by S. E. Hall
“Actually, I better head back through the wardrobe before that spooky half-goat guy comes looking for me. And you need to rest.” He climbs off the bed, stretching his arms over his head mesmerizingly, then flashes me a wink. “See you in the morning, Lizzie. Sweet dreams.”
And with that, he slips out, leaving me lying silently in bed, without words, even more mystified and hormonally unbalanced than before.
Chapter 12
The next morning, I wake as thoroughly rested as I’ve been in months. If I could fit this heavenly bed on the bus, I’d steal it, no questions asked.
My phone dings from across the room and I scramble out of bed to grab it. I’m not sure what time it is, but it’s never too early for Conner to be up.
Hot Hitchhiker: Come down and have breakfast with us sleepyhead.
Me: Who is this? IDK any hot hitchhikers. I do know a HACKER.
HH: Funny, now get up. We have a few hours to enjoy outside if u hurry. Btw…..HOT Hacker works for me too.
Me: Con w/ u?
HH: Yep, itching to explore the city before he’s trapped on a bus again.
Me: Gimme 15.
I rush through a shower, bumbling my way through hair, teeth, and getting dressed. Side note—the more you rush, the more you actually impede speedy prep by tripping over pant legs and losing stuff in the scramble. I throw on some jeans, a t-shirt, and Vans, gather up all my stuff in a neat pile, and hurry downstairs. Last to arrive at the smorgasbord, I find the other six putting a hug dent in the complimentary breakfast buffet. My stomach gurgles angrily when the aroma hits me.
“Morning, Sunshine, glad you could join us.” My uncle leans down and kisses my head when I fall beside him in the feeding line. “Sleep well?”
I’m loading up my plate vigorously, not realizing how hungry I was. “Like a log. You?”
“Maybe not that well.” He laughs. “Our room had one bed and Conner isn’t the stillest sleeper. But all in all, pretty good.”
When our plates are overflowing, we head over to the booth where the others are sitting. It looks pretty crowded and I’m definitely ravenous enough to throw elbows, so I take the booth directly behind them.
“Morning, Liz. I could have moved,” Vanessa offers, eyes flicking down.
“No worries. I’m hungry enough to hurt someone in the attack.” I smile at her and dig in, unashamed.
“Cannon said we have time to go to the zoo!”
Um, ouch. I jab myself in the gums with my fork, Conner bouncing me three inches off the seat with his greeting. Swallowing, I swipe my mouth and inspect the napkin; only a little blood. “He did, huh?” I cut narrowed eyes over the top of the booth to Cannon, already watching me with a knowing smirk. “Everyone wanna go?” I ask louder.
“Nessy and I are gonna take a pass,” Jarrett declines into her neck as she giggles and swats him away.
“Rhett? Bruce?”
“I’d just as soon use the time to rest my back,” my uncle says with an apologetic frown.
I nod. “Of course. Do we need to get you in to see somebody about that?”
“Pshhh.” He waves me off. “Nobody’s gotta cure for old. That’s all it is.”
“There’s a spa here, Gramps. You oughta see if it has a masseuse,” Jarrett suggests, earning him a swat from Vanessa for the sarcasm.
“Hmmm, worth a ty.” Bruce stands, eyes gleaming at the possibility of a female-given massage, I’m guessing—and gagging. “I’ll see you kids later.”
“Maybe she’ll help him really throw his back out.”
This time I lean up and slap Jarrett on the head.
“Rhett, how ‘bout you?” I look to him, my expression full of hope. The two of us seem to be growing apart and I’m not okay with that.
“Sure, I’ll go,” he answers instantly and I about fall over with happiness.
“Okay then. Let’s go!” Conner jumps up and shouts.
“Con, let’s go load the bus while your sister finishes eating,” Cannon suggests, my stomach thanking him.
While the rest of them disperse, I shovel down a few more bites and throw some money on the table.
Bring on the zoo!
***
Is it possible to get kicked out of a zoo—a place specifically for wild animals, you ask?
Why yes. Yes it is.
