Caught (4 page)

“Here, Quinn.” She hands me one of those fancy bags that has her initials embroidered on the outside. “I already had it packed for you.”

I glance inside and smile that she threw in a couple of cheese sticks.

“Thanks, Fin. You know me too well.”

“You are my best friend,” she sings, blowing me a kiss.

“Let’s get this show on the road, ladies,” Chace says, opening the passenger side door for her. I hear a smack, quickly followed by a yelp, and don’t even have to look to know that he smacked her ass.

“Ow, Chace,” she playfully whines.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you later,” I hear him say before shutting her door.

I roll my eyes and open the bag she gave me, looking to relieve this headache that’s still rocking. After taking the Tylenol, I pull out the Tupperware filled with grapes and pop the lid off. We begin to pull out of Fin’s driveway and I glance over at Greg, who’s sitting adjacent from me. He’s in his own little world, texting or doing something on his phone. With the big shit eating grin on his face, I’m assuming texting. Or sexting.

Greg isn’t a bad looking guy. He’s not even slightly bad looking. In fact, he’s extremely good looking with his brutish looks. But that’s the thing – he’s just too beefy for my taste. He’s thick all over. Well, from what I can see, and what I’ve heard, he is. Which is good for him since most people think buff guys usually suffer from teeny weeny syndrome and they’re just trying to overcompensate in other ways.

His head is typically filled with blonde locks, but he shaved it off this summer. Maybe it was some sort of rugby initiation or whatever weird sport he’ll be playing in college.

“Excuse me, Greg?”

His head swings my way as if he was just waiting for me to call his name. His smile is wide and his hazel eyes are bright. He’s genuinely a happy guy. And that’s what I like about him. That’s why I’m able to look past his player ways and enjoy his company.

I do a quick glance up his muscly body from feet to face. His tan, smooth-looking legs are crossed at the ankle, reaching the other side of the truck as they’re stretched out. The colorful, geometric print trunks fully engulf his thighs, which is a plus. Guys shouldn’t wear more fitted clothes than I do. Then there’s his tank top. The non-existent fabric bunches loosely in the middle of his torso.

“Yes, Quinn?” he smirks.

“Your chesticles are showing.”

He glances down and laughs. “Is that a problem?”

“No.” I pop a grape in my mouth. “I just can’t stop staring.”

He laughs even harder and I try my best to refrain from it myself. I’m not looking to choke on a grape as we drive down the highway.

“Make em’ pop,” I demand as I lift my sunglasses to the top of my head for a better view.

“Do what?”

“You know.” I sit my grapes down and hold my hands in front of my own chest, moving my hands up and down. “Make them pop, dance, jiggle. Hell, make them rain for all I care. They have to be capable of doing something cool.”

“Oh, hell yeah. I’ve had that shit down since the seventh grade.” He straightens his back and positions his arms in some weird flex in front of him. Then he begins to make them pop, drop and lock it. I giggle like a little girl as I watch. His face makes it all the better as he seems to be straining. He looks constipated.

Without any inclination, I toss a grape at his tits. And with perfect precision he bounces his man boob just in time to deflect it. I play catch with his chest a little while longer before finally putting my earbuds in and relaxing.

An hour or so later, I feel the change from smooth road to gravel before I hear it. I pull my headphones off and tuck my stuff back into my bag.

“You have an amazing voice,” Greg says with no trace of humor.

“Thanks,” I reply shyly. I knew I was singing aloud. I couldn’t have helped it if I tried. But I had hoped the sound of the zooming cars and all other noises would have drowned it out.

“Maybe you should go to school for it.” I look over, and before my eyes hit his, he turns his head. “Instead of just staying back home and going to community college.” He shrugs. It makes me like him even more to know that he wants better for me. But little does he know, or anyone for that matter, that I already have better all planned out.

The truck comes to a halt and I stand and start peeling my clothes off. Greg instantly turns back into an eighteen year old male and begins to whistle and hoot.

