Pucked Under (Pucked #4.5)

by Helena Hunting

  “I seriously wonder what the deal is there,” I say.

  Lily threads her fingers through mine. “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “I hope they’re not gonna fight all weekend.”

  “I don’t know that they fight.” She kisses my bicep.

  “What do you call that?” I incline my head in their direction.

  “I think it’s a game, like cat and mouse. I just can’t figure out who’s the cat and who’s the mouse.”

  It’s an interesting observation. But I still hope it’s not a sign of what the rest of the weekend is going to be like. I don’t need their weird drama affecting my good time.

  3

  HOW TO REVIVE

  A BOYFRIEND

  LILY

  As I approach, Darren walks away from the truck holding the bag of Doritos. He’s smirking, which is uncommon for him. I glance at Charlene to find she’s wearing a similar look. I don’t ask, because I’m not sure I want to know what the fascination is with Doritos. To my knowledge, all they do is make your breath horrible.

  Back on the road, Violet sits beside me, fiddling with the music while Sunny rifles through the snacks and tries one of everything—apart from the beef jerky, which is mine. She’s kind enough to open the bag for me, though. That’s new. In addition to not touching or eating meat, Sunny usually opens a window when meat products are nearby, as if the molecules will somehow infiltrate her body through smell.

  Violet gives up on finding a clear station and chooses a playlist on her phone. It’s The Tragically Hip, my favorite Canadian band—perfect cottage music.

  She turns to Charlene. “So what’s the deal with the Doritos?”

  “Huh?” Charlene stops fingering her necklace and looks up from her phone.

  “Why would you want to ruin your weekend by eating Doritos? Or is Darren a bad kisser and that’s your way of making sure you don’t have to make out with him?”

  “Darren’s an excellent kisser.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure. So why the stinky-breath chips?” Violet asks.

  “They aren’t in the truck, are they?” Sunny looks concerned.

  “Darren took them,” I say.

  “Oh. That’s good. Otherwise I’d want to eat them, and then I wouldn’t be able to make out with Miller later, and that would be sad.” Sunny blinks a few times, like she’s fighting tears.

  Pregnancy has made her extra emotional. Lately she’s been crying at bathroom tissue commercials. And her volunteer position at the SPCA has resulted in the foster wiener dog snuggled up beside me. He’s so freaking cute, but they already have two dogs, and a baby on the way. I don’t know that they need more things to take care of.

  “I guess you’re not getting your freak on all that often anymore, what with the volleyball you’re packing,” Violet muses.

  “We only have sex five or six times a week now,” Sunny says wistfully.

  “Only?” Charlene seems shocked.

  “Miller likes morning sex, and I like night sex, so we switch back and forth. Except we take a day off a week. That’s Miller’s cookie-eating day.”

  Violet opens her mouth and then shuts it. Her cheeks puff out. She gestures to Sunny’s tummy. “I just—isn’t it uncomfortable?”

  Sunny pats her stomach. “Well, we can’t really do missionary anymore, but Miller knows how to make me feel good.”

  “Amen to that, sister!” Charlene gives her a high five.

  “Says the woman who was planning to eat a bag of Doritos,” Violet points out.

  “I was never going to eat them. I wanted Darren to think I was. Sex tonight is going to be amazing.” Charlene has a wicked gleam in her eye.

  Violet shakes her head. “And you think I’m weird.”

  “You dress up Alex’s dick like a superhero; you are weird,” Charlene counters.

  “She’s right about that being odd,” Sunny agrees.

  “Whatever. Alex doesn’t mind, and it keeps things interesting.”

  Charlene says something, but I don’t catch it.

  They continue to debate the oddness of Violet’s penchant for dressing up Alex’s penis. I stay out of the conversation, because as much as I agree that it’s strange, I’ve considered doing something similar to Randy. He’s got a scar that makes his cock look like it’s smiling when it’s hard and frowning when it’s soft.

