Dirty Sex (6 page)

my lips and inhaled from it again. This time it did burn my fingers. I

tossed the roach into the ashtray.

“You know how I want it.” She dropped low and ground against

my crotch. Automatically, I pressed into her. Her breasts brushed mine

• 43 •

AShley BArtlett

when she took a deep breath. The charm on her necklace rested against

the skin exposed by my open shirt. The metal was warm.

I wanted to kiss her. I tried to think of my poor, broken, second

grade Gameboy. I tried to think of freshman English class. No luck. I

still wanted to kiss her. Before blowing out the smoke, I cupped a hand

around her neck and pulled her closer. Our lips just barely brushed

together, not exactly kissing, but on the verge. Then I exhaled. She took

it in stride, staring straight into my eyes as she drank in the smoke.

Buddy Holly started playing over the outdoor speakers. My hand

fell and Reese leaned back. She didn’t stop staring at me. Calmly, she

dropped back onto her chaise lounge and just watched me.

“Pizza’s on the way,” Ryan announced as he shut the door and

walked back over to us. He drew a lazy finger back and forth on the thin

chain around his neck. Reese started doing the same thing. I don’t think

either realized how often they did that simultaneously.

Their necklaces were really cool, a present from their mom when

they were little. The matching St. Christopher charms that hung from

them were just bigger than a nickel, but more oblong. Carissa had worn

one too. Hers was slightly larger and less elaborate. I wanted one and I

wasn’t even Catholic. Actually, the twins weren’t very Catholic either.

“Hey, man. I think your sister wants me,” I told Ryan without

looking away from Reese. I wasn’t sure what had just happened, and

I didn’t want to think too hard about it. All I knew was that I was so

turned on it was painful. My underwear were wet, and I was sweating

in weird places.

“Yep. I’m into teenage boys. All that charm and sex appeal.”

Reese was still staring at me too.

“Great.” Ryan wasn’t even paying attention. “Does that mean

you’ll stop fighting?”

“I doubt it,” I said.

“Oh, well. Wanna go swimming?” He was already stripping his

shirt off.

“Sure. Let me go change into my suit.” I started to walk inside

then turned back. “Sorry, buttercup, I didn’t even think. You okay with

me swimming? I mean, if I’m half naked and all wet it might send you

into a frenzy.”

“Don’t worry. I think I have the gag reflex under control this

time.” Damn, why did she always have a response?

• 44 •

Dirty Sex

“Why don’t you guys just shut the fuck up and swim with me?”

Ryan asked before diving in.

❖

“Oh, did Reese tell you?”

“Tell me what?” It was nearly three in the morning, but we were

still out by the pool. It had finally cooled down to seventy so Reese and

I were wearing jeans and sweatshirts. Ryan, however, was oblivious to

the temperature. He was still wearing damp board shorts and an equally

damp towel.

“That we need an extra tent for next week,” he told me. Derek

and I were in charge of most of the camping equipment. Ryan was

handling the reservations and getting a keg, as usual. Carson and Reese

were in charge of food, and Austin was getting the Jet Skis and a truck.

Everyone had a job.

“Why do we need another tent?” I asked, all sleepy. “I thought

we were doing the usual.” Gay and straight tents, or sometimes we

called them the boy and girl tents. Ryan, Derek, and Carson had one;

Reese, Austin, and I had one. There were many reasons for the sleeping

arrangements, but it was mostly about cleanliness. The boys were dirty;

we weren’t.

“I’m bringing a friend,” Reese said.

“A what?”

“A friend. I already asked everyone and they said it was cool.”

“You didn’t ask me.”

“Uh-oh.” Ryan stood. “I’m going inside. Let me know when you

clean up the blood.” He let himself into the house.

“Sorry.” She didn’t look sorry. “But she is only coming here for a

little while and I want to see her and I don’t want to miss camping. Plus,

I want her to meet my friends.”

