Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
SCOTTIE
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
Oh my fucking God!
I slip into the main building of Camp Haven and right up to the front desk, where I speak to one of the camp counselors…or whatever they’re called.
“I need to make a phone call. It’s urgent. Like, really urgent. Could you please give me a quarter so I can make said phone call?” When the girl doesn’t answer the second I’m done talking, I slam my hand on the counter and say, “Please. I need to make this phone call. Like right now. Right this very instant.”
“Okay,” she says, looking terrified.
I don’t blame her; I’m giving off irrational energy, because that’s exactly how I feel.
Irrational.
Terrified.
Confused.
She hands me a quarter, and I run over to the godforsaken red phone booth, slam the door behind me, and dial Denise’s number. If she doesn’t answer, I’m going to scream, because I need someone to talk to…stat.
The phone rings.
And rings.
And rings…
My stomach bottoms out, and then, “Hello?”
“Oh my God, Denise, I have to talk to you, or I might burst into nothing. Thank God you answered, because if you didn’t, I would have one hundred percent turned into dust, and I don’t want to be dust, because holy shit, oh my God, and what the fuck!”
“Umm…Scottie?”
“Yes, it’s Scottie. My God, who else would it be?”
“Okay, you just caught me off guard?—”
“There’s no time for pleasantries. I’m on a freaking pay phone, and I’m unsure of how much time I have here. So I’m just going to tell it to you straight. I just made out with Wilder. Like tongue action and all, and not because we wanted to but because it was part of an exercise we had to do, but Jesus, was I into it. I mean, I got lost in the feel of his mouth, the way his tongue pressed against mine, his light moans. It was visceral. I felt that kiss all the way to my freaking loins, Denise. My loins!”
“Dear God,” she whispers. “Not the loins.”
“The loins!” I shout, and then realize the receptionist is looking at me. I turn away from her and lower my voice. “And he was kissing me back. Like desperately. I tried to play it cool, like ‘Oh, ain’t no big thing, I kiss people all the time,’ but I throbbed, Denise. I throbbed in places I don’t think I’ve throbbed in a long time. If I were to be honest, the last time I throbbed like that, I stumbled across True Lies with Jamie Lee Curtis, when she’s trying to seduce Arnold in the bedroom.”
“Why is that the example you gave me?”
“It’s not an example. It’s the truth! There was throbbing.”
“Okay, enough with the throbbing. There are things I don’t need to hear.”
“I need to tell you about the throbbing so you can understand where I’m coming from. And I mean, I’ve throbbed a little. I had to share a tent with him, but this was like…things are moving around down there.”
“Please, for the love of God, stop describing your parts.”
“It’s true!”
“That’s great. Keep the truth to yourself. So why are you calling?”
“Because I shouldn’t be throbbing and making out with Mika’s little brother. What am I thinking? God, he’s so hot. Have you ever seen him? He’s so muscular and handsome, and his eyes are unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and Jesus, the lip ring. My God, Denise, he has this black lip ring in the corner of his mouth that drives me absolutely insane. He tugs on it with his teeth in this innocent way that makes me believe he’s not so innocent. And he says such nice things about me, and he really likes my legs and my boobs, but he doesn’t say boobs, he says tits, and that is so much hotter.”
“Okay, hold up. You’re rambling.”
“I know, because I have limited time, and I need to tell you everything.”
“I think what you need to tell me is that you’re crushing on Wilder, and you don’t know what to do about it.”
“Crushing?”
“Yeah, you’re crushing on him.”
“No, I don’t think that’s a thing.”
She laughs. “It is one hundred percent a thing. You are clearly crushing on him, and that’s okay. You’re allowed to crush on your fake husband. You’ve been single for a while now. You’re allowed to look and mingle and see what else is out there.”
“But…”
“But what? Girl, if I were you and I was sleeping in a cabin with a hot guy, I’d have fun. I mean, why not? What’s holding you back?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t…I didn’t come here to make out with a guy and have fun touching him.”
“Yeah, you went there to show your boss that you weren’t lying even though you were lying, and then you started making out with your fake husband, so I don’t think you actually went there for anything other than a bunch of fuckery. So why not fuck around?”
I mean…she’s sort of right. I did come here for a bunch of fuckery. There was no rhyme or reason, just to make it through the eight days. But do I really want to fuck around?
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I say.
“Why? Are you worried about Mika? Because he was telling me the other day that he’d be shocked if you two don’t end up hooking up. He said his brother would be stupid if he didn’t at least make a move.”
