Eighteen
Eightee n
Tait
It’s obvious within twenty minutes that the parameters for this game are constantly evolving and are not meant to be confined, or therefore limited by being inebriated. Apparently, the game is also dependent on how seriously the players take the questions. Henry pulled a ‘yes or no’ and asked Grady “Harrison Ford, yes or no?” Which put Grady into a panic. “That depends, are we talking Indiana Jones, Han Solo, or old Harrison like the one where the one-armed man kills his wife?”
“YES OR NO?!” we both shouted at him until he drank. Then he stated, “Who am I kidding? Yes to all.”
I attempted to challenge when Henry asked me if I’d rather have no arms or no legs, because, really? But my challenge was squashed. We’ve only come across two ‘vote’ cards so far, the first of which Grady decided to put to a vote, a gamble that ultimately paid off for me when they both pointed at me. I had to sing the opening line to I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston at the top of my lungs. It wasn’t news to me that I am a horrible singer. They both drank.
Henry pulled the second vote card, and we earned one vote each. Grady declared that this meant we all had to do the dare.
“‘Share your most embarrassing story,’” Henry reads, but his jaw immediately tightens, all traces of humor lost.
“Ehhh, maybe we don’t all have to do that one, actually,” Grady says.
“What?! Uh, yeah, we most certainly do,” I argue. But then I take in the truly miserable look on Henry’s face and decide to try and recover. “Since it’s split three ways, it’s diluted. Just share a top three level embarrassing tale. I’ll go first.”
Henry’s glance meets mine, the corners of his mouth not tipping up, exactly, but relaxing. There’s heat in that gaze, unabashed. I lick my lips, suddenly in need of a drink despite the constant sipping I’ve been doing.
“So?” Grady prompts.
“What?”
“ So , Tait, you said you’d go first. Top three embarrassing story?”
Oh, shit. “Oh! Okay. Ummm. Well…” I sift through an admittedly lengthy mental catalogue before I decide. “Well, this one involves my sister, but she’s not here anyway, so screw it. When she found out she was pregnant, she had an ultrasound early on in her pregnancy that I went to with her, since her husband had to work. In the early weeks they do transvaginal ultrasounds, which means that there’s a wand that has to go up your hoo-ha, not the kind that just roll around the outside of the belly.
“Nothing medical embarrasses me, or grosses me out, really. It’s why I originally went to school for nursing. I can deal with that sort of thing. Ava, on the other hand, cannot. She is horrified to be naked in front of a medical professional in any capacity, even as an adult. So, I am sure you can imagine her excitement, then, when her sonographer walks in, and it’s her ex-boyfriend.” Henry and Grady start to laugh, and damn, I love how Henry splays his hands like that, this time interlocking his fingers across his abs as if the laugh is trying to burst from him, as if he wants to hold it and keep it close.
“So, they catch up. Ava is sitting there with her bits out, a paper sheet between them. This guy was still so completely hung up on her, even with another man’s child inside of her. He just kept chatting away, completely oblivious to her discomfort. I was dying in the corner, trying to keep in tears as her face just got more and more frustrated. And then she snapped, and she screamed at him. ‘Are you going to stick that thing up me or what, Anthony?!’” I die laughing all over again, remembering, and fight to get the rest of the words out. “He just looked at her with the wand held out, already lubed, and said, ‘Actually, you insert the wand yourself. I thought you knew that and just needed to stall, or to be distracted.’ Her face was stricken. Death by mortification. So, I couldn’t resist, and needed to put this idiot back in his place on her behalf. I piped up and said, ‘Oh, Anthony, that’s right. You just like to watch, huh?’ Ava picked up on it immediately, stuck the wand up her crotch and said, ‘Different Anthony.’ When I tell you that this man’s face was so miffed. Ah! It was glorious, you guys.”
Grady swipes at the tears of laughter leaking from his eyes. “Okay, that one isn’t actually embarrassing, it only makes me love you more, but it’s better than either of ours so, next.”
