“A mountain woman? Misery.”
She shakes her head and glares at him.
“Are you sure it’s not Cold Mountain?”
“Time!”
“Oh my God!” Bernie yells at Matt. “The Sound of Music!”
Aimee and Roxy are dying laughing.
“I literally drew the movie poster! That’s Julie Andrews singing and spinning around on a hill in front of the Alps!”
Matt doesn’t even move when she smacks him on the arm. “Why didn’t you just draw an ear and a musical note?”
“Because that’s not pretty,” she says, her lower lip sticking out.
Matt pulls her onto his lap. “That’s a beautiful drawing, babe.”
“Okay! Very good! One point for Matt and Bernadette!” says the resort manager. “Up next is Mr. Chase and Mrs. Aimee!”
We clap and hoot and holler. Chase gets up to erase the board as Aimee rubs her hands together. She decides to stand up for this. “Pick a good one, baby!”
“We got this,” Chase says as he picks out an index card and looks at it for half a second and then nods and goes to the board. The countdown starts. He draws a thick vertical line.
“It’s a line! In the Line of Fire!”
He shakes his head.
“It’s a stick! Slapstick comedy! The Three Stooges!”
He keeps shaking his head.
“It’s a pole! Striptease! It’s a big stick—big penis—is it a porno?”
He laughs and draws another stick and then draws a circle around the bottom of both of them and then what looks like a mountain around it and then he draws a stick figure holding onto the sticks and then what are clearly skis on its feet.
“Oh he’s skiing! It’s a ski movie!”
Chase points to her to keep going and points at the skis.
“Skis! Oh oh oh! The Big Lebowski!”
“Yes!” Chase yells out as he grabs another card from the box and looks at it while he erases the board. He draws a simple face with a squiggly line on its forehead.”
“Harry Potter! Scarface!”
“Yes!”
“Time!”
They hug, and we all clap for them, but secretly we hate them because come on—Scarface is easy.
Aimee’s up, and she draws a big circle.
“It’s a ball,” Chase says, leaning forward in his chair.
“Yes!” she squeals.
“A basketball. Hoop Dreams. Teen Wolf.”
She shakes her head and continues to draw a bunch of squares on the ball.
“It’s a golf ball. Caddyshack.”
She draws little lines that are radiating off of the ball and then one line attached to the top of the ball.
“It’s a ceiling lamp. National Lampoon’s Vacation.”
Then she draws a crescent shape.
“It’s a moon. Apollo 13. Man on the Moon. First Man.”
She shakes her head vehemently and then draws a big nose with something in its nostril.
“A nose—is that a booger? Boogie Nights!”
They almost get another point for Home Alone, but time runs out and Chase is getting laid tonight no matter what, so what does he care. I slow clap for him.
“Well done, you two! Three points!” the manager says. “Up next we have Keaton and Roxy! Well, well, well!”
I do not like the way this guy is eyeing my fake girlfriend.
“You want to draw first?” I ask her.
“Damn right I do,” she says. “Don’t blow it.” She erases the board and carefully picks out an index card, stares at it, frowns at me, puts the card facedown on the table, and then nods at the manager to start the timer. She draws what is obviously some kind of bird.
“It’s a bird,” I say.
She signals for me to keep going.
“It’s a swan. Black Swan.”
She shakes her head and finishes drawing the bird.
“It’s a duck. Mighty Ducks. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.”
She scowls at me.
“Angry Birds.”
She draws an arrow through the bird and blood spilling out of it.
“Whoa. It’s a dead bird. To Kill a Mockingbird!”
“Yes!”
She grabs another card and erases the board, and I start pumping my fist like an idiot. “Yeah, babe!”
She furrows her brow at me while she rapidly draws a stick figure in a dress, sitting on a chair, with its legs spread out, and then she draws what looks like a vertical mouth in between the woman’s legs.
“Basic Instinct.”
“Yes!”
We still have time for one more—she grabs a card, frantically erases the board, and then draws two circles, colors in one of them, and then draws what is obviously a pill bottle and then a question mark over the circles.
“They’re pills, two pills—The Matrix!”
“Time!”
“How the hell?” Bernie shouts out.
“Do you choose the red pill or the blue pill?” I say. Obviously.
I get up to grab Roxy and kiss her, fast and hard, on the mouth, and she doesn’t even resist it because we are the best couple here and everyone else can suck it.
“Wooo!” she claps her hands. “Come on, baby, three more points! Let’s go for three more! We got this!”
“Easy,” I say, winking at her. I erase the board and then pick out an index card. I grin at her, because we have so got this, and we are made for each other, and I am so getting laid tonight. I signal to the manager to start the timer, and I draw a perfect box.
“It’s a box!” she yells out.
I nod and keep drawing.
“It’s a boxing movie. Rocky!”
I shake my head.
“The Fighter. Million Dollar Baby. Raging Bull. Ali. Southpaw. That one with Denzel Washington, shit, The Hurricane! Rocky Two! Rocky Three! Rocky Four!”
I keep shaking my head, and then I finish drawing a head. In the box. And I keep pointing to it.
