Bad Situation

by K. B. Nelson

  When my reserved breath is depleted, I make a quick beeline for the surface. I throw my head above the water and steal a few quick breaths as I gasp for air. My voyeurism could have killed me, but the show I witnessed was worth the odds.

  “I thought you were going to drown down there,” she says and splashes a light wave of water against my face. “What took you so long?”

  I smile. “The view was breathtaking.”

  She studies me with her eyes. “I can see that.”

  16

  Brick

  We’re back on the boat after a short lap or two around the exterior. Our excursion into the water was nothing more than a dip with the purpose of cooling off, but the view on the boat is so much better than the view in the water.

  Down there, my view was tainted and limited to whatever was situated above the line of the water. Up here, the feast upon my eyes knows no bounds. I’m free to gaze and slip glances whenever I want. Once she’s dry, I’m sure she’ll climb back into her shirt and shorts, but in the meantime, I’ll revel in dreaming of all the things I could do to her, and all the things she doesn’t yet know she wants me to do to her. I’d imagine they’re just about the same thing.

  She lies along the far couch, with her body stretched across the entirety of the white fabric. It’s quiet. We’re quiet, and on my condensed schedule, I must move to speed up our engagement.

  “Do you want to play a game?” I inquire, with my arm slung around the back of the opposite couch.

  “Again, I’m not a child.”

  I purse my lips. “It’s more of a grown up game.”

  “As long as the remainder of my clothes can stay on, I’ll play along.” She spins her feet off the edge of the couch and faces me.

  “Never have I ever is the name of the game.” I aim to study the look on her face at my suggestion, but it’s not what I expected.

  “I know how to play.”

  “You keep on surprising me like that and I might stop breathing.”

  “I also know CPR.”

  “Are you trying to turn me on?” I drop my hand to my crotch, because I won’t let her catch me with an erection again. I knew I should have jerked off before our date, because as it stands, I’m almost too horny to function—on the verge of an untamable explosion.

  “Five fingers.” She throws up her right hand. “Come on boy, let’s play.”

  “There’s going to be a twist, because I like to play games that have real consequences whether you win or lose.” I stand from the couch, and my shorts drip a trail of lake water across the floor as I make my way to take a seat beside her. “If I’m able to knock you out of the game first, you have to kiss me.”

  “And if I win?”

  “You’re free to do whatever you please.” I’d almost prefer is she won, so I could test her.

  “Does that include tying a brick to your foot and throwing you overboard?”

  “If that’s what you want to do, though I’d prefer something a little less life-ending.”

  “It’s okay. I’m a certified lifeguard.” She’s a Jill-of-all-trades, with a never-ending resume of this and that.

  “Never have I ever worked at a law firm,” I spit out first, in hopes of controlling the game. If I go first, I’ll be able to decide who wins and who loses.

  “Sly man.” She shakes her head, purses her lips and drops a finger. Now she has four, and I’m already winning. “Never have I ever been with a girl.”

  I obviously drop a finger, and now we’re tied. “Never have I ever been with a boy.”

  “Come on, be original.” She drops a finger, leaving three left in the game. “Never have I ever stolen something from a store.”

  I drop a finger, because I spent a great deal of my teen years shoplifting. My parents had all the money in the world, so my thievery was relegated to nothing more than the thrill of being caught. She slaps me lightly on the knee, feigning shock. She knew there was a good chance I’ve stolen something, otherwise she wouldn’t have said it. She wouldn’t have wasted her turn. She wouldn’t have risked losing.

  “Never have I ever lived in NODA.”

  “Are we playing personal?”

  “As personal as you want to play.”

  “Never have I ever lived in a high-rise.”

  “Never have I ever been valedictorian.”

  “Close, but no cigar,” she says, still holding up her last two fingers.

  “Are you fucking serious?” My eyes bulge, because it slipped out. “Sorry about my mouth.”

  “Never have I ever said the word, pussy,” she continues without breaking stride. She’s here to play, but that one’s not going to fly.

  “You kind of just did,” I point out with a knowing shrug.

  “Touché. Guess that means I’ll be dropping another finger.” She lowers her second finger, and now we’re both down to one. Soon, a winner—and a loser—will be crowned. She’ll have completed the first course in her education. “How does it feel to know I’m one bad deed away from kissing you?”

  “You can’t begin to imagine.” I lean into her, so my head cowers only inches from her. “Never have I ever been bit by a snake.”

  “What the hell is that? Don’t you want to win?”

  “Have you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “What can I say, sometimes I like to lose.” I slap a cheap grin across my face. “I really want to see what you’ll choose to do if you win.”

  “I already told you. I’d drown you, remember?” If I didn’t know better, I’d think she’s being serious. Her wide smile reeks of the seventh level of crazy.

  “Are you crazy? I kind of like crazy.”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” She pulls her finger to her mouth in thought. “Never have I ever done heroin.”

  “Do you think that lowly of me?”

  “I think you’re a wild card who’s unpredictable.”

  “I’m starting to think you want to lose.” I bite into my lip and focus my eyes on her. “I’m starting to think you want to kiss me.”