I avert my eyes away from that comment, because how is it possible that I already love him, too? Is there really some scientific, DNA-related thing that inexplicably binds us? No, I know that’s not the case, more than most.
I draw a card. Another ‘This or 135hat.’
“Oooh. Can I do more than two items?” I ask Grady since he, obviously, acts as the judge and jury here.
“Sure.” He burps.
“’Kay—Henry. Breakfast, lunch, or dinner?”
“Can’t answer that one.” He laughs and drinks.
“Seriously? That’s not even a hard one!”
Grady hiccups and then laughs. “I know whyyyy.” I feel myself roll my eyes. Do we really need to take these questions this seriously?
“You forgot the best meal! Dessert,” Henry explains as he takes a sip of his drink.
“That’s not a real meal.” It comes out higher and whinier than I intended. I’m drunk.
“Dessert is absolutely the most important meal. I don’t go a day without it.”
“You’re a liar. You don’t look like that and eat dessert every day.”
“Look like what?” He smirks and folds his biceps on the table.
I roll my eyes again at his feigned ignorance. “You know what.”
“I think you need to expand on that for me. Deliverance here doesn’t pick up on innuendos.”
“I think your ego is expanded enough and doesn’t need any stroking from me. How about that innuendo? ”
“I think you both need a room,” Grady says, head tipped back, eyes closing slowly. He hasn’t developed a tolerance like the big kids, apparently. “Go again, Tait,” slurs out of him.
“But I drank!” Henry says, and now who’s the whiner?
I stick my tongue out at him and draw a card. My stomach drops. ‘Vote’ is scribbled in big red letters. I read the card. “Skinny dip in the pond.” I look up as Grady’s head snaps back to attention. “VOTE!” I yell, “Three, two, one.” Grady and I both point at Henry, sitting wide-eyed, no vote cast.
“No,” he says flatly.
“Then drink, bitch!” Grady replies. “Sorry, I’m just kidding, love you.”
I look down at all three of our fresh cocktails with a wince. There’s been a lot of consumption in a short amount of time.
“Maybe we’ve all had enough,” I say, suddenly full of reservations. Henry’s expression narrows at me.
“Oh no you don’t,” he replies. “Don’t you try to back out of it now.”
“Then you better decide, big guy. Drink or strip,” Grady says.
“Or, we could just stop playing the game. We are adults,” I say and shrug, shoulders jumping, suddenly feeling quite sober.
Henry studies me then, and I feel my face scowl under the scrutiny. He comes to some internal conclusion before saying, “We don’t quit or chicken out on anything, here. If we did, what would be the point in ever playing anything?”
I start to say, “I don’t think that drinking games are the arena in which we learn life lessons,” but then he stands up and takes off his shirt, and my mouth goes dry. I dart my eyes to the table before I can get caught studying the details.
“Let’s go darlin’, I need a witness.” He turns to march out the doors to the deck.
Grady tips his head back, and closes his eyes.
“What are you doing?! You better go out there with me!” I hiss at him.
“Ew, no. He’s distantly related to me, remember?” He closes his eyes again.
“Grady. Come on.”
No response.
“What if I’m uncomfortable going out in the dark alone with a naked giant lurking in the water?”
He cracks open one eye and somehow manages to roll it. “Something tells me that’s not the case, but if so, don’t go. He’ll come back inside and that’ll be the end of the game. No skin off anyone’s back either way.” Then, “Heh, not sure how that’s a pun in this moment, but it must be, somehow.”
“Shit.”
“Sorry Sis, this is your moment, your call. I really am down for the count, anyway.”
And with that, his eyes fully close and his mouth falls open in a small snore.
I act quickly, and go snatch a towel—two, actually, because I guess drunk me has lady balls. I catch my reflection in the mirror. The remnants of the mascara I hadn’t already sweated off earlier are smudged beneath my eyes, I’m flushed, my ponytail has migrated, and the look in my eyes is a bit wild, but alive. I take a big breath before I head back out and proceed onto the deck.
