After what feels like an age of simply just cackling away, we find ourselves lying side by side and gazing up at the stars. The stars that are moving.
Huh, that’s weird.
“Stars aren’t supposed to move, are they?”
“I don’t think so. I think the magic drugs are making them move,” Kaelyn tells me, sniggering.
“It’s like we’ve got our own meteor shower. It’s fucking awesome.”
“I’ve never stargazed before, especially when I’m high, but it’s so much better, more therapeutic. I feel like we’re the only people on this earth right now. Just us and a million sparkly diamonds looking down on us. It’s so pretty,” she says in a dreamlike voice.
I find myself smiling.
“You know,” Kaelyn continues with a content sigh, “when I was little, I always thought stars were the incarnation of people after they died and that stars were a part of heaven and that they weren’t really stars but angels, protecting their loved ones.”
I want to say something meaningful, but all I manage to say is, “I thought clouds were made of marshmallows.”
She turns on her side and smacks me. “Oh my God, why did you mention marshmallows? I’m so hungry now.”
I chuckle, rubbing the spot where she hit me—not because she hurt me, but because my arm is physically tingling from her mere touch. “I think we still have pizza,” I suggest, my own stomach beginning to rumble at the mention of food.
Hmm, food.
“No, I really want marshmallows but toasted ones. Oh, yes, let’s have s’mores. I haven’t had them in forever. Oh, I’ll go grab them!”
I sit up on my elbows as she stands to her feet. “Um, I know I’m high, and my intelligence is not up to scratch right now, but how do you expect to toast them?”
“Ah,” she says, tapping a finger to her temple. “Unlike you, my intelligence only increases when I’m high.”
She climbs back through the window as delicate as a cat burglar. A few minutes later, she returns. I laugh when she sets down a hot-pink portable grill in front of me, before dropping a bag of charcoal briquettes, skewers and a pack of giant marshmallows to the floor.
“Wow, you’re like a good ole Girl Scout, aren’t you?”
She just beams at me and does the three-finger salute sign. “Hell yes, I got every single one of my badges. I was a badass Girl Scout,” she tells me.
“A pink grill though,” I say with disbelief.
“What do you mean?” she asks, completely and utterly offended. “It’s cute as hell. I used it for when I went camping in the summer. Dude, you shouldn’t be colorist. Just because it’s pink doesn’t mean it isn’t as good as a regular man-boy color. It still cooks one hell of a bodacious burger.”
I snort at her calling me a colorist, and then my stomach growls.
Burger.
Damn, I could just eat a burger right now.
“Shit, don’t mention burgers. I really want a burger now.”
Her eyes light up as if a light bulb just went on in her head.
“Oh, actually, I might have some meat patties in the freezer!” Faster than The Flash, she rushes back inside, but with the blanket still wrapped around her, it makes her look like Superman—or I should say, Superwoman.
While I wait for her to return, I get the grill fired up with the lighter we used to light our joint. How I don’t end up burning myself is a miracle. I mean, they say not to operate heavy goods when under the influence, and I’m fairly certain an open flame counts, too.
She clambers back through the window, her arms filled to the brim with burger patties, tortilla chips, a packet of graham crackers, a chocolate bar, and a pair of meat tongs. She drops them to the floor with an accomplished smile and sits Indian-style beside me. While we wait for the fire to settle, we take advantage of the high flame to toast some marshmallows.
It’s December, and we’re having ourselves a good old barbeque feast out on the balcony. I just hope no one calls the authorities and alerts them of a fire because trying to explain to them that we’re high and suddenly had a hankering for burned marshmallows over a makeshift campfire won’t be an easy feat. Especially when I’m dressed as a motherfucking Ninja Turtle.
“So, now, I know you have a dick piercing, and you know I have lesbian tendencies.” She giggles, her eyes flicking between me and the marshmallow on the stick in her hand. “Tell me about your most embarrassing moment.”
