by S. M. Shade
My next stop is a bookstore, and I’m happy to find they have the book I’ve been waiting for, but the sight of another new release solves my problem of what to get Owen for his birthday.
With all the stuff for my peaceful night sitting on the truck seat beside me, I head back to the motel.
It’s nice to have the room to myself for the first time since I let Owen stay with me. While the tub fills with water, I arrange the candles and light them. The harsh, white overhead light in the bathroom isn’t exactly conducive to relaxation so I opt to turn it out and leave the bathroom door open a crack. It lets in just enough light from our room for me to see my book.
Undressing, I notice a cigarette butt lying against the wall. Ew, how did that get in here? We don’t smoke. It must’ve ridden in stuck to one of our shoes. I toss it in the toilet, then close the lid. The bath bomb smells amazing when I unwrap it, like cherries, and it turns the water a deep red as it dissolves. With one of my favorite playlists playing on my phone, I climb into the hot water.
This is perfect.
Only a few chapters into my book, I set it aside, warm the water up to just this side of scalding again, and lie back. Perspective, that’s what I need, and this time alone is helping me sort that out. Everything’s going to be fine. After this job ends, we’ll go back home and things will return to normal between me and Owen. I’ll try to squeeze an extra class into my schedule to make up for not getting any this summer, and I’ll have this opportunity to add to my resume like my advisor recommended. I may have lost focus a little but I’m still on track. Nothing to stress about.
My eyes close, and the music takes me away. Every time a stray worry tries to invade, I brush it aside, not allowing any to take hold. I’ve always loved the fuzzy place your mind takes you when you aren’t completely awake, but are still aware enough to hear what’s going on around you. Floating between worlds where fantastic things can happen behind your eyelids.
I’m not sure how long I hover there before the silence is broken.
“Remee!”
My entire body jerks at the sound of my name screamed directly into my ear, and the feeling of falling sends a spike of panic through me. Cold tile meets my bare ass and my eyes leap open to see Owen’s face above me.
For the rest of my life, I will never forget his expression of horror melting into confusion when I sit up and smack at him. “What are you doing!”
His head whips back and forth between me and the tub full of crimson water. “I-I the blood!” His hands run over my naked body as I start to piece things together. “You’re not hurt. It looked like…you scared the fuck out of me!” he yells.
Okay, he was genuinely terrified and this shouldn’t be funny, but I can’t help it. He looks at me as if I’ve completely lost my mind when the first peal of laughter escapes, and it just makes it worse. Shaking my finger toward the light switch, I try to get the words out through the hysterics overtaking me.
“Turn the light on.”
The thought of how it must’ve looked to him, me lying in a tub filled with red, eyes closed and the lights out just makes me laugh harder. I set up a horror scene that tops most of the pranks these guys have pulled without even meaning to.
Once the room is illuminated, I get a good look at him standing over me, and I might die if I can’t get a breath soon. His white shirt is splattered with red from the water, and his eyes are wild as he gapes down at where he laid me on the floor after snatching me out of the bath.
“Bath bomb,” I manage. “It’s just dye from a bath bomb…but you thought.” My hands go to my sides holding the ache from trying to get control.
I’m sure the alcohol I can smell on him helped him misread the situation. Slowly, his lips turn up at the sight of me laughing at him, and I reach for the towel I had waiting. As I get to my feet, I smell smoke.
Oh god, the candles.
“Owen! Behind you!”
In his dramatic entrance, he managed to knock a towel onto a candle which is now turning to flames much larger than I would’ve thought possible. What do they wash them in? Gasoline?
The smoke detector starts squealing, joined by the ear shattering wail of a fire alarm. Owen snatches the edge of the towel and flings it into the tub where it’s extinguished while I scramble to my feet.
A sharp banging on the door of the room is accompanied by shouts, and Owen steps out of the bathroom. I slide on the wet floor, and almost end up on my ass, but manage to recover enough to throw a towel around me before stumbling into the room behind him.
