Hot Laps

by Shey Stahl

  “Have you … and him?” his eyes gestured toward the door with a slight apprehensive nod.

  “Adam?”

  His answer was flat and immediate. “Yeah,” he looked at me with a strange expression.

  I gagged, such an awful thought to imagine. “God no, I’m certain he has chlamydia or herpes.”

  “Oh well, that’s good. You don’t want the clap. I heard it’s hard to get rid of.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I laughed. “Would you?”

  “Nope, I’m clean.”

  “I just gotta say,” Casten looked at me as I spoke, and then took a seat on the end of my bed. It was all I could do not to push him back and climb on top of him. “That party was some next level shit as far as parties go. I’ve never been to something like that.” I bowed to him. “Nicely done.”

  He shifted on the bed leaning back on his elbows. “Thanks, but I got a lot of explaining and cleaning to do.”

  Blinking, I had this flash of me in a maid uniform helping him clean.

  “I’ll help you if you want.”

  “Okay, but food first. I’m starving.”

  With that cleared up, we went to breakfast at the local diner down the street from my apartment. I hadn’t been there sober in at least a month and I hoped like hell no one pointed this out while I was there.

  Here’s the thing. I have no direction in life, never really have, I drink so much I’m sure I have failed my liver, and I’ve probably slept with most of the guys in my graduating class (not real proud of that last one). My uncle Tate once told me I was like a kid making hot laps. Never really doing anything, just out there breaking the track in. I don’t have a clue what that meant, but everyone seemed to agree with him.

  Casten, well, he was throwing me off a little and made me nervous. Mostly because we were, in a weird way, developing a friendship. I’d never had that aside from Charlie.

  And I was never into him.

  But now, here was this insanely attractive guy who can roll with my punches and hasn’t tried to get between my legs the first night we met. That’s a good deal right there, right?

  Surely by the end of the week I’d fuck it up so I really didn’t want someone at this diner, or anywhere else, assisting me. I could fuck my own life up.

  As you could imagine, I was a little nervous about what to expect this morning and also, I had never actually had a meal with another guy that didn’t involve the Burger King drive-thru at three AM.

  Casten led the way, pulling his hood off his head and greeted Leslie, the waitress I told to fuck off last Thursday for trying to tell me I couldn’t have chocolate syrup on my pancakes.

  Leslie glared my direction but I gave her that look that screamed, “I know you hate me, but please, for the love of holy peacocks, don’t lead on I’m a horrible person in front of this male god. Deal?”

  Leslie kept our silent deal and left us alone as we sat in the back corner away from everyone else.

  “I’d like to finish my question. How about a game of five?” Reaching for my steamy creamy mocha, I looked up at him. Right about then when my eye lashes stuck together, I realized I hadn’t showered and more than likely had mascara smeared all over.

  “Why five?” Casten looked over at me taking a drink of his hot chocolate.

  “I’m distracted easily, remember?”

  Our food arrived just then, and we both started eating immediately.

  “Ah, yes, I do.” he tipped his head my direction taking a bite of his French toast and chewing slowly. “You go first.”

  “Alright then. When did you lose your virginity?”

  “Fourteen.” He didn’t seem at all phased by answering such a personal question.

  “Where?”

  “The backseat of the girl’s car in the pits of Knoxville.”

  “Was she your girlfriend?”

  “No, she was a friend.”

  “How did you become an engine builder and not race like your dad and brother?”

  “I used to race but I kind of lost the drive. But I’ve always wanted to be a part of racing so I graduated at sixteen and traveled for a little while with the guys. When the off-season came that winter I got really into the engine work and it sorta became my thing.”

  “Do you enjoy it?” I asked taking a bite of my pancakes.

  “I do,” he nodded. “Very much so. I still love traveling with the boys but I love building engines, too.”

  “One more. Is Axel your only brother? Any other smirking hotties I should know about?”