“Oh, there’s something in the box. It’s a gift. The Gift. It’s a present. Clear and Present Danger!”
I look at her like she’s crazy and shake my head.
“Draw something else! Hurry!”
I start drawing a book.
“It’s a book. The Jungle Book. It’s based on a book. Harry Potter!”
I draw a gun.
“A gun? Top Gun? Is it a James Bond movie?”
“What?”
“Time!”
Roxy slaps her forehead with both hands. “Oh my God!”
“It’s Seven. That’s a head in a box. It’s the climax of the movie Seven. Literally anyone who has seen the movie would know that.”
She stands up and places her fists on her hips because it wouldn’t be enough of a statement to do that while she’s sitting down. “Seven? Seven? Why didn’t you just do seven lines so I could count out seven?”
“Because that would be too easy.”
“It is literally your job to make it easy for me! I’m on your team!”
I am obstinate. We glare at each other. “Head in a box. Brad Pitt holding a gun. Iconic images.”
“What was with the book?”
“It’s the Bible. Seven deadly sins.”
Roxy stares at my neck, and I honestly think she’s trying to decide what kind of sharp object she should use to decapitate me with.
Everyone claps for us, but it’s sad clapping. They feel bad for us. Because they know I’m not getting laid tonight or possibly ever again in my life.
“Mosquito food,” she whispers to me.
“It’s an iconic scene,” I say because I never go down without a fight.
“Seven lines, and we would have been on to the next one.”
“You and I both know you like a challenge, babe.”
“Something you may not know about me—I like to win, babe,” she says through gritted teeth.
I hold my hand up for her to slap it. “But good work on naming all
those boxing movies. Proud of you, babe.”
She doesn’t slap my hand, but she does slap me on the shoulder. I don’t cry out in pain too loudly, but it does startle the other guests.
“I will just pay for a massage, if that’s what you want,” I say to her, but she’s already walking away from me to sit next to Aimee and Chase.
Chase winks at me and gives me the thumbs-up. “Well played,” he says.
“Head in a box,” I mutter stubbornly, crossing my arms in front of my chest as I sit down on a big comfortable sofa all by myself.
Maybe I can sleep here tonight.
12
Roxy
Aimee pulls me aside as we’re walking, as a group, from the lobby cottage up the long winding path to the guest cottages. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to say this to you, Rox, but…” she says in a hushed voice, “you’ve got Wet Panty Face, my friend.”
I stop walking so we can hang back. “What? No I don’t. I have angry face. This is just me being angry.”
“Are you sure you aren’t angry because Keaton’s penis isn’t inside you?”
“Are you sure you aren’t high?” Weak. That was a weak comeback. I’m off my game. But it’s not because I have wet panty face. I know how to control my face. And my panties.
We walk very slowly and talk so quietly. “Just answer this one question.”
“No.”
“Are you attracted to…?” She points at Keaton’s back with both index fingers.
I don’t answer. I just I grab her hands to keep her from pointing and widen my eyes at her because oh my God. They’re about thirty feet ahead of us, but geez.
“Because if you are, I totally get it. And I support it. Chase would lose his shit, but he doesn’t need to know.”
“Okay, I’m going to tell you something, but you cannot tell anyone, including Chase, and you cannot tell Keaton I told you.” We stop walking again.
“Oh my God!” She raises her fists in the air. “You’ve already slept with him, haven’t you?”
“No!” I grab her hands and pull them down to her sides. It’s like trying to control a toddler.
“Really? Swear to Beyoncé?”
“Swear to all of Destiny’s Child.”
She accepts my no as the gospel truth.
“However…” I lower my voice, so low that I don’t even know if she can hear me. “We made out at your wedding.”
Her eyes go wide. “Wait, what? Say that again so I know for sure what you said.”
I repeat, “We made out at your wedding.”
She gasps. “You mean five years ago?!”
“Did you have another wedding that I don’t know about?”
“I knew it!”
“You did not.”
“I had no idea! I don’t even believe you right now.”
“It’s true. It happened.”
“Was it bad? Oh no—is he a bad kisser?”
“No.” I look up the path, where he’s walking with Chase and Matt and Bernadette. There is nothing cocky about the way he’s walking right now—serves him right for not drawing seven little lines—but his butt is so cute in those jeans. “He’s a good kisser. He’s a really, really good kisser.”
“Oh my God. Rox. You like him.”
I scrunch up my face. “This is such a dumb conversation. I have mixed feelings about him. Do not tell him we talked about this.”
“Of course I won’t. Awww. Rox. This is so cute! And completely, totally unexpected and weird. It’s really just very weird.”
“Trust me, I know.”
“But you didn’t sleep with him that night?”
“No.”
“Or at all since then?”
“No.”
“Did you guys talk about it at all?”
“Not exactly.”
“Ohhhh. That’s why you kept trying to avoid him.”
“Also because he drives me nuts.”
“In your panties!”
“Yeah.” I roll my eyes at her. “He drives my panties nuts.” I cover my face. “Shit. He does. You’re right. Keaton fucking Bridges is driving me nuts in my panties. And possibly in other parts of me that have absolutely no business even considering him. What is happening to me?”