I think and I think and I think, and honestly, nothing comes to mind. At this point, I don’t know if it’s because I’m high or if I’ve never had an embarrassing moment.
“I don’t think I have one.”
She unbelievably glares at me. “You have to have one. Everyone gets embarrassed.”
I shake my head as I twirl my marshmallow above the flame. “I guess I’m immune to being embarrassed. What about you?”
“I have too many to count.”
“Well, tell me just one.”
“Okay, but you have to promise not to laugh.” She points her gaze at me, and already, I want to burst out laughing, but then again, that seems to be the theme of the evening.
“I want to say I’ll promise, but I’m high, so the likelihood of me not laughing isn’t likely,” I tell her honestly, a huge-ass smile creeping up on my face. I can’t help it; I’m as happy as a pig in shit right now. I don’t ever remember feeling so fucking carefree.
“I wouldn’t blame you. What I’m about to tell you is kind of funny. I mean, for other people it is. Me, on the other hand, not so much. You’ve watched Friends, right?”
“Um, yeah,” I say in a dur, of course, I have way.
“Do you remember the scene with Ross and Rachel when they’re on their way to Vegas to join the rest of the gang, and Ross draws on Rachel’s face with permanent marker?”
I nod, already knowing exactly where she’s going, and I start chuckling.
“Ever since we were younger, my brothers and I used to pull pranks on each other. You know, the standard stuff, like toothpaste in your Oreos, plastic wrap on the toilet, mayo doughnuts. Well, when I was seventeen, my brother Logan did it to me. I used to suffer with insomnia, so I’d go days without sleeping, but then after about four days, I would just drop, and I swear, you couldn’t wake me for shit. Well, that dickhead took things too far and wrote, Ho Bag, on my forehead when I passed out after watching a movie. I was none the wiser until the next day. In fact, I overslept and was running late, so I didn’t have time to shower. I just changed and got my ass to school without even looking into a mirror. It wasn’t until I charged into my Home Economics class for first period that I quickly realized something was terribly wrong because everyone was just staring. And then they started laughing. No, not just laughing, but also taking pictures with their shitty flip phones. Basically, they were just being assholes.
“Now, let me tell you, I was pretty popular in high school. I mean, I wasn’t the queen bee. I didn’t date the quarterback or captain of the soccer team, but people liked me, and I managed to steer clear of any high school crap. That was, until I entered my classroom with, Ho Bag, written across my forehead. The teacher gave me a hall pass and quietly told me to take a look at myself in a mirror. When I did, I could have died. I tried to wash it off, but the marker wouldn’t budge. I was completely freaking out. There was no way I could go back to class with something derogatory written on my head in permanent marker, so for the first time in my entire life, I skipped school. I headed to my mom’s work, and in front of twenty of her work colleagues, I declared I was going to cut my brother’s dick off and feed it to the fishes.”
“Holy shit,” I say with jolting laughter, my sides aching from laughing so much tonight. “What did your mom do?”
“Well, after Googling how to get permanent marker off her daughter’s forehead, she took me home, and with some nail polish remover, she managed to get it off. But, with the friction of having to physically scrub it from my head, it created a reaction, an
d for days after, I was left with what appeared to be chemical burns. So, one trip to the ER later and a new colon for my brother after my mom ripped him a new one, I looked like a science experiment gone wrong. And not only that, but I also couldn’t live the name Ho Bag down until after I graduated high school. So, yes, that’s my most embarrassing story.”
I try to hide my smile but fail drastically. “Now, I feel even worse that I don’t have an embarrassing story.”
“You really don’t have one?”
My eyes suddenly register a flame in front of Kaelyn’s face, and as I let my hazy eyes drop down a few inches, I see that her marshmallow is on fire.
“Um, Kaelyn?”
“Yeah?”
“Your marshmallow is on fire,” I tell her.
She lets out a shriek and drops it into the fire. Suddenly, laughter takes over our senses, and we both laugh for what feels like a million years.