  “Just me and Axel, but I have a sister too, Arie,” he laughed setting his hot chocolate down. “My turn. When did you lose your virginity?”

  “I think I was like fifteen, yeah,” I nodded with my statement, “fifteen.”

  “Where at?”

  “My bedroom. My older sister threw a party. I got drunk and dragged one of her friends upstairs with me.”

  “Did you know him?” his face was relaxed enough that I felt comfortable telling him my slutty ways.

  “No and I never saw him again. I think his name was Grady.”

  Casten’s face went pale and then he blinked in disbelief. “Grady Andrews?”

  “Hell if I know. He was a lot older than me, I know that much.” Then I remembered. “Actually, no, his name was Grady Gustafson. I remember thinking to myself how dumb that name sounded.”

  Casten sighed, letting out a breath he’d been holding. I thought the reaction was a little strange but then he seemed fine, so I didn’t ask.

  “Is it just you and your sister then?” his hands wrapped around his cup, leaning forward to lean against the table.

  “Yeah. Hailey doesn’t live with us anymore though. She lives in New York and we don’t hear from her very often. My dad is a cop and then my mom, uh, she’s a stay-at-home-pain-in-the-ass.”

  He kind of chuckled before asking. “So you and your friend who kidnapped my cousin, how long have you two been friends?”

  “Our entire lives. We grew up right next door to each other. She’s my wingman.”

  “Sounds like it,” he laughed. “Cole’s pretty taken by her. Never seen him so interested in a girl before,”

  “Really?”

  “He gets girls, I’m sure,” he nodded taking another drink of his hot chocolate, “but he’s kind of a pussy. Can’t keep ‘em around long.”

  “Well, I’ll let Anna know not to expect much.”

  Just as I was thinking the morning was going well. My first social gathering where I didn’t get shit faced and go dick diving, a boy I dick dived with in the past showed up. I wouldn’t exactly say I was proud of this particular springboard pike either.

  I froze when the jerk decided to come over to our table. All my movements and thinking halted half-way through and Casten noticed. Drool even came out because I forgot to close my mouth. I think my heart even stopped from the awkwardness alone.

  “Hey, Hayden,” Zack said with a lewd edge. It was a “Hey, Hayden, I know what you vagina looks like” type of hey.

  Those are the worst.

  Casten looked up from his hot chocolate at Zack, his brow furrowed for the slightest moment before he smoothed out his expression, appearing calm. He didn’t exactly seem like a jealous type of guy.

  “Hey … Zack,” I replied when my heart started again.

  By the grace of Tinkerbell and her fairy dust, Zack’s date, I assumed, called out to him. “Hey, Zack, we’re ready.” I noticed a group of people he had come in with were waiting by the door.

  “Well, nice seeing again,” he said walking away without another word.

  Casten quirked his mouth and smiled. “He was … attractive,” he said, sarcastically.

  “Mmm … yes, GQ cover model I’m sure.”

  Zack was hardly attractive. He looked like a five-foot-three male version of Pollyanna. He was, to date, the only guy I’ve ever slept with who was shorter than me. And me, being five-foot-seven, that’s not saying too much.


  I tried at that point to stop myself and not say something entirely stupid but ninety percent of everything I said fell into that category. So I replied with. “I was drunk?” In the form of a question.

  As most knew, I was always drunk. That wasn’t really an excuse.

  Just when I was sure I could hear my own breath, Casten smirked.

  “It’s okay …” he shifted forward to rest against the table. I could tell he was trying to make me feel better after seeing what this Zack guy resembled. “My buddy, Tommy, once fucked this girl who was a female body builder. He used to tell us that fucking her was like fucking Vin Diesel with a twat.”

  I had no choice at this point but to laugh until I nearly pissed myself, but he continued between his own laughs. “He said he was so disgusted because he only lasted like fifteen seconds and then she proceeded to bench press him. Talk about emasculating a man.”

  At that point, what with my insane giggling, I actually peed myself.

  I’m not kidding. I peed myself right there in the restaurant.

