“Hell yeah,” Oliver says eagerly. “What would you like?”
I blink. “Me?”
“No, the other person I came with. Yes, you, dummy.”
“Oh, no, I’m not that hungry,” I wave him away. “I’ll have a snack later.”
Oliver rolls his eyes. “Jude, my dude, just tell me what you want. Come on, it’s my treat this time.”
I hesitate for a moment longer before a growl from my stomach gives me away. “Okay, fine, get me a Strammer Max.”
“Excellent choice. Be right back!”
Oliver turns and jogs away, and I pull my throw pillows from my bag, arranging them along the edge of the blanket so Oliver and I can both prop ourselves up enough to see the screen.
Before I can settle in, a familiar buzz near my ear makes me swat at it. Shit. I guess the weather is still warm enough for mosquitoes. I dig through my bag for my insect repellent, take a few steps away from Oliver’s blanket, and spray my legs and arms several times. The smell is as unpleasant and overwhelming as usual, so I keep my distance for several minutes while it absorbs.
Returning to the blanket, I’m startled by another buzzing noise, but quickly realize that this time, it’s just my phone.
Mom
Hi sweetie! Your dad and I miss you… You should visit soon! Let me know when you’re available!
I glare at the text. Fuck. I thought my parents wouldn’t demand more of my time like this. I thought we had an understanding.
But what choice do I have? They’re literally funding my life. I have to do what they want. I owe them everything.
Jude
hey Mom! yeah, let me check my calendar and get back to you later tonight
“Yuck, somebody just bathed in bug spray,” Oliver announces as he arrives, carrying a Papa Geien-branded paper bag. “That’s the strong stuff, too.”
“They didn’tbathein it,” I snap. “They very respectfully stepped away from the blanket and applied a standard amount.”
Oliver pauses, then spots the repellent next to me. “Oh. But I mean, is that even necessary? There aren’t any mosquitoes around. It’s like sixty-eight degrees.”
“Tell that to the mosquito that bit my ankle,” I counter. Sure enough, an itchy red bump had formed by the time I walked over here and sprayed.
“Oh, shit,” Oliver shakes his head. “I’m sorry for questioning you. That’s brutal.”
“I have the kind of blood mosquitoes can’t resist,” I explain. “I’ve been a bug magnet for as long as I can remember. But of course, they weren’t that bad up in Indiana.”
“That’s right, you’re a transplant!” Oliver sits facing me at the end of the blanket, places the bag between us, and empties itscontents. “You mentioned there was a long story about why you chose Eidola, of all places, to go to school.”
I chuckle softly. “I did, didn’t I?”
Oliver eagerly unwraps his sandwich and takes a bite, letting out a distinctly sensual moan as he chews. “God,what even was my life before the Strammer Max?”
With a snicker, I follow his lead, opening mine with slightly less horniness. It’s undoubtedly an incredible sandwich, but maybe notorgasmicallygreat.
We enjoy the first few bites in comfortable silence, except for Oliver’s occasional lewd noises. By the fifth or sixth whimper, I can’t hold back my laughter anymore. “Dude, you’ve got to calm that down.”
Oliver’s eyes flutter open. “Calm what down?” he asks with his mouth full.
“It sounds like you and that sandwich need some privacy.”
His chewing slows as he processes my words. “Sorry,” he mumbles, turning away as he finishes his bite.
