A girl whose hair is definitely real perches next to a large tub of icy bottles.
“Our new friend Mark needs a beer.”
“I'm okay,” I insist. “I actually…”
A cold Corona is handed to me anyway.
I hold it politely.
“Not a drinker?” Olsen whispers.
“Not really,” I shrug.
Good one,I cringe.
Now they’re gonna think I’m boring.
Some loser from the middle of nowhere.
“No more booze for me tonight, kids,” Olsen announces.
“I volunteer as your sober driver.”
He takes the bottle from my hand and places it back in the esky.
Once again, nobody thinks anything of it.
You do you.
That’s the vibe.
Patting the seat next to him, Olsen invites me to sit.
As the afternoon unfolds, the drinks flow freely.
Couples grow noticeably more affectionate.
Shirts scatter across the floor.
Hands explore inside pants.
I can’t decide if it makes me uncomfortable or horny, the guys in particular.
I try but fail not to look at them from the corner of my eye.
But I can’t pretend it doesn’t fascinate me.
I’m kind of jealous of their openly confident partners.
Topless men kissing in front of everyone.
Hooking up to the point of… well, they aren’t fuckingyet.
Just a hand job under the towel, from what I can tell.
I haven’t had one of those in so long.
Fuck, I miss that kind of touch.
