Field-Tripped
Page 6
“Least I’m not a cheater.”
I splash around in the water like a salmon swimming upstream, slipping and sliding to get at him. I raise my hand to slap him, and he grabs it and pins it behind my back, then hauls me into his lap.
“Calm down, Chicken. You’re going to hurt your shoulder.” He sounds amused.
It enrages me even more. “Let me go of me!”
He yanks my ponytail and bites my neck.
It hurts so good.
I execute a death squeeze with my thighs.
He bites my nipple then licks it.
It’s ecstasy.
I shove my tit into his mouth, and he sucks it to the back of his throat.
I pinch his nipples.
He pinches mine.
I bite his neck.
His hand slides under the water and twists my clit.
I grab his cock in a stranglehold.
A feral growl breaks free, and his mouth crashes down on mine.
We are alpha wolves in the wild, trying to destroy each other.
He tugs me up and pushes me down over the side so my ass is in the air. “Didn’t hurt your shoulder, did I?”
I don’t feel anything but a raw throb between my legs. “No.”
“Good.” He cracks my ass so hard the dogs freak out at the door.
I reach around and grab his cock and give him a brutal hand job.
It’s a blizzard, all of a sudden, and I can barely see. My exposed skin aches from the cold, but the parts under the water are sizzling.
He cups my mound and orders me to spread my legs.
My center liquefies. As does my brain. Without protest, I spread and back my ass against him.
His finger slides inside me.
I clench around it. “Fuck me.”
“You want this? My hard cock in your wet cunt?” He taps his dick against me, and then twists another finger inside me. “Your pussy’s throbbing. I used to make you come so hard.” His hand covers mine and jerks his dick faster.
“Make me come.” I arch my back. “Fuck me.”
And he does, with his fingers.
I glance over my shoulder. His hard-edged gaze doesn’t belong to the man who used to adore me.
I pull away from him and scramble out of the tub. “I can’t do this.” My tone is bitter and sharp, just like his was last night. “You left me.”
Scorn seizes his body. His muscles tense and ripple in the cold. Snow rages between us.
“Is that what you’ve been telling yourself?” The bite in his voice puts me on offense.
Frozen to the core, I square my shoulders and hold my head high, as if nothing bothers me.
“Pretty ballsy to revise the story when the character’s right in front of you,” he says.
I step back into the tub. “Isn’t that what you’re doing right now? Making up shit? Lying? Pretending you didn’t fuck me over?” I shake my head. “I can’t believe I ever loved you.”
Agony replaces that angry spark in his eyes.
I win.
So why does it feel like I lost?
In an amazing display of false confidence, I take my sweet time getting out of the tub. It’s bitterly cold, and I ache, but I parade toward the door like a queen and let myself in.
For a few seconds, I stand naked in the dark, shivering. Then I grab a towel off a shelf and sprint up to my bedroom, where I spend the night nursing the scars he slashed back open.
I hate him.
TWELVE
Eli Saves Dead People
Survival Tip: Often during expeditions, people from different cultures and backgrounds are thrown together and forced into situations that call for considerable tact. SURVIVAL, however, must take precedence.
Eli’s Mixtape: Two Feet, “Love Is A Bitch”
I SIT cross-legged on the floor for hours, watching my reflection in the glass door as the sun rises like a ball of fire.
My intention was to meditate. It’s obviously not working.
Then again, my intention last night was to clear the air, not fingerbang Charlie in the hot tub during a blizzard.
So much for my chill motherfuckerliness.
For years, I’ve been fantasizing about what I’d do if I ever saw her again. And that was not it.
I always pictured her blank-faced and unfeeling—like a robot.
The suffering mixed in with the snow on her lovely face—I never imagined that. I never imagined she’d blame me as much as I’ve been blaming myself.
There is nothing worse than unintentionally hurting someone you love. Scratch that. There is nothing worse than killing someone’s family.
In a really fucked-up way, I’m glad she cheated on me. It evens the score.