“Mika said that?” I ask.
“Yup. He doesn’t care. He actually likes the idea of the two of you.”
“I…I can’t think about that. And honestly, I’m not worried about Mika. I’m worried about me.”
“Worried about you why?”
“Because,” I say softly. “He’s…he’s too nice, Denise.”
“Um, why is that a bad thing?”
“It’s not. It’s a good thing, but what if, I don’t know, I fuck around and get attached? I could see that happening. He’s really kind and sweet and thoughtful and has a way with his words that makes me feel special. He’s told me time and time again that he means everything he says, but I still have this thought in the back of my mind, this doubt that maybe he feels bad for me and he’s saying all these nice things and kissing me the way he kissed me because he wants me to see what it’s like to be treated well. And then what? I get attached, and he walks away, unscathed, while I’m left to lick my wounds again?”
“Do you really think he’d do that?”
“I…I don’t?—”
The line goes dead, and I’m tempted to scream, but instead, I take a deep breath and hang up the phone. I take a few seconds to gather myself, put on a smile, and make it seem like my emotions are not completely out of control, even though they are.
“Everything okay?” Wilder asks as I sit down next to him on a bench that overlooks the lake.
“Yup, everything is great,” I answer. “Did I miss anything after I left?”
“No,” he says. “Just that Sanders was very proud of everyone.”
“Good,” I say with a head nod. I watch a duck fly down to the lake and dip its head underwater. “Well, that was a fun experiment, wasn’t it?”
“Very fun. Almost so much fun that it seemed like you had to run away to get your energy out.”
“What?” I say on an awkward laugh. “Run away? Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know,” he responds. “Just seemed odd, because I was over there feeling a certain way, and then all of a sudden, you were gone.”
“You were feeling a certain way?” I ask. “What do you mean by that?”
He drags his hand over his face. “I don’t know, Scottie, I?—”
“Scottie, Wilder, come join us,” Sanders calls out.
We look over our shoulders to where he’s waving us down.
“It’s cocktail time.”
Cocktail time?
As in alcohol?
I distinctly remember him saying there were some nights we’d be allowed to have alcohol. Well, if there was ever a night when I truly needed it—this would be it.
I stand from the bench, but Wilder takes my hand. “Hey, we were in the middle of a conversation.”
“I know, but he’s calling us over.”
He frowns, clearly not happy with my retreat, but I can tell you right now, I’m not mature enough to have this conversation with him, even though I know he is. How ironic, given he’s younger than me.
Standing, he keeps my hand in his, and we walk over to the dining hall, where Sanders has a bar set up along with a bunch of finger foods and some games.
“There they are, the hottest couple of the day,” Sanders says with a wink.
“Hottest?” I ask.
“Oh yes.” He starts making us each a cocktail…with copious amounts of rum. “I talked with all the counselors, and they agreed your make-out session was the most intense. Seemed like you guys couldn’t get enough of each other. The night in the tent must have really done its job.”
I chuckle nervously. “Well, you know what they say. Holding out has its charms.”
“I might need to put that into my practice. Seems like it has really worked for you two. But don’t get complacent. You still need to work at this and practice your communication.”
“I could not agree more,” Wilder says. “Communication is key.”
Could he be any more obvious?
“That’s right. Now, take your drinks, fill up a plate of food, and head on over to table number twelve, where you’ll be playing a game. We have certain games picked out for each couple, so I hope you enjoy.”
“Thank you,” we both say and then head on over to the food, where we stack our plates full, and find table twelve, which is in the back.
There’s nothing on the table other than a stack of cards. The other tables have games like Connect Four, Battleship, even Pictionary, but we just have a stack of cards.
Makes me nervous…
We both take a seat, and Wilder holds his drink out to me. “Cheers,” he says. “On a successful make-out session.”
My smile wobbles as I say, “Cheers.”
He takes a large gulp of his drink and then hisses while setting the glass down. “Fuck, that’s a lot of rum.”
Thank God.
I take a large sip as well and feel the alcohol burn all the way down my throat. Yup, that feels nice. Let’s keep them coming.
“Hello, you two,” Sanders says, startling the both of us. “Thought I’d let you know that I chose a particularly special game for the both of you. One that I hope you have fun playing. It’s just a question-and-answer game. And once you answer, you must take a drink of your drink.”
“Wow, are you trying to get us drunk?” Wilder asks.
Sanders winks. “That’s the plan.” Then he walks away, leaving us to our game, drinks, and food.
