RONNIE
I’m finally here, and I also think I may be a fucking idiot. Okay, maybe I’m being too harsh on myself, but I also have never done anything like this before. My brother would kill me if he knew what I’m doing this weekend. This is way worse than the one time I got on a dating app and met a stranger at a coffee shop in a busy downtown area.
We’ve met before playing a game online. My mic was off, but his was definitely not. The rugged texture of his gravelly voice reverberated through my headset and set off warning bells instantly. Did that stop me from joining his map or his team? Nope. I mentioned I’m an idiot, right? I kept myself muted. He kept saying my name, Ronnie, short for Veronica. He didn’t know that, though, more or less assuming I was a guy by the way he kept sayingdude.The weirdo I am kept wanting to hit the un-mute button and say,Where’s my car?Iremained silent for a while, I’m talking days upon days, until he finally requested me to join a clan, just the two of us.
I said hi when he called me out for the lack of mic use, being a bag of dicks and saying something along the lines ofwhat are you, a seventeen-year-old who doesn’t have permission from your mom to play?He laid down the gauntlet, goading me to the point that I wasn’t backing down and getting his way. I replied with a smart-ass remark,and the conversation started there. It sure didn’t end, though.
Zane would be mortified to know I so much as uttered a word, except you learn them from the best, and instead of Jude blocking me and logging off, he did the complete opposite. He laughed, deep and throaty. Then he complimented me on holding out for as long as he did. We quickly talked every time we played, traded phone numbers to text on our downtime away from the game. Which led us both to discovering our love for all things rock music: grunge, metal, soft, and hard. It didn’t matter. We’d send each other links to a song, we’d either agree or disagree, figure out if we wanted to see them live in concert and go from there. Then the texts came with pictures, that’s when things started to change. The heavy flirting, the slight innuendo, and then there was the recent video call. It’s probably why I feel like I’ve known Jude for years instead of the past month.
“Guess who?” Two hands cover my eyes, abruptly taking my vision away from me. I’ve been looking for this guy, in the hot Florida sun no less with thousands of other people at the rock festival we’ll be at for the next four days.
I don’t have to turn around.
I don’t have to look.
I don’t even need my sense of smell.
I’d know his voice in a busy crowd any day of the week. We set up a meeting spot within the festival. Cell phone service is shit when you cram two hundred thousand people in over the period of time we’ll be here. I really didn’t want to bring a clear plastic sling bag, though I’m also realistic. There were necessities, like a place to store sunscreen, a refillable water bottle, baby wipes, and my car keys. I thought about just tossing them in my car and using the keypad to lock and unlock it, then thought better of it.
I rock back on my heels, and when my back meets his chest, realization hits that he’s shirtless. My loose crop top tank does nothing to hide the fact that his muscles are everything I’ve seen through a phone, and light perspiration instantly coats the two of us. I decided to wear as little as possible the first day—black top, black jeans shorts sitting low on my waist, and fishnet stockings beneath them. On my feet are my black combat boots, which I will surely regret later in the day even though they’re old, worn in, and comfortable for the most part.
“Hmm, is it Malaki?” I joke.
“Woman.” His voice drops an octave.
“Oh, you must be Wes?” My first-time meeting with Jude isn’t going nearly as badly as I thought it would, and thank fuck for that. I had the forethought to pay for my own parking even though he offered to let me stay with him. Jude is staying on the grounds for the entire festival. Nope, I did not jump in headfirst. I played it safe. And I already have instant regrets along with a healthy dose of FOMO, better known as fear of missing out.
“Ronnie.” My name slips out on a grunt. My core tightens at the thought of him groaning my name while he’s burying himself to the hilt inside me.
“Okay, fine, that leaves the only option. Jude.”
“Fuckin’ finally. Jesus, thought I was about to have to fight off the line of men trailing after you.” I spin around, more than ready to see if his voice matches the body in person. He drops his hands from my eyes, coasting down till they land on the back of my neck. The high ponytail with a fish-style braid to keep it off my heated skin isn’t any protection against Jude’s calloused hands.
The backwards hat, the sunglasses, the lack of clothing on his torso, showcasing his well-defined chest, the dark gray shorts and low-top sneakers are nothing compared to the easy smile he greets me with.
Hello, panty dropper.
The light scruff surrounding his jawline and cheeks makes it even worse. His shirt is tucked into the back pocket of his shorts, and yes, I could tell by the way it swings with the breeze that barely cuts back the humidity roasting us on the black asphalt.
“Did you say men? Where are they? Are they hotter than you?” I check either side of his body, noting his back is just as defined as the front. I’m fucking cooked. There’s no way I’m going to be able to survive the next four days with both of us wearing hardly any clothing judging by the looks he sends my way coupled with the way he touches me.
“You wanna play this game, you’re fuckin’ on. I’ll bend you over, smack the sass right out of your ass. An ass I could pick out in a line of women, and none of them would be ashot as yours.” His statement should make me reel, turn on my heel, and run far, far away. So, why does it do the exact opposite, causing me to step closer to the man I’ve had a playful and flirtatious relationship for the last almost month?
“Obsessed with me and my ass, are you?” I’m not afraid to admit that it’s probably my best asset along with my eyes. Whereas my younger sister has boobs and legs for days, I got the complete opposite.
“Fuck yeah.” His top teeth depress on his plush lower lip, and I’m tempted to make the first move. Except that would be too forward, right? I mean, maybe not considering he’s talking about bending me over after we just met face to face. Jude’s hands drop from my overheated skin, which has nothing to do with the warmth from the sun. Nope, it’s one hundred percent the fine piece of male hotness in front of me. His hand finds mine, and he laces our fingers before saying, “Come on, we need drinks and figure out who we’re gonna see first.” I don’t miss the lazy dragging gaze he slides down my body. Maybe forgoing a bra wasn’t a great idea, but my girls sit high and tight even though I’m in my lower thirties, and sticky pads to hide my nipples would slide right off with the amount of moving and sweating I’ll surely do.
It’s also giving Jude a view of what he’s doing to me, and the smirk he sends me, well, he’s well aware of the physical chemistry we have with one another. I’m also sure that if his shorts weren’t loose, I’d be able to tell what I do to him. As it is, I can’t necessarily cup his cock to check. The last thing I want is a pair of shiny silver bracelets as a new adornment. While this is a rock festival, there also aren’t any age restrictions,so, you know, I’ll refrain until there’s a better time and place.
Jude leads me through the crowd, keeping my hand locked with his as we bob and weave through the throngs. He nods at a couple of people, says a quick hello here and there, making me think he might know them. Either that, or he’s a friendly type of dude. A few hundred feet from our meeting spot is a tent stand for food and drinks. It’s still early in the day, with the doors to the event having opened at eleven in the morning.
We come to a stop, ten people deep in line to get whatever they choose. Jude pulls me in front of him. My back meets his chest, and his arm bands around mine.
“You mind if I smoke?” he asks, his lips grazing the shell of my ear.
“No, not at all.” I grew up around smokers. My dad still smokes till this day. He’s a do as I say, not as I do type of person. So, when he caught my brother smoking, at the age of fifteen mind you, they went to the back porch, where Dad gave him the longest speech ever, more like lecture, where he made him smoke ten cigarettes back-to-back. Zane got sick and never touched them again. Plus, I work at a bar, smoking is a part of my daily life even with the extra air purification systems that were recently installed.
“What do you want to drink or eat?” he asks. I look over my shoulder, watching as he brings the pack of cigarettes out, his long and thick dexterous fingers pull one out, and his lips surround the unlit smoke.