See, when they post instructional signs such as “don’t feed the animals” or “don’t tap on the glass,” they actually mean it. In all fairness, there wasn’t technically a “don’t climb the fence to join the monkeys” sign, but it was a deal breaker for them—the final straw—and out we were shown.
Despite the walk of shame out of the park, sequestered on all sides by zoo employees, we had a great time. Conner thinks he needs his own chimpanzee now, and as we approach the bus, Rhett and Cannon are still acting like chimpanzees, but it’s been one of the best days I’ve ever had, uncontested.
“Lizzie, love, stop.”
And I sure the fuck do, stopping cold when his deep voice demands it. Love?
“You have peanut shells in the back of your hair. Lemme get ‘em,” he murmurs lowly from right behind me, running one hand up through my hair. “Guess we missed the elephants a few times,” he teases, long fingers gently separating and picking through the strands.
“Ya’ll coming?” Rhett leans out the bus door and screams. “Bruce said we need to get moving. He already loaded everything over from the rooms, including clean clothes! Bonus!”
I hadn’t realized they’d gone ahead, leaving Cannon and I standing alone under a shade tree. But now that I’m cognizant, my body goes taut, back ramrod straight and breathing staggered.
“I feel like one of those National Geographic specials where the monkeys sit around and pick at each other,” he says, laughing softly.
My own forced chuckle sounds fake. “Are you done?”
“All done.” His hands move to my bare shoulders, fingers grazing lightly over them. “You got a little sunburn today. Hurt?”
“No,” I wisp out, trembling with each feathering pass his fingers continue to make on my skin.
“Good. If it starts to, we need to put some aloe on there, but I think you’ll be fine. You ready?” He steps around in front of me, offering back his hand to lead me to the bus.
I pull up short on his hand, digging my feet into the gravel. “Cannon?”
He pivots, asking “what” with only his face.
“Thanks for getting the shells out of my hair and…noticing. And, uh, being so good with Conner, even Rhett. You’re a great addition and I’m glad you’re here.”
He steps into me and lifts my chin with his fingers. For seconds that feel much longer, he remains silent, searching the depths of my eyes with his own. I almost think he might kiss me until he speaks in a whisper so soft and low, I have to tilt toward him to hear. “I’m really glad I’m here too. More and more every day.”
I try to look away, needing reprieve from his permeating, consuming stare, but he now adds his thumb to hold my head in place. “Lizzie, if I kissed you right now, would even the slightest thoughts about it being too soon or rebounds run through your mind?”
I answer breathily, but honestly. “Yes.”
“I understand.” His mouth turns down just enough for me to notice, as though he’s…disappointed? “Promise me one thing?”
“What?”
“You’ll let me know the second your answer changes.”
Biting my bottom lip and casting my eyes to the ground, I give a slight, affirmative shake of my head. Why am I always so damn honest? I could be tasting Cannon right now, finally confirming the flavor of my consuming fantasies.
Damn the whole taking the high road thing.
But I don’t want to be someone’s “too soon” or “maybe this will be better.” I want all or nothing, and I’m sticking with the familiar and safe—nothing—until I’m certain I’m all.
“Come on,” he entwines our hands, “they’re waiting.”
/> ***
The three goobers who immersed themselves, literally, in the zoo desperately need showers once we’re on the road. Conner’s asleep by the time it’s my turn. Oh, they all offered for me to go first—my gentlemen—but I like to be available when Conner’s up and wanting to play games or watch movies. Which we did and he never once mentioned that I smell, perhaps because I didn’t get up close and personal with every animal possible.
Besides, a cold, late shower never hurt anyone.
After the little speech Cannon gave under the tree about promises and kisses, coupled with him coming out from his shower glistening, donned only in pajama pants…a brisk shower seems imperative.
The water’s almost lukewarm when I slink under it, a nice surprise, and after I’ve pre-gamed—body and hair—I make a conscious decision to change course. Rather than self-remedy away all my “Cannon frustration,” the way I usually do, I decide to let it fester. After all, anticipation is the spice of life, and it makes me feel tingly and intrigued and anticipatory, knowing he’s obviously thinking of kissing me. I’m going to let my raging desires build up for ultimate pleasure when, and if, we get our moment.
