Comraderie

Tahoe

Only a couple dudes from Bronze Bay are brave enough to approach us. It was curiosity, but we were nice enough that they stayed and started drinking keg beer with us. I like that they are comfortable with us enough to hang out because it means we are making progress in being considered locals, and they tell us shit about the town we don’t know. They’re like clueless informants we can be friends with. Last I saw Caroline, she was with a group of girls and her face wasn’t completely miserable looking, so she must be having an okay time. She’s steered clear of Britt and Whit, though I haven’t seen the latter since we spoke earlier. There’s that many people here right now. It’s impressive.

I’m pissed Caroline doubts my feelings for her, even if the doubt came from a woman scorned, but at this point in my evening I’m so drunk that it’s hard to decipher any of my emotions. Leif went off to try to woo Malena back into his car like some horny high schooler, and Aidan is next to me shooting the shit with a few of our other teammates. We’re telling stories, getting caught up in the past. This is what I need. The atmosphere is intoxicating—the salty ocean air breezes in every once in a while, and now that I’m getting used to the heat, I can appreciate the warmth in the air. We’re sitting around a bonfire, and one of the guys switched us to bourbon about an hour ago. I considered not drinking my share, but didn’t turn it down either. Now, the world around me is a nice shade of fuzzy fuck all.

My eyes are fucked all to shit. The doc says I should be happy I still have my vision, but they look like hell. Literally. The drunker I get, the more I forget about the injury until someone talks to me and their eyes widen as they notice it.

“What the fuck are you on, dude?” a guy asks, slinking down on a wide tree stump next to me. He works at the home improvement store in town. I recognize the scar on his face.

Swallowing the last sip in my own cup, I toss it to the ground and reply with the truth. He listens intently, but he’s just as drunk as I am so I’m sure the story sounds like an elaborate cover for drug addiction or the likes. To change the subject I ask him about the brass drawer pulls I ordered last week and he just stares at me. Granted, I slurred through a couple of words, but he knows I’m done explaining.

Leaning in closer to my face, he repeats, “Your eyes are so fucked up.”

One time in a bar in Texas I knocked out a guy for breathing in my space. He was also fucking up my game with the brunette of the night. The chick ended up getting wet because she dug assholes, and what is more of an asshole move than knocking out another dude for smiling too wide? Not much. “Get out of my face,” I say, making sure my smile is equal parts threat as it is gleeful.

He shakes his head and leans back. “Want to go canoeing?” he says, hiking his thumb over his shoulder. “They keep a bunch of canoes over there. You can paddle out to the river from here if you’re strong enough to make it.” The challenge makes me laugh. “Some of us race at the end of the night.” I look to my right to see if my buddies have heard.

“Something I can’t resist,” I coo. “Sloppy drunk I will crush you.” I nod to his face. “That what happened to your face? Get a little too drunk and crash your baby boat?”

He stands, shaking his head. “Nah, car accident,” he replies. “I’d gladly scar the other side of my face if it means beating you assholes.”

My teammates are in the conversation now—the spark of a challenge lighting them like a strand of Christmas lights. One by one, they decide it’s the best idea they’ve heard all month. Others join my hardware employee friend on their side and we swagger and sway down to the inlet. Our proverbial guns loaded. Solar powered lights line a seashell path on the ground, but I stumble into one, crushing it into shards. Leif calls out from behind and I turn toward his voice.

Malena and Caroline are standing on either side of him. “Get your ass up here!” he hollers. I break another of the lights by barely stepping on it. The crunching sound of glass echoes as I pick up my flip flop and head back up the embankment toward Caroline.

“You’re not really going to race canoes with them are you?” Caroline says, lunging forward when I’m close enough to touch. She sees my eyes, and probably the way I’m swaying like the wind. “Come,” she pulls on my arm. “Talk to me.”

Leif cackles. “He’s been challenged, darling. He’ll be racing itty bitty boats and win if it kills him,” he chortles.

“But you’re so drunk,” Caroline says, blinking her big, beautiful eyes. Her face is moonlit perfection. “People have drowned before. It’s so…stupid.”

“It’s a celebration of life,” I reply. “Are you underestimating my skills? Please.”

Leif laughs, Malena takes a large swallow of her drink, and Caroline folds her arms across her chest. “Just go, Leif,” Malena says. “They’ll crown you king of Bronze Bay in no time. Plus, if you guys win, your street cred will go up.” I think we’ve found the only place on earth where our career doesn’t endow us with street cred on its own. We kind of like it. A level playing field is where we stand out the most.

“A title I will cherish forever, madam,” Leif replies, snaking an arm around the petite brunette.

Caroline watches them with a scowl on her face. “You’re being unreasonable,” she says, swiveling to face me. “We could head back to my place and…hang out.”

I stumble backwards a touch. “This will be quick and then we can go back to your place,” I reply.

Her face settles into stoic annoyance. “Guess there had to be something,” Caroline snaps, eyeing me and then Leif. “Idiot when drunk. Check.”