“Why doesn’t she just come the week after?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t. I was just wondering.” I tried to sound cool. I wasn’t

even sure why I was irritated. “Who is she anyway?”

“I know her from school. Her name is Kerry.” The way Reese

slightly smiled when she said the girl’s name tipped me off.

• 45 •

AShley BArtlett

“So why can’t you and Kerry just share a tent with me and Aus?”

If she wasn’t going to volunteer the information, I’d make her give it

up. Mature.

“I don’t know. You figure it out.” Reese closed her eyes and leaned

her head back like she was bored.

“She snores? Maybe she should have her own tent.”

“Stop acting like a child.”

“I’m not acting like a child.” I was. “You are. Just tell me why

you need a separate tent.” She opened her eyes to glare at me. “Come

on, tell me.”

“Because she’s my girlfriend. Happy?”

“Yes.” No. “Do you really think our camping trip is the best place

for you to get laid?”

“Please spare me the lecture. I really don’t think you qualify as

an authority on the most appropriate places to hook up.” Reese wasn’t

even looking at me anymore. Instead, she began to peel the label off the

water bottle she was holding.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you’re a fucking whore.” Her lips seemed to embrace

each word like she was kissing them.

“Fuck you.”

“I’d rather not.” She made actual eye contact when she said it,

then looked back at her water bottle.

“No, really. Where do you get off calling me a whore?” I knew she

was just trying to piss me off. She knew it was working.

“I was just making an observation.” Reese flicked some moist

paper onto the ground. “You fuck any girl who stands still long enough.”

She shrugged. “That means you’re a fucking whore.”

“Babe, that means I’m a fuckin’ playa.” I stood and braced an arm

on either side of her. “I’m a motherfuckin’ pimp.”

“Please, please, please, Cooper,” she grabbed my hands and

begged. “Get over yourself.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

Yep, that was a constructive conversation.

❖

• 46 •

Dirty Sex

“Cooper,” Ryan whined through the phone like a three-year-old.

“I’m going crazy.”

“Why?” I asked even though I knew the answer.

“It’s been three days. Three days. You know how many times I’ve

seen them?”

“I don’t know, six?”

“Twice. I mean, I met this Kerry girl and then they disappeared.

For three days. Three days.” I was starting to get the point, three days.

“So what?” For all we knew, Reese and her girlfriend were playing

board games. So I told him, “Maybe they’re in Reese’s room playing

Scrabble. Or Monopoly. Reese loved that game when she was little.”

We both knew that wasn’t what they were doing. Reese was known for

marathon fucks. She could disappear with a girl for weeks at a time. I

didn’t have that attention span.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. I’m bored out of my mind.”

“So leave. You really don’t need to bring them food every day.” I

knew that was exactly what he was doing. The twins were completely

warped. Three times a day, Ryan would bring up food and put it outside

Reese’s door. Maybe bring them a bottle of wine at night for good

measure. It was so twisted.

“You’re right. I should leave. Plus, it’s super gross to know what

they’re doing. I mean that’s my sister. Ewww.” The fact that he put any

thought into the specifics of what was happening behind Reese’s door

was also sick and wrong.

“All right. Enough. My dad is making dinner right now. Come

over, eat, and we’ll go see the new James Bond movie. You can crash

here.”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll be there in ten.”

Five minutes later, Ryan let himself in the front door. From my

room, I could hear him wander into the kitchen, eat something, and get

reprimanded by my dad. Then he meandered down the hall to the office

and said hi to my mom. A few minutes after that, he started up the stairs,

but only made it halfway down the hall before sticking his head into my

sister’s room. He must have been really starved for human contact.

“Ryan,” I shouted from my room. “Stop annoying my family.”

“He’s not that annoying,” Ade called back. I heard the rumble of

his voice and they both started laughing. A couple seconds later, Ryan

finally walked into my room and shut the door behind him.