But I still can’t get over it.
How dare she choose the prom as the best night of her life! That was my best night. She can’t steal that from me.
At oh-eight-hundred I give up on my quest for peace, and go downstairs for breakfast.
Big shock—Burt gives me an earful. “Morning, Bearded Clam. Get enough beauty sleep?”
I briefly consider pounding in his face, but the ramifications would be too severe.
I’m relapsing.
“You will not be punished for your anger, you will be punished by your anger,” Buddha said.
That’s the last quote-of-the-day I received. I miss that app.
To go along with Burt’s serving of insults, Charlie piles on a side helping of bitch face. She’s out for my blood.
And it’s adorable.
Her pale pink lips purse while her gaze pinches into a ridiculous excuse for a glare. Does she actually think she looks threatening?
I can’t help but smile.
One evil eye still stuck to me, she reaches for a biscuit, and then brings it to her nose and smells it before she takes a bite.
I used to tease her about smelling everything. I snort when she smells her water.
She lobs another seething glare my way.
Suddenly, I’m hungry as hell for a challenge. I gulp down everything on my plate, fueling my body for a fight, feeling more alive than I have in years.
Burt blabs out the day’s events. “Today’s activities will take place at Breckenridge ski area.” He takes a loud sip of coffee out of a mug inscribed with the words Time to suck today’s dick, then continues. “The first team to the bottom wins. We’ll meet up in the bar.” And that’s it. He dismisses us.
Sabrina raises her hand, and I brace myself for the stupidity about to follow.
“Like, I don’t know how to ski,” she says.
“Me, neither,” Avery adds, bouncing her kid on her knee.
“Didn’t say you had to ski down.”
Sabrina raises her hand again. “Like, I don’t know how to snowboard either.”
Burt sets down his coffee and cracks his knuckles. “Be creative, people. That’s what you do for a living, isn’t it? Innovate? Can’t ski or board? Figure out a way to get down the mountain without ‘em.” He looks at his watch. “We’re loading up the van at oh-nine-hundred.”
Sabrina raises her hand again.
Burt jams his hands on his hips. “What is it, professor?”
“Account manager, not professor. When is oh-nine-hundred?”
“For Christ’s sake,” Charlie grumbles.
The sting of embarrassment creeps up my face. My ex has figured out my other ex is a moron.
Art holds out his arms to Avery’s kid. “How ‘bout you and me go tubing, buddy?”
Austin replies with a scream. “Bad man!”
“You know two-year-olds are possessed by the devil, right?” Avery tells him.
“I fought in Vietnam,” Art replies. “Think I can handle a toddler.”
“Ha!” Avery says. “You have no idea…”
Skip blows out an exasperated sigh and pushes back his chair. “Adams, give the man the kid, and stop pretending the boy is a monster.” He gestures us to follow him. “Quick team meeting in t
he game room before we head out.”
When we arrive, Skip closes the door and pulls the laser pen from his back pocket. He shines it on all of us. “Who else knows how to get down the mountain, besides St. James and me?”
Sam raises his hand.
“You ski?”
He nods.
“How good are you?”
He smirks. “I’m all right.”
“That’s totally reassuring,” Skip says flatly.
Jerry interrupts. “I’m just okay, too, boss. Ski a couple of times a year in Vermont. But it ain’t nothing like these hills.”
I’m expecting the usual “Shut it, Jerry,” but this time Skip scrubs a hand down his face and mumbles, “We’re doomed.”
I chime in. “Fistful of Dollars out there said we just had to get down the mountain.”
He perks up. “That’s right, he did. Okay, team, let’s think outside the box.”
“Dude.” I shake my head. “You did not just say ‘think outside the box.’”
Skip blinks a hard stare at me. “Is this funny to you, St. James? You weren’t giggling when She-Ra knocked you on your ass, yesterday. By the way, how does it feel to have your ass beaten by a woman?”
I’m no longer amused.
