Chapter 20 #2
“You’re making it sound like you are.”
“No, I’m not. He would just be my type, if I was. I mean someone like me would find him very tempting.”
“Someone like you? What does that mean? You mean me?”
“Obviously not you,” he scoffs.
“There’s nobody more like you than me.”
“It’d never even cross your mind,” he rolls his eyes. “I mean a guy like me, but not me. Who would blame a guy like me for finding him hot? It’s understandable. He’s obviously very cute...”
“Cute?” Austen sneers.
I am so disgusted, I want to shower immediately.
“Empirically, I mean.”
Austen looks horrified. “Empirically cute for a guy like you?”
William is going bright red, and starts to sound panicked.
“You’re getting this all wrong; I promise, I’m not interested in him!”
“No,” Austen frowns at his brother. “Of course not.”
“Besides, you and me aren’t into guys, right? We’re totally straight. Like, so much so, that if one of us did fool around with a guy, it would just be curiosity, and not an actual persuasion, surely? If I had experimented with Mischa, it would only have been...”
“Jesus Christ!” Austen explodes. “Is this why you’ve been panicking all morning? You think he’s cute and have a little crush on the guy? Do you have to fuck everybody?”
“No! I’m not saying that!” Will splutters.
I fucking hope not.
“I fucking hope not!” Austen growls.
“Why are you mad?”
“Because he’s my friend! You’re a fucking sex addict, you need actual help!”
Oh Austen, you do care about me.
“Okay, I’m sorry! It was just a thought!”
“I want to see your sketchbook.”
It’s not me who's in there, my love.
“What? No! Fucking hell, what’s got into you? You don’t seriously think I’ve slept with him?”
“You were in bed with him in Sydney.”
Oh not this shit again.
“Jesus, calm down! Nothing happened! I swear on my mother’s grave...”
“I want to see your fucking sketchbook!” Austen bellows, furious.
He looks so much more like William when he’s mad like this.
Austen aims his paintball gun right at William’s face, and William shields himself.
“Hey, you could give me an injury that close!”
“Good!” Austen spits.
This is jealous love right here.
“Pumpkin, pumpkin, pumpkin!”
Pumpkin?
Austen drops his aim, tries to calm down, and collects himself, fighting his rage.
Do they have a safe word?
The rest of the conversation is babble in their own language. It sounds like someone speaking Portuguese very fast with a Louisiana accent. Sounds good.
I can’t understand their words, but I can listen to their bodies.
Austen is thunderous, the fury twisting inside him.
William is pushing away the air in front of him, trying to get away from whatever he did to anger Austen.
He has no idea what that is, and looks very confused. Never seen Will cower before.
I don’t think Austen has ever lost it like this, and that’s why Will is so shocked.
Something stops Austen in his tracks. Soon, the discussion cools down, and Austen descends for his murderous energy, and seems amused. Will steps forward, on the verge of tears, and pats him on the head, apologetically.
“Mischa is off limits,” Austen says, in English, “for all of us. Forever.”
Wait, don’t do that.
“Okay,” William agrees. “Forever.”
“You’re an idiot.”
And a fucking bastard.
William’s stopwatch goes off.
“Sorry. Time’s up. Go win.”
“Should be easy with you out,” Austen says. “And please stop upsetting Kitten. She’s the love of my life.”
The idea makes my blood feel colder.
“It’s probably just her time of the month.”
Austen smiles, shakes his head, then fires several rounds at Will’s crotch, and Will keels over in pain. Austen keeps pummeling him with body-blows when he’s down on the ground, then steals Will’s unused gun, and heads into the green underbrush.
???
I reach Hayden moments before Austen.
“I got William,” Austen announces, when he arrives. “The others are in a group getting closer, so if we just spread out around here we can get all of them.”
We embed ourselves in the flora and useful boulders.
Sabrina arrives first and walks through, between all of us. She’s angry, distracted, and seems to have forgotten she’s playing a game. While she’s kicking the dirt Hayden hits her in the ass. It improves her mood. She stays to watch the action.
Isobelle and Kane are harder. Kane is a brilliant shot, and gets a round through the small slot in the hollow of the tree where Amelia is holed up, and hits her between the eyes. It turns into a shit-fight between me, Austen, Hayden against Isobelle and Kane.
Austen and I find ourselves hunting Isobelle near the spot where they all shot William.
He shows me into the cave below. Inside it’s dark, but lit up magically with glow worms. There’s a boulder where someone has made a little shrine of candles.
It’s lovely and mysterious. We should be using the moment alone to get close, kiss maybe, but instead he’s standing in front of the pagan altar, looking at me, waiting for me to make a move on him.