  We make one more stop about fifteen minutes from the cottage, partly because Sunny needs to pee again and also because we need groceries. With four hockey boys and a pregnant woman, there are a lot of food bases to cover in order to get through the weekend. Alex has already ordered a bunch of stuff that’s scheduled to arrive tomorrow, but we still have dinner tonight, snacks, and possibly breakfast. Plus booze. The town we stop in is quaint, with cute little shops and a grocery store that caters to the rich people with cottages on Lake Geneva. The cottage is actually in Wisconsin, not Chicago, but it’s just outside, so I call it the Chicago cottage to differentiate between this one and the one where Randy and I first met.

  We pile out of the truck. Sunny stretches and groans, maybe because she gets stiff when she sits for too long. There’s also a burger joint across the street. Sunny inhales deeply, and the groan becomes a sigh. Huh. Normally she’d be at least mildly grossed out. But now that I think about it, lately she’s been suggesting stops at fast food places when we’re out. Maybe it’s so her vegan self can huff burgers without feeling guilty.

  The boys get out of the SUV, and Darren finds the closest garbage can, tossing a few things into it. One of them looks very much like an empty bag of Doritos.

  Charlene rushes over and looks in. “You didn’t!”

  A smile spreads across Darren’s face. “I did.” He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. Charlene shrieks and tries to wrestle her way out of his grip, but Darren holds her ponytail so she can’t move her head. He blows right in her face.

  Charlene covers her mouth and nose with her palm while Darren laughs.

  Randy gestures in their direction. “Someone should take a picture of that.”

  I pull out my phone and snap a bunch. “I assume that means he ate the Doritos.”

  “And a bag of Funyuns,” Miller says.

  I make a face. “Ew.”

  “Right?” Randy laces our fingers and pulls me toward the grocery store. “That’s the most bizarre foreplay I’ve ever seen.”

  We leave them in the parking lot, grab a grocery cart, and divide and conquer the list. Randy and I spend a significant amount of time in the vegetable aisle. He manhandles all the dick-shaped produce while I take pictures, recording his silliness. When we come back out, we find Darren and Charlene in the back of the SUV. All the windows are open. He looks relaxed, based on the way his arm is stretched across the backseat. Charlene’s face is red, and she looks tense. I’m not sure if the Doritos served their intended purpose or not.

  We switch things up for the last leg of the trip, which is short. Sunny and Miller take the backseat of the truck, and Randy takes the wheel while I ride shotgun. We’ve all been to the Chicago cottage before—it was this past spring, right after Alex and Violet got married. They had a party to appease the moms, who didn’t get to plan a wedding. Their Vegas wedding was exactly what those two needed, and not at all what Sunny’s going to get when she and Miller tie the knot.

  Skye, Violet’s mom and Miller’s stepmom, and Daisy, Sunny and Alex’s mom, already have a list of three hundred guests, and it keeps growing. Sunny doesn’t seem to mind, and neither does Miller. He’s happy to have a set of moms who want to help out with things, since he lost his when he was a kid.

  The only thing I’m worried about for this weekend is too much wedding talk. I’ve noticed that when we spend time with Miller and Sunny and wedding or baby talk comes up—which is frequently, all things considered—Randy gets quiet. I’ve assured him on more than one occasion that I’m not interested in getting knocked up, and he always laughs it off, but I think it makes him nervous anyway.
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br />   If I’m honest with myself, I’m not sure I ever want to get married. I don’t necessarily believe it cements people together. Or makes them any more faithful to each other, which is Randy’s primary hang up. I guess one of the good things about having no actual connection to my father is that there’s nothing to miss, or deal with. Robbie Waters, Sunny and Alex’s dad, has always been sort of a dad stand-in for me anyway.

  We pull into the driveway behind Alex’s SUV. Both of Alex’s cottages are more house than cabin, but the one in Canada is far more rustic than this. This is a giant, modern house on a lake with lots of windows and gorgeous views of the water from every bedroom.

