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“I want a TV and an Xbox and a goddamn decent bourbon.”
“I’m with Hank on that,” Zeke said to the top of Rory’s head.
Rory made the universal sign for vomiting, pointing two fingers at her open mouth.
Tina giggled. “I want to go to a movie and shop for clothes and swim in a big old hotel pool with those loungers where they bring you cocktails.”
“All those places will be gone soon. The fancy clothing stores and the movie shows and the hotels with pools.”
“But I can’t stop thinking about the fact they’re still there now. Tell me you love me, you’re gonna bond with me, and you’re not just using me for sex.”
“I love you, Tina.”
And from what they could hear, Hank used Tina for sex.
Rory tucked her face into his chest and mumbled, “He’d better be a three-minute wonder.” Hank was fucking Tina up against the wall not a car’s length from where they sat, making wounded cow-like noises. Rory’s hair tickled his chin and her warmth was comforting like a good bed. Shit, bed was such a bad image to have grabbed on to. Why couldn’t he have thought about a caramel latte. And shit, shit, shit, now what he wanted was a creamy hot latte with honey and a warm bed shared with the woman in his arms.
“Oh Hank. Oh Hank. Harder,” Tina said, and the windowpanes vibrated in their wooden frames as Hank did what he was told.
/> It went on for more than three minutes. It was agonizing. Not just the fact that they were forced to listen to Hank betray Donna and say squeeze my cock over and over, but that he was snuggled with Rory in the dark and she smelled of adventure, not goat’s milk soap. Her own sweet scent filled his nose while her body rested on his as if it was at home against his hip and ribs.
He had to think about signal jammers and spruce forests and spare cabins, no, not spare cabins, they had fucking beds—why the fuck didn’t Hank and Tina do this in a spare cabin—not to trigger his own arousal.
“Baby, baby. Oh God, Hank. I’m coming. Oh, baby.”
“Hallelujah,” Rory said.
Hank, however, was still deep inside his inner wounded cow. “Ah, come on Hank, you can nut now, man.” He rubbed his eyes. Please make it over.
Rory turned her face up to his. “We could probably get upstairs while they’re at it. They’re not going to hear us.”
“Safer to wait,” he groused, keeping his eyes covered. “Come back for upstairs.”
Rory’s fingers to his cheek. “What’s wrong?”
He leant his face into her hand for a moment and her breath caught. He straightened and squirmed. “Floor is hard. Other things might get fucking hard if this doesn’t stop.”
Her face was bathed in shadows, but he could see her well enough from the streaks of moonlight that came in through the slats of closed venetian blinds to know she was amused.
“It’s not even that hot,” she complained.
From outside, Hank shouted, “Squeeze my cock. Squeeze my cock.”
He dropped his forehead to hers. “Please stop saying cock, Hank.”
She laughed, the air of it skating across his lips and chin and that was what made him stiffen. She didn’t pull away, and her breathing was as coarse as his was. It would be so easy to put his hand to the back of her head and his lips to hers. Sink into this feeling he’d had for her for forever and pretend her show of affection for him the other night wasn’t just the result of the strangeness of all this.
Rory tucked her face into his chest. “It’s got me all riled up too.”
He didn’t have a verbal response for that, afraid his voice would betray him further than leaning his face into her hand and holding her so close already had.
“Your heart is good, Zeke. Watching you with Cadence made me proud to have you as my friend.”
It would be so easy, and he’d fall the instant their lips met, but she’d never wanted him that way and he couldn’t be Tina, would never recover from not having all of Rory to himself.
From outside there was a bellowed, “Fuuuuck. I love you, Donna,” a moment’s stillness and then Tina started shrieking.
“Are you okay?” Rory whispered. She could’ve shouted and not been heard above the commotion outside.
