My cheeks redden and my stomach flips as I wait for his reply. “Ha-Ha. Don’t make jokes. Just tell me,” I say. No reply comes.
I’d never admit it to Shirley, but I do jot down notes as she rambles on about the finer nuances of sucking the male cock.
I don’t want to forget.
ChapterThirteen
Tahoe
I’m jittery. Not from the pot of coffee I drank this morning while tearing out cabinets either. Caroline. Her laugh, her face, a snapshot of her body is on repeat in my mind. I can’t escape the memory from last night. Her body is indeed a fucking wonderland. A candy coated, sugar infused, soft, tight, morsel of sheer delight. I’ve never wanted anything or anybody more in my life. She accidentally sent me a voice message that I’m sure was meant for a friend. It confused me at first, because she gave good head. Then after I dissected the blow job and the things she said, I realized she may not have given many blow jobs in her past. Poor, sad, sorry ex-boyfriends of Caroline. I didn’t text her back for fear of embarrassing her, but my chest is puffed out a little more than it usually is today.
Last night truly was the best night of my life. If I close my eyes I can smell her arousal and that makes my cock stand like a goddamn soldier ready for battle. Right now, I’m wearing a shortie wetsuit and flippers, standing on a boat full of testosterone filled men waiting to drop in the water for a dive and that is not where I want him. It’s off the clock, we’re out here to have fun, spear fish, and bullshit. “I need to tell everyone something,” I call out, my voice loud. There are a few grunts and groans in acknowledgement, so I continue. “I’m in fucking love,” I yell.
There’s more groaning, and someone tells me to go fuck myself, but they aren’t going to wipe this smile off my face. Not by a long shot. “I need everyone to know this!”
“We know. We know. Your balls are in the vice. Got it,” Aidan barks. “Let’s get on with it now that it’s off your chest.”
I shake my head. “My balls are in the very soft hands of one, Caroline May,” I reply.
“Someone slice his air hoses the next time he dives. He doesn’t deserve oxygen,” someone says to my back.
Chuckling, I throw my hands out wide. “All you assholes don’t know what you’re missing. I’m telling you.”
Aidan sighs. “Tell us then. What are we missing? As far as I can tell, you’re stuck with one pussy and you become a slave to a schedule. Neither of those things sound appealing, bro. Neither.”
For a moment or two I stay silent, trying to concoct a reason they’d accept, or not shut down immediately, but I realize nothing I say will sway them. You have to live inside of this feeling to understand how it exists. Stella never gave me this feeling. She was a comfortable safety net capable of making me think she was irreplaceable. To think people confuse that for love on a daily basis is terrifying.
“You’re missingeverything,” I say, turning to face my friend. The companionship. The trust. The conversation. The way you view a person after you’ve fallen.
Leif clears his throat, and pats me on the shoulder. “You’re delusional. When you fall from grace, again, I’ll be here for you, man.”
“She’s it for me.”
His eyes narrow. “What does that mean exactly?”
“Yeah, man. We gonna’ be suiting up for a wedding then?”
I gulp. That word takes me aback. Like it always does and probably always will. I’m married to the Navy. That’s the first priority, it has to be.I don’t know any other way.How can I do both things perfectly? It’s an impossibility. Isn’t it? The scales will always be tipped in one direction.
They pick up on my silence and go in for the kill. “That’s what we thought.”
“She’s different,” I explain. “More.”
Leif crosses his arms across his chest. “Not different enough, though. We are your family,” he says. “Women come and go, but we’ve always been here for you. Go ahead and get hard-dicked over her, just don’t be crazy. Bros before hoes, Tahoe. Teams before seams.” Aidan grins at the crude joke. A phrase I used to live by and accept. With Caroline, it seems offensive and dirty to associate her as that. I wave them off, playing at nonchalance. I should have kept my mouth shut, shouldn’t have given them anything to hound me over, but I can’t shake her. It’s the truth. I am in love with Caroline May. Irreparably so.
Clearing my throat, I step up to the edge of the boat with an image of Caroline circling inside my mind. It took a lot of praying and internal pep talks with myself to keep from fucking her last night when she all but begged me for it. At this point, I know we are going to. It is just the matter of keeping it on my terms. Making it special for her. Forcing perfection in the one area of my life I have full control over. Few understand my wild quirks, but those that do, don’t question them. New York City. That’s when it’s going to happen. I’ll take her to a nice dinner, get my hands on tickets to see a show, and then a romance infused, passionate night at the luxury hotel I have booked. I’ve rehearsed it in my head since the second my eyes popped open this morning. A solid plan was never made without preparation.
Leif nods at me, still grinning from besting me, or assuming he bested me. Instead of replying, I set my mask in place and drop into the deep ocean waters.
They think they know me so well. They don’t know everything. Sure, some of these guys know my parents and have seen me through the ups and downs of my life, but for others it’s a surface understanding, an assumption of character based on those around me. The bad part about all of this is that I care what they think.
I kick in the water, following the guy in front of me, checking my surroundings to make sure everything is copasetic, and I get even more irritated. I might be in love with Caroline, but these guys are my brothers and they’re important to me. Respecting their thoughts, or at least giving them more than quick consideration is the very least I can do.
I branch off and swim in the opposite direction. Usually when we’re doing a legit dive it’s under the cover of night, only the phosphorescence lighting the pitch black waters. I dive down deeper, deeper than I know I should without equipment, because why the fuck not? I watch the bottom of the boat to gauge my depth and kick faster toward the bottom of the ocean. I look at my watch and the boat and I know I’ve cracked my depth record, or at least tied it. The second I get to that point—my lungs screaming out in protest, I kick toward the surface, my flippers speeding me along. I’m about halfway up when I realize my mistake.
I’m huffing and puffing when I rise out of the water, tearing the mask off as quickly as possible. I stroke over to the boat with my mask in one hand, slowing me down. Hoisting myself into the boat, I shake my hair like a dog. “Have a nice swim?” Aidan croons.
“Dude, look at my eyes,” I say, rubbing at them.