“Oh yeah! Take it off.”

I fling my shirt at his face before letting my shorts drop. I hop out of the truck and start heading for the shore.

“See you bitches later. Me and this river have a much needed date.”

Top of the 3
rd

Chace

The sun is beating down on us and I honestly don’t think life could get any better than this.  My ass in a tube, a flask in my hand, and all my favorite people are in one place.  I better enjoy it now because in a week’s time I will be on my way to Cape Cod for a summer filled with baseball.  I’d been floored when my high school coach told me that they had invited me to play there this summer.  The league was known for having the best collegiate players and producing future MLB stars.  After a lengthy conversation with my future coach at UCONN, I decided to do it.  No regrets.  The only downfall was going to be that it was going to take me away from my friends, and Finley, earlier than expected. But it’s the opportunity of a lifetime, and I can’t let it pass me by.

I yank on the tether connecting Finley’s tube to mine, causing her to lift her head.  She pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head.  “I was sleeping, Chace.”

I hold up my flask.  “You want a sip?”

She pulls her sunglasses back down over her eyes.  “Ugh.  No, I do not.”

I look down river a bit.  Some of the guys are getting rowdy and are tipping each other’s tubes over and acting like animals.  Then there’s Quinn.  Perched in the center of her tube, her head lying back with her oversized sunglasses shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Yo, Quinn!” I holler.  She doesn’t move so I yell again.  “Quinn!”  Still nothing, so I leave my tube and swim downstream a bit before I slap the side of her tube.  “Quinn!”

She startles, practically falling out of her tube.  Once she settles down, she sits up and glares down at me.  “Oh my god.  Do you have to be so damn loud, Cocknugget?” I grab onto the side of her tube, pulling myself up so that I’m on her level.

“I’ve been hollering at you for the last five minutes.”

“Well, in case you forgot, I’m nursing a bitchin’ hangover, and I was enjoying a bit of relaxation.”

“Well, in case
you
forgot, I leave in a week and you should be having fun with me.  You’re a disappointment,” I tease, pouting for good measure.

She rolls her eyes.  “You’ve got a butthole mouth right now.”

“C’mon, Quinn.  The best cure for a hangover is to start drinking again.”  I hold the flask up as a peace offering.

“You’re pertinacious.”

“And you obviously had way too much fun in SAT prep,” I say with a smile.  “Seriously, pertinacious?  What the fuck?”

“Yeah, you know, relentless, persistent, tenacious, incessant.”  I just stare at her, my eyes lifted up in confusion.  “How the hell did you get into UCONN?”  I sigh, knowing that she’s about to poke fun at me.  “Oh, that’s right,” she says in a sing song voice, “you’ve got the golden arm.  You give all the girls peep tensh and all the boys want to be you.”

Letting out a chuckle, I ask, “Do you want a drink or not?”

“If it will make you happy.”

I pass her the flask.  “Very.  Now stop being such a bump on a log and let’s start causing a little hate and discontent.”

“Now you’re speaking my language.”  She points up the river a ways.  “Let’s get everyone to pull into that sandy area over there.  We’ll have lunch there.”

****

The river is filled with friends.  Most of them are baseball teammates, but there are the few randoms that I’ve hung out with a time or two.  It’s a hub of activity.  Some are on tubes.  Others just horsing around in the water while the females sun themselves like lizards on the beach. 

Greg comes over and taps me on the chest.  “I’m thinking chicken.  I need some thighs wrapped around my head to keep my ears warm.”

“You know there are better ways to make that happen than playing chicken,” I tease.

He flips me the bird.  “Fuck you, Donahue.”

I laugh before calling over Finley.  She carefully pushes herself up off the beach and guides herself into the water, her body tensing once it hits the water.  Slowly walking towards me, the water envelops her waist and for a second I’m jealous of it.  Yes, I’m jealous of the water because it’s touching the smooth and perfect skin of my girlfriend.  Once she’s within arm’s reach, I pull her towards me and she squeals as some water splashes around her. 

