18
Fishy Behaviour
“What’s the difference between a G-spot and a golf ball?” Kami asks me, already snorting. We’re finished our first round of fishbowls, and our second has just been deposited in front of us.
“Oh Jesus. I have no idea,” I say, shaking my head.
“A guy will actually search for a golf ball,” she deadpans, and I let out another ungodly snort before we break into fits of laughter.
“This is why I love you, Kamalot,” I squeal, my new fishbowl raised to toast her.
“What’s so funny?” a deep voice rasps behind me, and I feel my panties dampen immediately as a result of hearing Coy’s voice.
“Oh shit,” I hear Kami mutter, as Keaton slides in beside her. He quickly leans in and starts whispering. Whatever he’s saying must be good because she flushes and a really sweet, happy smile spreads across her pretty face.
“Nothing. Just a funny joke Kami was telling,” I say, setting my drink down in front of me.
“Tell me. I, too, enjoy a funny joke,” McCoy says, slipping next to me in the booth.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, facing him. He smells fucking yummy, like mango mixed with hints of patchouli and sandalwood. And he looks even better, his light blue Hurley T-shirt doing everything right, highlighting those eyes and that sexy, bronzed, summer-kissed skin of his.
“Trivia. Heard you needed another player. I’m here to help fill that need. Like I said on the last day, when we were talking in your class, I excel at it,” he whispers, dripping innuendo and gifting me a sexy wink.
Bastard.
Ignoring him, I take a big sip from my drink and thank Jenn the Quiztress as she distributes tonight’s game booklets on our table.
“Hi, guys. We’ll start in about five minutes,” she says, before moving on to the next group.
“I hope you brought your A-game, boys,” I say, picking up the pen, ready to start the picture clue page for Round 10.
“No shit,” adds Keaton, looking around the pub. “We’ve got the smallest team tonight.”
“Piece of cake,” Kami says, waving the comment off. “East and I have had a good amount of brainfood.” She makes a very attractive slurping sound with her straw.
“What the hell is that, anyway?” Keat asks, pulling the straw away from Kami—despite her laughing protests—and taking a drawn-out sip. “Jesus Christ, that shit’s fucking horrible.”
“Good. More for me.” She bumps his shoulder and I see their eyes catch, and I melt a little with the hope that one day they will finally be together.
I hear coughing beside me. “They’re kinda gross, eh?”
“I think they’re pretty good. Want to try mine?” I ask, looking at Coy.
“I meant them.” He nods across the booth.
“Oh,” I shrug. “I think it’s about damn time. Look how cute they are.”
“I can think of a few things I’d classify as cuter around here, but that’s me,” he responds without hesitation, and I want to read into his words so, so badly, but I’ve been burned before. I decide to block it out. He probably means one of the fifty or so other girls present tonight, despite my desire for him to be referring to me.
“Hey, Keat,” Sandy says, coming up to our table again now that the guys are here.
“Hiya, San. How’s it going?” Keaton asks her, and she completely ignores the question, or doesn’t hear it at all, maybe. She’s too busy noticing the man sitting beside me. Yep, welcome to Coyville.
“Wow,” she lets escape, turning beet red at the realization that she indeed said that out loud. Shaking her head, she composes herself and tries again. “I mean, sorry. Hi, I’m Sandy. What can I get you?” she chances, still sounding all dreamy and breathy and shit. Oh boy, please tell me I do not sound like that when I’m around Coy? I make a mental note to ask Kami later, and if she confirms I do…I’m moving to the Yukon.
“I’ll take a Mill Street Organic, for now. Please.” He rumbles out a deep laugh, one I feel between my thighs, despite noticing the sexy grin he throws her way. But my heart sinks, knowing I’ll be crushed if the “for now” he mentioned turns out to be more than food or another drink later on. Because maybe it means a hook-up, or the promise of a date, an offer I’m sure Sandy would gladly take at the end of the night because, let’s face it, McCoy Graves is a total catch. God, he’s a jerk, sometimes. I mean, he’s here with Kam and me and Keat to play trivia, and he’s trying to pick up? Fuming, I reach for my drink to let the alcohol soothe my inner tirade. Here I go, being ridiculous again.
“Relax, Sprinkles,” Coy says, leaning in for only me to hear. I’m not sure exactly what he means, and I don’t get a chance to ask, as right on cue there’s a tapping on the mic and the game begins.
“Welcome to PubStumpers…” Jenn’s husky voice comes over the speaker system, and it’s a welcome distraction to keep my mind from dwelling on and analyzing McCoy’s words.
The game and the evening move along, and I have to admit I’m having a lot of fun. Our team is a surprisingly cohesive unit, and we’ve not missed a question thus far (whether our answers are right or not, that’s another story…).