I call out, “Henry, Grady’s asleep, you don’t have to—” but the rest of the sentence dies as I turn just in time to catch a pair of strong ass cheeks dive into the pond.
The rest of the big body disappears underwater along with those cheeks, the only light coming from the patio, illuminating the dock and a small area around it, the rest of the pond encased in darkness. I continue to stand awkwardly holding the towels for what feels like hours before he resurfaces, rests his head on folded arms at the end of the dock, and looks up at me curiously.
It’s muggy outside, the air just this side of stifling.
“Hi,” I say. He smiles a half smile.
“Hi back.”
I stand there for five seconds, painfully awkward, until it’s clear that my lady balls have vanished—castrated by my own neuroses. I go set down the towels by his elbow.
“Why two towels?” he asks, almost too quietly for me to hear.
It’s usually easy enough to be attracted to someone and to act on it. I am not one to deny myself when I want something simple anymore. I did the whole lead-up, the slow burn with the happily ever after. I did all the steps before, and where did that land me?
Now, when I want to do something, to be with someone, I do it.
I have to admit to myself that those encounters have typically left me wanting, while not actually wanting anything more from them. I suppose that I’m a ball of nerves over just how intense my physical attraction is to Henry without knowing much about him. And, despite living far enough away from one another, there’s too much common ground that we share. Ground that feels more foreign to me than it does to him. Old insecurities creep in, making me wonder—no, making me, again, suspect —that this attraction is more one-sided. Reminding myself of him flinching under my hand, and running away at my silly pick-up line, I deduce that it must be. That isn’t something I’m up for. I sigh, realizing that he’s still looking at me expectantly.
“You’re a large man, I thought you might need two.”
He laughs through his nose, then looks down at his knuckles. “I guess I won, huh?” He doesn’t say it victoriously.
“How do you figure? I think I ended up with the most cards collected,” I say as I take a seat next to his arms and dangle my feet in the water. A sigh escapes me. The pond is on the cool side of tepid—perfect.
Henry tilts his head on his folded arms to look up at me. “I’m sure Grady knows of a bylaw that states how many cards one of these dares is worth.”
We both laugh, because he’s probably right.
“God, I really can’t remember it ever being this hot here,” I muse, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand.
“It never is. How old were you when you… moved?” he asks. It’s a jab in the stomach, the reminder that Charlie really never even spoke about us, but it’s not surprising to me.
“I was seven.”
“I’m sorry about your mom. I remember the family talking about it when she passed away…,” he says, and my heels dig in to that bitter place.
“I find it shocking that they even gave my mom a second thought.”
He frowns sternly at that. “Why?”
Exasperated with this line of questioning already, I snap, “ Because they didn’t care all that much when she moved multiple states away in the first place. About her, or us, Henry. I understand that you might see a different group of people than what I knew, but that’s just the truth. I’m sorry to tarnish their reputations for you.” I go to get up, but he wraps a big hand around my ankle and stops me.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I don’t know what all took place or anything. I shouldn’t have gone there.” He sounds completely sincere, but flinches slightly before continuing. “But, are you sure you know everything, Tait? I know it’s easy as kids to see things a certain way, and to just accept that as reality.”
“The reality is that my father barely put forth a modicum of effort to have a relationship with my sister and I, Henry. I know you mean well, but that’s just a fact.”
His palm is still wrapped around my ankle, and he traces a circle with his thumb, considering his words carefully before continuing.
“You’re right. And even though that makes no sense to me, and isn’t the Charlie I know, I just know what it feels like when you don’t get another chance to have things be better—to at least have the chance to mend things.”
I consider him, again, and am struck with wanting to know his story. I’m failing to reconcile this man, who looks like Avenger-lumberjack, but says things like “nefarious,” and “takes umbrage” with me, and who can read this situation pretty clearly even as an outsider.
He barks out that husky laugh again, and I realize I’ve said this last part out loud, slightly less than on purpose (though who are we kidding, I feel like I’m getting the equivalent of a gold star each time I manage to make him laugh) .