If anything, I should be kicking, not pleasuring, myself anyway—opening my big, honest mouth before! But it’s true, Cannon’s been with us for…thirteen days now, and that does seem a bit fast to go from planning to marry a girl to kissing another. I don’t wish for time to fly by; I want to savor every single minute and conversation getting to know him, but part of me (okay, a lot of me) is ready for his rebound/too soon grace period to be over.
Feeling levelheaded now rather than robbed, I get dressed and ready for bed then step out of the bathroom to unexpected quiet.
I might not be a mother exactly, but I’ve developed a certain instinct via Conner that tells me if there’s mischief afoot the minute I walk in a room.
My radar is currently beeping in triple time.
Hmm… Cannon and Jarrett are at the table, huddled together over a laptop. I pull open the curtain quietly and find Vanessa passed out in Jarrett’s bunk, which is fine since he’s not in it with her. Rhett is snoring softly from his own bed.
So then what tomfoolery is it I’m picking up on?
Approaching stealthily, I diagnose the cheesy disco and panting sounds coming from the screen far sooner than they realize I’m standing there. “Whatcha guys doing?” I whisper.
“What?” Cannon startles, turning a “cat at the canary” look my way. “N-nothing.” He tries to slam the screen down but Jarrett holds him off.
“No way! I’m watching that! Conner’s asleep; she can’t get mad. In fact, Mama Bear,” he pats the spot next to him, “come check this out.”
“Jarrett Paul Foster, are you suggesting I watch internet porn with you two?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Now shh and sit down, I wanna hear.”
Oh yeah—because the dialogue is so complex and intricate. It’s a bewildering, often traumatizing, experience watching his mind work.
Shocked at myself, I do in fact take a seat, rolling my eyes. Cannon leans across and cocks his left eyebrow at me. “You want some popcorn, Siren?”
I glower back at him, then quickly turn my focus to the screen. “Okay, so catch me up on the riveting plot.”
Jarrett jumps at the chance, pointing to the screen. “This girl called a maintenance man to fix her sink and his apprentice came along. Now they’re, fu—uh, now they’re—”
“Got it!” I hold up a hand to stop his enlightening, linguistically fascinating explanation. “All caught up.”
The bench is shaking from Cannon laughing at my reaction, his head dipped and turned away, though it does nothing to hide his amusement.
“Um…” I cannot believe I’m about to ask this, but I know the curiosity will eat at me, so I gulp and go for it. “Why is head fix-it guy’s penis two different colors?”
“What?” Jarrett booms, laughing like a hyena.
“Shhh!” I warn him, not wanting the others to wake and catch us in one of our least attractive moments. “Look, right where her mouth is, there’s clearly a line where it goes from brown to pink. See,” now I point on-screen, “right there, that line. That’s freaky. Something’s wrong.”
Now they’re both face down on the table, trying to muffle their boisterous laughter, and still not answering me.
“Cannon, you gonna take this one?” Jarrett snorts.
Cannon’s head flies up, all signs of amusement gone, eyes wide and scared like roadkill in the headlights, seconds before the impending crash. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Pussy,” Jarrett goads. “Liz, lot of guys have lighter heads than shafts. Totally normal.”
I scrunch up my face in disgust. “I would not put that not normal, deformed looking thing in my mouth. It’d be like unwrapping a cherry sucker and half of it’s green. You know, something’s just not quite right. Ergo, don’t stick it in your mouth!”
“Oh no?” Jarrett challenges. “So you’ve already seduced him, and his dick’s ready, in your face. You simply say ‘no thank you’?” He laughs. “Awful harsh. Besides, you ever really looked at a vagina? Not exactly beautiful, all wrinkly and shit, like a raisin gone horribly wrong. Parts popping out of bigger parts, like that movie where the fucking alien is scary enough, then KAPOW, a baby one busts out his belly! “
“I have no idea what you just said, and I actually have a vagina,” I mutter in a monotone response of complete abhorrence and disbelief while Cannon shields his face in his hand, his whole body shaking with tempered laughter.