“What secular holiday, celebrated on December 23rd, was introduced in a popular TV sitcom and includes the ‘Airing of Grievances’?” Jenn says, asking the final question of Round 1.
I heard the question, but I swear I can’t get the answer out. Not with the way Coy’s body has shifted closer and closer to me throughout the game. His warm thigh is now resting against mine, and it feels good. Too good. So good that I can’t seem to shift my leg away (not that I really want to). As our skin touches for the first time in so long, I react at the contact; the feeling of his warmth against me slowly sets my body ablaze with awareness. And, boy oh boy. I. Am. Aware.
I want to put my hand on his knee, crave the authority to splay my fingers over his thick thigh, to rub tiny circles along his warmth and to feel the coarse hair that I’d find, all the way up to the hem of his shorts. And I want him to reciprocate. I want his big hand on my smooth thigh, creeping up higher and higher and under my skirt as we continue the game, because he just can’t get enough of me. I want to affect him the way the simplest of his touches and innocent brushes affect me.
“Festivus. The answer’s Festivus.” He leans his head in closer, his scent once again infiltrating my senses.
This man puts me on sensory overload. Touch: when he touches me, whether deliberate or not, the result is always the same—a fire lit so damn deep within me I could combust. Sight: Between those glacial eyes with their intensity, his broad build, and that bloody jawporn, I’m a goner. Sound: His choice of words, accompanied by his polished thundery tone, gets me every single time. It’s enough to leave me wet for days. Scent: he smells like him, a scent which makes me want to rub up on him to transfer it to my clothes and mark myself as his. And, finally, taste: I know without a doubt, if I were ever given the chance to really taste him, McCoy Graves would taste divine, like…mine. Sitting beside him, I’m blissed out to the max, overloaded with all things McCoy, and I’d gladly let this man ravage and overwhelm me, as long as it meant I’d get to keep him near me like this.
“Sorry…what?” I shake my head, trying to knock away my crazy, and smile when I meet his amused smirk. This man knows exactly what he’s doing to me. If only I knew if the why was the one I’d hoped for, for so long. Could he feel this, too?
“The answer, Sprinkles. It’s Festivus.”
“Yes! ‘A Festivus for the rest of us!’” Kami shrieks, quoting Frank Costanza’s famous line from Seinfeld, causing everyone to laugh.
“Have another swig, there, babe,” my brother says, laughing as he pulls her close, tucking her into his side. At the sight of them being affectionate, I can’t keep a huge smile from spreading across my face. Sure, it’s premature, and I’m probably reading into things, but it feels wonderful to finally witness two people I love finally finding their way to each other.
In my peripheral vision, I see Coy, who’s silently watching me. His stare is heavy and it lingers, bringing an all-too-familiar warmth over my body. It’s a visceral reaction I’ve come to associate with being under his scrutiny over the years.
“Stop staring at me like that,” I finally say, before aggressively biting off the head of the Swedish Fish I’ve managed to angle out of my drink.
“Stop making it so fucking hard to look away,” he whispers, arching a brow before he swoops in. He brushes my lips with his fingers as he steals my candy mid-bite, giving me that goddamn lopsided grin of his.
Yeah. Total sensory overload.
Hearing that comment, I sit, a wee bit dumbfounded, and try to brace myself for two more rounds of trivia with this man and his—and my brother’s—unpredictably odd behaviour tonight.
By the end of the evening, not only had I survived Coy’s thigh being practically glued against mine as if we were two magnets drawn together by invisible forces, we managed to take second place in trivia, too.
But we always did make a pretty good team…
July 20, 2008
Dear May,
Today was the most fun! It was Dad’s annual work picnic and guess what happened? Coy came along, and we ended up paired together in both the wheelbarrow race and the potato sack race. And let me tell you, I have never been so thankful that I shaved my legs before in my life!!!! I know I complain about the extra work and all, but now I get it. Holy cow, when he gripped my ankles for the wheelbarrow race, I could have sworn we both made an awkward moan/groan kinda noise. I blushed and he pretended like it never happened, which was okay, because I had no clue what to say anyway. A HUGE thank you to Gillette for keeping my legs soft and touchable. I am forever a fan!!! Anyway, we won both races and it was so much fun!!!! Remind me to thank Keaton for changing his mind about coming; apparently these activities aren’t usually cool enough to participate in when you’re seventeen. If it hadn’t been for Kami deciding she wanted to compete, and Keaton stepping in to be her partner, I never would have been paired with Coy. And this just goes to prove even more that my brother loves my bestie, but whatever, all that matters is Coy, and the fact that he touched me and liked it!!!!!!
BEST DAY EVER!
TTFN,
East