The fine line is getting thinner, in a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don’t kind of way.
I can’t look him in the eye. I try not to see him, the way he tries not to see me, and I want him to see my discomfort.
He watches me struggle, trying to ignore his plausible denial and silent nudging.
He doesn’t move for me either. I’m off-limits now, I guess. Forever.
“This is cool,” I say, and turn away from him. “We should get back.”
I walk out. Austen follows reluctantly. A few minutes later I get Isobelle and Kane gets Hayden and then it’s only me and Austen to take out Kane.
“There can be only one!” Kane yells, and it echoes around the dell.
I get bolder and sloppier. Kane gets more aggressive, and when he finally gets me, he momentarily forgets about Austen, who hits him in the back of the head. Game over.
It’s so much fun we play another round, every man for himself. Everyone has it out for William. Sabrina, Kane, Isobell and Austen especially. They go scorched-earth against him, and they don’t come back for two hours. Austen wins again.
I want to know if you can swear on the graves of the living. Did William swear on the grave of his undead mother, or is their mother dead? I’m too cautious to ask, and I’m scared to know the answer.
???
On the last day, there’s a lot of laughter and fun, because everyone knows everything is about to end. The warm sunny days are about to be replaced by months of grey weeks.
Everyone is drinking and tipsy. Sabrina, Isobelle, Amelia and I share some blue meanies we found in the forest. None of us want to be too high so we put them in a strawberry daiquiri and share it slowly.
Everyone only has a few sips. Amelia probably the most. The other half melts, untouched on the table.
By the afternoon we are a little more irreverent than everyone else.
I feel slightly queasy at first but then it’s just my senses are heightened, and colors are brighter. Not much to write home about.
Hayden is very amusing when he’s this drunk and loud, and finally out of his shell. That’s when he gets the idea to play spin the bottle. I think about it for a second. There are no good outcomes.
“I can’t,” I say, and sit on my hands.
“Why?” Isobelle asks.
I find an honest answer. “I’m a sex fiend that’s gone cold-turkey for two months. I think if one of you touched me, I’d rip you to pieces.”
One of you in particular.
“He’s probably worried he’ll have to kiss one of the boys,” Sabrina teases.
“I don’t think you understand,” I tell her. “It’s just not a good idea. I have a real problem; I’m really strung out. Man or woman doesn’t mean shit. I’d fuck a goat at this point.”
“Okay,” Isobelle agrees. “Maybe don’t poke the bear.”
“I’m in,” William says. “With a caveat that if it falls on Austen or Sabrina, I’m out. Also, by the way,” he says to the crowd, “I’m the world’s best kisser, but don’t read into it. A kiss is not a contract.”
Isobelle turns to Austen. “What about you baby? You want to give it a spin? You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”
“Yeah... yeah,” Austen smiles. “I’m in.”
They get in a circle and place a glass cola bottle in the center. I sit against the couch behind Amelia and watch.
Amelia clears her throat. “So the rules are, you spin the bottle and kiss the person it lands on, for a whole minute.”
Isobelle’s eyes narrow. “A minute? That’s a bloody long time when you are kissing.”
“And...” Amelia continues. “You have to do it straight away. Delays of more than seven seconds result in a penalty of a further thirty seconds. Any homophobia will not be tolerated and result in a piece of clothing being removed as punishment. If you’ve not kissed after thirty seconds you have to French kiss. ”
Isobelle sneers in disgust. “We have to NOT French kiss for a whole minute? What are we going to do? Peck each other to death? Are you actually mental?” She leans forward. “No, no, no. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
Isobelle reaches for the bottle and gives it a robust spin. It goes for a long time before stopping on Amelia. Isobelle crawls to her like a big cat. She kisses her passionately, climbing on top of her and laying her down on the floor.
“Oh my God that was nice,” Amelia breathes, when it’s over.
Isobelle holds out a hand and pulls her back upright. The next spin is Sabrina, which lands between Amelia and Isobelle.
“Kitten, go with Amelia,” Isobelle says.
Sabrina laughs. “Well that’s a no-brainer.”
“Why?” Amelia asks.
“Oh...” she considers it. “Because you’ve just kissed Isobelle.”
Sabrina locks lips with Amelia. It’s sensual. She looks flushed by the end.
“I think I’m bisexual,” Amelia says.
William lands on Kane.
“Okay ladies,” William announces, “let me show you how it’s done.”
“Oh God,” Kane groans.
“Remember,” William reminds him, “we’re off the clock.”
“Of course,” Kane says. “I know you well enough to know it all means nothing.”