Idiot? Idiot? Idiot? If I wasn’t so obsessed with the package of Caroline May I would throttle her. I’m a lot of things, but in this unfettered moment of weakness, she’s calling me an idiot. I swallow hard and try to reign in the anger.

Leif ambles away shaking his head and laughing. Malena almost falls and he catches her, his hands like bear paws all over her body. Dog. “This was a bad idea. I’m glad I got a chance to see it,” Caroline says.

“I’m having a good time with my friends, Caroline. I’m not saying I can canoe drunk because I’m drunk, I’m saying I can kick their asses in a canoe race because I can.”

Biting her lip, she crosses one leg over the other at the ankle. “Whatever. Go have a fun time treading water completely annihilated. If that doesn’t sound like a fun time, I don’t know what does.”

“You have a better idea for a fun time?” I crow back, stepping toward her. I can smell her shampoo, and the soft hint of laundry detergent. “Let’s go back to the truck and talk. That’s what you want to do? Talk?”

Under the blue hue of the moon I see her flesh prick with goose bumps. Caroline’s chest rises and falls, and her pouty lips separate. She’s weighing the cost of her answer. Her eyes flash with the decision. “Fine. Let’s go talk.”

I step in the exact place she does as I follow her back across the street to the parking lot. There’s no need to lock my hunk of junk, so she cranks open the door slides in and then waits for me to climb in after her. I grasp the oh shit handle and use it more than I should so it breaks off in my hand. I toss it to the floor board and she watches it with wide eyes.

“I’m not an idiot, Caroline. I’m still going to race canoes regardless of what you want. My brothers are down there. They’ll wait for me. So, what did you want to talk about here? In the private seclusion of my grand truck cab?” My words slur together and I realize how it affects my case. I lean over and kiss her shoulder. Her face remains straight ahead, but even drunk Tahoe affects this woman. The pout of her lips, the way her eyes blink slower when she’s turned on. Scooting closer I place my lips against her neck and drag them side to side.

She pulls away, trying to keep her composure. “You’re angry,” I say.

The tilt of her chin tips up a touch. “You’re being irrational. Pardon me for not wanting to delve into the drunk tank with you, Tyler.”

“Oh, Tyler? Burn,” I say, grinning. My dick hardens. “Tell me something.”

“What?” She looks at me. A mistake she’ll pay for.

“I’m finished waiting. I want you right now.” The words slip—my true feelings blaring louder than any rational decisions.

“That’s not a question,” she replies, folding her hands in her lap. She plays with the material of her dress, twisting it between two fingers.

I swallow hard. Remembering what she looks like under that dress gives me all the ammo I’ll ever need to get hard. Caroline was made for me in every conceivable way. “In this truck. In this parking lot. Across the street from all of those people.”

“Are you sure?” She narrows her eyes, and her mouth turns down in the corner. “After all of this time, and all of your rules? When you’re being a complete drunk asshole? You pick now?” Something about the way she insults me and swears flips the goddamn switch. The one usually reserved for when I need to be a monster. Maybe because she’s right and subconsciously I know that. Maybe it’s because I’m the best person I know at ruining a good thing. Perhaps it’s a mixture of the two sparked with bourbon, but I grab her wrists and pin her back against the seat, trying and probably failing at keeping my weight off her. Between her legs, I settle my hips. My head spins and my stomach flips, because for as drunk as I am, I still know exactly what is about to happen. Leaning down, I chase her lips.

Caroline swallows hard, turns her head away, the pulse at her neck hammering against my lips. “Stop being a cunt,” I rasp into her ear. “I am not a drunk asshole. I fucking love you.” I reach between our bodies and unbutton and unzip my pants. “I love you so fucking much that you’re making me insane.”

She whimpers, and the noise breaks my fiery haze of desire. Pushing up on my arms I stare down at her and see the stray tear lingering on her cheek. The moon provides the right amount of light to reveal the travesty. “Are you crying?” I blurt out.

“Will you at least kiss me?” she says, words jagged, wiping under her eyes.

My heart starts pounding out of my chest. The adrenaline and realization mixing in that horrific kind of way. “Kiss you?”

She nods her head furiously. “Tahoe,” she whispers. “I’m a virgin.”

If there were words that could have sent me running, those are the words. “What the fuck?”

Caroline sits up and scoots away from me, wrapping her body with her arms. “I thought you knew,” she says, sniffling once.

I run a hand through my hair as her words sober me faster than anything in the history of time. I basically just mounted her. A woman I’m in love with, a virgin on top of that, in a dirty parking lot. “Why didn’t you tell me before? You know what they say about assumptions?”

She cries and my heart breaks. “You wanted to wait. I figured it was because you knew. It was too quick tonight. And you’re so drunk. I’m sorry. I panicked. I should have just gone with it.”

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? I just tried to fuck you in this disgusting truck!” I roar. “I knew you were innocent, but fuck, Caroline. I thought it was an act or something.” I shake my head. All of the encounters come to mind as I’m reminded that it should have been obvious, but my judgement is always clouded when it comes to her. “I didn’t know virgins your age existed.” Especially beautiful fucking ones. Her wide gaze flicks over me, judging me. If I could disappear right now and never come back, I would.

