Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
cameron
Until today, coming in under a minute when I lost my virginity was the most embarrassing sexual experience I’ve ever had. Then I went and came in my pants like a fucking teenager while Kennedy Caplan rode my thigh like a rodeo star.
She’s plastered against me, snoring lightly, making it difficult to decide whether I should risk waking her so I can clean myself off or just stay here and enjoy the weight of her and deal with it. Not the decision I thought I’d be making today. Or how I thought I’d be spending my day.
When I stormed in here, I figured I’d be breaking some random dude’s leg, not having mine ridden.
When Kennedy mentioned dicks, my mind went straight to cheating, and the thought wouldn’t leave. Even if she were with someone else, I shouldn’t care. This isn’t a real relationship, but there’s no denying that I do.
With the stealth of someone half my size, I slip my phone out of my pocket and open the Bobcat Boys group chat. There’s a high likelihood I’m going to regret sending this text once I do, but whatever. If I can’t count on friends, then I’m shit out of luck, right?
Cameron Davies
I’m invoking the Circle of Trust protocol.
Logan Clark
FINALLY. It’s been months since anyone activated it. Blades of Glory (and Justice) unite!!
Jake Reid
Blades of Glory? That makes us sound like a boy band.
Logan Clark
**Superhero group. Like the Avengers!
Cole Berrett
What’s up? Everything good?
Cameron Davies
Yeah. What helps with cramps besides Advil and orgasms?
Jake Reid
For muscle cramps? Depends where, I guess.
Cole Berrett
What makes this question Circle-of-Trust-worthy??
Cameron Davies
I meant period cramps.
Logan Clark
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, CAM? YOU INVOKE THE SACRED CIRCLE OF TRUST, AND IT’S ABOUT SOMETHING I CAN’T EVEN TAKE PART IN?
Jake Reid
None of us have vaginas, so idk why you think any of us can answer, but okay.
Cole Berrett
This makes a lot more sense.
Maya usually craves cookies, but since Kennedy bakes, I don’t know if she’d want that. Maybe something salty? Or pickles? Idk.
Jake Reid
Aren’t pickles a pregnancy thing?
Logan Clark
Pickles are an everyone thing, Jake.
Jake Reid
Yeah, but pregnant women like pickles and ice cream. It’s a known thing.
Logan Clark
But clearly Kennedy’s not pregnant if she has her period.
Dumbass.
Jake Reid
Not that I’d repeat your question, but idk if period talk calls for the Circle of Trust, Davies.
Cameron Davies
That was the first part. The second part is… is it possible to finish with no direct stimulation?
I groan. The conversation hasn’t even happened yet and I’m already over it. The sound causes Kennedy to stir on my chest, so I freeze. She shimmies against me, like she’s burrowing deeper, making a cute little noise, but she doesn’t open her eyes.
Phew.
I look back at my phone to see I’ve already missed a barrage of texts.
Logan Clark
Jake, we’re in a fight.
But what did I miss? I have FOMO.
Cole Berrett
It’s been 30 seconds…
Jake Reid
Cam wants to know if it’s normal to come without stimulation. Figured you’d want to be involved in the convo.
Logan Clark
I’m no longer mad at you.
This is also the best day ever.
Jake Reid
I’m telling Elliott that talking about Cameron’s dick problems has made this the happiest day of your life. I’m sure he’ll love that.
Cole Berrett
I’m sure it’s possible, but idk if it’s normal.
No offense.
Jake Reid
Were you guys doing stuff, or were you literally just standing there and instead of “oh no, I shit my pants,” it was a “oh no, I jizzed my pants”?
Cameron Davies
Is it possible to un-invoke the Circle of Trust?
If so, I’d like to do so immediately.
Logan Clark
You’re basically describing an awake version of a wet dream. I think you’re fine.
Do you want me to ask my mom just to make sure?
If it weren’t for the beautiful woman sprawled out on top of me, I’d launch myself straight off the couch and into my car so I could drive to Logan’s place and kick his ass.
Cameron Davies
DO NOT ASK YOUR MOM ABOUT MY PENIS, LOGAN.
Logan Clark
She’s a urologist. It’s not weird.
Jake Reid
It’s weird.
Logan Clark
You’re weird.
Cole Berrett
This conversation is weird.
Cameron Davies
This conversation is over.
I pull up a web browser and search “period care package,” then quickly purchase several suggestions that appear.
Once I get the order confirmation, I toss my phone next to me.
What to do now? Sighing, I scan the area around me and…
bingo. The TV remote is nestled under a throw pillow within arm’s reach, so I grab it and hit the power button.