Not wanting to get sick with too much drinking, I pick up one of the beef crostini and take a large bite while Wilder picks up a card.
He reads it over, smirks, and then looks me in the eyes.
Uh-oh, I don’t like that look.
It smells like trouble.
“Scottie,” he clears his throat, “what is your favorite sexual fantasy?”
I nearly choke on my bread when I say, “It says that?”
He turns the card toward me and says, “Yup.”
So I see where this evening will be taking us.
I should have known given the activity we just had.
And I know there is going to be no escaping it. Wilder won’t let me, so I might as well just live in it.
“Favorite sexual fantasy? Umm…I don’t know, coming while he’s inside me.”
Wilder has his drink halfway to his mouth when he pauses and then lowers his glass back down before leaning forward and saying, “Wait, that’s your fantasy?”
I shrug. “I know it’s not wild, but it would be nice to know what that feels like. I want myself coming over his cock, you know?”
Wilder’s eyes go wide as I sip my drink. “Jesus,” he mutters and shakes his head, sipping his drink as well.
“Are you judging me?”
“No,” he says. “I’m judging Matt.”
“Good answer.” I pick up a card and ask, “What’s your favorite type of porn to watch?” I set the card down and wait for his answer as I pick up a piece of cheese and eat it.
He smooths his hand over his jaw, thinking about it. “Uh, you know, I flock toward more of the sensual kind of porn. I don’t like anything fake, and I prefer when it seems like the couple actually knows and likes each other. Nothing too over-the-top.”
“Huh, didn’t think you’d answer that.”
“Why not?” he asks before drinking.
“I don’t know. You seem irritated with me.”
“I am irritated with you, but it doesn’t mean I’m not going to answer the question.”
“And why are you irritated with me?”
He leans in close and says, “Because we made out, and you acted like it meant nothing.”
“Did it mean something to you?”
He drags his tongue over his teeth and then says, “Scottie, I felt that fucking kiss through my entire fucking body.”
“Oh,” I say, unsure how to really reply to that, other than…same.
And I’m about to when he grabs a card and reads it out loud. “What do you think about when you masturbate?”
Oh, God, these questions are not what I was expecting.
“And don’t tell me you don’t masturbate. That’s a lie,” he says.
“I wouldn’t say that.” I give it some thought. “Umm, I don’t think I think about anything. I kind of just go for it and let my body feel the pleasure. That’s pretty much it.”
“And how do you masturbate?”
“You can’t ask two questions.”
He flashes the card to me. “It’s on the card.”
Damn it.
“Um, I mean, with my fingers.”
“That’s it?” he asks. “You don’t watch anything?”
I shake my head. “No, I like playing with my nipples first, teasing myself. And then I work my hand down between my legs where I’m ready, and then I just…circle around, you know?”
He slowly nods, wetting his lips. “Yup, I do fucking know.”
The way he’s looking at me—it’s dangerous. Very dangerous. So dangerous that I fear what it might be like when we get back to the cabin.
I pick up a card and read him the next question. “Would you prefer to be loud when having sex or quiet, as if you’re pretending that no one can hear you?”
“Loud,” he answers and then drinks. “I want everyone around me knowing that I’m fucking my girl, that she’s having a good time…and that she’s coming on my cock, because that’s how my girls come.”
Well…there you have it. He’s fulfilling my sexual fantasy with other people. Then again, I would have easily guessed that Wilder is the kind of guy who can make that happen. Just from the way he pulls on that lip ring, I can tell that he has the moves, the swagger that makes a woman lose all control when he’s inside her.
And yup…there I go, throbbing again.
I clear my throat. “That’s, uh, that’s really good to know. Happy for you.”
“Thanks,” he says and picks up another card just as a second round of drinks is dropped off at our table. “Is spanking something you’d like to try with me?”
My eyes widen from the thought.
Try with… me .
Why does that feel like an invitation?
“Uh, I don’t know. Remember, standards are low. I’d just like to orgasm at this point.”
He sets the card down, looking incredibly disgruntled.
Not wanting to dive into those feelings, I pick up a card and read it out loud. “What color underwear would you like to see me in?”
“None,” he answers without skipping a beat. “Absolutely none.”
“Oh—”
He leans in and says, “And I’d want you to tease me about it. I’d want you to be wearing a short skirt with no underwear and then come up to me in my office or while I was on the phone and bend over right in front of me. I’d want to see everything, Scottie. Fucking everything. I’d want you to torture me with the knowledge that you’re not wearing underwear, to the point that I could not do anything about it until many hours later.”
Wow.