“Everyone told me not to tell you. That it was a non-issue. At first it was a non-issue. We were friends. Then when things changed, too much time had passed and I thought maybe you might think of me differently if you knew I hadn’t slept with a man before.” She’s right. I would have. I probably would have run as far and as fast as possible if she was honest about that up front. I’m the type of man you fuck before you find Mr. Right. I’m okay with that. I’m the man that you tell your friends about because he does a cool trick with his tongue in bed. I’m not the fucking man to take your virginity. That impression lasts too long. Being embedded in anyone’s mind longer than a little while is scary. Impressionable. As I look at Caroline, I realize what I need to do regardless of how I feel. Because it’s the right thing to do.

My stomach is a steel trap, I never vomit. Right now? It flips so fucking hard I barely get the door open before spilling the alcoholic contents all over the ground. I open the glove compartment and hunt for napkins to wipe my mouth. This would be a tough conversation to have sober. Drunk? Implausible. I realize it now, that her pure innocence is what made her different, kept me interested, and I open the door to heave once more. At least I won’t have a hangover tomorrow. Not from alcohol at least.

“You called me a cunt,” she says.

I nod. “I’m sorry.” That’s the least of my offenses at this point, right? Still, my stomach flips at the reminder of my cruelty. There are moments in your life where you can’t see the future because it hangs in the balance of whatever you say or do next. That moment for Caroline and me is right now. It’s a real shame because it’s not just her and me. There’s also fuckers named bourbon, and keg beer here too.

Several seconds pass as I stare out into the moonlit field. “Say something,” she whispers.

“What the fuck am I supposed to say? That I almost stole your innocence with angry drunk fucking? That I never thought for one moment to make love to you? That I’m sorry? Nothing I could say would take that back or make it seem genuine. Not right now, when the world is spinning and you’re sitting over there afraid of me.” She is afraid, too. The combination of my messed up eyes and my actions have created the perfect villain. One that in the movies would fuck her and leave her crying—never looking back.

She pulls her knees into her chest and something in that deep cavernous place that lays dank and dormant, comes to life. “You should have told me.”

“What difference would it make?” she asks. “If you take my virginity here or in a bed? It’s all the same to me. From the second I met you I knew I wanted it to be you.”

Shaking my head, I let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t want it to be me. This right here is testament.” Gesturing to the truck cab, my face, and then to her timid, shaking body.

Caroline presses her lips together. “Let’s do it right now. It’s going to be you, Tahoe. Why not right now?” Instead of rattling off the many reasons I won’t, I think about how I missed the signs. Dwell on mistakes. That’s what type A folks do. It’s how we better ourselves regardless of cost.

“Have you messed around with a guy before me?” I can’t help the question. It’s typically one my pride would never let me ask. Now, I need to connect the dots and I require her responses to help ease this pain.

She stays silent. “Have you kissed a man before me?” I ask, my voice cracking.

Caroline doesn’t say a word. I swallow down the disbelief. “I’m getting the fuck out of here before I take anything else from you, Caroline. I’ll catch a ride home with someone else. Take my truck and go home.”

Her defiant reply comes, “No.”

“I’ve taken a lot of things in my lifetime. I can’t be the one to take this from you. I don’t deserve it. You deserve someone who can give you the world—at the very least someone who can offer you a promise for a bright future.” My future will sometimes involve trudging through gutters and subway tracks hunting bad people. When you juxtapose me next to her, I can’t understand how I could have been so blinded by our differences. Love. I was blinded by it. By the thought that maybe I deserved it. Could keep it. There was never any keeping it. Not in my world. There’s only losing it slowly. Piece by piece. She’s still whole–intact. I have to respect that.

Her jaw ticks. “Don’t tell me what I want,” she says. “You live in this insane utopia where you think everything needs to be perfect. Maybe I don’t want perfect. Maybe I want to lose my virginity to you, drunk, in this truck. Maybe nothing else matters because I’m in love with you. Even despite you being completely out of your mind right now.” What did I almost do? How did this happen? “Fine, if not tonight. Let’s talk about this tomorrow when you’re in your right mind.” Her voice sounds desperate and it calls out my need to protect her. I can’t protect her from this monster. I am what she needs protecting from.

With my hand on the handle, I survey my feelings using the part of my fuzzy brain that isn’t completely wrecked by alcohol. “I’m not the man for that job. Never will be,” I shake my head once. “Get home safe, alright?”

“Fuck you, Tyler Holiday. You really are an idiot!”

Gritting my teeth, I open the door and fall out. Blessedly landing on my feet in the pile of my own puke. My chest stings, and there’s no way I can look at her right now. Turning around to survey what I’ve done would only drive the nail into my chest deeper—create more empty space, where she is. Where nothing else will ever be.

I close the door on her loud sob and trudge back to find someone to give me a ride home.

And another bottle of something to replace what I just lost.

This is one of my seconds. The seconds that change everything. The lonely, taking ones that will keep me company for the rest of my life.