  “I think we should probably get going.” I said, crossing my legs.

  I think he knew but the ass was going to make me say it. “Why’s that, pretty girl?”

  “I’m tired.” I lied.

  He squinted. “You don’t look tired.”

  “I am.” I yawned for effect.

  I didn’t get far with my lies when he just sat there. Sighing, I had to tell him or how else would I explain my wet pants?

  “Alright, I peed my pants. But I blame you. Now let’s go.”

  Casten shook his head, amused. “Was that so hard to admit?”

  I smacked him in the head with my purse as I got up from the table.

  So again, no sex for me on account of me needing to change my underwear and then not feeling so sexy what with peeing my pants and all.

  It was a cold, humiliating walk back to my apartment before we stopped at the door.

  Casten laughed. “Hey,” he offered with an amused smile after kissing my cheek. “It happens to the best of us.”

  I simply yelled a “fuck you” over my shoulder as I ran inside my apartment completely embarrassed.

  On Sunday afternoon, Anna and I went out for ice cream so I could get away from Adam before I junk punched him or tied his dick to the doorknob. One of the two was reasonable.

  The butthole was on my last nerve and it wasn’t looking good for his dick or him. Adam worked at the local car wash. That right there should tell you all about the cocks in his henhouse. Anyways, he has Sundays off and the night usually ended with me getting drunk to the point I couldn’t understand anything he said. If I could, he would have probably been a cooked cock in his own henhouse.

  “Casten and Cole are some cool motherfuckers,” Anna said with a mouth full of chocolate swirl. “Are their brothers that cool?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I haven’t actually met Axel yet but Cole’s brother, Lane, he’s hot.”

  “Where was he last night?”

  “He travels with the sprint car teams. And he’s married.”

  She snorted mordantly. I don’t doubt that,” and then gave me an inquiring squint. “You know, I still have a mark on my ass from Jacob. What was that, eight months ago?” she said, referring to the hockey players.

  “Jacob? You fucked Jacob too?” I took a big lick from my Mississippi Mud wondering how well Casten’s tongue could work and then contemplating texting him about that said task to see if he’d reply.

  “Well shit,” Anna pulled her cone away from her face looking at me with concern. “I thought he said his name was Jacob.”

  “No, I was with Jacob. I remember that much. I wore his jersey for like a week.”

  “No wonder he never said anything when I called him Jacob.” Anna giggled. “Poor little shit was probably offended.”

  “Hmmm … I’d say that had something to do with it. What was the red mark from?” I asked remembering my own red mark on my left ass cheek that I still had.

  “He could do one hell of a slap shot.” Anna waggled her eyebrows before taking another dramatic bite from her cone as if she was attacking it. “I wasn’t sure if that was his dick, his hockey stick or his hand.”

  Ah, the memories.

  I’m not sure what was wrong with Anna and me but we acted as though sex was some kind of monopoly game and we were looking to dominate the market by a single entity.

  “You know, I thought that red mark was a tattoo or something. Damn, that boy was rough.”

  Anna laughed. “You’re not kidding. But now I wonder who I was with if it wasn’t Jacob?” She laughed, her eyes got wide. “I saw Jacob a couple weeks back when I was buying the morning after pill. I thought it was strange he looked at me funny when I slapped his ass as I walked by.”

  “He was probably hoping you’d take him home.”

  “Probably … how was Casten last night?” she asked nonchalantly.

  Anna and I have always told each other everything. Didn’t matter what it was.

  I frowned. “I wouldn’t know. I woke up alone and then when I called him we went to breakfast but that was it. Oh, and I pissed my pants laughing at him.”

  She completely dismissed my pissing and focused on her only train of usual thought, sex. “You didn’t fuck him?”

  “Nope. I kissed him but no fucking went down.” A smile tugged at my lips thinking of him telling me about Tommy. I had to squeeze my legs together. “He seems like he really wants to, at least I thought that the other night. But something is stopping him. It’s certainly not me. I don’t think I could make it much more obvious.”