“Really, Skip?” Avery says. “You’re pulling out the sex card?”
“I’ll pull out Lil’ Skipper and wield him like a weapon, if you don’t shut up and figure out how to get your ass down the slope.” He turns to the intern. “Ignore that remark.”
Preeti looks horrified. “How can I?”
“So what’s up with ‘dat chick, anyway?” Jerry asks me. “You screw her mom or sumptin’? Why does she keep giving you dirty looks?”
“Shut it, Jerry,” my boss and I say at the same time.
Skip burns our retinas with the laser one more time. “Ideas, people, I want them now.”
“We could ski down,” Sabrina says.
Skip air-strangles her.
“What about a sled?” Avery says.
“Not bad. Where would we get said sled?”
Sam leans against the pool table. “What about the snow patrol?”
Skip shines a red dot on Sam’s forehead. “Fischer, I’m suddenly digging your criminal mind. Go on. How do we get the snow patrol’s sled?”
Sam shrugs. “Break a bone? Head injury?”
“I like it,” Skip says. “We have any fake blood laying around?”
Preeti speaks next. “How will you contact the patrol with no phone?”
Skip dislodges an iPhone from his hoodie pocket and waves it.
“How did you get that?” I ask.
He ignores me and carries on. “Who’s pretending they’re hurt?”
Jerry raises an enthusiastic hand. “I was an actor.”
Avery turns to him with her mouth open. “You were?”
“Starred in an off-Broadway production of Annie.”
“Stop right there,” I say. “You played a white girl with a red afro?”
Skip cuts me off. “Make it look good, Reno.”
Jerry’s posture straightens at his boss’s use of his last name. “Aye, Aye, Skipper.”
Skip’s upper lip climbs to an all-time high.
“Oh, I know!” Sabrina says. “What if we flash our boobs?”
I have no idea what was going on in my head when I was dating her.
Skip rubs his chin like an old Kung Fu master. “The old cleavage bomb trick. I like it. How’s it going to get you to the bottom?”
Sabrina turns to me. “Maybe some hot guys will carry us down.”
Once again, I chastise myself for spending time between those beautiful boobs of hers.
Avery and Preeti categorically refuse to flash their tits.
Skip throws his hands up. “Fuck it. Let’s go. I don’t give a shit.” He whips a joint out of his pocket, lights it, blows a long trail of smoke, coughs three times then speaks again. “We’re going to lose, no matter what. Might as well have fun and enjoy this team bonding. And this dank weed.”
“Can I get a hit off that?” Jerry asks.
Skip blows smoke in his face. “No.”
Malcolm bursts through the door. “I smell smoke.”
“Correctamundo.” Skip passes the joint to the camp counselor, who then inhales. Jerry looks wounded.
Where am I? And how did I get here?
On the way to grab my gear, I pass Charlie and her herd of dogs. She purposely bumps me on the stairwell.
“Bet that hurt you more than it did me,” I say.
A spasmodic stink-eye flickers. “Know what hurts worse? The bite mark above my left nipple.”
“Shove me again, and I’ll put one on your thigh.” I don’t even know why I said that. It just popped out randomly.
Her lips part, and all I can think about is shoving my cock between them.
With my last shred of willpower, I climb the remaining steps and call out behind me, “Stay away from me and neither one of us will get hurt.” I turn back. “Again.”
“Sick him, Julius. Trippy, kill!” The dogs cock their heads to the side. “God, you guys are useless.”
A tiny bit of ice melts from around my heart. God, I miss her. I didn’t even realize how much until now.
THIRTEEN
Eli Soars
Eli’s Mixtape: Matt & Kim, “Let’s Run Away”
January 1999
“YOU’RE GOING TO KILL YOURSELF,” I shouted.
Charlie readied herself to snowboard off the roof.
“Get down, Squirt!” Patrick yelled. “We were just messing with you.”
She flipped us the bird then almost fell off. “I’m going to make you eat those words. Tell me girls don’t have balls. I’ll show you, what a chicken I am!”