There’s no window in the bathroom but at the last second, I think to reach in and flip the switch to the exhaust fan on the ceiling. It’s too little too late, and the alarms continue to deafen us while the air slowly filters.
A maintenance man throws open the door and charges in, followed by the manager. The alarm must let them know what room was triggered. Owen shouts and gestures, trying to explain there’s no danger now, but they can’t hear us. Over and over they mouth the word “out” ushering us out into the parking lot. The fire alarm rings through the entire building so we’re quickly joined by…well…everyone.
Perfect.
When I planned this little adventure, I really hoped I’d get an opportunity to stand out in a motel parking lot in nothing but a towel. We wait outside the door for what feels like forever while they check out the bathroom and get the alarms shut off. No sooner than the blissful silence greets us, the whoop of a siren sounds behind us startles me, and red lights race across the façade of the building.
“Firetruck! Momma, look! It’s a firetruck!” a little boy yells, dancing around.
At least someone’s happy. I’ve never wanted to wander into a forest and never return more than I do in this moment.
The manager steps out of our room, and I do my best to explain. “I’m so sorry! A towel fell onto a candle, and we put it right out, but the alarms wouldn’t stop and—”
The manager is a guy who looks to be in his fifties, with a large belly and kind eyes. He takes one look at me wrapped in a towel, dripping water, and Owen trying his best not to look as drunk as he is, and laughs, shaking his head.
“Throw the damn candles out, understand? Drunks and fire don’t mix. There ain’t no damage done.” After both of us apologize again, he yells to the crowd that it’s a false alarm and everyone can go back inside. He walks over to talk with the firemen, and I practically dive back through the door, out of sight of the laughing faces of most of the work crew and a ton of strangers.
My hands shake when I sit on the edge of the bed. What just happened? One second I was dozing in the tub, and the next I’m manhandled, screamed at, assaulted by multiple sirens, and on display in a towel for the whole building.
Owen shuts the door behind him and leans against it with a sigh. “That was fun.”
When his gaze meets mine, I burst into giggles, and he does the same. “I’m going to clean up the bathroom.”
While I’m rinsing the tub and mopping up the floor with the towels, I can hear Owen opening and closing drawers. When I return, he’s only wearing a pair of shorts, and my eyes are drawn to his tanned chest.
“Don’t look at me like that unless you plan to ride me like a…like a…oh no.” His eyes widen, and he darts into the bathroom where I hear him retch.
Of course. Fitting end to such a night.
As I’m grabbing him a bottle of water and a damp cloth, he yells, “Oh my god, I threw up a cigarette butt!”
For fuck’s sake.
“It was already in the toilet, you idiot. Here.”
Relief fills his face for a moment, and he laughs, taking the bottle of water. “I knew that.”
“Come on. Get in bed before you pass out.”
After stumbling over to brush his teeth and rinse with mouthwash, he makes it to the bed, and I climb in beside him. Days with Owen are never boring, I’ll give him that.
It’s quiet for a minute or two before I feel the bed shake
. “So, how was your night?” he asks through a laugh.
The snort I let out sets us both off, and we lie there, laughing like two psychos, until we finally calm down. Owen wraps his arm around me, tucking me against his side. Exhausted, I snuggle into him and close my eyes.
It occurs to me that this is what it would be like to be in a relationship with Owen. Crazy one minute, sweet and comforting the next.
After the way the weekend started, I shouldn’t be surprised Owen’s plan for Sunday is to sleep in and lie around, but that’s not going to happen.
“Get up! We need to be early.”
“Early for what?” he groans, rolling over and pulling a pillow over his head.
“You’ll see. Get up right now and get your ass in the truck or I swear I’ll never blow you again.”
Now he’s up. And dressed. And headed out to the truck grumbling and calling me “Ms. Bossy Pants.”
“I’m driving,” I announce, snatching the keys.
