Chapter 18 Jonathan #2
AJ walks back in from the kitchen. “Is everything okay?” she asks, her brow creased with concern.
I stand and reach for my jacket hanging off the couch, mostly to cover the thin white Hanes shirt and the half-chub situation happening below my waistband, thanks to her plump, kiss-me-now lips.
“Yes. I mean… no. Manny’s drunk and they can’t control him,” I admit, sliding the jacket on.
“Do you need me to come?” she asks, grabbing my arm.
I need you to sit on my lap and grind the fuck out of me, is what I want to say.
“No, I’ll be fine,” I manage instead. “It’s probably better if I go alone.”
If AJ came with me, Manny would probably drunkenly confess his crush on her. And maybe, maybe, she’d want to hear it. I don’t want her to know Manny likes her. God, I’m such a bad friend, I scream in my head.
She raises her eyebrows. “Huh.”
“I just mean… when Manny’s drunk, he acts like a total idiot. It’s better you don’t see that,” I add, trying to chuckle it off.
“Oh. Okay.” She chuckles back. “I’m gonna lie down then. Be safe. Watch for bears.” She laughs.
I think she’s only half joking, which now has me concerned about Manny and possible wildlife attacks.
“I will. Thanks,” I quip.
I move toward her and she straightens her posture like she’s bracing herself for something. I lean in and kiss her forehead. She smiles and gives me the smallest nod.
I don’t know what would’ve happened if we actually kissed, just the two of us, no distractions, but I like to think I’ll get to find out again, hopefully soon.
I walk out to the golf cart and she watches me go, then waves and shuts the door behind me. I let out a giant sigh and turn the key to the cart. The beeping a reminding sound of how agitated my insides are right now. Manny has no idea how much he owes me, probably never will.
* * *
I walk into the bar the retreat calls The Canteen and instantly get hit with a wave of firewood and alcohol.
The smell isn’t bad but when you were just at your cabin, eating ice cream and about to make out with a cute girl, this is the last place you want to be, consumed by bourbon breath and bonfire vibes.
Immediately, Tanya spots me and rushes over.
“I am so sorry I called you,” she says, hands raised like she’s bracing me for impact. “But he won’t listen to anyone.”
She’s clearly talking about the grown-ass man currently dancing on top of a table to Miley Cyrus’ ‘Flowers’ like it’s his last night on Earth.
“Manny!” I yell, marching toward him.
He turns around mid-spin, lowers his sunglasses and smiles widely. “My man!” he shouts. “Come up here and join the party!”
“The party’s over, bro. This place wants to close up,” I say, reaching for his hand and trying to haul him down.
He stumbles over a chair and somehow sticks the landing with two feet on the floor.
“Spiderman at your ass,” he says, lifting a hand and miming a web shoot.
Honestly? Pretty impressive for a drunk six-foot-two man. Regardless, he needs to stop drinking, stop dancing and get his ass to bed. We’ve got a corporate hike in the morning. Well, technically today already.
“Do you need help getting him back?” Tanya asks, eyeing Manny like he’s a fallen gladiator.
“Nah, I got it. Thanks. And sorry about Manny,” I say, apologizing for my friend being a complete jackass.
“It’s okay,” she says, waving it off with a small smile. “He was entertaining.” She glances at Elaine and Stan, who both wave to me from across the room.
“Bye, Manny!” Elaine calls.
Manny, now draped around my shoulders like a wet towel, waves back half-heartedly. Then he slumps further onto me.
“Take me home, Papi,” he says.
“You know I love it when you call me that,” I joke.
He lets out a belch. “I know.”
Somehow, I manage to lug him into the golf cart and start driving toward his cabin. The wind feels good, it’s cool and refreshing even. Manny tilts his head back and lets it wash over him like he’s starring in a shampoo commercial.
“Ahhhh,” he says, eyes closed.
“You okay, buddy?” I ask, genuinely concerned now that the chaos has dulled.
He sits up a bit straighter. “Yeah. Yeah, bro. I’m good.” He nods, then blinks a little too slow. “Sorry I woke you up.”
“I was awake. Watching TV,” I say.
What I don’t add is: I was also about to kiss AJ for real this time. For real, real. I keep that tiny detail to myself.
“Was Abby awake?” he asks, slurring only a little now.
I pause, trying to decide if I should lie, deflect, or tell the truth. I go with the worst option: lie-lite.
“No. I don’t think so. I took the couch, she has the bedroom.”
Boldface lie. Lying to my closest friend, wow, that’s a new low for me. Manny doesn’t press. He just nods like he gets it. Or thinks he does.
We get to his cabin and I help him inside. He leans against me the whole way, swaying like a drunk palm tree until we reach the couch. I gently lower him onto it and he plops down with a groan.
“Who are you bunking with?” I ask, glancing around the room.
“Stan,” he mutters.
Stan, the prick, was still at the bar and didn’t even try to help Manny get back here.
Manny kicks his shoes off one foot at a time, grunting as he stretches out. Then, just when I think he’s seconds from passing out, he cracks an eye open and drops the question I’ve been dreading all night.
“Did you ask Abby yet what she thinks of me?”
Shit.
“Not yet,” I admit. “There hasn’t been a good time to… slip it in.”
Which, technically, isn’t a lie. But it’s also not the whole truth.
The real truth? I haven’t asked because I don’t want to know.
If she likes Manny, then fine, she can pursue that on her own time.
She’s a grown woman. But the thought of it makes my stomach twist into knots.
I run a hand down my face and shake my head like I’m trying to physically push the thoughts out.
“You good?” I ask, trying to shift the subject.
He nods, eyes already closing, his breathing slower now.
I grab a pillow from the nearby armchair and tuck it under his neck. Then I head to the kitchenette, grab the tiny trash can and set it next to the couch in case he needs to puke up the fireball and poor decisions.
He doesn’t open his eyes, but he mumbles, “You’re a good friend, man.”
His hand lifts for a fist bump or handshake, I’m not sure which, so I grab it and shake.
Good friend. Ouch, that stings a little considering I’m actively keeping AJ for myself. Doesn’t really qualify as friendship gold-star behavior.
I fish his phone out of his pocket, set an alarm for 6 a.m. and place it on the coffee table beside him. “Remember, we have the hike tomorrow,” I say.
Manny gives me a sleepy thumbs-up and I can’t help but chuckle.
When I walk outside, I spot Stan strolling up with Elaine; they’re holding hands. Curiosity flickers, but I’m way too tired to fully care.
“Stan. Elaine,” I say, passing them with a nod.
Stan nods back, and Elaine gives a small, shy wave. Good for them, at least someone’s getting some fun in tonight.
I drive the golf cart back to my cabin and step inside. The place is quiet, dim, the leftover scent of AJ’s lavender shampoo still floating faintly in the air.
I peek into the bedroom and there she is, fast asleep.
I move closer, slowly pulling the blanket up over her shoulder.
She shifts, cuddling into it and a small smile touches her lips.
That smile could kill a man. I lean down and press a kiss on her cheek, letting it linger a second longer than I probably should.
I make my way to my bed, known as the couch, and grab a blanket from one of the armchairs.
I toss it over myself as I settle onto the warped leather.
The clock on the wall blinks at me; four hours and forty-seven minutes until the team hike.
It doesn’t matter much anyways because I can’t sleep.
Not with the image of her in bed, wrapped in that blanket, stuck in my head.
All I want to do is crawl in beside her, pull her close and hold her all night.
My God! I think I’m falling for Abigail Jean Madison.