by Heather Lin
“Help me dump the bags,” she said, ripping open a bag of ice and dumping it into the bed.
“What are we doing?” he asked.
“Turning my truck into a cooler.” She stood on the bumper to reach the next bag. “It’s easier this way. No one has to bring anything besides the drinks and the ice just melts away.”
“Hey, ‘Roe.” A curly-haired girl around Monroe’s age stepped up on the tire next to her to help.
“Hi, Shannon.”
Shannon glanced at Alton. Surprise registered in her expression. Alton grimaced, probably bracing himself for questions, autograph requests, and/or photo ops. Maybe he was worried Shannon would make an announcement to the rest of the group.
But instead she turned to Monroe and said in a low voice, “I thought you were coming with Rodney.”
“I was.” Monroe shrugged. “He’s still coming, I think. I hope. He has the Applewild truck.”
They laughed. Alton seemed to relax. Soon all the ice was in the bed. Shannon beckoned to her fiancé who was loading wood into the fire pit, and he brought over a case of Budweiser.
“Hey, ‘Roe. Who’s this?”
Monroe glanced at Alton. She knew full well Shannon was only pretending to overlook his familiar face. Did the rest of them have the sense to do the same? Alton shrugged, giving her the go ahead to introduce him.
“This is Alton,” she said. “Alton, this is Mark. He and Shannon have been together since high school.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” Shannon joked.
“Alton,” Mark muttered, examining the actor’s face closely, as if he were trying to place him. Then he turned to Monroe. “I thought you were coming with Rodney.”
“Jesus Christ.” Monroe rolled her eyes and grabbed Alton’s hand.
She led him to the center of the circle.
“Everyone!” Monroe said to the people gathered so far. “This is Alton. He’s here to relax. So let him. And, yes, Rodney’s still coming.”
A few of the guys gave her a thumbs up. The ones who had started drinking raised their bottles. Two chatting girls waved from a tailgate. Then they all went back to minding their own business, just as Monroe had assumed they would.
“So what now?” Alton asked.
Monroe shrugged. “Talk to people. Wait for the beer to get cold.”
“Why wait?” Alton turned and headed for the back of the truck.
Monroe watched him go. He seemed to get caught up in a conversation with Mark and Shannon, albeit reluctantly. A new arrival pulled her attention away from her impromptu date. A Dodge Ram 3500 with oversized tires backed into the circle. Wayne was here, which meant the music was here. She knew he’d have a mix of hip hop and upbeat country music to blast through his ridiculously loud subwoofer. And she knew about four drinks in she’d be dancing like crazy in the bed of his truck.
She glanced at Alton. The two girls who had been lounging and gossiping had come over to join the conversation. They were giggling and flirting, and they must have played it cool because he seemed surprisingly receptive. A stab of disappointment hit Monroe. She’d feel really stupid if she ditched Rodney just to be ditched by Alton.
She’d waited long enough for that beer. She hopped on the tire farthest from Alton, hoping he might just not see her, but he caught her eye. She pretended not to notice and grabbed a Yuengling before walking to Wayne’s truck.
She approached the open passenger side door. He was in the driver’s seat, a trucker cap shielding his unshaven face from view as he fiddled with an MP3 player.
“Hey, Wayne.”
He looked up and smiled around a wad of tobacco. “Hey, ‘Roe. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
“Why, thank you.” She pretended to blush. “Where’s the lady friend?”
“She’s already run off on me. Gabbin’ with Hayley or somethin’.” He gestured to a corner of the clearing where the fire light barely reached, and Monroe could just make out two figures in the midst of a conversation. “That girl’s got some kinda drama goin’ on. As usual. And as usual, I don’t want to know about it.”
“Did she and Brett break up? For the fiftieth time?”
“Probably.” He shrugged and pressed a button on his souped-up faceplate. A few seconds of music blasted from the speakers. Monroe covered both ears, the gloves saving her from the brunt of the noise. “Sorry. Checkin’ the levels.”
“The levels are loud,” Monroe informed him.