Patrick paced a path through the foot-deep snow. “Get off, or I’m telling Dad!”
“Go ahead,” she shot back. “I’ll tell him you and Eli broke into the liquor cabinet.”
“You little…Hope you enjoy house arrest.” Patrick spun on his heel and stomped back inside.
“Charlie, please,” I coaxed. “Don’t do this. It’s dangerous.”
“Move out of the way, Loser, before I clobber you.”
I clasped my hands in prayer. “Please, please, don’t jump off the roof.”
And then she vaulted down the house, launched into the air, did a back flip and landed on her ass.
I rushed to her side. “Are you okay?”
Her tiny fist shot up. “That was amazing! You’ve got to try it.” She brushed the snow off her butt and galloped back up to the roof. “Hurry, before Weiner shows up with my parents. Come on! What are you waiting for? Never knew you were such a wimp.”
With my manhood at stake, I had no choice but to climb up there with her.
My heart beat as fast as a hummingbird’s.
“On the count of three,” she said.
On three, I closed my eyes, flew off of the roof, and landed right on my feet.
She landed face down in a snowdrift.
“You okay?”
She flipped around, her face covered with snow. A dot of blood seeped out from bottom lip.
“You’re bleeding!”
“Am I? Oh, no. Quick, do something. Before my dad gets out here.”
I yanked off my gloves and pressed my fingertips along her bottom lip.
Her mouth curled up. “Your hands are so warm.”
The sun suddenly beamed down on me through the clouds, and I leaned over and gave her a swift kiss.
Her eyes flashed open.
“I’m sorry.” I wiped the coppery taste of her blood off my mouth. “I shouldn’t have—”
She grabbed the strings of my hoodie and yanked me back. Her slippery tongue poked through my lips.
Her eyes were closed, but mine were wide open.
I wanted to remember the details of that kiss. The way she smiled as she pressed her mouth against mine. The way her face relaxed. The way her lips shined.
The snowflakes on her eyelashes.
I explored her mouth, the metal over her teeth, the taste of hot chocolate on her breath.
It was as if I were floating off that roof again.
The garage door opened, and we broke apart.
Her dad stormed out. “Pat said you were on the roof?”
She spun around on a pretend board. “It was so awesome. Wasn’t it, Elliott?”
“I-uh…” I cringed. “She made me.”
Her dad glanced up at our tracks. “How much air did you catch?”
“A billion feet!” she cried.
Her dad high-fived her then grew serious. “Don’t tell your mother. I mean it.”
Patrick grunted his outrage. “She never gets in trouble!”
Mr. Sullivan pointed a stern finger at his son. “Next time you wake me up from the best nap of my life, your little sister better be missing a limb.”
He pointed at Charlie. “You bust through my roof, and you’ll be wearing those braces for the rest of your life.”
Then he did an about face. “Wrap up the stunts and get inside. I assume you’re staying for dinner, Elliott?”
“Yes, sir.”
I glanced at Charlie. She winked at me, and once again, I felt like I was flying off the roof.
Patrick ping-ponged a look between us. “What’s going on?”
She grinned. “Elliott kissed me.”
I bet if you saw my face right then, you’d have thought a murderer was on the loose and headed right for me with a cleaver. I thought Patrick was going to beat my ass for sure.
“There are six party pizzas in the freezer, dude,” Pat said, unfazed. “I’ll split ‘em with you.”
He thought she was lying.
I scrubbed a shaky hand down my face. “Sounds good. I’m starving.”
Charlie waved her fingers. “Bye, Elliott. Thanks for making out with me.”
“My pleasure, Chicken.”
She snorted. “Right, I’m the chicken. You wouldn’t have gotten up there if it weren’t for me, Loser.”
Patrick shook his head and made the cuckoo gesture by his temple. “Don’t listen to her. Drain bamage.”
On the way back inside, I looked over my shoulder.
She blew me a kiss.