  “He must really like you then,” she sighed a little confused. “That doesn’t say much for me and his cousin, does it?”

  “You never know. Stranger things have happened.”

  “Yeah, like the girl getting hit by a car after she shaved your head in the third grade.”

  “I still maintain that was an accident.”

  Anna smiled. “I’m sure.”

  Later that night I got ready for work, laid out my clothes that is. I couldn’t focus enough in the morning to be able to pick out matching clothes. Funny thing was, I was never sober enough the night before to match anything either. I frequently left the house with two different shoes on.

  But times were changing. I couldn’t be drunk at work and that had me drinking a little less these days. Regardless, I kept with my routine.

  I also never folded anything so I usually ended up hanging it in the bathroom when I took my one hundred degree shower for an hour to ensure Adam had no hot water. If I didn’t succeed while doing that, I waited until he was in the shower and flushed the toilet multiple times until he got to the point that he screamed like Jamie Lee Curtis.

  On Monday when I arrived at work, I snuck downstairs immediately before Charlie arrived to see if, in fact, Casten did show up as early as the girls said he did. Sure enough, he was there working diligently over an engine while tossing tools around.

  I didn’t have time to go down there so I snuck quietly back upstairs to help Olivia with inventory. I went back downstairs to catch another glimpse around lunch time.

  He saw me this time and made a clicking sound with his tongue.

  “Don’t come down here and leave again. You shouldn’t tease me like that,” he said softly giving me that same smile he did when he saw my boobs.

  My eyes focused on his hair that looked like a rat hibernated in it. “Did you brush your hair this morning, my goodness?”

  He smirked with a tiny shrug of his broad shoulders I was imagining my legs wrapped around. “I had a good night.”

  Please don’t say you were having sex with someone. Don’t kill my dreams buddy.

  “Oh, yeah, I bet you did there, stud.” I moved forward. My left breast bumped his arm. “Pleasant dreams?”

  “Very pleasant dreams,” he replied with a smile, his attention still focused on the engine. His hands worked quickly bolting on parts to the large engi
ne on the hoist.

  “Do you have plans tonight? Anna and I were thinking of going out? Or we could come over and help you clean.”

  He grunted tightening another bolt, the sound had me wondering what sounds he made during sex. Yeah, my brain always went there.

  “I’m gonna be stuck here late tonight.” He walked over to his toolbox retrieving an air-socket and two more wrenches. “We could just you know … hang out at my house. You don’t have to help clean. Most of the shit was my idea so I’ll take care of it.” Casten winked at me just as his hand slipped from the bolt. “Goddamn it!” he shouted as his knuckles slammed against the headers, taking the skin off. “Fuck!” he tossed the wrench across the shop.

  And though this wasn’t funny, I giggled when he stood there eyes tense, puce face, huffing and puffing over this engine.

  Before long, a small smile tugged at his lips. He stood there with one hand loosely hanging on his hip, the other scratching his mess of hair.

  “This isn’t a one drink night, buddy.” I jested. “We should go to a bar I know. This is a show up at a party, drink a fifth of whatever and see what the fuck happens on mystery Monday. I’m expecting to smack a bitch tonight.”

  “In that case, I’ll wear my running clothes and meet you there. Where exactly?”

  “There’s a place in Cornelius where they never check IDs. I’ll text you the directions.”

  He smiled, then put his head back down to work.

  The rest of the day went good. When six o’clock rolled around, I grabbed some food before heading to the bar.

  Casten had said he’d text me when he was heading over there so I thought I had plenty of time.

  Sometimes, when I’m bored, I send text messages that I wished I hadn’t. While I waited for my food, I sent Casten a text that said: If you don’t fuck me soon, I just may have to pay you to do it. What’s your going rate?

  I wanted to hit recall as soon as I did it but then quickly realized that iPhones do not have that feature. Stupid piece of shit.