He gave a deep chuckle and pulled four bottles out from under his seat. “This might help. Honey wine.”
“You are my hero. I’m keeping this bottle for myself.”
“Do what you need to do. Secret’s safe with me.” He winked.
Monroe packed three bottles in the ice in the back of her truck, forcing herself to keep from scoping out Alton’s current location.
But he found her. She felt his approach before he spoke. She already knew exactly what his presence felt like.
“What do you have there?”
“Honey wine. Wayne makes it in his basement.”
“Can I have a glass?”
“We don’t have glasses.”
Alton’s brow furrowed. They were on one side of the vehicle, near some bushes beginning to encroach on the clearing. The firelight didn’t reach them. Shannon, Mark, and some new arrivals were chatting on the other side, drinking beer, paying no attention to the rising heat just a few feet away. And the heat was definitely rising. Alton and Monroe were close, secluded, and they’d given up hiding the attraction between them.
Monroe set her beer down, popped the cork on the wine, and took a long sip. She handed it to Alton. He watched her lips, still moist and sweet, and drank.
“That’s some good stuff,” he said, handing the bottle back, those deep brown eyes holding her gaze.
There were reasons this shouldn’t happen. But for the life of her, Monroe couldn’t remember one. He was going to kiss her, and she was going to kiss him back. She bit her lip and absently flexed her right hand.
“So what’s up with the gloves?” he asked.
The question caught Monroe off guard. She hadn’t expected the action to deviate from sensual. The moment was dead, any physical urges replaced by a mental scramble to field the inquiry. She didn’t talk about her scars with just anyone. Her foster parents, the child psychiatrist, a few select friends. It was easy enough to find out the answers just by looking through local newspapers from ten years ago, but she didn’t talk about it.
Alton seemed to realize he’d overstepped a boundary. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s just a fashion statement.” She shrugged, finally finding her voice.
“Yeah.” He didn’t seem convinced, but he dropped the subject.
The music started—a loud, bass-thumping blast from Wayne’s truck. It broke the silence and eye contact between them.
“Well.” Monroe grabbed her beer and smiled politely. “Guess you should get back to making new friends.”
She headed for the chairs by the fire and raised her beer in Rodney’s direction as he hopped down from the Applewild truck. She finished the beverage in a few gulps so she could move back to the wine, but Shannon plopped down next to her and snatched the bottle before she could take a sip. She took a swig and was handing it back to Monroe when Mark grabbed it. Then it went to Rodney and one of the girls that had been flirting with Alton. By the time it finally got back to Monroe, it was almost gone. She downed the rest. She could already feel a buzz setting in. Wayne made his stuff strong.
Another bottle appeared and she snagged the second swig. She made it count, and the wine almost shot through her nose as she dodged Shannon’s swipe for it.
“Give that here! It’s totally my turn!”
Monroe took another gulp and finally handed it over. “You stole mine!”
“It’s ours, Monroe. Wayne brings it for everyone.” Shannon took a drink and rolled her eyes. “So, Rodney,” Shannon began. Monroe could only assume sh
e’d pre-gamed before the bonfire. She had a beer in her other hand and it sloshed dangerously in the bottle. “Are you very heartbroken over our little ‘Roe here?”
“Shannon, seriously?” Monroe covered one side of her face, the side toward Rodney, so she couldn’t see him and he couldn’t see her embarrassment.
“Nah, not at all. Got some free booze out of it. Plus those lovely ladies over there seem to be feelin’ pretty sorry for me. And I hot boxed the truck. With my fart.”
“Ew!” Monroe and Shannon said in unison. Mark and Rodney high-fived.
“I’m not driving it home, anyway,” Monroe pointed out.
“I know. But you’ll know it happened.”
“Ew,” Monroe and Shannon said again.
“So where’s your second date of the evening?” Rodney asked as he took his drink of wine.
Monroe grabbed the bottle. “Look around, you might find him.”
“I could make myself available again.”
“I’ll let you know.”