Big mistake.
And I mean big.
The world’s longest, thickest tattooed dick appears on the screen.
I thought Kennedy was kidding when she said she looked at porn for realistic inspiration, but apparently, she’s honest to a fault.
And if this is the sort of dick she’s been looking at…
it’s a good thing I kept mine in my pants.
I’ve been told I’m on the larger side, but this dude’s equipment looks more like a signed baseball bat than a dick.
Jesus Christ. I bet the video’s called Weapon of Ass Destruction or The Full Package or something corny like that.
Not wanting to watch an XL energy drink–sized dick get it on, I click to the main screen.
Oh, look at that—the video’s called Sweaty Sex with Stavros.
I scroll through Kennedy’s recently watched shows, all of which are reality TV.
There’s a winter baking competition, several versions of a dating show called Love Island, Survivor, and about five city variations of The Real Housewives franchise.
Head dropped back against the cushion, I search my memory, trying to recall which one she raved about at the Copper Lantern.
The Real Housewives of Las Vegas sounds right, so I pull up season one, episode one, lower the volume, turn on subtitles, and press play.
As the closing credits of the second episode play, Kennedy’s eyes flutter open, unfocused and glassy. Her face scrunches up as she blinks at the screen, then at me, then back at the screen.
“Am I still asleep, or are you watching The Real Housewives of Las Vegas right now?” she mumbles, her words rough and a little indignant, like she can’t believe I’d watch this show without her.
“You said it was good.” I run my fingers through her hair, the blond locks silky beneath my hand.
She lifts her head, blinking at me in confusion, peers at the TV once more, then flops back against my chest with a soft thud. “You’ve watched two episodes already?”
I nod. “Please tell me Bridget gets better. She’s only had ten total minutes of screen time, but she’s unbearable.”
She chuckles, the sound drowsy. “Wait until season four. She grows on you. And for the record, our relationship may be fake, but my hurt feelings are very real. It’s like Relationship 101 that you can’t watch an episode of our show without your significant other.”
I huff a confused breath. “Our show?”
“Yes, The Real Housewives of Las Vegas is officially our show.”
“We can’t have a show,” I tell her. “I travel too much.”
Gigi always harped on me about not being caught up. She’d get impatient waiting for me and then end up burning through entire seasons while I was gone. I’d come home and she’d start out apologetic, only to end up talking about plot points I hadn’t seen yet.
“Lucky for you, I’ve already seen every episode.”
I shake my head. “Please don’t tell me you expect me to watch all of them.”
She blinks once, twice, then topples sideways onto the cushion next to me, laughter shaking her whole body. “You look terrified. Oh my God.”
Her laughter has me smiling despite myself. “There are, like, thirteen seasons of this show.”
“At least watch season one. Then if you hate it that much, you can bow out,” she says, a hopeful smile on her face.
I don’t have the willpower to say no, so I simply sigh.
Her eyes light up. Yeah, she knows she won that argument.
With a look at the small silver watch on her left wrist, she swears. “You’re more than welcome to stay, but I need to get decorating if I want to be out of here by seven.”
She stands, yawning.
“What’s at seven?” I ask, trying not to stare at her chest now that I know she’s braless.
“Award ceremony and then dinner with my parents.” She stretches her arms overhead, arching her back.
“Award for what?”
She nods, her face completely serene. “The city of Boston is presenting me with the award for best ass on this side of the Atlantic.”
I know she’s kidding, but I can’t help that my attention dips to her backside. It’s worthy of an accolade, in my opinion.
She huffs mock-indignantly at my complete lack of shame. “You done checking me out?”
“No,” I admit. I could spend all day checking her out and still want more. “What’s the award actually for, though?”
“My dad’s being honored by the Massachusetts Historical Society for work he did on the Adams Family Papers.”
Surprise flashes through me like a lightning bolt. “I wrote my capstone paper comparing Paul Giamatti’s portrayal of John Adams in the HBO miniseries to what we know about Adams from his own writings and correspondence.”
“Oh God,” Kennedy says through a moan. “My dad is so going to want to meet you.”
“You told your parents about us?” I ask, a dose of dread drowning out my excitement.
“No, but now I’m thinking I should,” she says with a teasing smile. “The daughter they constantly worry about dating a history-obsessed hockey player? Don’t be surprised if my mom proposes to you on my behalf.”
I study her, every perfect line and curve. “Why do they worry about you?”
Sure, she has her eccentricities, but she’s a good friend and she’s smart and funny. And she has a good head on her shoulders. I’ve yet to note one issue that legitimately calls for concern.