  “Find out.”

  “Never have I ever ridden a horse,” I say quickly, because she looks like the type who’s never been to the country.

  “Never have I ever been to Mexico.”

  “Never have I ever jumped from a plane.”

  “Never have I ever lived in a trailer,” she says, and I instantly think of Apple who grew up in a trailer park. Now’s not the time to think about her though, so I shake her from my mind.

  “Never have I ever gave someone a blowjob,” I say in the same quick succession of the previous rounds, but my mouth drops open when Tyra drops her last finger. “Shut the fuck up,” I say dryly, not believing it to be true for one damn second.

  “Now where do you want to kiss me?” she asks in the most taunting and teasing of tones.

  I swallow a dry and nervous, but also excited, lump in my throat. “Are there other options than the lips?”

  “Do you want to kiss me here?” She runs her finger over the smooth outline of her bottom lip. “Do you want to kiss me here?” She drags her finger to the center of her breasts. ”Here?” She runs a circle around her toned stomach, and then finally traces her hand down south, toward her pussy. “Do you want to kiss me there?”

  It’s a trap, and I don’t fucking care. I want to taste—

  I lean over her and plant a kiss against her luscious lips, and it’s the worst kind of accident. I had chosen her other set of lips, because she had given me permission. Somehow, my lips ended up here, and like a pair of strong magnets, I’m not strong enough to pull away.

  When I retreat to gasp for air, she pushes herself close to me and reignites our fiery kiss. Her hand drapes around my neck as she falls onto her back and I glide down on top of her. My hands should be cupping at her covered breasts, but I’m too lost in her touch.

  My wiring has been fried and I’m terrified, but I continue swirling into the unknown. When she pulls away t
o catch her breath, she assures me, “you made the right choice.”

  Was she testing me? If so, then it’s a good thing something else took over my body and made the decision for me. “It surprised me almost as much as it surprised you.”

  “I told you, you’re not as bad as you think you are, Valmont.”

  “You don’t know me,” I warn her between dry, husky breaths.

  “I’m learning.” She nods and smiles, then she’s kissing me again and I feel nothing but a peculiar thump in my chest.

  17

  Brick

  One fucking kiss has the power to screw me up. That’s the story I’ll go with anyway. Eight hours removed from the events on the boat when I momentarily lost control, I can now see with clarity. My choices were predestined for me. I’m too good at this game to allow my desires to encroach upon the territory of my inevitable triumph.

  When my primal, insatiable urges went for the kill, my mind vetoed the decision and did what had to be done. That’s why I kissed her on the lips, because I was too lost in the moment to see it clearly, to see she was playing a game.

  I was distracted, and I’ll never let it happen again.

  Now, I must embark on an epilogue to the passionate kiss from earlier today. I must fully commit to what comes next, and the only way I know how is to be blacked out drunk once she arrives.

  It was too easy to lure her to my apartment. With just a quick phone call, pleading for her to come rescue me, she agreed and was prepared to leap into action.

  * * *

  My eyes flash open, but they burn as they do so. I’m disoriented, and everything is a blur. A thin hallway of light caresses my skin as the front door is pulled open and then pushed ceremoniously shut.

  The floor tilts as she makes her way to me, and it’s only when she’s up close and I can see her defining features—such as her petite jawline, and piercing eyes—that I realize she finally came.

  She pries an empty bottle of whiskey from my hands. “I thought you weren’t an alcoholic,” she grumbles.

  “It’s hard to keep my stories straight sometimes. Too many lies to keep track of.” I clench my eyes shut, trying to clear the debris blocking my vision, but there is no debris. I’m just too drunk from drinking far more than I had intended. I got bored, and tired of waiting until I believed I had been stood up. “What took you so long?”

  “I was on the phone with a client. They can be quite the needy bunch.”

  I shuffle my body against the couch, trying to sober up enough to play the game I called her here to play, but I’m next to useless. I notice her set the empty bottle on the coffee table. “I finished the bottle.”

  “Yeah, you look like crap.”

  “Thanks.” I chuckle, and catch my eyelids rolling back over my eyes.

  “You’re welcome,” I hear her say as I feel a familiar feeling—my pants being pulled down the length of my legs, exposing myself to the cool draft of an open window. Is this what it feels like to be taken advantage of? “Don’t get excited,” she purrs.

  “What are you doing?”

  “There’s vomit all over your jeans.”

  “Yuck.”

  Then I feel her warm hands against my hot back as she shifts me into a sitting position. She raises my arm to pull my shirt over my head, but my head falls back against the couch. It’s a struggle, but she finally manages to tug the shirt away from my body. “I meant to ask about these tattoos earlier. What do they mean?” She runs her finger along my arm—the one with a half-sleeve of a convoluted web of bullshit.

  “These?” It hurts as I crane my head to check my own tattoos out. I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  “That’s not true though, is it?” She steadies me against the couch until I’m able to sit on my own, then stands and heads to the kitchen. “You don’t spend that much money on art that intricate without having a purpose.”

  “Nobody else knows.”