She took a sip, then felt someone else take the bottle from her as Shannon grabbed her hand. “Come on! Let’s get some beer and shake our asses!”
“I don’t really have an ass to shake,” Monroe said, allowing herself to be dragged to her truck.
“Yes you do!” Shannon smacked her butt, making Monroe jump.
“Jesus, Shannon, maybe you don’t need another one.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I do.”
She grinned and handed a bottle to Monroe. They twisted the caps, looped arms, and drank. Then Shannon pulled her to Wayne’s truck. He was dancing with his girlfriend by the open driver’s side door, hands in her back pockets, pressing her firmly against him. Shannon jumped in the bed and helped Monroe up.
A country song about exotic beaches and beautiful women blasted from the speakers. The catchy guitar riff and alcohol coaxed Monroe’s hips into moving. Shannon threw her bottle cap at Wayne’s head and mocked his dancing, pretending to grind on Monroe’s ass. Monroe made a kissy face. He grinned and flipped them off.
Mark came over and handed them each a hotdog he’d roasted over the fire. “You guys better sop up some of that alcohol or your brains’ll do it for you.”
“Too late!” Shannon screamed over the music, but they raised their bottles to him in thanks and ate while they moved.
Monroe and Shannon danced through three more songs. Wayne and his girlfriend headed for the woods sometime during the second, and before the fourth Mark approached the tailgate and held his hand out to Shannon. She gave Monroe a glazy-eyed, goodbye smile and let him lead her away, probably to the backseat of his car.
Monroe took a moment to survey the crowd. She was sweaty and out of breath, and her head spun from the alcohol. There were still plenty of people talking and laughing by the fire; a few were dancing and singing to the music. Rodney was gone. Probably in the woods, or…Oh, God, no. She could see a bare ass peeking over the tailgate of the Applewild truck. She averted her gaze and took another swig of beer. She tried to keep herself from looking for Alton, but she couldn’t help noticing he wasn’t there to look for.
Which probably meant he’d also found a partner for the evening.
Monroe sat on top of a wheel well in the truck bed and emptied her bottle. The evening had not gone as planned. She just hadn’t been interested in Rodney, next to Alton. She shouldn’t be interested in Alton, but she was. If she’d opened up to him, they might be somewhere together right now. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t with people she’d known for years, and because of that he’d apparently become more interested in somebody else.
“It looks like your night took a turn.” The only English-accented voice in a fifty mile radius spoke behind her.
“I’m having a fabulous time.” Monroe gave him a wry smile. “Where did you end up?”
“Taking a piss.”
“Really.”
Alton came around to sit on the tailgate, legs dangling off the edge. “Where did you think?”
Monroe didn’t answer. Music still blasted around them. They had to raise their voices to hear each other. Alton looked her way to make sure he hadn’t missed her answer, and she shrugged. His grin told her he already knew. He stood and held out his hand. She let him help her stand. He pulled her close, so their bodies were almost touching, and she raised her eyes to his.
“Did you think I’d gone off with someone else?” he asked.
“It’s not my business.”
“It could be.”
Monroe held his gaze. The MP3 player had been playing a sexy, upbeat song with a Latin vibe, but of course it changed to a melancholy tune about love and liquor just as the tension between Monroe and Alton grew heavy again. And this time he wouldn’t dig into her past. And this time she would have no reason to break the connection.
He surprised her by taking her hand in his again. He linked their fingers and held her hip, guiding her, dancing in a slow circle. He was so close she could smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath—and something else. He’d gotten his hands on whiskey somewhere along the line. She closed her eyes. Her and alcohol. That seemed to be his remedy for Sophie.
She didn’t mind as much as she should.
His hand moved upward, sliding beneath her long blond hair to rest on the nape of her neck. He massaged the spot gently, melting her tension, making her knees weak. He knew exactly what he was doing. The people around them faded away until they were the only ones in existence.
Alton leaned in and kissed her lips once, sweetly, then pulled back. She knowingly fell for the ruse and followed his mouth, standing on her tiptoes to drink in more of the sensual caresses until she couldn’t be sure who was kissing who, caught in a delicious game of give and take.
