13. THIRTEEN
THIRTEEN
Vera
I roll to my other side on the narrow bed in my college dorm, ignoring the crick in my neck to scroll through yet another mindless video.
It’s Saturday and I’ve been back at college a week and bed rotting all day instead of getting out and enjoying my weekend before my final term’s assessments start rolling in.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
Tucking my legs up tighter toward my chest I ignore the low-grade ache in my belly that’s been getting worse all week. I’m not due for my period and know I haven’t eaten anything bad. I’ve been living off instant ramen and diet cola, too lazy to leave my dorm and obtain real food.
OK, maybe it is the food. I’m in the process of swinging my legs off the bed to find my shoes and go get something to eat that resembles a vegetable when my phone buzzes, and I twist to retrieve it from next to my pillow.
Bas: Hey, how was your first week back?
I promised myself I wouldn’t text him, or at least I wouldn’t text him first, but I can’t help smiling. I open the message instantly to reply: long. Wish I was still on internship.
I look at it a while before sending, but it’s innocuous enough. I’m just missing being out in the wilderness, that’s all. I choose to ignore the fact that the dull ache is almost completely gone with one single message from him.
Wanting to distract him from what could possibly be read the wrong way, I follow up with a second message: How are things? Any more annoying tourists?
Bas: always, but nothing as bad as the camper idiots. Those two are lucky they made it back to town before I could hunt them down and give them a piece of my mind.
I laugh. Then I type: Well no one said the life of a ranger would be easy. Heroic acts of patience and mental fortitude were committed.
There’s a pause, and I wonder if he’ll leave the conversation there. It would be a natural place to. He’s done the friendly check-in. We’ve both shown we’re not being weird about things.
I slip my feet into my shoes and shrug on my jacket. But as I’m locking the door, my phone buzzes again.
Bas: nothing else making your week feel long? Unreasonable assessments or early tutorials?
I almost walk into someone coming up the stairs because I’m too busy reading.
Vera: no nothing like that. I dunno. Maybe I’m getting sick. Just feeling a little average this week *sad face emoji*
Bas: I’m sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?
Classic Bas. Always looking out for me.
Vera: Nah, I’m good.
And then, because that feels harsh and I feel the ache in my belly returning: it helps just talking with you.
My pulse climbs into my throat wondering if I said too much. After all, I'm trying to pretend this is fine. I am fine. Or I will be fine after a while. I just need some time so the memory of how perfectly he stuffed me full fades and I don’t wake every night thinking about his bourbon-honey scent.
Bas: well in that case, can I call you? I’m only sitting around at home watching the game anyway. It would be nice to have some company. Some virtual company.
I should turn him down, but instead I don’t even wait for him to call, pressing the button and lifting the phone to my ear.
My feet already feel lighter on the last few stairs.
“Hi.” His voice is deep and warm on the other end of the line.
“Hi. I’d love to talk. If you aren’t busy.”
He snorts. “Well, the Jacks are losing. Again. So I’m all yours.”
I’m glad it’s a phone call so he can’t see the way I almost trip at his last few words. I choose instead to respond to the first thing he said. Keep things light and simple. Not weird. Because we’re not being weird. “Bas, the Jacks haven’t won anything in my living memory. What’s new?”
That’s a little unfair. The Lumberjacks, which is the official nickname for the local team, the Black Pines, haven’t won a championship since the year I turned five, which I well know, because Riley and Bas didn’t shut up about them for the next ten years.
They still haven’t. Though the chances of the Jacks repeating their championship win get slimmer each year.
“You’re trying to push my buttons. Don’t think I don’t know that,” he says on a laugh. “Now back to you. You’ve been sick?”
He sounds so concerned it’s hard not to smile. “No, not sick. Just… I don’t know. Something. I’m probably just hating being back at school instead of out in the wilderness.”
“Mmm. I can understand that.”
The little campus general store charges ridiculous prices, but it’s open all hours and I’m too lazy to walk into town right now. Now that I’m up and walking around, my stomach growls and hunger hits me. I push the door open and the buzzer sounds.
“What are you doing?” asks Bas.
“Shopping. I should be eating better. I just haven’t had the energy this week.”
