours trying to write music. Unsuccessfully, but still…” I gesture around to everyone. “Then this happens, so my focus is shot for good now.”
“You should go. They don’t like out-of-character people watching them because it makes them feel judged.” He glares at me a little. “Now I get why. I’m with them, and the judgmental outsiders need to go.”
He swings a finger out and puts a hand on his hip like he’s an officer pointing out the exit to me. My lips twitch, but I force the grin back this time while clearing my throat several times.
He rolls his eyes.
“So your fiancée is queen of the nerds? Impressive.”
Before he can say anything, I hear, “Base?”
I turn to face the direction the familiar voice just came from, and my eyes widen as a slow, confused grin takes over my face.
Britt.
In a very showy little leather outfit.
A bow is in her hand, a quiver is attached to her thigh—that is mostly exposed, due to the really short brown-leather skirt that looks like it was intentionally ripped and frayed.
Her red hair is plaited in numerous braids and pulled back from her face to reveal…pointed ears. Pointed ears that she did not have last night, but they look seriously real right now.
And weirdly hot.
Her pale midriff is exposed, her cleavage is bared, and she looks like the sexiest elven archer I’ve ever seen.
My mouth opens, and I try to find words, but I’m still…distracted.
“Britt? What the damn hell are you wearing?” Dale snaps, confusing the hell out of me.
Until a sinking realization hits me with a “Duh, you motherfucking dumbass” bitch slap from Stupid Hell.
Britt. As in Britt fucking Sterling. As in the youngest of the Sterling crew who is constantly in the gossip columns.
I’m such a motherfucking idiot.
I should have put it together last night when she had the keys and security code to Silk, and when she was blunt and expressionless for most of the night. It’s so obvious now.