“I don’t know! Oh Rox, I wish I knew what to tell you! You used to give me such good advice when I was single—sometimes.”
“Thank you for remembering.”
“But I honestly don’t know what to tell you.”
Keaton and Chase stop to look back at us. We immediately start pointing at things, like we’re having an in-depth discussion about the local flora back here. We wave them on, signal for them not to wait for us.
“Because it’s crazy,” I say to her. “Right?”
“It’s not crazy. I mean, in a way, it makes total sense. If you guys were really a couple, I mean…” Even in the moonlight I can tell she’s tearing up. “I mean, how perfect would that be? We’d all be coupled-up. Finn’s godparents would be a real couple.”
“But…”
“But if you guys fool around and it doesn’t work out…”
“Yeah. And it wouldn’t work out. I mean, how could it work out?”
“Well…you don’t know. You might be good at being a girlfriend with him.”
“Whoa.” I stop in my tracks and squeeze her arm.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You think I’m the one who would be the problem? Not ‘head in the box’?”
“It’s just that you—”
“Haven’t been in a relationship for years.”
“It’s not like I think you—”
“Good. Because it’s not that I’m incapable of being in a relationship anymore, and it’s not that I don’t want to be in a relationship again—I want to be in a relationship. I want it. I just haven’t met the right guy for me at this point in my life. I don’t think…”
Aimee and I stare at each other for a few seconds, because this is the first time that I have ever said this out loud. This is the first time I have ever said anything even remotely like this out loud, and I can tell she is trying so hard not to dance around. She takes my hand in hers and squeezes it, and we keep walking. “Well, Rox…I’m very happy to hear that you want to be in a relationship. But what do you think the right guy for you would be like at this point in your life?”
I pull my hand away. “Okay, we’re done talking about this. Go make another baby with your husband who fell in love with you as soon as he saw you walk into a bar.”
She raises her hands in the air and does a little jig. “Okay, but we will talk about this again, and we did talk about it just now, and I am so proud of you, Rox!”
“All right, just get out of my face.”
“Okay, but I’ve decided you should definitely have sex with him!”
“Shhh! Keep your voice down.”
“You can do this! You’re Foxy Roxy. You can make anything work.”
“Yeah. You’re right.”
“Get your tits out, baby! It’s your vacation!” She covers her mouth and laughs at herself.
Good God. She’s going to throw every obnoxious thing I ever said to her when she was single back at me.
“Get it, guuuuurl!” she whispers as she walks backwards to join her husband.
Okay, okay.
I’ll get it.
I fluff up my hair and look down at my blouse and unbutton a button or two. I’m still wearing my black bikini. Thinking about the way he unhooked my bikini top has been sending delicious infuriating shivers through me all day. I adjust the elastic waistband of my skirt.
Yeah.
I’m gonna go get me some of that Best Man now.
I will reach deep down inside to access my inner Foxy Roxy—circa ten years ago. The one who knows how to live in the moment. The one who knows that sex can just be a fun and satisfying thing that a man and a woman enjoy together simply because they’re both single and attracted to each othe
r. The one who knows that sex with Keaton Bridges will be hot despite the fact that I want to dropkick him—or because of it.
Okay.
The tits are out.
I’m gonna Rox his socks off—oh wait, he isn’t wearing any.
When I get to the Hibiscus Cottage, Keaton has unlocked the front door and he’s casually leaning against it, holding it open. His eyes lock on mine as I pass through the doorway. I step inside and wait for him to shut the door. I reach out to grab on to his shirt, but while I’m doing that, he takes a step towards me, backing me up against the wall. I now have Surprised Wet Panty Face. He cups my face with one hand and grabs my ass cheek with the other, and he stares down at me in our moonlit room with his eyes half-closed, nostrils flaring, lips hovering an inch above mine, and holy shit what is happening?
That moment.
We’re back to that moment at the wedding. When he asked me with a look—Should we? Except this time, he’s telling me with his look: We should. But he’s still hovering, waiting for me to answer.
I nod, so quickly, just barely, as I stare at his mouth.
His thumb brushes my lower lip, and then he kisses me, with a low rumble from the back of his throat and five years’ worth of pent-up heat and frustration and just the right amount of tongue.
I fumble with the buttons of his shirt, but he stops kissing me for one second to pull his shirt over his head and toss it away. My hands frantically explore his chest and arms and back, like they know they have to experience as much of him as possible before my brain catches up and tells them to knock it off. He tugs at my hair to pull my head back and expose my neck, and goddammit he goes straight for that spot right below my ear, the one that makes my knees go weak again as soon as his lips press against it.
This time, I just let the wall prop me up and let him continue to make me weak all over.
He strokes the nape of my neck lightly with his fingers while kissing up one side of my neck and then along my jaw to my mouth, where he kisses me, light and fleeting like a butterfly, and then slides his tongue in to penetrate and explore. He massages my hips and then my ass, and he’s kissing me so deeply, like he means it, like he needs it—oh dear God this man can kiss.
Everything inside me is dropping and lurching and flipping and soaring to such great heights and waiting impatiently to fall again.
The Brooklyn Book Boyfriends Page 70