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“Until you tell me otherwise,” I snap, changing from soft kisser to feral bitch while wrapping his long ponytail around my hand and tugging. “You’re mine now. And if I find you sitting near or touching another girl, I’ll paint your truck with her blood.”
“Are you insane?” Vienna asks, gaping at me now as I rest back into Nok’s chest. His buddies watch the exchange with avid interest.
“Yes,” I respond flatly.
She looks at Nok. “Do something!”
“I’m good here,” he states simply, holding me closer than he held her. How he holds me is possessive. How he held her was friendly, though she didn’t see it that way.
“You can’t seriously be taking her side? She just threatened me.”
“I’m hers,” he replies with a gentle shrug and an approving smirk. “It’s not personal.”
“You’re hers? I can’t believe this,” she grumbles, her hands on her hips. But she knows that she can’t get anywhere so she stomps over to where her own friends are sitting.
“I’m yours, hmm?” Nokosi whispers in my ear. “I thought you didn’t want me.”
“I don’t,” I reply and wink at Nash who is watching our exchange from across the lawn, by his father who is in the middle of a conversation with somebody else. “But I’m not letting anyone else have you either.”
“Liar.”
If only he knew how true it was.
I suppose he will soon.
“So… what were you and my brother talking about?”
“Ah, so you were watching,” I comment, laughing gently.
Clearing his throat, he shifts behind me and replies, “He likes you. He liked you first.”
“He wants to fuck me, there’s a difference.” At my words he growls in my ear, like an animal when you reach for its possession. “Don’t worry, I dealt with it.”
“Good.” He kisses my temple, an odd display of affection, and plays with the ends of my hair as his friends talk to us. They introduce themselves and we get talking about the track, promising to meet there tomorrow so they can ride my pit bike. Fat chance on the latter, but I’ll definitely meet them there.
We sit for two more hours, eating amazing food, praising people for their catches, though not the ones who brought Walmart goods. They’re cheaters who caught nothing.
Everybody applauds when Dasan tells them that I caught my huge rainbow trout while spear fishing for the first time. That part was embarrassing.
But overall, we have an amazing night.
Until it’s time to go, the people start dispersing back to their homes and Nokosi offers to drive me to mine. For the first time ever, I don’t want to go home. I want to stay. I don’t want to go home at all. I can’t bear to look at my sister, or witness my mother ignoring us because she finds us too painful to look at.
So, I find ways to drag the night on and pull a large bottle of cherry-flavored gin from my handbag. I wasn’t sure if I’d need it tonight but here it is.
Our small group of friends’ eyes light up. All but Nok’s.
“I’m driving,” he points out, frowning.
“So? Just sneak me into your room later,” I whisper and put the gin back. “I’ll sleep with you.”
He looks excited now and winks at me. “Fine, but no backing out now.”
“Let’s get wasted,” Joseph cheers on a whisper so the adults don’t hear.
“I like this chick,” Bobby, their mutual friend, mutters.
“Let’s go,” Nok yells and we stand.
“Where to?”
“My shed,” Joseph replies, grinning at me over his shoulder. “It has blankets, a light, it’s really fucking cozy.”
I raise a brow. “Is it now?”
When we reach the trees and wander out of sight, using our phones to guide us, I pull the gin from my bag and take a long pull. The others follow suit, passing it around, complimenting it on its sweet cherry flavor.
We race through the forest until the trees clear and another home comes into view. I love the privacy of their houses, no main roads, not too easy to get to so you can guarantee door-to-door salesmen aren’t an issue.
The reservation is much bigger than this with its own shopping complexes and stores that eventually merge with Westoria, but this part of it is private. For the residents only. It’s peaceful and it feels safe.
Joseph’s house is a lot bigger than Nok’s but we don’t go inside to explore. We head around back to the very edge of his yard and past the first row of trees that form an almost uniformed line around his property.
“This must be it,” I say motioning to the shed with its dark windows and rickety-looking exterior. It looks sturdy enough. It could just do with a paint job. And maybe a few replacement boards here and there.
Joseph races ahead, my gin in his hand, and opens the latch on the door with a flick of the handle. The door creeks and I laugh when a furry little animal comes scurrying out. Maybe a skunk. I sure hope not. My sister got sprayed by a skunk once when we were little. We’d been running around the yard playing tag with our matching dollies, in our little matching dungarees.