“I kind of like when you order me around like that,” he teases, climbing into the passenger seat.
The parking lot of the bookstore is crowded and prevents him from seeing the poster on the door. “I know it’s a little early ,but I got you something for your birthday.” Reaching in my bag, I pull out a book and hand it to him.
A smile leaps to his face as he accepts it. “I forgot this released this weekend! Thank you!”
“I noticed it was written by that cosmologist you fanboy over in all those videos. I thought you’d like it.”
“Excuse me. Dr. Kendra Mire is the top theoretical cosmologist and one of the smartest people on the planet. I respect her and her work. I do not fanboy.”
I nod and tilt my head toward the bookstore. “So, you probably wouldn’t be interested in meeting her and getting your book signed then?”
It’s too bad I didn’t record this moment because the myriad of expressions that chase each other across his face are priceless. “She’s here? Like in there? Right now?” The volume and pitch of his voice has climbed into dog whistle territory. His excitement is so cute. “I can’t believe this! I have so many questions. Oh my god, what am I going to say to her?”
He babbles on as we walk through the glass doors and into the bookstore, but falls silent when he sees her sitting at a table. She looks like any nice older woman you’d meet on the street, but Owen is staring at her like she might not be real. There’s one woman in front of us as we approach the table, and I swear I hear Owen mumble “just be cool” under his breath.
I’m not sure exactly what Owen’s idea of cool is but I doubt it’s screaming “Hi!” in the poor woman’s face so loud she flinches. Her sudden forced smile melts into a real one as he talks a hundred miles per hour.
“It’s such an honor to meet you! I’ve read all your books and watched your lectures. Not in person, of course, on Youtube, though I’d love to hear you lecture in person. The way you explain entropy and the uniting of particle physics and cosmology, I mean, it literally lets us look back in time, before we existed as anything but matter itself, do you understand that? Oh shit, of course you understand that, you wrote about it. Sorry.” Owen pauses to take a breath when I catch his hand and squeeze it.
“Don’t be sorry,” she says with a chuckle, grinning at him. “It’s good to see someone so enthusiastic about the universe. I’ve always felt the same way. Are you a cosmology student?”
“Astronomy. I’m more interested in the universe as a whole rather than its origins and likely fate. I have no idea what career I’m going to make out of it yet, though.” A line is forming behind us, and I nudge his hand that’s gripping the book. “Oh, um, will you sign this, please?”
She takes it from his hand, smiling up at him. “I’d be happy to. What’s your name?”
“Owen.”
Her hand moves quickly to scribble inside the cover, and he seems at a loss of what to do or say next, which is a first for him.
“Do you think he could get a quick picture with you?” I ask.
“Of course!”
Owen’s face is pure joy when she stands beside him, and I take their picture. The line has grown long behind us, and we need to go. After he thanks her and says goodbye, she offers him some advice.
“I didn’t know what career I wanted at your age either. Let the stars guide you. You’ll find your way. Your enthusiasm will get you there. It was a joy meeting you.”
Owen’s lost in his head when we exit and doesn’t speak until we get near the truck. I’m grabbed around the waist and lifted off my feet. My legs and arms instinctively wrap around him, and he hugs me so tight I can’t breathe.
“That was amazing! I can’t believe you did this for me. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to meet her?” Before I can reply, he kisses the hell out of me. “Thank you, Remee.”
My chest swells with feeling that should alarm me, but I won’t let it. He’s happy and it makes me happy. “You’re welcome. Happy early birthday.”
Standing me on my feet, he slides his hands under either side of my jaw and looks into my eyes. For a few seconds, I think he’s going to say something I’m both terrified of and aching to hear. I’m not thinking clearly. I’m caught up in the emotions of the moment. We both are. Friends who have sex. A summer fling, Remee, that’s all. That’s all it can be.
“Rem?” His voice is low, and his thumb strokes across my cheek.
“Mmm?”