  “Can I be the first?” she asks as she takes a seat next to me and hands me a full glass of lukewarm water.

  “Why you want to know?” I turn to her and spill water onto her lap.

  She grabs the cup from me and raises it to my lip. I’m not used to being taken cared of this way, and if I weren’t drunk, I’d smack the cup away from her. “Because I want to know everything about you.”

  “I lost my virginity when I was fourteen,” I point out, because hey, that’s a fun fact.

  “I don’t need to know that.”

  “You said everything.”

  “The tattoos,” she reiterates. “What do they mean?”

  I drop my head onto her lap. “The lion is strong.” I smile and close my eyes. “Roar.” I laugh, and it doesn’t come out with the same manic punch as it normally does. It comes out reserved, and almost childlike. “The scarecrow is smart, and that guy made of tin, well fuck him, right?”

  “The Wizard of Oz,” she says softly. “I didn’t see any of that until you pointed it out.”

  “It’s supposed to be hidden.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t want the story to be ruined.”

  “Everyone knows the lion, the scarecrow, and the tin man find what they’re looking for.”

  “Do they?” I shift my head so I’m looking up to her as I crack my eyes open. “Does everyone know?”

  “What’s this?” She points to my arm, but I can’t see what part of my tattoo she’s referring to, so I sit up and take a look.

  “Dorothy.”

  “And she’s trapped in a spider web?”

  I nod.

  “Why?”

  I purse my lips and shrug. I’m content to draw the line there and say no more, but my mouth betrays me. “Because sometimes stories don’t have a happy ending, and I always wondered, what happens if she never found her way home?”

  “What happens?”

  I shrug again, as if I don’t know the answer, but I do. There are a million different alternate endings possible, but in my world, “she’s lost forever, trapped in a web of her mistakes.”

  “You’re Dorothy,” she whispers. “You can’t find your way home.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I bark at her and drop my head back onto her lap.

  “Tell me one more thing.” She caresses her fingers through my short hair. “Where is home?”

  “Over the rainbow, dumbass,” I slur my words, bringing an unexpected chuckle from her. “It’s a metaphor. The rainbow is a symbol of happiness.”

  “It’s out there, I promise.”

  * * *

  I’m blinded by the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my apartment. Next comes the earthquake in my head. I extend my arm to stretch and knock a glass from the table onto the floor. It shatters, and someone’s legs shift under my head.

  Tyra.

  I jump from the couch, standing in nothing but my underwear. She yawns as her eyes peel open. “How are you feeling this morning?” she asks, and the honest answer is that I want to puke, and not because I’m hungover.

  “I was drunk,” I say quickly, trying to excuse my behavior.

  “You were being honest for the first time in your life.”

  “No.” I throw my hand up to her. “Stop acting like you know me.”

  She shakes her head, and her lips form a confused pout. “I know you enough to know you—“

  “You know nothing.”

  “You’re wrong.” She arches her back to stretch before standing up. “I think I’m starting to have feelings for you.” She stops herself and sinks her teeth into her lip, like she can’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. If I were her, I wouldn’t believe them either. “They’re coming quick and strong, and it’s terrifying me.”

  “You don’t feel anything real for me.” I force my palm into an agitated fist. “You’re attracted to me because of who I am.”

  “And who is that?”

  “An untamed, and unobtainable bad boy.” Out of
the corner of my eye, I catch the woven tapestry of my own tattoo, and the memories come flooding back to me, about how I opened up to her about the story behind them. “You’re just like all the other girls.” I swipe my shirt off the floor and rip it over my head in an effort to obscure my ink. “You use, and you use, and you use.”

  “Are you that asinine to not realize everything you just said actually applies to you?” Her voice rises to a frustrated degree, and she combs her fingers through her short blonde bob. “That’s who think you are, but I know better.”

  “I’m not good,” I warn her with a low, haunting growl. “I’ve done things.”

  “Everyone has their own shit. Everyone has done things.” The loudness of her voice sends shockwaves through my thumping head.

  “It’s not the same.”

  “I’m not going to stand here and compare what I’ve done to what you’ve done.” She swipes her purse off the table. “What’s the point?”

  “I can’t be here right now.”

  “This is your apartment. I’ll go.” She hangs the purse from her shoulder and marches toward the door, but before she leaves, she turns to me one last time. “I’m not letting you of the hook this easy. You say you’re not a good person, but I’m not willing to give up on you.”

  “It’s a losing battle.”

  “I’ve fought my share of wars.”

  “Not like this.”

  She nods reflectively before pulling the door shut behind her. When she’s gone, I wipe the back of my palms over my face and let out a loud, frustrated sigh. The anger and rage builds from within me. I reach down to grab the empty bottle of liquor and throw it against the cabinets of the kitchen.

  It shatters everywhere, and the expected relief never comes. I need to figure out a way to correct course, and I need to do it fast.

  18

  Apple

  There’s an uneasy wall of tension between Tyra and I. The last time I had encountered her—the only other time—I convinced her to flee Brick’s apartment with a dire warning she needed to get as far away from him as possible. She listened to me then, but now she’s been dragged back into Brick’s trap.