“I’ll have you know that I read. Real books and everything. And I have a degree in environmental sciences. Even know a few big words and how to spell them, too.”
“Nerd,” I deadpan.
At that his hand shoots up to the back of my knee, and with one arm he shot puts me into the water.
I come up laughing, relief flooding my senses at being cooled off finally. I can’t even feign irritation, splashing water in his general direction once before floating onto my back and closing my eyes.
I hear him swim closer, and feel him watching me, somehow. Gripped by the need to fill the silence, I say, “Thanks for that, saved me from having to take a shower.”
“Oh, so you don’t mind the leeches, then?” he says, which results in me practically levitating out of the water and losing all semblance of calm.
“WHAT?!” I panic dog-paddle back to the dock in great, big splashes, and latch onto the ladder when his hands go on my hips, digging in pleasantly.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’m sorry.” I turn slowly and level him with a glare. He’s laughing silently, eyes watering. Bastard.
“I’ll have you know, I don’t do bugs. I am not prissy, typically.” I feel my cheeks heat.
He struggles to regain composure, and I struggle not to look down. The water is too dark to catch a peek at anything, anyway.
“I’m sorry, I owe you for that one,” he says, and then takes his hands away with another, quieter, “Sorry.”
“A bath.”
“Huh?”
“You owe me a bath. I want to use the tub and shower of dreams.”
“Right now?” He looks almost afraid, which almost endears me to him again.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll call it in at some point, though.” I reach out a hand while my other grips the ladder. I know I’m setting myself up again, but can’t seem to stop. He shakes it, nods, and predictably pulls me back into the water. As soon as he does, he swims a few feet away, giving me distance, it seems.
“So, environmental sciences, huh?” I say, needing to fill the silence once more.
“Yep. I stretched the truth, though. Never finished my degree. I was a few months shy.”
We circle each other now, moving around like magnets, an opposing force between us.
“What stopped you?” I ask, though I can tell he was hoping I wouldn’t, which disappoints me more than it should. He stills, regarding me with gold, hooded eyes again, visibly struggling with his next words. He tucks his bottom lip in and runs his tongue back and forth over it a few times before deciding. “Family drama.”
I laugh through my nose, humorless. What a perfectly vague response. I swim toward him and his eyes widen a fraction. I clench my jaw, knowing I’m probably hurting myself more than him in doing it, but still I let my chest graze his as I reach past him to grab onto the side of the ladder. I’m not prepared for the jolt of sensation that zaps through me at the contact, though. The workout top does little to shield the feeling of my nipples sliding over his warm chest. I manage to bite back a moan. Up close I can see his lashes, stuck together with water droplets. His lips are parted and glistening, softness surrounded by scruff. His mouth closes and a muscle ticks in his jaw, and I realize I’m staring .
I try to pull myself past his shoulder quickly, awkwardly careful to avoid further contact. But when I get my first foot on the rung of the ladder, his right hand closes over my left one, his other hand gripping my hip and flipping me around so I’m abruptly sitting on the top rung, him floating between my legs. We breathe like we raced here, his eyes wide and intense on mine for only a moment before they go to my mouth and he leans in.
“Tait,” he whispers.
“Yes?” I say, and the breathy tone makes my cheeks heat again.
“Can I—shit.” He shakes his head a little, but I’m already nodding mine. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, his voice a low rumble. And then he does.
It’s painfully sweet, him lightly tasting my bottom lip first, before moving to my top lip. I’m gripping the ladder to keep my hands from running through his hair and pulling him to me. He moves away slightly before he uses the ladder and my hip to pull himself closer through the water, up. His eyes slide up to mine before he kisses me again, this time without a hint of hesitation. I open for him, tongues gliding over each other greedily. He tastes like cookies and tequila and so, so good.