“I really want to take you to our room and lick you into screaming my name.”
A sharp ache cuts through me, and my tongue darts out to wet my lips. “Let’s go.”
Owen is as good as his word. I didn’t go into this with a lot of expectations of how he’d be in bed but if I had, he’d have blown them away. Attentive and sweet, with the ability to be rougher when it suits us, we just seem to fit together in a way I haven’t experienced with anyone else. I’ve had more sex since I got here than I’ve ever had before.
Every night we’re all over each other with no sign of that dying off. We work, hang out with some of the crew he’s made friends with, go to the beach, and fuck our brains out every night. It’s the best summer of my life.
I’m doing my best to shove away the seed of worry starting to grow in the back of my mind. I’m getting too close. I’ve always known that a relationship was not for me. Not until I’m well established in my career and can spare the time and energy to foster a healthy one. I can’t get wrapped up in a guy and lose my way. I can’t end up like my sister.
When the worries creep in, I consider putting an end to it, but then I think of him sleeping in the next bed, and how much I’ll want to crawl in with him. Or how I’ll feel if he hooks up with someone else. He’d have every right to. And I just can’t call it off.
We’re halfway through our summer job. Once it’s over, we won’t see each other every day and it’ll feel more natural to move on.
Owen’s actual birthday falls on the next Friday, and I’m reading in bed when he asks, “Why aren’t you naked? It’s time for hours of dirty, kinky birthday fun.”
“Birthday sex? We do that every day anyway.”
“All day long, kinky birthday sex,” he corrects. “There’s a difference.”
The word kinky draws my attention away from the book I’m reading. “Define kinky. Is this another attempt at anal?” He’s asked a few times, but I’m nervous about it. I’ll admit, it feels good when he rubs his fingertip there, but there’s a big difference between that and what he’d like to do.
“Anal sounds so crass. I’m just trying to get some posterior intimacy here. It’ll be totally romantic. I’ll buy you a pretty butt plug. You know pink and glittery, maybe it could play a little song.”
“There are no musical butt plugs. What kind of song would it play?” My attempt to sound exasperated is ruined by the smile that keeps fighting to appear on my face.
“A butt plug song.”
“No such thing.”
By now, I sho
uld really know better. If anyone could produce a song about butt plugs on the spot, it’s Owen. My book gets bounced onto the floor as he leaps onto the bed and stands over me. He sticks his ass out and shakes it while singing to the tune of Billie Eilish’s Bad Guy.
“You know I’m an ass guy. But I’m not a crass guy.” Pretending to grab invisible hips, he humps the air. “Not a do you dry guy. Make you scream or cry guy.” His arms reach out toward me, and I can’t hold back the laughter anymore as he finishes. “Come on now don’t be shy. I want your brown eyeeee.” A pelvic thrust ends it with an emphatic “Uh.”
It’s hard to get words out through my laughter as he drops to the bed beside me, nearly bouncing me off the side. “I’d suggest therapy but your psychiatrist would need a psychiatrist.”
A smile blooms along with his shrug. “I should get to stick stuff in your butt on my birthday, Rem. It’s only fair, but I have other ideas.” Before I can respond, he rolls on top of me, and pins my hands above my head. His next words make my breath catch. “Can I tie you to the bed?”
Oh wow, he’s serious. “We could do that.” His eyes widen at my reply, and I’m caught in a heated stare. He was as surprised by my answer as I am.
Chapter Nine
Owen
Wait. She’s going for this? “Really?”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and she pulls her gaze away. “Yeah. There’s some stuff I’d like to try. I haven’t been with anyone I…trust enough before, but if you wanted to.”
Her shoulders lift and fall as if it’s no big deal, but her words sink into me. “Look at me, Rem.” Reluctant eyes are drawn back to mine. The vulnerability in her expression sparks something in me. It’s not just her body she’s trusting me with, but her fantasies, stuff she hasn’t wanted to admit to anyone else.