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Actually, I’d call today one of the best days of my life. It was that fun. And while camping, out of the city, out of my comfort zone, out of my element, and out of my skill set. Imagine that.
After jet-skiing, we sat on the public dock and put our feet in the water to keep cool since the sun was unmerciful, as usual. These little minnows swam up and actually nibbled my toes. At first, it shocked and scared me a little, but then it tickled, and I got used to it. That’s me. Stephanie. Letting fish eat her toes.
We didn’t say much as we sat there. It was a comfortable silence, and I realized how few people I’d be able to do that with, without it ending up being weird.
On the way back, we stopped in at the park office to say hi to George. And we ended up spending over an hour there listening to more of his camp stories.
After that, we went back to the cabin to have something to eat, a few smokies that I fried up on the stove. The cabin doesn’t have a TV, so after dinner, we played a couple of games of cards before Adam decided on a shower. I was game for that. Apart, of course. I’d go after him. The day was long, hot, sticky, and wet. A cool shower and bed with a book sounded just about right.
At the time.
Okay, so that’s not what I really wanted to be doing, but I wasn’t going to act on what I really wanted.
But I do have a problem.
Right now, I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, my legs pressed together, debating the merits of wandering outside and peeing behind the cabin. I really have to go, and Adam just got into the shower. I don’t know why I didn’t think about that before. There aren’t any public bathrooms close by because the cabins all have their own. I know I wouldn’t make it if I walked, and since it’s late, almost everyone is in their cabins. I know someone would see me if I tried to find a bush or a tree.
Jesus, if I walked outside and peed on the grass behind the cabin and prayed no one saw me do it, I’d probably end up peeing all over myself. I’m not good at peeing outdoors. Seriously not good.
Every time I have had to do it, I peed on myself. So, I know it would happen. I just know it.
I count to ten. Then I go backward. Count to twenty. Count back down. I think I’m starting to see double; I have to pee so bad. I can’t focus on anything other than the pain in my bladder. It’s spreading to my stomach, causing flank pain. No matter how hard I twist my legs or press them together, I know it’s only a matter of seconds before something embarrassing happens, such as peeing my pants.
Which I really do not want to do on the bed.
I have to admit defeat when grinding my teeth isn’t enough to stave off the pain. I jump up and run to the bathroom and pound shamelessly on the closed door.
“Adam? I, uh, I really have to use the bathroom.” I thought I had a few of the most embarrassing moments of my life earlier on this trip, but this is the worst of it all. There is nothing more humiliating than this moment.
“Number one or number two?” Adam’s voice drifts through the closed door. The shower doesn’t stop.
Argh! He can’t be serious! “I’m not telling you that!”
“So it’s number two. Hold on. I’ll get out.”
Was he going to suggest I pee while he was in the shower? I mean, there’s a curtain hiding him, but I know it would cause some serious performance anxiety. I have never actually peed in the same room with anyone before in any of the relationships I’ve been in. That screams old married couple, and I guess I’ve never actually gotten to that stage.
I don’t correct him. I do bend my knees in toward each other and resist the urge to grab myself and do a pee-pee dance like a four-year-old kid, though. But really, I’m like seconds away from actually doing it.
The shower shuts off, and a few seconds later, the door opens. Adam is standing there with a towel wrapped around his waist, and holy shit, the towel barely wraps around his waist. He has it knotted low on his hips. There’s this V-thing that is all muscular, and oh, his delicious abs. I’ve seen him without a shirt a few times during this trip, but this slays me. He’s wet, his hair is slicked down, and there are water droplets everywhere. On his face, his neck, his shoulders, his deliciously carved abs, and best of all, on that even more delicious V that points the way to what I’m sure would be an extremely delightful time. There’s a swirl of dark hair around his naval. It’s primal and raw, and it makes me feel primal and raw. So primal and raw that I instantly forget I have to pee, and instead, I focus on trying to force some liquid down my incredibly dry throat.
Thank god I’m wearing a bra, a good bra—not one of those flimsy lace deals. At least it contains my furiously perky nipples from poking a hole through my tank top.
“Okay, it’s all yours.” Adam breezes past me.
“Were you done?” I call after him.
He has his bag by the couch since that’s his makeshift bedroom. He was n
ice enough not to ask me to flip him or rock paper scissor him for the bed, and I don’t turn around because I’m scared I’ll see the towel whip off as he finds his clothes. Not that he would ever do that. No, he would never do that. He’s way too proper and thoughtful to expose his rock-hard bottom to me. Or anything else. He doesn’t know about the time by the pool. Oh, sweet hot dogs and mustard, that time by the pool.
“No, but I’ll give it a few minutes. Let it air out.”
“Jesus,” I mutter. I’m so mortified by the fact that Adam thinks I’m going to poop in here, and he’ll have to enter back into a smelly bathroom.
I hurry into the bathroom, have the best pee of my life before my kidneys explode, wash up, and creep out. I realize I have to fess up when Adam turns around.
“That was fast.”