  I love living in Chicago, but having grown up in the much quieter, more rural city of Guelph, the busy-ness of Chicago can be overwhelming. Coming up here, where we can relax and hang out and just be, is necessary sometimes. We unload all the groceries first, and then move upstairs to claim our rooms. The cottage has six bedrooms, all with connected bathrooms and private balconies. It’s almost like staying at a bed and breakfast.

  Randy follows me down the hall, away from Alex and Violet’s bedroom. I’ve learned it’s best to give those two some space. Violet is an excitable person, and that includes when she’s getting her freak on. On more than one occasion we’ve overheard her declaring her love for Alex’s monster cock.

  Having accidentally seen Alex’s unit once when we were growing up, I can say with definitive certainty that she’s not exaggerating. Randy has a lot going on in that department, but I’m thankful he’s not that big.

  Once we’re in our room, Randy closes the door, locking us in. “That was the longest two-hour drive ever.”

  I’m aware the quick-and-dirty sex we had in the changing room was a hold-over. Despite our mini discussion, I’m positive Randy’s recent neediness is going to continue this weekend. He drops my suitcase and his duffle on the end of the bed, finds our toiletry bag, and inclines his head toward the bathroom.

  “Interested in getting naked with me?”

  “You want to shower before we go swimming?”

  “Showering wasn’t what I had in mind.”

  “Oh, no?”

  He gives his head a slow shake.

  “What kind of naked activity did you have in mind, then?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of a trip to the Vagina Emporium.” He lifts his shirt over his head, exposing all those hard ridges and smooth planes of muscle.

  “Is that so?”

  Randy nods. “But first I want to make a pit stop at Boob Valley.” He tugs the top of my dress so my breasts pop out. My nipples tighten in anticipation.

  “And we can’t do that right here? We need to be in the bathroom?” I arch as he circles my right nipple with a fingertip.

  “No, but I was kinda hoping you wanted to watch me touch you.” He leans in and kisses the swell of my breast, his soft beard rubbing my nipple.

  I drop my face, using his hair to muffle my moan.

  “And I don’t want you to feel like you have to be all quiet.” He sucks the tight peak, obviously trying to make a point.

  I’ve come to learn part of Randy’s thing with bathroom sex is because he’s a fan of the mirror. He’s not an egomaniac, but he likes to see what he’s doing to me from an alternate perspective.

  He holds out a hand, and I take it, excited for round one of cottage sex. I fully expect to be feeling it well into next week.

  We’re almost at the bathroom when someone starts pounding on our bedroom door.

  Randy pulls me over the threshold. “Ignore it. They’ll go away.”

  “Hey, guys, uh, Sunny has a bit of a problem,” Miller says through the door.

  Randy closes his eyes and exhales a long breath. “All I want is an all-access pass to the Vagina Emporium for an hour. Is that too damn much to ask?”

  He sounds annoyed, but he pulls my dress back up to cover my boobs. Randy is nothing if not a loyal friend.

  I kiss the side of his neck, close to his ear. “Tonight, when everyone goes to bed, you can have unlimited access.”

  “That’s so fucking far away.”

  He’s so cute when he’s pouting.

  I open the door to find Miller with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking distressed. He glances at Randy, who’s shirtless, and then me. “I’m sorry I had to interrupt, but Sunny doesn’t have a bathing suit top that fits.”

  Randy steps up behind me, ready to close the door in Miller’s face. “You cockblocked me over a bathing suit top?”

  “I know it sounds ridiculous, but—”

  “Lily’s bathing suit tops won’t fit Sunny,” Randy snaps.

  I give him the eye. “Thanks for pointing that out.”

  “I’m not saying it to be a jerk. I fucking love your boobs, you know that.” He goes to cup them, then realizes it’s not a good time. “I’m pointing out that she’s not going to get much coverage if she borrows something from you.”

  His argument is solid. “Violet should have something that will fit her.”