“You better have a good reason for getting me all wet, Chace.”  She wraps her arms around my neck, her skin hot on mine, and for an instant I forget why I had called her over in the first place.

Leaning forward, I press my lips to her ears.  “I can think of one real good reason,” I whisper.

She pulls away from me laughing before slapping me playfully on the chest.  “You’re terrible.”

“Chicken, Donahue,” Greg reminds me.  “Thighs, Donahue.  Chicken.”

Oh yeah.  “Play chicken with Greg and I.”

Her lip curls up in disgust.  “That doesn’t sound like fun at all.”

“Aw, c’mon, Finley!”  I plead.  “Don’t be such a party pooper.”

She gives me one of her flirty little smiles before splashing me and turning around.  “Have Quinn play with you,” she calls over her shoulder.  “She doesn’t care about messing up her face.”

Finley walks back towards the girls that have accumulated on the little beach area we had claimed.  They were all oiled up, soaking up the sun and squealing every time a guy decides to flirt a bit with them by splashing an itty bit of water their way.  It was pretty much how Finley spent every waking hour during the summer.  Either partying or tanning.  I could never get her to do anything the least bit exciting.

With a shrug I turn, looking for Quinn, knowing that she’s probably out a ways getting her swim on.  Sure enough, I spot her approaching the group, her arms breaking the surface with ease.  She stops just short of us, lifting her head from the water and making eye contact with me.  I know I don’t really need to ask, but I do anyway.  “How ‘bout some chicken, Quinn?”

Greg scoffs.  “No fair.  I didn’t know you’d have Quinn.”

“You scurred, Greg?” she asks, standing up from the water and revealing her toned, athletic body.  Quinn was as competitive as they came.  Everyone knew that.

“Fuck yeah I’m scared.  You’re cutthroat.  Nikki’s gonna shit.”

As if her self-centered fifth sense started tingling, Nikki starts walking towards us.  She hisses at the temperature of the water, but continues walking anyway.  “What about me?”

I can feel Quinn’s excitement.  She hates Nikki, and she is going to thoroughly enjoy kicking her ass.  “You ready for a friendly game of chicken?” Quinn asks with a hint of competitive edge to her voice. 

“Against you and who?” Nikki quips back, her voice thick with venom.  It’s obviously a low blow at Quinn’s relationship status.

Her forehead purses together in anger.  “Chace,” she says without hesitation.  Quinn knows just as well as I that Nikki has always had a thing for me and that she’ll jump at the chance to be near me no matter the circumstance.  Nikki looks over at me as if double checking and I grin.

“You’re on,” Nikki says while adjusting her bikini top.  Greg is immediately under her, lifting her up out of the water.

Shaking my head, I casually swim to Quinn.  She straightens her body in preparation for me.  At the last second, I duck my head under water and place my shoulders under her legs.  Pushing myself upward, water runs into my eyes as Quinn presses her thighs against either side of my head.  I quickly slap her leg before forcing my eyes upward.  “Lighten up on the vise grip, Quinn.  I’m not gonna drop you.”

“Sorry,” she calls down. “It’s all those hours I spend with my Thigh Master.”

“Or maybe it’s all those hours riding dick.” Nikki laughs.

Bad move, Nikki.  Bad. Move.

“You better watch your labia mouth, hooker.”  I can feel Quinn’s muscles tighten and I know, without a doubt, that Nikki is about to get murdered.  “But you know, at least I know what to do with one,” Quinn argues. 
This is going nowhere good.
“Which, by the way, I hear you have some difficulty handling the cock.”

The lake is the only thing making noise for a moment and I say a silent prayer that Quinn will just move on. 
Please let it stop there.
  But it doesn’t. Quinn starts right back at where she left off.