I nibble on his lower lip, and his gruff hum of approval makes me thrust my chest out to his, wanting to get closer, to melt and to fuse against him, but refusing to grab at him with my hands, keeping them wrapped firmly on the rungs of the ladder. He’s too big to get any closer this way, the sides of the ladder restricting how far I can part my legs to make room for him. But when he trails kisses down my jaw and neck, I lose a little of that control and scoot my butt off of the rung, legs floating further apart of their own accord. When he runs his tongue along my collarbone, I sigh, letting my heels hook behind his bare thighs to pull him closer to me. I’m quickly dissolving into a mindless, needy thing. The boneless feeling of floating heightens every other sensation. I feel the rough hairs on the outsides of his thighs grazing the insides of mine, his thumb hooked around the front of my hip, his hand so large that I feel his other fingers pushing into my lower back. He’s moved over to the other side of my collarbone, beard scraping cruelly over the area he’d just soothed.
It’s too much, and not enough all at once. I give up, peeling one hand off the ladder to wrap around the back of his neck and into his hair. The motion throws off my balance and I react by trying to right myself using my legs, the action bringing his very, very naked hips to mine. His choked sound is drowned out by mine, the hardness of him giving me friction right where I need it most. He pulls back and looks at me, a combination of heat and shock in his eyes. I’m panting, heavy-lidded and too wound up to care or consider being embarrassed as I grind against him, our gazes still locked. A smile reaches my lips and I close my eyes, not wanting to see his intense stare, not wanting to come to my senses. I can’t remember the last time I dry humped someone. Is it still dry humping if you’re in water? I bite my lip to stifle a laugh and let my head fall back.
“Sexiest smile I’ve ever seen,” he says, and when I open my eyes I want to return the compliment.
His lips are swollen from kissing, his dimples maddening. But, he appears completely in control even as he stares. I want to make him as desperate as I feel, dipping momentarily into self-consciousness again. Before I can fully descend, though, he lays his palm across my chest, thumb brushing the hollow of my throat reverently while he slips a large fingertip under the strap of my tank top, slowly pushing it down, down, down my arm.
Before I can second guess myself, I wrap one hand around the wrist on my chest, and grab his shoulder with my other. I think he must do some of the work for me, since he’s a behemoth and I likely couldn’t flip him around using my own strength alone, but I somehow manage to smoothly turn us and push him into the ladder. I float a few feet away and hook my thumbs under the straps of my top, sliding them off without hesitation. He gives up our eye contact to look his fill, color blooming on his cheeks and his jaw clenching with restraint. He licks his lips and reaches around in the water until he finds the back of one of my knees, then the other. He keeps my body suspended half out of the water as he drags me back to him, my arms floating slightly behind me, and I laugh thinking of those mermaids plastered to the fronts of ships.
He smiles back, but as soon as I’m within reach, he bends his head to pull my nipple into his mouth, and a moan-gasp flutters out of me. It’s not a slow or gentle lick; he sucks me and then keeps my peak wedged in an almost-bite, while he flicks his tongue back and forth. My hips grind shamelessly against him again, and I hazard reaching down between us to grasp him. “Of course,” I let slip out as I slide my hand up and down. Of course, he’s perfect… ly huge, and I shouldn’t be surprised by his size, but I am. He lets out a small chuckle that’s nothing short of knowing, male pride, then hisses around my nipple when I squeeze him. He lets me out of his mouth, planting a chaste kiss there before moving to my other. He flexes in my hand and I feel that familiar tugging, throbbing sensation start to build in me. Jesus. I haven’t been given an orgasm by anyone other than myself since Cole, and even then I normally take a lot more work and time. I’m so keyed up I can practically hear the buzz of my blood rushing.
And then I really do hear buzzing, plus the crunch of tires on gravel.
Henry releases my other nipple with a small pop, and looks up. One side of his hair is gorgeously mussed where I’ve been gripping. The look on his face is pure panic, though.
“Fuck, I’m so, so sorry,” he says, right before I see the beam from headlights shine on the dock and the side of his face, and right before he promptly launches me out into the pond.