Chapter 13 Change of Plans #2
It’s six in the evening by the time we park the car and traipse toward the entrance of La Marína campsite.
We stop by the information hut and explain that some of our friends are on a site, that they must have arrived not too long ago, but they won’t release any information.
They mention privacy laws a few times and suggest that we call them.
“If they tell you what site they’re at, whose name it’s under, and how many days they’re staying, we’ll let you in.”
“Site 297. Under the name Lorenzo Hernandez. They’re staying two nights,” I say, reading Loren’s WhatsApp.
This place is like a city. Organized into numbered streets, there are tons of tents and campers, and not all of them look like a vacation spot; there are people here who, judging by how seriously they’ve taken it, must live here.
We find the RV easily. They’ve unfurled the side awning and set up a table and chairs right under it. But they’re not here.
Gus tries to peer into the camper, but he can’t see anything; they have the blackout blinds down.
“Where the hell are they?”
“Let’s go see if they’re in the pool.”
The pool is decked out with three pretty high water slides, like as high as the third floor of a building. As soon as I see them and realize they’re not just for little kids, I know they must be there, probably loaded on wine. One of those ideas that end with Coco getting hurt.
“Is that them?”
Gus points at four screaming hooligans who are laughing and pretending to push each other.
They’re lining up to go down the blue slide, which is not the steepest, but it has four lanes.
They want to launch at the same time, and knowing them, they probably want to do it holding hands or with some kind of elaborate choreography.
Tomorrow they’ll act like it was super cringe when they recount it, but right now they think it’s hilarious.
They’re acting like they’re in a summer beer ad.
“Fuck me. Look at Aroa,” I hear Gus murmur.
“Hey, take it easy,” I reply.
“I can’t look at Coco because she’s like your sister or Aroa because she’s your ex-girlfriend. Can I get permission to look at Loren or…?”
I laugh and give him a playful slap. “Look at her as much as you want. I’m not her boyfriend, and even if I were, there’s nothing inappropriate about that.”
“Someday I’ll dedicate a poem about this to you.”
I look up. Aroa has a body exactly like what the magazines say a female body should be.
She’s thin, athletic, bronzed, and very pretty and has a good pair of natural tits.
So right now when she’s in a bikini jumping around with excitement because it’s finally their turn, it’s a pretty nice view.
Gus growls, and I elbow him in the ribs.
“Didn’t you just say I could look?”
“Yeah, but don’t objectify her.”
I side-eye him, and I get the feeling that Gus isn’t actually looking at Aroa. Next to her, Coco and Blanca are shoving each other and trying to tickle each other. Coco probably said she needs to piss… She always says pools make her need to pee.
Blanca is wearing a black-and-white polka-dot bathing suit, pretty low-cut but retro.
She’s voluptuous, with a tiny waist and all the right proportions.
She’s pretty just as she is, but she’s always going on about needing to lose weight.
Actually…she’s beautiful, mostly because she gives off this kind of energy that just glows, but no, I could never think of her like that.
Next to her, Coco adjusts her strapless bikini covered in watermelons. When she bought it, she told me it was a paradox.
“It’s watermelons, but it gives me two cantaloupes…”
At the time I laughed, but it’s true. It really hoists her tits up. The bottoms have a kind of playful ruffle. I look over at Gus again to see if he’s checking her out. I can’t tell. Am I worried? I’m worried.
“Do you need a tissue? You’re drooling.”
“Don’t be a dumbass.”
Suddenly he sounds much more hostile than he did a minute ago. He must be having one of his mood swings: His moon is probably passing through Pluto or something like that.
“Who are you looking at, dude?”
“Nobody. I’m not looking at anyone.”
It’s their turn. We lean against a mosaicked wall, right in front of the lifeguards, and one of them is holding up a phone, ready to take a video.
“Do you think we’ll get splashed from here?” Gus asks.
“The last splash didn’t go this far.”
“Yeah, but they’re going to come down doing some crazy shit, and I’m sure they’ll make a tsunami.”
“And a cyclone in the Philippines. Come on, pretty boy. Relax.”
They sit down at the top of the slide…and a second later we lose sight of them. A watery explosion greets them on their way down. They’re holding hands and squealing, pulling each other out of their lanes. They’re not right in the head. I love them.
As they come out, Loren is the first to see us. He yells, “Dude!” which makes it obvious the wine is really hitting him. The second to spot us is Aroa, who runs over. Next, Blanca. Coco hasn’t seen us yet and…one nipple is sticking out of her bikini.
“Hey!” Blanca says kind of curtly as she fixes her bathing suit and swipes under her nose, which must have gotten filled with water when they got to the bottom. “You’re here.”
“You seem so happy to see us, girl,” Gus says, pouting. “Do you wanna get out and give us some wine or should we take a picture of you?”
“They’re already taking a video of us, thanks.”
Loren points at the lifeguard behind us and thanks him. He clambers clumsily out of the pool, dries his hands on Gus’s T-shirt, and takes his phone.
“I’m happy to see you too,” the latter says, shaking off his shirt.
“Don’t make it messy.”
I know Loren didn’t intend for anyone else to hear that, but…the alcohol must have diminished his capacity to control his decibels, and we all turn toward him. All except Coco, who’s in her own world.
“Sardine!” I call to her.
She turns toward me with her hair in her face and one hard nipple still poking out of her cantaloupe bikini…I mean, watermelon.
“Are you doing erotic numbers now?” I ask her.
“Erotic-circus. What are you talking about, dummy?” She laughs.
“Your nipple.” Gus points primly at her boob. “We can see your nipple, sweetheart.”
“Bah…like it’s the first time any of you have seen it.”
But I can see her cheeks redden as she fixes her bikini.
I lean down a little farther, going closer and calling her over. “Sardine-y…you look like a fish in water.”
“This’ll wash a little of the salt off.”
She leans her arms on the edge of the pool and beams up at me. Suddenly I swell with pride. That girl, the one who’s always smiling, the one who organized this whole bachelorette trip for one of her best friends, who’s trying to get over an unrequited love…is my best friend. And I’m so lucky that…
I feel two wet boobs press against my white shirt from behind and I know instantly that they belong to Aroa.
My dick gives a little lurch that I can’t control, so when she circles around me, wet, on tiptoes, with those drops running down her lips…
it’s too late to think about ugly things to get down the half-chub I’m getting.
She climbs up me, throwing her arms around my neck and kissing me on the cheek. I can’t tell if she means to, but she’s thrusting her crotch into my package and raises her eyebrows when she notices I’m hard.
“Wow,” she whispers, looking at my lips.
“Wow…”
It’s the only thing I can get out.
And suddenly it feels like you could cut the tension in the air with a knife. Are we welcome here or not?