Bad-Boy Chase
Kaelyn
The first thing I feel when I wake is something hard poking against my ass. I blink through my sleepiness, and as I slowly begin to come to, that’s when I feel a solid chest pressed up against my back and an arm wrapped around my waist, fingers splayed tightly across my abdomen. When my eyes completely open, I register that I’m still on the balcony, and daylight is beginning to peek over the horizon. A quiet giggle bubbles from my throat when I look down at the green arm protectively holding me over the blanket.
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.
The previous evening quickly comes back to me.
Chase.
The balcony.
Smoking up a doobie.
Laughing. A lot.
Stargazing.
Making our own little fire with the barbeque grill.
Burning marshmallows.
Eating our body weight in food.
Passing out.
And, now, I’m waking up to the warmth of Chase’s arm wrapped around me, his dick nuzzled against the crack of my ass, and I can’t deny that I love the way he feels around my body. It can’t be any more than forty-three degrees out here, but with the thick blanket and the heat from Chase—thanks to the onesie he’s wearing—I don’t feel an inch of the chill. In fact, I feel pretty toasty in his cocoon.
I can’t believe we fell asleep outside. It would serve us right if we got frostbite.
Chase shifts a little behind me, and I have to stifle the moan that leaves my mouth as his dick slides a little further down my ass, closer to my pussy.
Jesus Christ.
It takes everything within my body not to push back against him, to feel him even closer, but he isn’t mine to take, and I’m not about to take advantage of him. Instead, I turn to face him, and I moan again, but this time, it’s the feeling of the concrete below me against my narrow hip bone that has me groaning in pain.
Dear God, whose idea was it to sleep outside and catch pneumonia?
My movement seems to jolt Chase, and his gorgeous eyes flicker open.
“Hi,” I whisper, smiling tiredly.
Two lines appear on his forehead while his eyes take in his surroundings before returning back to me. “Um, hi,” he replies, his voice confused. “Why are we out on your balcony?” he asks with a croak, and the gravelly way his voice sounds does nothing to calm my libido down after feeling his morning wood meeting my happy place.
“I’m thinking we must have passed out.”
He just responds with a grunt. He stretches, and with the movement, his dick grazes against my thigh since he’s made no attempt to shift away from me. I giggle, unable to help myself.
“That’s either a very big phone or someone’s come out to say hello.”
His eyes immediately travel down to his cock before gazing up at me, looking a little sheepish. “Um, sorry. He has a mind of his own.”
“I’m sure he does.” I smirk as I finally push myself out of his hold. Not because I want to, but because, if I don’t, I won’t be held responsible for what I might do if I’m in his presence for much longer. I immediately miss his heat, and the cold winter morning sends shivers along my bare legs. I pull the blanket tight around me as I finally feel the chill.
“Let’s head back inside, where I have heating and cocoa.”
Chase sits up and points down to his lap, to his morning wood. “I’ll be just a minute. I’m not sure we can both make it through the window in one piece.”
I shake my head with a chuckle before climbing through the window, leaving him to think about old granny titties or whatever guys picture when trying to calm their dicks down.
The first thing I do when I get inside is turn the thermostat up to make it feel almost tropical. Then, I put on my warmest pajama bottoms before heading into the kitchen to make us each a hot drink.
A few minutes later, just as I’m stirring milk into the cocoa, Chase enters, stretching his arms over his head, moving his head from side to side to no doubt relieve the tension from sleeping on the floor without a pillow.
“You doing okay there?”
“Whose idea was it to sleep outside?” he complains as he kneads the back of his neck with his fingers.
“I’m thinking it was the marijuana’s idea,” I say, letting out a yawn.
“I’m thinking marijuana is an asshole.”
“You didn’t think that last night. You were marijuana’s best friend.” I giggle as I set the spoon down and pick both mugs up.
“Well, I think I need to pick better friends.”
I hand him the cup and laugh. “You’re pretty cranky this morning.”