“Your clit. It’s all shrouded up in the wrinkles, then surprise, out it pops!” Jarrett thrusts out jazz hands and twirls them. “Talk about not quite right.”
This may never happen again—I literally have no words. I just shake my head, scarily fascinated at his inner issues, and force myself to instead think back to the original point, not the eloquent vagina description, pondering if I could be that rude and make the guy feel bad. Hmm…my mind goes to work and I snap when I’ve got it. “I’d act like I fainted!”
Their wails can’t be contained now, liable to wake the bus and the dead. I wait, knowing I’m brilliant, while they simmer down and regain the ability to converse.
“Fake faint?” Cannon asks with twinkling eyes, battling an amused grin. “Do you know how to do that?”
“Sure.” I show him, letting my eyes roll back in my head dramatically, falling backward, arms limply out to my sides.
“Pretty good,” he replies. “I’d buy it.”
“Shit, me too,” Jarrett says incredulously. “Women are so sneaky.”
“Hey!” I come to life and shove him. “I’d do it to be nice, not sneaky. Now finish your dick flick. I’m going to bed.” I shoot them looks of disapproval and pad off, crawling under my covers. It’s been a long, but blissful, day and I am spent. “And Jarret?” I turn back with a saucy grin. “Thou protesth too much; dead giveaway. I’m sorry about your rainbow penis.”
***
What the hell? Feeling like I just got to sleep, I come to, looking around in the dark, scared it’s finally happened—pieces of Rhett’s bed are breaking apart onto my head.
Then a wad of something hits me in the face, a subdued laugh from across the aisle following it. Ok, not the ceiling collapsing, just Cannon throwing things at me. My hands fumble around, finding two clumps and I switch on my bed light to see what they are. Unfolding the first crumpled ball of paper, I giggle out loud.
Don’t be afraid, Little Siren. At least 8 out of 10 penises are all one color. DO NOT do a field study, take my word for it. –C
I open the second one, again tempted to snicker at the random thoughts keeping him awake.
Rebound—to recover.
Recover—to return to normal condition, esp. after a setback.
Synopsis: Rebounding hasn’t gotten a fair shake, the negative connotation thrust upon it unfair and incorrect. Getting back to normal after a s
etback is a good thing. A setback is not a good thing. –C
If he’s not the most witty, clever charmer in the world….
I reach above my head for a pen and turn the sheet over to reply.
Why are you telling me this? In the middle of the night? –L
Then I toss it back his way and go to the other one.
Good information, thank you. No worries—no focus groups currently planned. –L
Returning that one as well, I should really turn off my light and discourage further incognito, late night note passing—but my tummy’s got acrobatic anticipation going on and my heart’s thumping madly. No matter the time or method (obviously), I thrive on interaction with Cannon.
The wad comes flying back and my trembling fingers fumble to get it unwrinkled.
Because I want you to understand—numb complacency wasn’t “normal,” just tolerable since nothing else shined brighter. Only once a siren calls, do you recognize extraordinary from not too terrible. –C
Are you hitting on me, through a note? –L
Throw.
Catch.
Absofuckinglutely. –C
Oh Lord, okay so that’s hot and alluring and the best kind of charming. I pull back my curtain a smidge, enough to look out, his eyes are already locked right on me, turned raven and smoldering, just waiting for me to peek out.
“Hi,” he mouths.
My heart patters swiftly as I jerk the sheet back in place, deciding notes are far safer for my sanity, not to mention my body temperature.
You’re a flirt. It’s only because I’m here, convenient. And it’s only been 2 weeks, my shiny and new will wear off, I promise. Mundane and bitchy should be resurfacing any time now. Or maybe the “movie” got you worked up. I thought we were “friends?” –L
Throw.
Catch.
I hate that we’re doing this over 3rd grade notes in too close quarters with an audience. I want to be able to see your eyes when I tell you things, so you can see the honesty in mine. We are friends, that’s where it should always start. And you lying two foot away, all soft and sleepy, that works me up. Tomorrow before the show, may I please take you to dinner, just the two of us?–C