• 47 •

AShley BArtlett

“Sorry, but I’m dying.”

“We should get an apartment. Down by school maybe,” I let him

know. It was time. I was twenty years old and living at home. How sad.

“Yeah, just a couple little, tiny, insignificant problems.” Ryan

collapsed on my bed and stared at the ceiling. “One…” He held up

a finger so I could see. “You can barely make tuition even with your

parents’ help.”

“So I’ll get another job.”

“Two…” A second finger joined the first. “That annoying legally

binding agreement from my dear mother.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how to fix that.”

“You ever wonder if she knew what she was doing?” He propped

himself up on his elbows to look at me. “I mean she wrote her will or

whatever, right? But that document is so simple and so…” He snapped

his fingers repeatedly.

“Complex?” I offered.

“Cruel.” The will his mom left was all of those things. To get their

inheritance, the twins had to finish college and live at home until they

were done. If the college they chose was too far for a commute, like

Yale, they had to return home for all breaks. They couldn’t even go on

vacations longer than two weeks unless their stepfather was with them.

“Please tell me you’re not complaining. Sure, it must be hard to

have everything paid for.” Like cars, tuition, and each had a credit card

with, count it, a ten thousand dollar limit. Yes, all of those things were

stipulations of her final document. And in no way did I pity him.

“You’re forgetting something, Vivian.”

I was. “Don’t call me that.”

“Christopher.” The man who wouldn’t get his share of the money

unless he maintained a home for the twins until they graduated from

college. Sucked for him.

“Okay, he’s a douche bag,” I conceded. Christopher was an

asshole who managed to skirt physical abuse, but still made their lives

a living hell.

“Douche bag? That’s all? Dude, he comes home tomorrow.” Ryan

seemed a little nauseous at the prospect. He even went slightly pale.

“We’re going camping. You won’t even have to see him.”

“Oh, fuck.” He definitely went pale.

“What?”

• 48 •

Dirty Sex

“What if he comes home early? With Reese and Kerry upstairs.

I can’t leave them alone with him.” Ryan was right. Christopher

maintained a no overnight friends rule. That was why I slept in the

guest room and not on Ryan’s floor like when we were little.

“That’s true.”

“Remember last time?” When Christopher literally threw a half-

naked, very pretty girl in the front yard. A girl he happened to find in

Ryan’s bed.

“Yes, I remember.” I remembered Ryan calling me because Chris-

to pher wouldn’t let him give the girl her clothes or a ride. I remembered

going to pick up the girl, giving her something to wear, and driving her

home. “So call the front gate and ask the security guard to call you if

Christopher comes home early.”

“Do you think that would work?”

“Why not? We’ll drive up before the movie and you can bribe the

guy or something.”

“Okay, yeah.” We both looked at the door when my dad yelled that

dinner was ready. As we meandered downstairs, Ryan said, “I always

feel like James Bond when I bribe someone.” I wasn’t sure why he was

proud of that. Fuckin’ rich kid. Still, I couldn’t help but love him.

• 49 •

• 50 •

Dirty Sex

Packing was hell. There was yelling and cussing and sometimes

a good fistfight. Austin and I had thought that breaking into the

beer at six thirty a.m. was a good idea. It wasn’t.

“All you had to do was get a truck. What the fuck is this supposed

to be?” I threw a hand up at the truck parked on the street that was big

enough to carry a small house. “I can’t fit shit in there.” Maybe I was

being a little overdramatic. Only a little.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we were going to war. Otherwise, I

would have brought the Hummer,” he screamed back. “Anyway, I was

a little worried your fuckin’ ego wouldn’t fit in the cab.” He cocked his

head to one side and considered. “You’re right; the Hummer would be

a better idea.” He snatched the truck key out of my hand.

“Shut the fuck up.” I grabbed the keys back. “We don’t have time

for that.”

“Why don’t both of you shut the fuck up?” Carson yelled at us.