“Hmph. You should. You need to take care of yourself. Otherwise I’ll tell Tilly.”
I make an exaggerated gasp, holding my hand over my chest even though he can’t see me. “You wouldn’t!”
A guy browsing the cereal selection looks around at me, but I ignore him.
Bas laughs. “Try me. I would go to great lengths to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”
This is why I have had a crush on him since middle school. The guy’s too sweet for my sanity.
“Bah, I’m just being melodramatic. Honestly, I’m fine. I just need some vitamin C and a big juicy steak and—” Our conversation got so relaxed for a minute I almost finished that sentence with, ‘a good dicking down like you gave me last week’. But, of course I can’t say that to Bas.
“And what?”
“Nothing.” I snatch a basket and stuff it full of dubious looking overpriced carrots and corn.
“Vera, you need what? I thought we weren’t being weird.”
Shit. Now he’s called me on it. “And a long phone call with my mom.”
He snorts. “Try again.”
“A spa day?”
“Vera, that’s not what you were going to say, is it?”
I sigh, glancing around at the guy behind the counter who is giving me a weird look. I cup my hand around the phone and whisper, “And a good dicking down. Only my regular friends are still not back on campus, and I can’t be bothered with anyone new.” That’s not strictly true.
One of the guys I regularly catch up with got back last night. I know because he sent me a very eloquent: hey, wyd? at ten, likely hoping I’d invite him around while my roommate is still out of town.
I didn’t.
Somehow I couldn’t face it, though he’s a perfectly good fuck and doesn’t hang around afterward and try to make awkward conversation or anything, so in theory, he would have been perfect.
I just didn’t want to.
Bas has gone quiet on the other end of the line.
“Hey, you still there? Did that cross some kind of line?”
“Yeah, I mean no. No it didn’t cross a line. I’m glad you felt like you could talk to me about this stuff.”
“But?” I nudge. From the tone of his voice I can tell there’s something up.
“Aw, nothing, just thinking about you meeting random guys. It ah… it doesn’t sit right. Not that you shouldn’t do what you want, just… are you safe, Ver? You’re so far away. What if one of them was dangerous?”
“It’s fine. I’m careful. I meet them in public first.” For some reason my pulse is climbing over this conversation.
Bas grunts. “Still. Nothing to stop a guy from pretending to be normal in public and then doing something completely fucked once he gets you alone.”
I put a steak in my basket and a bar of chocolate for good measure and head to the register. “What can I say? I’m a good judge of character. No one’s done anything I didn’t want them to yet.”
He’s quiet. I pay for my things and exit the shop, slinging the bag over my arm. “Bas. I can tell you’re mad with me. Just say it.”
He sighs. “I just… I would die a little bit if anything happened to you. Or a lot. Will you promise me something?”
“I’m not promising to become a nun,” I tell him with a laugh.
“Not that… just… next time you meet someone, will you text me? Just where and when. You don’t need to give me details. Just text me and if I don’t hear from you to check in, then I’m driving up there to find the body.”
“Bas!”
“OK, I’d be saving you, making the body, and burying the evidence, but, Vera, promise me.”
I wish I could see his face to tell if he knows this is a bit ridiculous. His voice is totally deadpan.
“For real?”
“For real. Promise me.”
I shake my head. “Fine. I promise. You’re definitely not getting details, though.”
“Good. I don’t think I could handle that.”
I want desperately to ask him what he means by that, but nothing good will come of getting hopes up again, so I fumble with my key in my pocket. “Hey, I’ve gotta go make some dinner. It was good to talk, though.”
“Vera. I mean it. Just be safe, OK?”
The gravity of his tone stops me at the bottom of the stairs, and a girl from up the hall pushes past me with an eye roll.
“Yeah. I promise. Thanks, Bas. You’re always looking out for me.”
“Always will.” His two gruff words ring in my ears long after I’ve hung up the call and eaten dinner.
Rather than get on an app or call anyone, I lie on my bed and touch myself, shutting my eyes and picturing my grumpy bear thrusting into me, leaning down to nip at the spot on my neck that has healed but still somehow feels tender.
I cum with a rush, gasping his name, and my chest feels warmer than it’s felt all week.
I sleep better that night than I have in ages.