  “Uh, yeah, she’s busy right now and, uh, Sunny’s locked herself in the bathroom. She’s crying, and I can’t get her to stop.” He looks to me. “I figured maybe you could help. I’m really sorry. I know the timing is shitty.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I pat Randy on the chest. “Why don’t you change into your bathing suit? I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “If I cry, will you help me take care of my hard-on?” Randy asks. He’s joking. Mostly.

  “I’ll manage your situation later.” I leave him standing in the doorway, glaring at Miller as he and I walk away.

  Sunny and Miller have taken the room next to us. From down the hall I can hear muffled, rhythmic thumping.

  “Is that coming from Alex and Violet’s room?” I ask.

  “Pretty sure, yeah,” Miller says, cringing.

  “You’d think they’d pull the bed away from the wall.”

  “They might actually be having sex against the door.”

  “Right. Okay. That’s not awkward.”

  “The story of my life, right there. I’m real sorry. I know everyone was probably looking for some private time, and I thought Sunny might be too, but then she got to unpacking…”

  I give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “There’s plenty of time for privacy later.”

  “I’m not sure Balls agrees with that.”

  “Randy wants what he wants when he wants it. And he usually gets it. It won’t kill him to wait.”

  Miller ushers me into their room. Sunny’s suitcase is open on the bed, a few items strewn on the comforter, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I can hear her crying in the bathroom, though.

  I knock and let her know it’s me. She opens the door with a sniffle, one eye peeking through the narrow gap.

  “Miller says you have bathing suit issues. Can I come in?”

  She opens the door enough for me to get through. She has a team beach towel wrapped around her, hiding her bathing suit. Sunny is gorgeous in a modelesque way. I’ve always been envious of her long, curvy frame, which is so different from all my straight lines. Even though she’s super pregnant, she still looks amazing. The only obvious change is the basketball-shaped bump rounding out her tummy—and how shiny and thick her hair is. Sunny’s a walking advertisement for pregnancy. Not that it’s working on me.

  I’m more than happy to be an auntie for several years. I’d also settle for a dog, which is a lot like a child but without the same possibility for messing things up.

  Sunny hiccups. “I can’t go swimming this weekend.”

  As her due date approaches, her emotional state grows more unstable. I don’t know if that’s normal, or just because she’s Sunny, but whatever the reason, she’s been crying. A lot. And that’s not the norm for Sunny. She’s usually exactly like her name: full of positive energy.

  “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

  Sunny drops the towel. She’s wearing a pair of lemon yel
low bikini bottoms; I recognize them from last summer. The top, which fit her perfectly then, doesn’t cover even half of her chest.

  “Wow. Your boobs have gotten a lot bigger.”

  “They’re the size of my head.”

  “I wouldn’t go quite that far.”

  “My nipples are gigantic, too. You can see them through the material! Miller liked my nipples before. What if they’re always this big now? What if he doesn’t like them anymore? What if he doesn’t want to have sex with me this weekend? I’m so fat! And look at this line!” She points to her belly where a faint line runs from her navel and disappears under her bikini bottoms. “What is that even about? Why is it there?”

  Sunny throws her arms around me, now in full-on sobbing mode. She’s never been one to fixate on her physical appearance, so this insecurity is new.

  “You’re not fat, Sunny. You’re pregnant, and you’re gorgeous. We’ll borrow a bathing suit top from Violet. I’m sure hers will fit you better.”

  I pat her back while she continues to cry. I have no idea if her nipples, which are very obvious through the bikini top, will ever go back to the way they were.

  “What if I end up with stretch marks? Is it vain that I don’t want stretch marks? I miss my body. I miss normal sex. I miss being able to see my feet and my vagina.”

  It’s an epic breakdown. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Sunny this upset, apart from when she and Miller were first dating and there were several unfortunate misunderstandings regarding pictures on social media.

  I let her cry on me for another minute or two, and then Miller knocks on the door. “Sunny Sunshine? Can I do anything to help?”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Sunny hiccups at the end.

  “You don’t sound fine, sweets. Can you let me in? Please?”