She pushed Alton’s jacket off his shoulders, and he removed her blazer. She ran her fingertips over his t-shirt, exploring the muscles of his chest and abdomen through the fabric, grasping his solid arms. The air between them was pure electric. Sensation assaulted Monroe’s body as it never had before, leaving her short of breath and aching for release. Alton groaned into her mouth as her hands caressed him, and his own palms slipped under her shirt, creeping up the smooth flesh of her back. Her hips were locked against his, and she could feel his erection straining against his jeans.
She didn’t resist as he lowered them both down into the bed, out of sight for the most part, although she remained vaguely aware of the fact she’d just turned her nose up at Rodney for doing just what they were about to do. Alton straddled her hips and moved his lips to her neck. The stubble on his cheeks grazed her flesh, adding more sensation and making her squirm with anticipation. She unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his thighs, along with the boxer briefs beneath. He left her for a moment to drag her shorts down and off her legs. She kicked off her boots and helped him slip off her hip-hugger panties.
Monroe hoped he wouldn’t strip her further. Her legs and arms were scar free. Her chest and abdomen weren’t. He’d ask for an explanation, and she’d balk again. He slid his hands up her calves to her thighs, leaning down to kiss her just above the vee of curls that shielded her womanhood from view. Then his hands reached for the hem of her shirt. She bit her lip and stopped his hand, hoping she could pull this maneuver off without killing the mood.
She pulled one hand to her mouth, bringing his body with it, and kissed the heel before taking his thumb in her mouth, tasting the salt of his skin, and purposely teasing him, trying his patience. His eyes darkened, his passion obvious. She guided his other hand south, placing his fingers on the sweet spot at the apex of her warm, moist folds. He groaned deep in his throat and gave in to her silent request, moving his fingertips in firm, calculated circles.
Monroe closed her eyes. She was ecstatic. He was too good at this. He knew just how to move at just the right pace. She squirmed beneath him, the air reaching her lungs in delightful gasps.
And this was just foreplay. She knew joining him completely would surpass any pleasu
re she’d ever known.
But she wouldn’t. Not tonight. She’d lose herself, and he’d see all of her. So she tugged the glove off her left hand and placed her right around the back of his neck. She pulled his lips to hers and reached down to grasp his thick erection. His warm, velvety member pulsed enticingly against her hand as she began pumping him, bringing the loose flesh of his foreskin up and over the head with each stroke. Her grip was firm but gentle. His gasp landed feather-light on her lips, giving her a rush, exciting her even more. A drop of moisture escaped the tip of his penis, and she used her thumb to disperse it, adding slick lubricant to her ministration.
“God, Monroe,” he groaned.
His eyes closed. He thrust eagerly into her hand but never lost his focus on her pleasure. His fingers moved faster and harder on her slippery clit.
Excitement rippled through her body, igniting a flame deep in her belly that threatened to explode. And, God, she wanted that explosion. She grasped his hair in her gloved hand and bucked her hips. His fingers slipped, but he replaced the pressure quickly with the heel of his hand, pressing down and continuing the circular motion that drove her crazy. Monroe’s muscles clenched once and she moaned an unintelligible warning of her impending climax.
He plunged a finger deep into her wet warmth, finding the right spot within her body as if he’d designed it. The orgasm was intense, shuddering through Monroe’s every nerve, and she quickened her hand on his shaft, urging him to come over the edge with her. He adjusted his position slightly so he could grab the nearest item of clothing—her underwear—and catch the stream of cum that jetted from his trembling body.
He tossed the sticky, used panties aside and collapsed next to her. He hiked up his pants, and she wriggled into her shorts, but they were both too spent to bother buttoning. She rested her head on his chest, still trying to catch her breath, thankful for the cool night air. Alton twirled a cigarette between his fingers but didn’t light it. They lay in silence for a long time, the vibration of Wayne’s subwoofer lulling their exhausted bodies into a doze.