That humid summer air is pumping.
“Um—”
“And when I did get a chance to take care of it, I’d keep you bent over, spank that fine ass of yours, and then bury myself between your legs until you’re coming…on…my…thick…long…pierced cock.”
Dear God in heaven. Is it…is it hot in here?
Because I’m hot. Is anyone else hot?
I need a fan.
Did he just say pierced?
I think he said pierced.
He downs the rest of his drink and then says, “Your turn.”
My turn?
He expects me to just answer a question after he announced to the table that he’s pierced down below? Does he really think I can just function? As if everything is okay?
Because it’s not.
Everything is not okay.
I have questions.
Serious questions.
Like…where exactly is he pierced? Does he like it? Does it feel good for him? Would it feel good for…other people? Why did he decide to share that private information?
Why is he looking at me right now as if he could put me on this table and…eat me?
“How’s it going over here?” Sanders asks, startling me.
“Fine,” I yelp. “Fine. Everything is fine.”
“Really? You seem a little jumpy.”
“No, not jumpy.” I push my hair behind my ears.
Just turned on and questioning every choice I’ve made leading up to this point.
“She does seem a little jumpy, doesn’t she?” Wilder asks. “I think it’s the questions that are making her jumpy.”
“Ah, yes, I can imagine. Which one did you just answer?”
“What color underwear I like her best in,” Wilder answers, clearly not caring at all about privacy. “Of course, it’s a clear-cut answer. None. Then I went into detail about a scenario I’ve thought about when she’s not wearing any underwear.”
Sanders chuckles. “Hence the jumpiness.”
“I’m not jumpy,” I defend.
“Seems like you’re jumpy,” Wilder presses. “Not sure she could handle my suggestion of what she’d do with no underwear.”
“Uh, I could handle it,” I say, even though I don’t believe it for a second.
“You know, there’s only one way to find out,” Sanders says with a wiggle of his brow before he takes off.
I cross my arms at my chest and huff. “I could handle it.”
“I don’t know if you could. Have you ever gone without underwear?”
“Uh, yeah, every night. I don’t sleep with underwear on, so…eat that.”
“I’d love to fucking eat you,” he says and pops a piece of cheese in his mouth.
“I didn’t say ‘eat me.’ I said ‘eat that.’”
“I know. I heard you.”
And then, as if he knows…he tugs on that godforsaken lip ring, and I feel my nipples go hard as I watch in slow motion the most nonsexual sexual thing to ever happen. A black lip ring. Who knew? Who knew that would be my kryptonite? Who knew that it would make me weak in the knees? Who knew that a freaking piece of jewelry the radius of my pinkie finger would turn me on to the point that I’d want to howl for attention?
“You ready for another question?” he asks, knowing damn well he has me in a position of horniness.
I clear my throat. “Yes.”
“Good. Where would you like to be kissed other than your mouth?”
“Umm…” I look away, because his stare is far too intense. “Cheek is great. Thanks.”
“Cheek?” he says, skeptical. “You can’t tell me you like being kissed on the cheek more than somewhere else.”
“What are you implying?” I ask, dabbing my mouth with my napkin.
“I’m implying that you would prefer to have your pussy kissed.”
“Dear God,” I hiss-whisper as I look around to see if anyone heard that. “What on earth has gotten into you?”
“What are you talking about?” he asks.
“I’m talking about this…this seductress you’re turning into.”
“I’m not turning into a seductress.”
“Then why are you so cranky and acting very sexual?”
“Because,” he says, leaning forward. “I’m trying to get a reaction out of you, since you refused to react after we kissed.”
“I reacted. And, uh, before you start pointing fingers, you refused to squeeze my breast.”
“So this is payback?”
“How am I paying you back?” I ask, confused.
“By having zero reaction to our kiss. Not even an ounce of a reaction. You acted like it was nothing.”
“Because maybe it was nothing,” I say, regretting the words the moment they come out of my mouth.
He leans back in his chair, hurt, pain, frustration all crossing his features. “I see. So you felt nothing back there?”
God, don’t do this, Scottie.
Don’t make it worse.
I feel so out of sorts, because I don’t think I’ve felt that kind of passion in years, if ever.
“Wilder, that’s not what I meant. I think we’re just, you know, trying to figure everything out.”
“No, I don’t know.” He shakes his head and then pushes his chair away from the table. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
And then with that, he takes off, heading toward the main building.
He wanted a reaction? Well, I should have told him about the throbbing, because that was one hell of a reaction I wasn’t expecting.