He quirks up a brow and tries to hide a smirk. “Well, you would be if you woke up with a hard-on and couldn’t do anything about it.”
Ah, so he’s got a case of the blue balls. I get it now.
“Last night was fun though,” I say.
He finally shows me his handsome smile. “Yes, it was. You sure know how to show a guy a good time. You’re a bad influence though.”
“Me? I’m a bad influence? It seems you haven’t always been Mr. Good Influence. I mean, I’ve only ever had my ears pierced. However, getting a dick piercing for a dare is pretty badass.”
His eyes widen. He obviously forgot he’d told me that tidbit last night. He quickly recovers by nonchalantly rubbing at his stubble. “I’ve grown up a lot since then. I’m not a bad-boy asshole anymore.”
I grin slyly as we make our way to the living room.
“You know, I kind of have a thing for bad boys. I wouldn’t mind seeing a glimpse of him. I’ve yet to meet the guy who breaks into buildings and gets his cock pierced for a dare.”
We sit side by side, and he seems to mull over my words with a few sips of his hot drink.
“You really want to see the bad boy, huh?” he asks, flashing me a sexy smile.
“Hell yeah,” I exclaim before drinking back my cocoa.
“Okay. Get changed. I’ll show you how a bad boy drives a Ferrari,” he tells me with a dangerous twinkle in his eye.
Excitement fills my veins. Just the mention of his Ferrari, and I’m up on my feet and heading toward my bedroom to change into a pair of jeans and a hoodie.
Locking up, I hear the erogenous purr of the car behind me and see Chase is already waiting. As I approach, I laugh when he puts his foot on the accelerator, causing the ground to vibrate under my feet.
Showoff.
I jump in, and I almost salivate at the sight of him behind the wheel, looking all kinds of Fast and Furious sexy with a cap worn backward, one strong, big hand firmly holding the steering wheel while his other holds on to the stick shift. That’s where the sex appeal ends though since he’s still wearing the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle onesie, although I can’t deny he rocks the outfit like a badass.
His eyes pierce into mine with a daring stare. “You ready for the ride of your life?”
My insides clench as I buckle myself in, and a surge of anticipation has me squeaking out, “Yes.”
And, with that, he puts th
e metal to the floor. A gasp escapes my lips when he surges forward, and my head slams back into the headrest.
Holy shit.
I tightly grip hold of the door handle as he speeds through the streets of Dallas, my heart racing a mile a minute. I sit in awed amazement as he drives the car as if he were making love to it. Sorry, no. Fucking it. You don’t make love to a car like this; you fuck it. He takes her hard and fast but slows her down as he turns corners before gaining speed. It makes me a little jealous.
The grin he has plastered on his face is unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed before. It’s childlike and free, and I never knew unleashing the bad boy in him would have such a positive effect on him. The need for speed radiates from his aura, and I’m so happy he brought me along for the ride.
We don’t say a single word until we pull up to what looks like a deserted racetrack. We drive through the entrance and continue until we come to a stop in the middle of the track.
“What are we doing here?” I ask him, finally able to pry my fingers from the door handle.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, his childlike smile still in place.
I gaze forward at the racetrack until it clicks. “Wait, that wasn’t the ride of my life?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “No. That was just foreplay. This is the place where I get down and dirty.”
Oh shit.
“Down and dirty, huh? And how fast would you say down and dirty is?”
“Well, this baby can go two hundred twenty miles per hour, but since I don’t have a death wish, I’ll stick to one hundred seventy.”
I gape at him, wondering if I should have brought a helmet with me.
OMG. This is how I’m going to die.
Ah, well, at least I get to die in style.
He must see the look of sheer terror on my face. His hand rests on my leg, and like most serial killers ask their victims before they’re driven right off a cliff, he asks, “Do you trust me?”
I start laughing. “Oh, the clichéd trust me question.”
My Forever (Our Forever Book 3) Page 17