I won’t ever lie to you…
The simple statement sent a thrill through my stomach. I believe him.
“Who was the first guy you ever had sex with?” Scout glances at me, and my eyebrows shoot up.
“You are so nosy!”
“It’s a boring drive. We might as well make it interesting. Tell me your story, and I’ll tell you mine.”
Mischief is in his eyes, and I chew my lip. Scout is so fun, and I think I like him more knowing we’re just friends.
I steal a glance at the backseat, and it seems JR is sleeping…
“Okay.” I hold the sides of my dress and rest my feet on the dash. It’s how I always rode with Dad, and Scout doesn’t seem to care. “Wade Peterson.”
“Wade…” Scout says the word like he’s testing it out. “That’s a name you don’t hear much.”
“He was one of the commune kids. We lost touch after my mom left, but we met up again when we were seniors. We were at a Young Life meeting, and every time they’d sing ‘Wade in the Water,’ my best friend Yars would whisper ‘Where?’”
The memory makes me grin—my bestie is so crazy.
“So he was cute?”
“He had that California beach thing going, blue eyes, bleached hair, perpetual tan.”
“Wait… Isn’t Young Life a church thing?” Scout’s cheek-dimple appears. “Let me guess… He wanted it, and you didn’t.”
“Pfft… Hardly.”
That makes him laugh. “Teenage Hope was a bad girl.”
“That’s what he said.” I look out the window feeling embarrassed all over again. “I thought… I think sex is a natural thing. It’s fun.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Wade said sex for fun was indulging the flesh.” I can still see his eyes, stern and judgmental. God, it’s been six years, and I still feel the cringe of shame climbing my shoulders.
“What the fuck?” Scout’s brow lowers, and he looks like his brother—pissed and ready to punch somebody. I kind of like this protective vibe he’s giving me. It makes me feel safe telling him the truth.
“He said I had a problem. I shouldn’t want it so much. He said sex was for procreation.”
“So he was gay.” Scout relaxes like he’s solved a riddle.
“He was… not.” Tilting my head to the side, I give it some more thought. “I never thought he was. He was smart and he liked discussing the Bible—”
“Gay.” Scout nods like he’s an expert. He holds up a hand. “Nothing wrong with that, but he shouldn’t have led you on.”
A few quiet moments pass, and I think about what he’s saying. I think about the things I’d wanted and how dirty Wade made me feel. I tucked those desires away, believing I had a problem. Now I wonder…
Lowering my voice, I lean closer. “I wanted him to say dirty things to me and be rough. Hold me down and take me. You know?”
Scout shifts in his seat. “Unexpected, but okay.”
My cheeks flush, and I want to die. “Is that bad? Do you think I need therapy?”
“Shit no.” He laughs, running his hand over his mouth and giving me another quick glance. “It’s just… Look at you. Then you go and say something like that.”
“Wade said it was perverted. He said I must have some deep-seated problem.”
“I think your boy Wade had the problem.” He gives my shoulder a pat. “I think your shit is hot. I think it’s going to make some guy really happy.”
Crossing my arms, I flop back on the seat. “Well, I dumped him. He shaved his beard, and I realized he was just a little boy pretending to be a man.”
“Good call. Never let some small-minded prick kill your mojo.”
“Where are we?” JR’s grumpy voice from the backseat makes me jump and put my feet down.
“We’re outside El Paso… Socorro.”
JR rubs a hand over his face. “I need a shower.”
“Me too,” Scout says. “I’m getting ripe.”
My nose scrunches, but the truth is, I could use one too. I’ve been riding post-hangover for almost 24 hours.
Scout cuts the speed and leans forward to read the signs. He tosses his phone at me. “See what you can find.”
Scooping it up, I tap on the icon for accommodations. “This Deluxe Inn says forty-five dollars a night. Exit… Oh, it’s the next exit!”
He immediately puts on the blinker and drives us off the interstate. We take a right and go less than a quarter mile to where a wide, asphalt entrance leads up to a line of ancient cinder-block units painted white.
A big blue sign reading “Truck Parking” greets us at the entrance, and it looks like something out of a low-budget slasher film.
JR seems to anticipate all our reactions. “I’ll get one room. If we stay together, we’ll be fine. We won’t be here long.”
I glance out the window and decide beggars can’t be choosers, and at least JR is somewhat intimidating. He definitely looks like he can kick some ass if he has to.
Twenty minutes later, I’m in a narrow shower stall with my eyes closed as warm water flows over my face and down my body like rainbows from heaven. I do my best to suppress a groan, but holy crap. After 24 hours of sticky brine from a beach walk followed by sick followed by sweaty heat, this might be the best shower of my life.
Scout went first, because he’d been driving the longest, and he insisted he smelled like ass… Massive eye roll. JR said he didn’t mind going last, and for his sake, I force myself to cut it short.
Stepping out, I grab a threadbare towel and wrap it around me. Collecting my hand-washed panties, I head into the single-room to dress behind a makeshift curtain he hung around the bed.
“I tried to save you some hot water.”
“Thanks.” His response is cordial, but he doesn’t linger.
The door closes fast, and the sound of water running meets my ears. Scout is sprawled out on the couch in jeans and a t-shirt. One arm is over his eyes, and he’s snoring like a lumberjack.
Shaking my head, I look down at my damp underwear. I can’t wear them wet. Hanging them on the side of the nightstand, I hope they’ll dry somewhat before it’s time to go.
I do my best to dry off with the towel, but it’s like the material just pushes the water around on my skin. I’m still damp when I go to where I tossed my yellow dress on the bed.
Standing by the desk with my back to a sleeping Scout, I wave my arms trying to air dry a bit more before I put on my dress. JR’s shirt hangs from the back of the chair, and I hesitate, glancing toward the bathroom. The sound of water is still going strong, and Scout lets out another snore from behind me.
I trace my fingers along the thick, light-blue fabric. Placing the useless towel on the desk, I lift his shirt and slip my arms in the sleeves, pulling it over my naked body and studying myself in the mirror.
It’s too big for me. It stops at my upper thighs, and my small breasts are just covered by the rough fabric. My nipples tighten at the abrasion, and I lower my chin to inhale deeply.
I’m surrounded by his scent, masculine with hints of soap and citrusy deodorant. Closing my eyes, I imagine his large hands sliding up my thighs, squeezing my ass, spanning my waist. I imagine his lips at my ear, that rough voice telling me what he wants to do to me. My eyes squeeze and I picture two thick fingers slipping between my legs, touching my clit.